#Wolf!Robin owns me now

[thekeythief]

#Ronancetober Day 2: Vampire/Werewolf 🦇🌈🐺

(Prompts assembled by lionydoorin! ✨)

[heartfullofleeches]

What if someone from "Sheep"'s old pack came back around and tried to expose them, maybe for joy in suffering or to get people to split away and have an easy meal?

Sorry if this read weird I'm tired as hell

(I doubt any of them would recognize "Sheep" after all these years, but here's what would happen if any predator tried to reveal "Sheep's" identity.")

[Warnings Physical Violence, "Sheep" has a panic attack.]

-

"How stupid can you lot be?"

No...This isn't real. It's all a bad dream, right? You'll wake up any minute now, surrounded by all your friends and neighbors you've yet to acquaint yourself with. Perhaps you'll finally join Rabbit on one of their picnics. Or maybe Swan can teach you how to play chess - surely he must be tired of you asking which piece is which every time you play.

Claws digging into the meat of your shoulders stake you within the world of this cruel reality. This isn't a dream. You can't wake up, even if you chewed your own tongue off and suffocated on the blood as every cell in your body screamed at you to do. It would save you the torment. Your mouth hangs open, ragged draws of air and the smooth, filed surface of your canines preventing you from carrying out the deed.

"A sheep? This thing?" The cackle he barks causes your knees to curl against your chest - body instinctively trying to make you as small as possible. What do you have to be do afraid of? If you weren't so spineless you could've done something by now. Everyone is going to die now, and they'll die hating you.

"I wouldn't be surprised if we grew up from the same pack!"

It won't be long now- the concern for their fellow neighbor bleeding away to further terror and confusion. Were you responsible for the recent disappearances? How long until you devoured everyone? Monster. Beast. Wolf.

The townspeople are in a frenzy. What should they do? If the wolf's claims are true.... No- That could be dealt with that. The most important thing was getting you away from him before he hurt you anymore. They're so many of them. It'd be easy, right? The thought crosses their minds, but no one dares to speak first. A rabbit grows annoyed of their hesitance. Whilst the town is bickering amongst themselves, you're laying there - cowering for your life as that wolf threatens to ruin it for you. It isn't fair. The knife in their basket was for cutting cakes for you to share...

"Liar....."

As the rabbit weaves through the crowd, another resident of the town returns home from her daily gatherings. Rocks weight the pockets of her dress - the shouts and panic from her fellow neighbors channeling miles throughout the forest. Scrambling to find the sharpest one, she throws it directly at the back of the wolf's head.

"You damned liar!"

The wolf staggers forward - a pitiful whine escaping you as his claws retract from your shoulder. Blood gushes from the back of his cranium, a sharp ringing in his ears bring him to his knees - landing center on the blade aimed at his stomach.

"About a week ago, Sheep and I found a robin's nest in my backyard.... They got all teary eyed when the last egg wouldn't hatch... Tell me.... Would a wolf do that?"

Rabbit plants their foot on the wolf's chest, twisting the handle of their knife as they rip it from his bowels. The wolf grabs into their ankle, using what little strength he has to shove them off of him. Mouse leaps onto him from behind, slamming another rock into the nape of his neck.

"Take it back! Take it back! Sheep isn't anything like you! How dare you accuse them! You monster!"

Stop....

Your voice is too quiet for any of them to hear. You doubt that'd stop them anyway. They'll kill him. He came here to do the same, but does that make it right? Strong arms lift you from the dirt floor - mindful of their antlers as they place your head to their shoulder. Mayor Moose always knew you best - hushing your sniffles as soon as they begin. Swan stands off to the side behind him, refusing to meet your eyes. He tucks the coat of his suit over the handgun strapped to his belt.

"I'm sorry..... I'm so sorry."

"What are you apologizing for?" Swan still fails to look up at you. He knows if he does- there's the smallest chance he'll give into your pleads.

"Get some rest. You'll need it after the day you've had."

Carried away from the commotion, the defenses your fellow townspeople confess, the blood they spill so that your innocent is kept - the blood loss and sheer shock of it all lulls you into a dreamless slumber.

It's the best sleep you've gotten in months.

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

I've let this wolf into my home (I feed it even when it bites)

Blood nose and a crooked tongue (I always wanted to be someone) - series masterlist here

pairing: tim drake x reader (gender neutral)

length: 1.5k

genre: fluff ??

warnings: you don't know red robin and timmy are the same person but he sure knows you, he's also so so awkward but he can't help it

a/n: alright alright alright here we go <3

The jingle of the coffee shop door opening startles you, your head snapping up from where you're sitting, slouched over in the corner. It's a 24-hour shop, yes, but who else would really be here at 3am? The barista behind the counter looks just as surprised, blinking rapidly and looking at the person who came in.

You, on the other hand, opt not to, sighing and looking back down at your table, instead. The coffee in your to-go cup is still hot, burning your fingers as you shift them over the label. It's bright, a cartoonish sort of thing that grins up at you like an old friend you should be happier to see. You've been getting this coffee for years. You're never quite as happy as you should be.

The chair opposite you makes a horrible sort of sound as it's pulled out and you look up to see who's sitting across from you. You purse your lips in annoyance while he just looks at you.

"All the other tables have just been cleaned. They're wet," he points out. You let your eyes flit around the cafe, the tabletops shining wetly in the dull glow of the lights, the disinfectant bottle still sitting abandoned on one of them.

"Lucky me," you bite back, taking a sip of your coffee. It's sweet - too sweet, but not enough to cover the bitterness of the burnt grounds. You always think that if you pile enough sugar into it, it'll mask what's wrong. You're never right.

The man sitting opposite you takes a sip of his own - he left it black, you notice. He grimaces slightly at the taste, but keeps drinking anyway. There's no effort there to pretend it's anything other than what it is - burnt, cheap coffee sold to him in a cafe full of ghosts, in a city that should be sleeping but never really does. It's interesting, you think, as you look out the window and into the dark street. You'd almost managed to convince yourself that you were really alone - that there was no one else in this world except you, until he walked in and broke the reverie of your 3am silence.

For what it's worth, Tim regretted it as soon as he'd walked in. He hadn't meant to stay, really - ending up in a part of Gotham he didn't often find himself in, in his civvies and in desperate need of a hot cup of coffee and a long sleep, he'd stumbled across the flickering, neon sign of a 24-hour coffee shop.

What good luck, he'd thought. Now, sitting across from you, there's a desperate little part of him that thinks maybe it wasn't just that - maybe it was intuition that drew him here. You don't know who he is, of course, all your previous meetings happening in the shadows of your home with his face hidden from you. Tim shifts in his seat, suddenly aware of how naked he feels, exposed to your wandering eyes. 

And you do let your eyes wander, narrowing them suspiciously as you take him in. Tim feels a pang of guilt that surprises him when he thinks that this is probably how you've always felt with him - like a lamb with a wolf at your door. As you lean back in your chair, swirling your coffee and letting your gaze trail away from him and towards the window, he feels his shoulders drop in relief. He's not the only wolf in your living room late at night, he realizes. You've got teeth of your own that he'd just never noticed.

You're good at this, Tim thinks with a start - you've got a foot propped up on the window sill next to you, your head resting in your hand as you watch the street outside idly. Or, at least, it's supposed to look like that. He thinks that if he were anyone normal, he would believe it. But Tim has spent enough time as prey to know when someone's pretending to let their guard down.

He looks away from you almost forcefully, staring down at his cup and running his tongue over his teeth as he thinks of the burnt taste of it. He wonders if you were smart enough to put sugar in yours - wise enough to bury the bitterness with something nicer. It's something he always thinks he should do. He can never quite make himself. 

"I'm sure those other tables are dry now." Your voice makes him flinch, a hard, forceful thing that cuts through the silence of the night that's blanketed the two of you. Tim looks around at the dull, streaky tabletops and shrugs. 

"I'm already comfortable here," he offers. You cock your head to the side and look at him, but make no move to fight him on it. He thinks it's probably stupid of him, inviting a lion into his home like this. He wonders if you feel the same way every time he slides in through your balcony door.

There's a silence that, once more, overtakes the two of you as he shifts in his seat. Tim wonders if he should drink faster, if he should pretend to be finished so that he can leave. It's funny, he thinks, how he finally felt like he'd stopped running away when he started running into you. It's funny that, now, he's itching for it, his hands gripping his cup in an attempt to still his heart - his need to escape.

You look back at him just in time to see him squeeze a little too hard, the cheap plastic lid popping off and hot coffee sloshing a bit over his hands. A mild, bemused sort of look crosses your face as you watch him curse and splutter as the coffee burns his hands and spills onto the table. Then, without a word, you stand up and begin to walk away.

Tim, in the meantime, is rubbing his hands against his jeans, his eyes squeezed shut in mortification as he wonders how he ruined it all so quickly. Not for the first time, he wishes he was in the mask - thinks maybe the only way to hold onto you is to make sure that's all you ever see. But then your cup scrapes across the table and he opens his eyes to see you sitting opposite him again, sipping idly and watching. There's a stack of napkins that he swore wasn't there before and - oh.

"Thanks," is all he can make himself say as he grabs them, cleaning up the mess he's made. As he goes to pop the lid back onto his cup, he looks at the dark liquid inside and grimaces, deciding that maybe it's not worth it.

"It's shit coffee," you say, and he slams his hand against the table, crushing the plastic lid in the process. Truly, he's not sure if he's ever acted this nervous before. You pay it no mind. He thinks maybe he could take off his mask, just this once, and reaches up to his face in time to remember that he's already exposed to you. "You're better off finding something else… or just going somewhere else." Tim smiles, then, a charming sort of thing that has you narrowing your eyes.

"I dunno,' he says. "There's something I like about right here." You glance down at your own cup, at the label that you've picked and peeled off until it's unrecognizable, the colours torn and cracked.

"There's nothing good about right here. And things like that don't change." Tim looks at you for a long moment after you speak, letting the words tumble around his head before he stands, taking his cup and squished lid and pile of wet napkins with him. 

"Well, I've never been big on change, anyway," is all he says as he walks away, dumping everything in the bin and letting the bell on the door jingle as he walks out. Looking back down to the table, you notice the card he's left behind - the Wayne Ent. logo flashing behind his name. Flipping it over, his number's been written in a hasty scrawl.

As you thumb a corner of the card, you wonder when he'd slipped it onto the table - when he'd written on it. Mostly, you wonder what kind of person he'd have to be to do it without you noticing. You trace the numbers with your finger and think that something, far in the back of your mind, is telling you that there's a familiarity about it all. 

But what's familiar about seeing someone in a place where you never should? What's normal about that man, appearing like a ghost in the night and disappearing just as fast? As you pull out your phone to add his number to your contacts, there's a part of you that thinks maybe you should run away - that maybe you're not the only thing stalking the streets of Gotham this late.

[lovelywetdreamer]

Prompt 3: Dick teaching you to suck dick

"Can you pretty please teach me how to suck dick, Dicky?"

"Say what again?"

"You teach me your beautiful girlfriend to suck your dick. Please bae?"

In the first place in his life, Dick is out of words. His brain must be having a kick at his expense. That have to be it. You are like the most innocent person he knows. You never curse. For example, you called him a Moby Dick when he is acting like a dick sometime.

Now that he thinks about it, you stuttered everytime you try to make a dirty joke. With all the information he had collected about you, you can't blame your boyfriend for being shock from your lewd request. Dick's rub your soft, squishy cheek before pinching it. "Are you really my Y/N?"

"Don't be silly, of course it's me.", you put your hand on his chest and made him sit in a chair, "I just want to be a good girl that please her man." Your soul left your body. You can't believe you said that with a straight face; you couldn't say that to youself in the mirror without blushing.

"So are you going to teach me or not?", as you say while your knees are hitting the floor, your brown eyes are looking up into his piercing blue eyes. Now the second time in Dick's life, his mouth cannot search for words. His pant was becoming tight of the sight of his beautiful girlfriend on her knees for him. Dick's dick twitching and begging to be touch.

"Shit baby! You're going to melt my brain you that dontcha? Of course, I'll teach you babygirl, but I need to make sure you are okay with this. Do this for yourself not for me, okay?"

"I want to do this."

"I'm all yours then princess.", he says with a smirk as he unzip his pant and rub his thumb along your soft juicy, plumpy lips. "Before we start tho, can you bring me the chocolate syrup from the fridge?"

"Okay, but why?"

"Don't question your teacher."

When you came back retrieving the chocolate syrup from the fridge, Dick was spread eagle in the chair. He is a robin but how he looking at you, you would had thought he was wolf starring at his prey. You were on your knees before your brain could processed the action. "Hand me the chocolate syrup."

The moment you hand him the chocolate syrup he poured some already on his leaking dick. "I know you hate sour and bitter thing in your mouth."

You have the most sweetest boyfriend in the world, literally. He rubs his hand through your braids, "Please goes at your own pace and don't tries to force the whole thing down your throat. I know how greedy you can get."

"I'm not that greedy now", you say with a toothy grin. You wouldn't scared as you were nervous. Dick is suprisely packing. You are wondering now how he could hide this meaty six inch monster in that tight leather costume. You place a kiss on his red swollen, leaking precum tip. Experimental licks up and down on his length. You read in a book to make sure get a man's dick wet before putting it in your mouth.

Withdrawaling your tongue from his dick, whimpers escape Dick's mouth. You open your mouth wide enough to slowly put his tip inside your warm wet mouth. You don't want your teeth to gaze him. Inch by inch enter your mouth at the best of your ability. Dick has to keep running his hand through his hair. That's the only thing keeping him under control from thrusting upward into your hot little mouth.

"Try to bob your head up and down like bobbing for apples."

His hand were now on the back your head as you bob up and down on his length. "You're such a good girl for me." News to you his praise making you form a wet spot in your panties. You tried to shove his member down your throat, to no one suprise your gag reflex turn against you. Dick quickly remove himself from your mouth. "Are you okay?!", Dick say as he is rubbing your back.

"I gotten too cocky. Sorry, I'm good. Please let me continue."

"Okay, but remember you are a beginner."

You guys continue where you left at. Dick's moans and groans fill the room when you moved a little faster around him. You even moan around his member; Dick accidentally pulls your hair and say," You're gonna be a good whore for me right?

Sadly within ten minutes, Dick was tapping on your shoulder, "I'm gonna cum babygirl. You should probably get off my junk right now baby." He wanted to last longer for you. Little dick follow his own rules not big Dick's rule. You kept going on his dick waiting hungrily for his cum. Your mouth was full of his chocolate flavor cum. The chocolate syrup couldn't hide the true bitter flavor of his cum. At least he tried to hide the flavor for you.

He gave the biggest and wettest kiss on your lip.

[spider-jaysart]

Any hot takes or unpopular opinions about super sons?

Here's some for the animated movie first:

Jon's voice doesn't suit him at all for the age he's supposed to be, it just kept throwing me off a little everytime he spoke with it. It's definitely not terrible though, it's just not for him at all

Idk about others opinions on Damian's voice though, but I really loved it. I felt like it fitted him pretty well and let his daring and mischievous side stand out really nicely. It's my favorite for him personally

I don't like that they white washed Damian in it once again when they could've definitely given him his darker skin and green eyes (I know this one's very popular already, but I just wanted to say it still). And when they showed the pitcher boy in the baseball game, he literally had EXACTLY those features on himself, which made it really feel like it was an actual annoying tease of some sort, since his model strangely looked way more like Damian than Damian himself did

And also besides all of that stuff, when Damian is in his Robin model, I feel like he looks perfectly fine and cool, but his civilian version looks a little weird to me for some reason. And I know that his hair in his Robin form is also a little funny too because of how long it is, but I don't really have a problem with it lol

Now for the ones outside of the movie:

I'm not so crazy about them being a Nightwing and Flamebird duo as adults. I want them to become their own identities, but not by using those mantles, cause it's still not completely theirs and isn't really fitting for them to me either, not even the Batman and Superman mantles either. Other characters like Dick, Chris, and Bette have already used them and made their names with it. Damian and Jon both actually deserve their own that let them shine in their real unique ways and stay independently remembered without their titles getting into the mix of confusion with other hero's. Everyone is allowed to have fun with it obviously though, no matter what I think

For a day job as an adult, Jon should become a scientist instead of a writer or reporter for the Daily Planet like his parents, because that's just totally boring and he's also his own person, not their twin. Just cause he's their child, it doesn't mean he's gonna be exactly like them and daydream about their hobbies. And it makes a lot more sense for science being his dream job too, because he's shown plenty of interest in it before

And for Damian, he should become a vetinarian as an adult, and credit to my good friend @camo-wolf for this next part here that I love, which is that he also owns his own company as a ceo to do it too, so he also has many more helpful clinics opened everywhere instead of just one

I'm not too crazy about their trinity with Lizzie and just can't see the boys having one either. It feels like it's just another thing to make them even more like their Dad's once again imo, but I think they're better off being kept as just a duo still. And unlike many other Damijon and Supersons fans, I'm also not crazy about Lizzie herself either :| (Not saying that I hate or dislike her though). I will say that the stories with the three of them together are pretty fun and cute though, despite what I feel about her. Oh, and for another little thing, even though it's Damian and Jon's thing in their relationship to fight and argue over things, it feels a little overdone in those books and feels like they're being more like just nasty to eachother with their certain comments and want to actually just get the other mad constantly

Speaking of groups, besides the boys having their little Supersons duo to themselves, as kids Damian and Jon definitely should've had their own awesome superhero team together a LONG time ago with characters their own age that could've grown with them like how it was originally planned for canon, instead of them both being shoved into ones like Teen Titans and other already established ones like that, because those groups have so much of their own stuff going on that just doesn't fit the boys and all of the members in them are usually much older than them too. For my idea about what they would have, I like to think that it's a fun group separate from the Supersons duo that both Damian and Jon lead and their main members could've been young close friends of theirs, like Maya Ducard, Kathy Brandon, and Colin Wilkes, and then for additional ones, it could be Tai Pham, Maps Mizoguchi, Flatline, Respawn, Suren Darga, Chris Kent, Irey and Jai West, Lian Harper, and even though I play around with their ages a lot in my own universes like randomly switching them both from toddlers to tweens whenever I feel like it, I'll say Mar'i and Jake too (idk if I'm forgetting any others). Then for the team name, I choose "Legacy's Youth" or "Youthful Legacy" or "Legacy's challangers"

And for another thing to do with groups, Dceased should've just let Maya and Kathy be the girls that teamed up with the boys, instead of forcing a deaged Cassie Sandsmark into it just to date Damian, create a trinity, and be the girl in a boys group, because unlike her, Maya and Kathy are the ones who actually have real relationships and history with Damian and Jon that were already made outside of that universe, so they both would've been much better picks. And without all of that dating stuff too, because them being boys and girls doesn't mean they should have to (plus, Damian and Jon seemed like they were the ones that were actually dating and also married to eachother instead in the story anyways lmao, so that's more proof that there was literally no need for it)

Jon's electric powers that came out during his Injustice crossover are so lame, cause that's not anything new. His solar flare is so much more dope and unique than that, what happened to it?!?! I prefer it way more

The team up reunion Supersons book that came out with Older!Jon and Damian in his new suit felt like their personalities were kind of swapped in some parts of the story, which was kind of weird to see and bothered me a little

During Damian's first time visit in the future, Jon should've been way more protective and stood up for him better when Saturn Girl and the other legion of heroes members began saying their hateful and nasty comments out loud about him right in front of his dang face. And even more defensive he should've been too when Saturn girl started messing with Damian's mind out of nowhere like it was okay and then put him to sleep, instead of just letting her like he did. He should've had complete second thoughts about the whole team right there and decide to leave after how uncomfortable they've made things, instead of still joining them anyways like they're still cool and forgetting about what had just happened. Jon's actual entire reaction during it all was just so naive and felt so ridiculous to me, it was disappointing

Jon and Chris Kent can both exist together at the same time, there is no problem with it at all. And just because Chris was taken away, that doesn't mean Jon's existence should be hated for it, it's the fault of DC writers for what happened, not him

Damian should also be able to finally have a sweet relationship with his Mother already instead of it still being dragged away from him all the time and also still being considered as an abusive one for him, because 1. being horrible to her child is ooc for Talia and 2. Damian deserves to have her in his life, not just Bruce as a Father. He should also be able to have a good relationship with the rest of Al Ghul's too and even a sibling relationship with Respawn as well, not just the ones he has with the Batkids. I know that some (or most?? Idk lol) fans don't like him because they say his origin made Ra's look bad for having him be abusive to him, but that's all very unnecessary blame on Respawn's character that he doesn't deserve at all, it was just a role he was put in as a victim, it's obviously the fault of the writers who wrote the story to be that way. I also feel like it would've made more sense that Slade raised him and was the one who had actually abused him, because he's done it to his other kids in the past anyways and him being a toxic parent is actually very in character for him

The Fortress of attitude is literally catching dust now that Damian and Jon have both completely forgotten about it for some reason, it deserves to make a comback!!

Jon used to have a dog named Ranger, I'm not sure what exactly happened to him (I guess he was forgotten about or whatever), but he shouldn't have been erased. He was adorable

I prefer Damian's pushed back spikey hair so much more over his current flat and long one, it fits him better. The current one does look nice on him and I get the reason behind why he has it, which is pretty sad, but it makes him look too similar to Tim and I don't like that. The same artist who made Damian's new hair that way in the first place also doesn't draw Flatline's spikey hair either, which makes me think they might actually have something against those kinds of hairstyles lol

Damian would so get along with Lois because of their sass and Talia would actually love Jon for how great he is to her Son

Annnnd I think that's probably all of my unpopular opinions about the boys for now lol

Thank you for the ask, anon!! I enjoyed answering this!

[errethebunny]

Before the timer goes out, I'd like to share some theories about what's about to come in ikevil

possible spoilers ahead

Usually, it is on act 2 that the ikemen team usually announces the new characters of the season.

As we experienced in Ikemen Vampire, and Ikemen Prince, the new characters usually come to antagonize some of the previous suitors.

Which makes me believe the characters that would be antagonized by the new bunch, will be the characters that didn't have their routes out yet: Roger, Jude and Victor. In that order.

Maybe in Roger's route, we will learn about some other cursed person Roger tried to cure and wasn't successful (hence why he's very adamant about NOT being a doctor anymore). Maybe he thought his friend died, and now surprise! Guess who's back?

As for their curse, my thoughts go to The Big Bad Wolf from Red Riding Hood.

Pretty cliche, I know, but like Snow White, Red Riding Hood also has a Hunter, which would be perfect to explain their relation to one another, as well as determining their dynamic as the two big bad guys hunting Mc.

Now for Jude, I don't really think the new guy will necessarily be related to Briar Rose. But I definitely can see some money related curse. Maybe Robin Wood? Maybe. Definitely something thief related I think

It could be interesting, a character that hates rich people like Jude, however since Jude is rich himself, the character could steal some of Jude's stuff. It could be funny lol

I could keep going, but I think Victor deserves his own post.

[britany1997]

Howl at the Moon

Part two

The return of my favorite version of Stevie, Werewolf Steve🥰 part one here:)

Werewolf Steve x GN Reader

Warnings: a tiny bit of angst at the beginning but mainly tooth-rotting fluff

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

“So what’s your plan here?” Dustin asked, tapping his pen on the rim of his hat.

“What?” Steve let out an exasperated breath.

“Your plan?” Dustin repeated, shooting Steve an incredulous look, “you don’t have one?”

Steve grit his teeth and turned to Robin, very slowly. “Why’d you invite him?” he bit out.

Robin shrugged, “nerd problems require nerd solutions wolfy.”

Steve sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger as he turned back to Dustin. “No. I don’t have a plan.”

“Steve, buddy,” Dustin began, clapping a hand on Steve’s back and making him flinch, “you’re tellin me your mate could walk in here whenever and you’re gonna what? Stand there and gawk?” Dustin shook his head in disbelief.

“That’s what he did when they came in last time,” Robin chimed in.

Steve waived his hands in frustration, “can we all just…” he sighed, trailing off.

“We don’t even know for sure they’re my mate,” his voice fizzled out in a broken whisper, “I don’t want to get my hopes up.”

Robin’s face softened. She scooted closer to Steve, slowly, as if she was afraid to scare him off.

“Steve…” Robin began, “not every partner…they’re not all Nancy.” She placed a hand on Steve’s arm.

Dustin’s eyes flitted back and forth between the two, waiting for the werewolf to speak.

Steve sighed, “I know it’s just-” he rubbed the back of his neck, “I know.”

Robin and Dustin exchanged a look but didn’t push Steve and further.

“Well,” Dustin slapped his hands down onto his knees, sensing the energy change and thinking up a quick excuse, “I better get going then, mom needs me to pick up some stuff for dinner and all that…” he trailed off.

Steve nodded and lifted his hand in a little wave as Dustin rushed to gather his things and head out.

Dustin shot back a wave of his own before striding out the door.

In his haste, Dustin didn’t see you walking into the video store until he hit you with the door.

You stumbled back a bit, your hand flying to your forehead.

At the sight of you hurt, Steve sprung into action.

On his way to the doorway, he slapped the back of Dustin’s head. “Ow,” Dustin grit under his breath.

“Are you ok?” Steve asked you, stepping forward to hold your face in his hand and look you over for injuries.

His wolf brain was completely occupied with ensuring you were safe and unharmed, totally oblivious to how intimately his actions could be perceived.

You however, were not oblivious to the intimacy of Steve’s giant hands cupping your face. You had completely forgotten about the bump on your head as this unbelievably cute guy doted on you.

Your cheeks tinged pink as he studied you closely.

At the sight of your flushed cheeks, Steve flashed back to reality and realized what he was doing. His own cheeks turned red as his hands released you.

“I was just um-” he was mortified, “are you ok?” he repeated.

Your lips pulled up into a soft smile, “yeah I’m fine. Shoulda been watching where I was going I guess”

Steve frowned a little, “he should’ve been watching where he was going,” he gestured to Dustin, “let me get you a band-aid or something.”

Dustin rolled his eyes at the display. As Steve went to go riffle through the supply closet, he slunk to Robin’s side.

“Can I go now?” Dustin whispered under his breath, “or do I need to be scolded some more to placate Steve’s weird wolf thing?”

Robin scoffed a laugh, “get outta here nerd, I think he’s got this.”

Dustin saluted and snuck out the door.

As the front door shut, Steve emerged from the back, blowing the dust off of an ancient looking first aid kit.

“Hop up on the counter,” Steve told you. You did as he asked.

Robin pretended to stock tapes as she watched the two of you.

As Steve popped open the first aid kit, a cloud of dust puffed out. You stifled a laugh while Steve’s brow furrowed.

“I’m really ok,” you reassured him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Steve’s heart raced at your touch, everything in him screaming to pull you into his arms and never let you go.

Instead he cleared his throat and straightened his back. “You can never be too careful,” he told you, straining to be casual.

You smiled. If this insanely attractive man wanted to take care of you, you weren’t gonna complain. You’d only been stopping by the video store to see him again anyway.

Steve unwrapped a band aid and leaned in to press it to the bump on your head. You weren’t sure how that was supposed to help, but you figured you should just let him work.

As Steve leaned in, he caught a whiff of you scent.

It was the most amazing smell that had ever graced his nose. You were like a mix of honey, cinnamon, and vanilla.

He leaned in even closer, his nose almost touching the crook of your neck. Without thinking, he inhaled deeply.

Your eyes widened, startled a bit. But after the initial shock wore off, you found that Steve’s closeness didn’t bother you in the slightest. It actually made you feel at ease.

Entranced by your scent, Steve’s eyes fluttered closed and he nuzzled the crook of your neck. His wolf instincts were desperate to be close to you, to touch you, to hold you. He hadn’t been sure before, but now? There was no doubt in his mind that you were absolutely, unequivocally, one-hundred percent, his.

You giggled a bit as he nuzzled your neck, the warmth of his cheek seeping into your skin.

The sound of your laughter snapped him out of his trance and he pulled back, face turning bright red.

Robin, who’d been watching the whole interaction, cringed at Steve. She silently prayed you wouldn’t run away screaming.

“I- uh- oh God,” Steve stumbled over his words, trying and failing to explain his actions.

You laughed softly. If anyone else had done that, you never would have let them get away with it. But there was something about Steve that just called to you, with him it was different.

“I want you to have something,” you told him as you grabbed a post it and a pen from the counter and scribbled down your number.

“Call me sometime,” you handed him the post-it before hopping off the counter.

“Yeah! Yeah um… I will!” Steve promised, unable to believe his luck.

You beamed and turned to leave.

“Oh wait!” Steve called after you, “I’m Steve.”

“Steve,” you pretended to ponder his name, as if you hadn’t made your friends tell you everything they knew about the former king of Hawkins high after the first time you’d met, “nice to see you again Steve.”

You waved as you left the store, smiling to yourself and hoping he’d call soon.

As soon as you were out of sight, Robin materialized at Steve’s side. “You’re a real Casanova sniffin’ them like that,” she nudged him with her shoulder.

He groaned, “I couldn’t help it.” He sighed, “it worked didn’t it?”

Robin rolled her eyes, “it’s a good thing you’re pretty,” she teased.

Steve Taglist🐾:

@6lostgirl6 @misslavenderlady @crustyboypix @gothamslostboy @bloodywickedvamp @anna1306 @arbesa-mind @dwaynesluscioushair @lostboys1987girl @teelas-library @ria-coolgirl @arenpath @bitchyexpertprincess @kurt-nightcrawler @warrior-616 @f4iryfxies @dwaynedelight @walmart-cereal @solobagginses @rynsfandomsfun @palomam18

[farshootergotme]

Oh you and your friend make some interesting points about why Bruce adopting Dick so late in his life was a problem. It’s something writers clearly didn’t take into account when the trying to make this scene work while also not letting go of the not being adopted thing plot line while also trying to have their cake too by having Dick and Bruce makeup and finally having Dick be adopted by Bruce.

I know the writer writing Protugal wanted it to be a touching moment between the two of them. But the problem is it isn’t about what Dick wants and it written in a way where Bruce while has good intention offering him the adoption papers, he doesn’t own up to the fact he caused this issue in the first place if I am remembering correctly although I will have double check and reread that scene so take my statement with a grain of salt. Poor communication is truly the worst emery of them all and cough comic book writers loving to hammer in unnecessary drama and conflict even if makes no bloody sense at times or take into account how it effect the characters going forward. 

The thing about what is a good Batman writer is not necessarily if they nail Bruce Wayne and Batman as a whole but rather if they care about Robin as a concept or even like characters Dick Grayson in general. Same goes to Nightwing writers as well you can absolutely love Dick Grayson but do you actually understand Bruce Wayne as a character and are you willing to explore that aspect of their relationship Ie father/son. (Then again some of Nightwing writers do him so bloody dirty it’s honestly mind boggling to me.)

Another thing to think about is how most modern day writers and even some of older best writers from back in day of Batman is that they refuse to let him be wrong or admit he has messed up. Like my god, I like Bruce as character I really do but it’s so frustrating to see how he is treated in modern books like my god just stop the drama already with his family, I’m tired of Batman being regressed to his younger less mature self mentality and acts like he has learned nothing. Why is it so hard to just let him be a flawed but well meaning dad who yes messes up sometimes but is willing to get better and grow as a person because at the end of the day he truly cares about his children.

My problem with Richard getting adopted as an adult is well mainly with how it was handled. It never about what Dick wants if it was the writers would have made Bruce apologise for his failing as a father to him and make it so it’s up to Richard if he decides to forgive him or not because let’s be honest Bruce hurt his eldest son by his selfish actions but Bruce should also just be honest with him about he has always seen him as a son maybe not at first but it grew into that overtime and that he was wrong for assuming how Dick felt about being adopted and should have done sooner in fact he should have done around the same time as Jason. Again he should have done the minute or at least offered it when he and Dick had a heart to heart in the Marv wolf man run at Donna wedding but I don’t know. You know what amusing about his run is before this story was made he refer to Dick as Bruce adopted child early in his run which is an interesting thing to think about or maybe I misremember and it was a different writer altogether. OvO’)

Or maybe we can just skip all the stupid drama of adopting or no adopting bs and just have Bruce adopt Richard as a young teen which gives Dick enough time to think about it and probably change his mind. It also gives them time to bond as father and son, now I am not asking for Bruce to be a perfect father figure mistakes will happen as he learns what it means to be a father figure to Dick. Like come on give me fun and compassionate Batman please I miss him like geez why are the writers afraid to just let Bruce grow and move on from his past to some extent. 

Another to get off my chest with DC is well isn’t time to just retire the whole ward thing because it not really used anymore and might as well change to Dick being a foster child because that is what he is. Like the 2004 cartoon The Batman made this change to just that. Like I get Ward is historically important to Richard but I don’t know. Another thing I wish for is just to let Dick be adopted earlier at this point because the drama of not being adopted is just hurting both Dick and Bruce as characters at this point. 

When you could instead be focusing on why Dick wanting space and independence from Bruce like how his parenting style can be quite old fashioned the strict yet overprotective father figure and how he shows his love through his actions rather then his words. You could also explore how Bruce being a dad with a mental health issue aka ptsd, being kind of a control freak and suffer from self loathing issues and how he thinks he never be a good enough parent to his adopted soon. Effects Dick development and how Dick felt like over-coddled and suppressed by Bruce being overprotective and at times being super critical of his decisions as a young teen and young adult.

Honestly what frustrating about Tom Tyler run of Nightwing is that the scene with Dick and Bruce in the bat cave is so good but the problem is it is not earned because Tom Tyler hasn’t really taken the time to explore Dick’s and Bruce’s relationship as father and son or having the balls to actually explore the nuances of it and gasp let Dick call Bruce out on where he has hurt him and that Bruce needing to take responsibility for his actions as father. 

This is why I hate when people say they aren’t father and son or god damn family because one it makes it out Bruce actions aren’t as bad because they’re just “coworkers/partners” which just gross to me and also takes away Richard agency and why he repels so heavily against Bruce and why he is so upset about not being adopted you can’t just sit there and tell me they’re not family because it’s simply not true because this effects Richard heavily because in his mind he thought he wasn’t good enough to be Bruce’s son and felt replaced. Literally Eldest feeling replaced by the new baby sibling coded right there.

Another thing, I feel people will have come and accept about superhero comics mostly by Marvel and DC is well they’re kinda like fairy tales in a way, writers giving their own spin and takes on the world and the characters that function within it. They only things that keep them connected is how characters themselves and if they develop and grows carries over or sticks within that part of the lore. I also feel that writers are afraid to take big risks like changing how Dick Grayson became Nightwing even though they’re already one or two versions where it doesn’t lead to him fighting with Bruce and getting fired.

Now I am not saying ignore canon completely but I feel you’re at the mercy of the writers or eras of comic book runs and I think people should pick the writers they like rather try to stitch all these different takes and continuities together. Then again, I guess it doesn’t help that most media has Batman alone and completely disregard the concept of Robin or his found family in general and that honestly such a shame because Robin aka Dick Grayson is the reason Batman comics stayed alive for so alive for so long, hell he was created even before blooming Alfred.

Which leads to final point this whole thing about Dick Grayson not being adopted, has made so that is all is ever talked about. Who Dick Grayson the character like what are his goals who he is like yes he relationship with his father figure is important as it what lead him to this pathway and wether he likes or not he can quite similar to Bruce in terms of his beliefs and parts of his personality but also what about his friends the titans or his journey into adulthood and he finds himself that’s more interesting to me. Modern writers what are you doing with Richard he has so much potential and yet it feels like they have no idea on what they want to do with. No more Tony Zuuco no more changing to his backstory leave it alone please it’s fine how it is there is no reason to make it more complicated and by doing that you take away how the parallel between Bruce and Dick backstories 👏👏👏Hot take I know. 

Also, there is nothing wrong with wanting to write Dick and Bruce patching up their relationship as father and son, I love Bruce being a good dad that is trying to best despite being mentally ill himself. But keep in mind how you go about writing Bruce and make sure he faces consequences for his decisions and actions as a parental figure to  Dick Grayson and his other children. 

Oh wow sorry for making another kinda essay in your ask box again. 😅 (Hmm, I could talk about how Dick parents and his lifestyle at the circus effect his personality and how his flaws were already there before Bruce took him in but that probably for another time ha ha.

Anyway, that is enough of my rambles and inner never ending thought of this complicated father and son duo.

Hey, thanks for sharing your thoughts! I personally can agree with a lot that you're saying.

The problem when it comes to writing Dick and Bruce is that their characters are so old that many of the things from the earliest comics would be very different if one wants to write them in a more modern era. But many writers seem to choose to keep things (despite also changing things that are actually alright and should be left alone, but, oh, well...)

I mean, I don't think the drama of Bruce not being able to adopt is all that bad. For example, in one of the origins, there was woman, Sister Mary, who took care of Dick during his time at the orphanage. She mentions doubting Bruce's capabilities as a father because of his reputation as a womanizer, but that she was convinced she'd be good for Dick after talking with him in private.

They could still use this conflict in modern era and how his image as the playboy billionaire could influence the jury's decision to only give him custody of Dick as his new guardian rather than his adoptive father. Plus (I don't remember if it was in the same origin or not) Dick at the beginning wasn't fully ready to have a 'replacement' for his dad, so Bruce would respect that and accept the responsibility as his guardian.

However, here's where I'd say that they screw up; they let the years pass, no mention of adoption whatsoever (despite both clearly growing to see each other as father and son, respectively) and they just leave it at that until, check this out! Jason is adopted! I would assume now the jury is okay with letting him adopt a child because he's proven himself by taking care of Dick all these years. But, yeah, actually, back to Dick, what about him, then?

I don't believe for a second nobody would bring up the adoption issues. Like, if not Bruce or Dick (maybe because they're both afraid of being rejected by the other if they bring it up) why not Alfred? He's not shy about voicing his thoughts to Bruce, and I'm sure he could convince him to have a chat with Dick about a possible adoption because Dick is only getting older and one day it'll be too late to ask.

(Except not apparently because DC wrote Bruce asking a Dick in his early twenty's if he can adopt him which is definitely not late at all! Not to mention they had the first real conversation about adoption years ago, but Bruce just ignored Dick clears desires to be adopted and only brought it up when he thought it was the right time because why make a father that cares also about his son's emotions, am I right?

It just feels like a cheap compensation for all the years they (specially Dick) waited to become an official family. So what if the bond is more important? Maybe Dick wanted the reassurance that no matter what he would still be Bruce's family without meaning the end of their relationship everytime he left the manor to make a life for himself, is that so wrong?)

And it just makes Bruce look so bad when someone comes up with the excuse that "Dick didn't want to be adopted so Bruce was only respecting his wishes". Well, of fucking course he didn't want to get a new father a few weeks after he saw his dad's bloody corpse laying on the floor of the circus! But years later? When he's already learnt to deal with the grief and has found a new family in these two older men that chose to take care of him? What excuse does Bruce have then to not have ever brought it up again? The only 'excuse' I could think of is that he was insecure that he wouldn't be a good father to Dick (or as good as Jhon Grayson) or, as I mentioned before, afraid of being rejected. But this isn't just about him!! And as the adult in the situation he needs to save those feelings for later and communicate with Dick first without coming to any assumptions. What will change from the current relationship, anyway? Other than the security that Bruce can't just get rid of Dick whenever he wants since he's just his guardian and he can pass the responsibility to anyone else which sounds a lot more like a plus to me than a negative change.

And Bruce himself said "it doesn't really change anything" when he gave Dick the papers, so it really was a non-issue since the beginning.

I get he can have doubts and insecurities, but when it's between putting your feelings first or the ones of the child you're raising, I think the decision should come pretty easily. (Not to Bruce, apparently)

So, yeah, if DC really wanted, they could just change the early years again (we know they can, they've done it enough times already) and make Dick Bruce's officially adopted son during his Robin years and fix the whole issue very easily.

Now, I wanted to address the part about Bruce's parenting and DC not letting him develop and grow as both a character and a father, but I don't want to make this too long and you already said enough about the topic, so I'll leave it at that.

(also, would definitely love to hear about your thoughts on Dick's upbringing at the circus and how his issues began from his early childhood and not everything was for Bruce's influence. I have my own thoughts about that and it'd be great to discuss them with you)

[crow-aeris]

A Reverse-Robin Wingfic / To Brace Upon Benign Feathers

It starts kinda crack-ish, but then gets kinda emotional-y towards the end ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

===

"TIM!"

He jerked awake, blinking at the ceiling in confusion as his brain slowly registered where he was.

"Tim!" the voice came again, followed by a body slamming into his chest.

"Oomf!" Tim grunted as the air was violently knocked out of his chest. With a tight expression, he reached up and carded a hand through his brother's hair, "Morning, Dick."

"Hi!" the newest addition to the family chirped brightly, his sapphire eyes glowing as bright as a 200,000 lumens flashlight. Brighter than the sun, even. The blue reminds him of Kon and the alien's blue eyes that looked like a wolf-rayet star.

"What time is it?" Tim mumbled, wincing as the five-year-old crawled over him, digging his knee into Tim's kidney and accidentally stepping on his wing.

"It's time for you to get your a- butt in gear and move," Jason called from the door. “Damian’s making breakfast, so Duke asked us to come and wake you.”

Tim groaned, dropping his head back until it banged loudly against the headboard. Maybe if he hit his head hard enough, he could go back to sleep.

Dick cheered when he spotted Jason, the Ficher's Lovebird's bright red-yellow-green wings flaring out as he launched himself at the teen.

Jason grunted as Dick slammed into him but managed to keep his grip steady.

"Hurry up and get ready," Jason said. The cardinal shifted, folding his bright crimson wings against his back as Dick tucked his face into Jason's neck, "B said he's gonna take up to the zoo."

"Zoo! I wanna go to the zoo!" Dick's head shot up as he clutched Jason's shirt.

"I know, Dickie," Jason rolled his eyes fondly, "that's why we're going."

"Okay!" the fledgling chirped, "Tim!"

"Yes?" He lifted his head from the pillow with a slow and tired blink. What he'd give to have Kon here right now.

"Get! Up!" Dick demanded. Jason, the traitor, just laughed. "Or else I'll tell Dami to come get you!"

The falcon hummed, waiting until his brothers disappeared from the doorframe before flipping over and shoving his face back into the pillow.

Everything ached, his back especially, and it wasn't because of Kon, okay, Jason? Tim had been fighting Killer Croc last night, and that bastard got lucky and slammed Tim against a brick wall. His right arm was a huge-ass bruise, and he was not excited to get up.

Maybe if he pretended to be dead, Damian would leave him be...

Who is he kidding? If the harpy eagle was willing to drag a pit-crazed Tim from the brink of suicide, then he was more than willing to dunk Tim in the pits.

Just as he was about to doze off, there was a knock on the doorframe.

"What?" Tim -whined- groaned, not bothering to lift his head from the pillow.

"Hey, Ducky," an amused voice called.

He pouted, turning his head to glare balefully at Duke. The mourning dove smiles, lifting a brow in amusement. Traitor.

"Leave me alone, Duke," Tim grumbled, thankful that Alfred had all the pillows and sheets in Tim's room reinforced since the last time he had a Pit-episode... It had been a whole thing...

Duke raised another eyebrow, mimicking Alfred's patented Disappointed Stare™ quite successfully. Tim doesn't doubt that, at this point, Duke could get even Damian to bend to his will.

And just like Alfred's own stares, Tim, frustratingly, folded under pressure.

For fuck's sake- he was supposed to Wraith, the dead spirit of the Bat's second Shadow revived and out to hunt ne'er do wells as well as the Bats themselves- his goddamn reputation!

"What reputation, Tim?" Duke laughed before strolling over and yanking the covers off of him.

God, Tim hates it when he says things out loud. A side effect of being locked away by Ra's in an attempt to break his spirit or whatever.

He grumbled as Duke hauled him up and out of bed. Annoyingly, the Lazarus pits healed his shitty eyes, that one scar he got from following Shadow around, and the gash in his throat, but not his fucking height. Instead, Tim has to be stuck in this measly five-foot-seven-inch body, while Duke, Bruce, and Damian all got to be fucking six-foot-plus behemoths.

A shake snapped Tim out of his misery.

"Did you even hear what I said?" Duke asked incredulously.

"No," Tim huffed, "I was distracted and decided not to listen to your stupid voice saying stupid stuff."

"Says that one in air jail," Duke replied smugly. Shit, he's right. That fucker. "Tim, I can practically hear you cussing me out. Keep doing this, and I'll have Bruce and Damian hide your coffees and Red Bulls."

"W-"

"And your monsters."

Tim gasped, "You wouldn't dare."

"Try me. Now go get ready. We leave in an hour, and you don't even have a shirt on, Tim."

"It's a fashion choice," he hissed, "you wouldn't understand because you're stupid!"

Duke sighed, plopping Tim onto the floor. He wasn't even surprised when the falcon went boneless, turning into a limp pile of loose limbs and angry hissing, "You're such a child, Ducky."

"This is because I'm gay, isn't it!" Tim demanded, snapping to his feet and flaring out his wings, "This is homophobia!"

"Of course, it is," Duke drily responded before he turned and made for the door, "I'll send Damian up in ten minutes. If you haven't gotten ready by then, I'm allowing him to dress you however he likes."

Duke closed the door gently, but he might as well have slammed it from how ruffled it left him.

Honestly, the gall! How has he, Wraith, Ra's desired heir to the fucking Damon's Fang, fallen so far from his formidable glory?

Nevertheless, Tim forced himself to get ready. He brushed his teeth and washed his face- even "Serial Killers" need clear skin, but was killing fifteen of Black Mask's and the Joker's most trusted really considered killing? Bruce was just overreacting!- and then threw on a short-sleeved shirt, hoodie over that, washed-out ripped jeans, and called it a day.

Tim groaned, desperately craving coffee, caffeine, or something to stave off the complete and utter exhaustion pooling in his head. This was terrible, horrible, and a vile thing to do.

"Timothy," Damian said from where he stood at the table, a plate held in the eagle's hands. He was wearing a bright pink apron covered with flour, and Jason was behind him, wearing a matching pink apron and holding a plate, too. "You finally decided to show your face and detach yourself from that hovel."

"If you want, I could always go back to my so-called Hovel," Tim tilted his head in a challenge.

"Tt," Damian scoffed before sliding a plate to Tim's spot, "Seeing as you have already decided to show your face, and Richard somehow tolerates you, it would be more efficient if you remain here."

Dick was already seated with a glass of strawberry milk, and his pancakes were half-finished and absolutely drowning in maple syrup. Bruce was directly across from Dick, and his pancakes were far more respectable with butter, syrup, bacon, and a cup of coffee. Duke was beside Dick, and he had a plate with fresh fruit, powdered sugar, and a glass of orange juice. Alfred sat at the head of the table with his English breakfast, tea, and a proud smile. Cass was next to Bruce with a bowl of fruit, orange juice, toast, and multiple slices of stolen bacon.

Hesitantly, Tim sat down at the end of the table as Jason rushed over to fill the empty chair between Tim and Duke. Damian, the bull-headed son of a bitch -that bitch being Bruce, because Tim would never call Talia a bitch- decided the best seat wasn't going to be next to Cass, but instead the seat directly in front of Tim. Not in front of Jason, but in front of Tim.

Instead of confronting his feelings like a well-adjusted member of society should, Tim decided the best course of action was to examine his plate of pancakes.

It had fudge drizzled over the top, dusted lightly with powdered sugar, and freshly diced strawberries were placed like a crown with their leaves carefully removed and tossed in a barely noticeable syrup. There was a small bowl of strawberry-lemon zest jam on the edge of Tim's plate, and he could tell that whoever positioned it was diligent. Not a single speck of powdered sugar got onto the outside of the tiny bowl...

Every part of this plate looked like it had been prepared in a five-star restaurant. What more was that this was exactly the same kind of pancakes Damian would make for him as an apology back when Tim was Shadow...

Suddenly, his eyes were beginning to sting, and Tim could feel Damian's stare carve holes into the top of his head. And then, Damian slid over a cup of steaming coffee, and just by looking at it, he knew Damian had made it the way Tim loved.

It was a declaration, an apology, and a promise all wrapped in a simple breakfast…

He took a deep breath and cut into his pancakes, forcing himself to hold back tears as his family chattered around him.

Even after everything that has happened, his flock still accepted him.

Even after everything, Tim was still loved.

[thekillingvote]

Tʜᴇ Kɪʟʟɪɴɢ Vᴏᴛᴇ

Thirty-five years ago, DC Comics opened a phone poll to kill Batman's child sidekick, Robin.

The poll was open to paying callers in the U.S. and Canada for a window of 35 hours, starting on 15 September 1988 at 9AM EST. There were two premium-rate phone numbers—one for Robin's survival, and one for Robin's death. Each paying caller could call multiple times. The results were decided by a margin of 72 votes out of a total 10,614 votes—the difference was just under 0.68%.

Now you decide.

KILL ROBIN

Jerry Smith of Covington, Kentucky claims to have sold his Mercedes-Benz to pay for votes to kill Robin

"Who Killed Cock(y) Robin? I Killed Cock(y) Robin" article by Glen Weldon (2008)

"1-800-DEAD-ROBIN" autobiographical comic by Tony Wolf (2015)

"We killed Jason Todd" feature by Matt Markman (2021)

SAVE ROBIN

Senator Patrick Leahy (D-Vt.), a noted Bat-fan and scholar, denounced the episode as a "Roman gladiator-like readers vote."

"I loved him [...] I personally voted for him to live 100 times, and my mom flipped when she saw the phone bill," says magazine writer Savas Abadsidis.

MJG6 said: I was dead broke, working my way through college, but I voted. My first job was at a comic book store, making me an OG fan girl, I guess, and I encouraged people to vote to save him. [...] Because killing a teen, in a role kids are supposed to identify with, that was just sick.

Further Reading

"A Death in the Family, or: How DC Comics Let a Phone Vote Kill Robin" via r/HobbyDrama

"Living Dead Boy: Jason Todd vs. The Culture That Killed (and Resurrected) Him" on Women Write About Comics

"The Vote to Kill Robin" - trivia, misconceptions, opinions by comic-commentary

Some fan letter columns from Jason's later times as Robin

No Birds Allowed: Batman without Robin

"A lot like Robin if you close your eyes": Displacement of meaning in the Post-Modern Age by Mary Borsellino, an essay on dead Robins, sexism, and classism

🦞 The Tale of Larry the Lobster 🦞

Submitted arguments below:

Kill Robin

Anonymous propaganda IN FAVOR of killing the lobster the Robin!

I love Jason Todd. I love his post-crisis Robin days, I love his sense of justice and his adorable love of learning and his silly curly bangs! I say this to emphasize that I don't want him killed out of any dislike of the character.

I want him dead out of a love for storytelling that gets to stick to its guns and doesn't pull its punches. In context of the poll we readers have just seen Dick Grayson get kicked out of the role due to Bruce's fear of him getting hurt, then he turns around and gets a new Robin anyways because he misses him! I really like that Bruce is being messy and hypocritical! Let that have some real consequences please!

If there were no real consequences then Dick got shoved out of being Robin for what? Hairbrained overprotective worry? Why even change the way he graduated into being Nightwing so much then or heck why even kick him out in the first place?

One might argue that we haven't even given this Robin proper time to develop, that instead he might be taken in new and interesting directions as his own unique Robin shaping the mantle into a legacy rather than just something that was Dick's. I admit this is a very good point, and we are cutting off some possible interesting avenues. As I mentioned, I do like this character! But are we really going to get that?

If DC is already prepared to toss him out of this mortal coil and through the pearly gates after such a short while, do we really think we're going to get much more love and care applied to him?

I say let's roll the dice for something new! May the comics world and all these characters have to deal with the ramifications for many years to come!

Save Robin

robin’s death (and subsequent resurrection) is, frankly, an insult to robin fans of that era. to want to see this child get killed in a brutal manner for no apparent reason, to see jason essentially removed from the narrative so batman could go back to being gritty and depressed—this is awful to me. he hadn’t even been robin for very long!

but that’s not why he should’ve lived.

the resurrection of jason todd as the red hood was narratively interesting enough that it kept most fans of the original jason hooked, and it still does! he has become a prime example of a trauma survivor: his death changed him, and those who loved him have difficulty accepting that.

but there is no resolution to that story, nor was there a resolution to jason’s tenure as robin. dick chose to leave robin behind and take on a new mantle. tim, steph, both had robin taken away from them (and let’s forget about how tim is still robin, because that doesn’t matter right now). damian’s role as robin conflicts with his misconception of his role in the family. everyone else has had an ending, and jason’s death…well. after his resurrection, he has somehow remained stagnant and wildly inconsistent at the same time. this applies to under the red hood too.

at its core, utrh is a deeply classist retelling of jason’s life pre-death in the family. winick makes him a villain—albeit a sympathetic one—who fucks over or kills people that he would’ve thrown himself in front of to save as robin. in utrh, the implication is that jason had always been violent and angry (and morally compromised), and that he was destined to become worse.

it sometimes feels that jason’s transition into being the red hood (and all the characterization that comes with that) was a decision dc made for shock value. just from jason’s robin run, it’s difficult to imagine jason becoming the red hood. it doesn’t feel inevitable. it’s tragic.

ultimately, i believe that jason never should have died, and that his death was a stunt by dc for its shock value. jim starlin wanted jason dead because to him a child sidekick, in a medium that was originally made for children, was “sheer insanity”. he was fridged, plain and simple.

[ragnarokhound]

hey sweetie how are you. I made banana bread for breakfast tomorrow but DON’T touch it till then, it won’t be as good

there’s a post going around about the dynamic of a guard dog character, a lamb, and a wolf (one wants to possess and protect the lamb, one wants to devour it). How do you think jaytimkon fits in this?

ps… 10 things i hate about you? thoughts?

hey sweetie, i'm pretty good uwu had a nice day yesterday walking around my neighborhood with a friend! <3 And ough herrghh mrregghh gragghhhh (<- actively holding myself back from tearing into the banana bread immediately, i'll be strong for you bb but know that you are testing my limits in new and exciting ways)

Putting my responses to both (!! >:0) the jaytimkon and 10 Things ideas under a cut because *deep sigh* it got long lol

BRUH. BRUHHHHHHH. You cannot simply say this to me. You Cannot. Simply. SAY THIS TO ME, YOU'RE NOT SLICK

Once again testing my limits in new and exciting ways because I have a different WIP deadline fast approaching so I simply cannot write more for my actively inspired by guard dog x lamb x wolf jaytimkon WIP to SHOW YOU, in DETAIL, EXACTLY how i think jaytimkon fits into this, BUT

My feelings on this are many, and partially answered in these asks already. But I'll reiterate that they are all three facets simultaneously, baby. Depending on who's talking, they think of themselves as this, that, or the other; the loving, vigilant protector - the helpless, vulnerable bleeding heart - the hungry, slinking interloper. The story I have been brooding over for almost a year now (egads) WILL feature a somewhat slowburn where each of them takes turns realizing which one they are and slowly changing their minds as the narrative progresses and their relationship heats up 🔥w🔥BUT BE PATIENT BECAUSE I SURE HAVE TO BE (*whining and whimpering i crave this banana bread)

P.S. I love the taming of the shrew, and it's absolutely perfect jaytim material are you KIDDING. Cramming two different concepts into one ask. Evil. Diabolical. I love my wife.

10 Things I Hate About You is such a fun movie, and I could honestly see the role of Kate being played equally well by either Tim or Jason lol, and in a somewhat reverse robins style, Dick taking on the role of Bianca. Wally or Kori or [Your Choice Here] in the role of Cameron, wanting to date him. In fact, ohhhh OHHHH okay. Okay bear with me while i cook--

Consider Oldest Child Dick Grayson-Wayne who is super popular, super well loved, everyone wants to date him - but he always begs off because he doesn't want his younger brother, Jason, to be left in the lurch. Standoffish, bookish, i-heard-he-did-time, 'whats it to you' Jason, who has maybe two friends but they go to a different school so he doesn't have anyone to sit with at lunch besides his charming older brother. Dick's party line is, "If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my bro. Good luck! :)" (Something something, Dick and Jason are both adopted, something something Dick doesn't actually wanna date anyone, send tweet)

NOW. Fast forward to when Dick meets someone he might actually want to date. But to keep the ravenous hordes away from him, he still, regretfully, must stick to his guns. Jason needs to be dating/friends with/hanging out with/etc someone else before he and this person (again, Your Dickship of Choice Here) can boogie down.

Cue Dick nudging Jason out of the blue to strike out on his own and Jason getting squinty-eyed suspicious (and secretly a little hurt) that Dick apparently sees him as some kind of burden to be offloaded or whatever. Thanks bro. :(

Thus, Dick and his prospective SO hatch a Scheme. A Scheme to see Jason Woo'd in such a way to keep the heat off Dick from both the collective horny student body AND his sensitive younger brother. Enter Tim Drake.

Tim transferred this year and people have been speculating like crazy about him. His grades are insane so people think he'll be a nerd, but he skateboards to school so people think he'll be a stoner, but he's crazy athletic so people think he'll be trying out for the swim team or something - but mostly? People don't know shit. He's friendly enough, but stays apart. An enigma. Cuts school at least twice a week, hasn't seemed to pick any one crowd with which to integrate, is unaffiliated with any one piece of the greater student body. The most anyone can really tell is that he's just a little unhinged and strapped for cash. He'll pull some crazy stunts - if you've got the money.

Which makes him perfect.

Cue Shakespearean shenanigans leading to Some Asshole (your choice of Dick notp here) offering to pay Tim if he dates Jason Todd-Wayne. Tim thinks it's kinda stupid and an asshole move at first, but apparently the money is too good for him to pass up. So he bites.

Tim stalkers his way into interacting with Jason (something something Jason shoving Tim against the wall outside a 7-11 after school and snarling in his face, "i know you're following me. the fuck do you want" and Tim smirking at him, "to ask you out." Jason blinking, then dropping him like he's been burned. "Bullshit." Tim shrugging and running to catch up, falling into step beside him. "It's the truth." Huge Jason side-eye.) and events spiral from there.

(Vulnerable conversations. Jason: People look at me like I'm trash. Like I'm one bad day away from snapping and proving that they were right not to trust me all along. Like I don't have feelings that matter. I like that you're not scared of me. I like that you seem to fuckin'... like me. Or whatever. But I don't know how to trust it. Tim: People only want me around when they think they can get something out of me. They don't like me just what I can do for them. You've never made me feel like that. You don't give a shit about what I can do. It makes me want to-- it makes me want to give you things. To do things for you. I dunno. I guess I'm just waiting for you to tell me to fuck off and finally mean it.)

The reveals go badly. Hurt and betrayal on every side. (Turns out Tim needed the money because his mom's dead, dad's in a coma, and the family company that was supposed to keep Tim afloat has gone belly up. All of his parents' money is tied up in trusts and behind red tape. He's on his own.) Jason is pissed at Tim, but pissed at Dick especially.

The brothers fight. It's a doozy. Dick apologizes for going over Jason's head and manipulating things. Jason apologizes for being an asshole and making Dick feel like he has to be the responsible golden child 24/7, and also for punching Dick in the face. They promise to do better. Then Jason tracks Tim down to his shitty apartment (Tim had seemed super nervous the one time Jason had tried to come home with him, and now he thinks he knows why) and bangs on his door. He hasn't been to school in over a week.

They fight. It's great.

("What you did was shitty." "Yeah." "I don't forgive you for it." "...yeah." "So you better start thinking about how you're gonna fuckin' make it up to me." "Y-yeah?" "Yeah. Like fuck I'm missing prom this year when I finally have a fuckin' boyfriend.") (Now kiss)

[don't ask me how old they are/what grades they're in. i simply do not want to contemplate it. i'd call this a college au for my own sanity, but the very premise and interest in social hierarchies is just so inherently high school that it would fall apart lmfao]

[rosanna-writer]

time won't fly (it's like i'm paralyzed by it) (2/?)

Summary: Every day, Rhysand wakes up next to Amarantha in her bed Under the Mountain. A prisoner, a weapon, a High Lord on a leash. He's been down there so long, it's starting to feel like time doesn't matter. Until one day, it doesn't. Feyre's death sends Rhysand back in time, waking up on the same day - over and over. Now, Rhysand must discover how to break the time loop, save his mate, and keep his sanity intact. A "round robin" style fanfiction with different authors. This work is meant to be read from beginning to end, but each chapter is written by a different author with their own spin on the time loop prompt. Warnings: canon-typical sexual violence, canon-typical violence, temporary character death Rating: Explicit Chapter Word Count: ~2k

To absolutely no one's surprise, I'm part of @feysand-hivemind! I am so lucky to be able to create something alongside the sweetest, most talented group of people with the biggest, wettest, wrinkliest brains (and the biggest wingspans to match). I love you guys so much!

Moodboard by @octobers-veryown

Chapter 1: now we're at the starting line (i did my time) - Loop 0-2 | Chapter 2: Loops 5-11

You can read it Here on AO3 or under the cut!

It had started with a deer and a wolf and a forest. Rhys supposed it could end there, too. There had to be a reason that he found himself back at this moment in particular, over and over.

Something momentous, something world-changing happened every time Feyre loosed that arrow. He knew that down to the marrow of his bones.

Perhaps, then, he’d been tasked with stopping it.

The biting cold and the gnawing hunger were there again, and along with her scent and the sight of her alive, it was nearly enough to distract him.

But her eyes landed on the deer. And then the wolf.

“Feyre!” Rhys called her name, the first time he’d ever dared to voice it aloud.

She turned, and the look she leveled at him was pure hate. A human with ice in her heart, indeed.

Faerie. Rhys heard her thoughts, and she’d spat the word, all venom in her mind.

He hardly noticed. His Feyre moved like an expert, drawing the bow and aiming before she’d even finished turning, loosing the arrow on instinct. It hit its mark, and Rhys couldn’t help but marvel—it had taken him years of training in Illyria to be able to hit a target while doing anything but standing perfectly still.

His painter was a predator, too. He wasn’t even upset she’d shot him.

Rhys’s hand drifted to the wound in his chest as he watched her. Feyre hadn’t wasted time watching to ensure her arrow had found its mark—no, she’d reloaded, and Tamlin’s sentry was already dying, too.

Blood was soaking through his tunic, and Feyre had reloaded again, clearly intent on shooting him a second time to finish the job. Relentless. She had exactly the sort of tenacity Cassian had always said was a hallmark of his most promising recruits.

“I wasn’t going to hurt you,” Rhys said, putting his hands up.

Feyre nocked the arrow but didn’t draw it. “Your kind isn’t supposed to be on this side of the Wall.”

His head was swimming, and for the life of him, Rhys couldn’t tell if it was the blood loss or those blue-grey eyes that were making him dizzy. A giddy, delirious, decidedly un-High-Lord-like laugh bubbled out of him.

“And I would have done something about that if you hadn’t shot me,” he said.

“What the hell are you talking about?” She reached back for another arrow but didn’t close her fingers around it.

Darkness was already eating at the corners of Rhys’s vision; there wasn’t much time left. “It doesn’t matter now.”

Feyre said something else, but Rhys didn’t hear it over the sound of his heart pounding in his ears. He swayed on his feet, stumbling backward until he hit a tree.

Something that might have been regret flickered in Feyre’s eyes.

The stain on his chest was growing, the fuzzy darkness overtaking more and more of his vision. Staying on his feet was too much, and Rhys tumbled to the ground. There wasn’t much time left.

Feyre didn’t kneel at his side or take his hand. He was dimly aware of her standing above him, watching silently as the last of his life drained out of him, probably just making sure he stayed thoroughly dead.

Good. She was being careful. Rhys had seen more than a few warriors die because they got cocky in the brief period between landing a killing blow and their opponent's final breath. Feyre was too smart to let someone she killed go down swinging and fell her too, and for some reason, knowing she could handle herself brought him an immense sense of relief.

Rhys faded out of consciousness, and with Feyre watching over him, it was almost…peaceful.

All too soon, he found himself right back where he started. A deer and a wolf and a forest. Cold and hunger.

Perhaps he’d frightened Feyre by calling her name so abruptly last time. He must have made her panic, so of course she’d reacted on instinct and let her arrow fly.

Rhys wasn’t stupid enough to make the same mistake twice. This time, he gentled his voice as he called her name.

And again, Feyre turned. And again, she shot him without hesitation.

But as he brought his hand to his chest again, Rhys noticed her cheeks had gone pink, most likely from the cold. Perhaps though…perhaps he’d overdone it and purred her name a bit too much like a lover.

He caught the tail end of her thought about him being the most beautiful man she’d ever seen, and even as blood oozed from the wound next to his heart, Rhys wanted to preen.

He was running on borrowed time before he bled out and time reset. None of this mattered at all, so he said, “For what it’s worth, you’re the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, too.”

Just for that, she put another arrow in his throat. The world faded into too-familiar nothingness.

Deer. Wolf. Forest. Cold. Hunger.

Rhys had called her name, and that had been a mistake—as far as Feyre was concerned, he had no reason to know it. Though it seemed patently ridiculous, he didn’t want to frighten her into shooting him again, so he said, “Pardon?”

Feyre whirled around, blinking in surprise, and drew the bow. “What do you want, faerie?”

“You need to run. Do not return to this part of the forest. Please. It isn’t safe.”

Her thoughts were a whirlwind of confusion, churning so quickly that Rhys could hardly keep up with all her questions or even begin to answer them. Somewhere in the middle of it, the deer bounded off into the trees.

Feyre swore. As far as she was concerned, Rhys was the reason her only chance at eating that day had just slipped away. She muttered something about faerie bullshit and shot him in retaliation.

As life drained out of Rhys again, he couldn’t help but wonder why he’d expected this to turn out any differently.

And yet, he tried again. Each time, Feyre either perceived him as a threat and shot him immediately, or enough time passed that the deer got away, and then she shot him in retaliation anyway.

Rhys had known his painter held hate in her heart for the fae, but he hadn’t anticipated just how deep it ran. In the few seconds he had before she let her arrow fly, it was impossible to get Feyre to trust him.

He lost count how many times she let him bleed out in the snow before he accepted that he needed to play the long game. That was fine—Rhys was an extraordinarily patient male.

He’d known that Feyre changed the world when she sank her arrow into the wolf’s eye. Perhaps trying to stop it was wrongheaded of him; it seemed as good a guess as any that these repeated deaths were a message.

Feyre needed to kill that sentry. Rhys needed to let her.

A deer and a wolf and a forest. Cold. Hunger. And a shadow, watching over all of it.

Resigned to do things differently, Rhys woke again Under the Mountain. He stared up at the ceiling as Feyre’s scent faded from his nostrils, and for a moment, he just savored the short-lived peace. It wouldn’t be long until Amarantha was awake, too.

Somewhere across the Wall, the Cursebreaker was slinging a carcass over her shoulders and trudging home.

And maybe one day, she’d bring Rhys and the rest of Prythian home, too.

[sulkylaw]

She didn't hesitate to help him. If someone told him Robin tried to shield him from Doflamingo's string bullets at the risk of her own life and he sees Robin's back injured he'd assume it was bc of him.

He'd approach her and ask if it was because of him and she'd say no that he doesn't have to worry. It happened while protecting Rebecca. Still Law says they told him she shield him when she had no reason to, and she'd reply she did it on a whim and smile.

"I did it on a whim." it's a refrence from a Law's light novel when he helped Bepo, Shachi, Penguin and Wolf he always said he did it on a whim. So hearing Robin say that would took him off guard.

Still a fascinating thing is - those bullets wpuld injure her severily if not endanger her life but she still shield Law, even tho she herself could dodge. But she refused, deciding to shield him at the cost of her own life. Now tell me how this ship aint canon yet????

[robthegoodfellow]

You Know You Gotta Understand

Bondage, Distracted Sex for Day 7/8 of @harringrovekinktober additional incidental Edging/Orgasm Denial, Praise Kink, Cock-Warming, Dom/Sub Dynamic

(roommates, kink experimentation, fledgling power dynamic negotiation, billy needs a binky, nsfw, immediately follows Let's Give the Boy a Hand)

After his bombshell revelation, Robin had wolfed the rest of her cone in under a minute, all the while prodding him down the sidewalk toward the cemetery—not because his life was over, but because it offered isolated benches, ideal for unburdening the soul.

Which is what he did, to an extent. Didn’t quite have the wherewithal to loop her in on the stuff he barely had the words for, himself—the… obedience stuff, the possessive stuff, the game they’d been playing, making the rules up as they went along. 

No, he mainly focused on the basics: how, under the gruff exterior, Billy was pretty great—funny, and considerate, and talented, and smart and—and actually, the gruffness had its own appeal, too, you know?

To her credit, Robin listened without judgment, nodding in apparent agreement, until he’d wrapped up his treatise on the wonders of Billy Hargrove with so we started hooking up a few weeks ago and she’d nearly fallen off the bench.

It’s not like we’ve—like, fucked, he clarified, assuming that had been the source of the tsunami. We’ve only—well, actually, we haven’t really kissed, now that I think about it. Not like full-on kissing. Mostly it’s been hand stuff and mouth stuff and like—uhm, cuddling?

Robin was blinking hard, still recalibrating. And… now you—love him?

Well, when she said it like that, it sounded stupid. Although, on reflection, I’m in love with him sounded even stupider. But he didn’t know how to put it into words. Listing it off—how he couldn’t stop thinking about Billy and constantly wanted to be near him and touch him—it just sounded like typical Lovestruck Steve, which was actually Infatuated Steve. Steve with a crush. Most of the time, a passing crush.

Maybe this time around just felt different because his crush was a guy? Like—the novelty made it more intense? Or—the other stuff? The game? The weirdly entrancing dynamic they were toying with?

Who could say?

I don’t know, he said, finally, and sounded so glum, so lost, that Robin patted his arm, brows arched in sympathy, and told him it would be all right.

.

When he got home, the couch had been scrubbed clean of every stain, the wake of Billy’s swipes still embedded in the grain of the fabric. Billy himself was fast asleep in his room, damp hair from a recent shower coiled on bronze shoulders, his arms folded under the pillow. The fan spun lazy overhead, affording a faint breeze through the rumpled sheet.

Steve knew with certainty he was buck naked under that sheet, the fabric draping his ass and upper thighs in a way that made him envy the cotton.

Every vestige of ice cream and Robin and emotional upheaval vanished the moment Billy murmured, “Hey,” and Steve jerked his gaze to meet sleepy blue. A come-hither blue, so Steve stepped inside, shut the door behind him, his pulse already skyrocketing at the shocky tension in the air.

Stopping by the bedside, he swept an appreciative stare down the length of the body he was coming to learn so well. Swept back up, but only got halfway—arrested by that ass. Because what an ass.

Obliging, Billy spread his thighs, arched his spine, and that was invitation enough. Steve perched on the edge of the bed, cupped the back of one thigh and smoothed upward, over the asscheek, fingertips tracing his crack.

Billy shivered, hips flexing under the sheet, thighs parting wider. Steve let out a rumbling hum, speculative, and kneaded the round swell of flesh, first one side, then the other, taking care to tease along the crevice with fingers and thumb.

“Let me see you,” Steve said, quiet, and Billy gulped, nodding against the pillow, lifted his hips to feel the drag as Steve drew the sheet down to the backs of his knees. “Wider.” And the knees inched further, so wide, his cheeks so parted Steve could see the furl of his hole, twitching as he clenched. “I can touch you there?”

“Yeah,” Billy gasped, burying his face in the pillow. “Yeah, yeah—”

Heart throbbing since the moment he sat down, it now hammered in his throat, his temples. A harsh exhale as the pads of his fingers drifted up an inner thigh, caressed the rise of his ass. Watched his thumb sweep to the fluttering hole, and press. Brush back and forth, learning the texture.

Steve heard himself start to ask, “You ever—?” 

“No.” The whimper was muffled, desperate.

It was like he’d slipped into a trace, hypnotized by his own touch—or the effect it was having. The thundering heartbeat was somehow distant. “Would you want that?”

The whimper slipped to a sob. “Yes.” A hiss, turned just enough, expression pinched in torment. “Yes. Now?”

“No.” Ignoring the whine, Steve stretched out alongside, hand coasting up his panting back. He nosed at Billy’s ruddy cheek—the one on his face. “Not now. But I want that, too.”

Before Billy could reply beyond a mouth lax in relief, Steve pushed him onto his back, leaning over him. Noted how his arms, formerly crossed beneath the pillow, were now arched above his head like a ballerina, fists gripping the upright slats of the bedframe. 

“Keep your hands there,” Steve said. Throwing a leg over Billy’s waist, he sat astride his stomach. Propped himself on generous pecs, and indulged in a long, luxurious grind, rolling his hips to relieve the mounting want. “I realized earlier—we haven’t kissed much.”

Distracted, it took a moment for the words to sink in. A furrowed brow, then: “Oh.”

Unsure how to interpret that reaction, Steve revised his initial plan to plow Billy’s mouth with his tongue. “Just an observation,” he said, mild, dragging gentle hands down the pecs as he straightened. He looked down, tracking where he brushed the backs of his fingers along the sloping skin beneath pert dusky nipples. “And we’ve kinda been—checking in before we do stuff. New stuff.”

“Yeah,” Billy acknowledged, eyes downcast when Steve flicked his up. “Kissing’s fine.”

The tone was distinctly unenthused. 

“It’s okay if it’s not fine,” Steve said, hushed like it was a secret. “If you don’t like it as much. Or at all.” Curious, he stroked Billy’s temple, down to his cheek. His chin. “Did you like it when I kissed you here?”

Billy squirmed beneath him. Nuzzled into a raised arm, abashed. “Yeah.”

Steve bent, ghosting his lips along a scratchy chin, shivering at the rough against thin skin. “Then I’ll keep doing that.” He trailed to his cheek, barely pressing, then bussed the edge of an eyebrow, a fluttering eyelid. “When you’re good.”

Burrowing into his upper arm again, a breathy sigh. “Was I?”

Steve made a thoughtful sound. “You cleaned the couch.”

“And the blanket,” Billy mumbled.

“And your arms are still where I want them.”

The fists tightened around the wooden spokes, voice likewise tight: “I like it.”

“Orders?” Steve asked, and kept his lips waltzing along the bristly chin.

“That, and—” It was like Steve could feel the blood rushing, heating his skin. A swallow, and Billy went on: “And not being able to—move. Much.”

The words hit like a punch, and Steve pressed his forehead to Billy’s brow, staving off the driving need to—well, drive into the body below him. Instead, he fumbled to undo his belt.

“What else do you like, baby?” Clumsy fingers struggled with his button, zip.

Another whine, faint and thready. “My... mouth? Want my mouth—full. Things in my mouth. Like—” He cut himself off, frustrated, and Steve shushed him, hand a blur on his stiffie, so hard it hurt. With his remaining brain cells, delegated his other hand to cup Billy’s face, smear gasping lips with a thumb, and Billy opened for it, eyes rolling closed as he sucked.

The sight alone, nevermind the wet suctioning heat—Steve grunted, ropes of come streaking the flushed heaving chest. And Billy kept sucking, lost in it, as Steve raked blunt fingers through his mess, then flattened his palm, rubbing it in.

“Let go, babe,” Steve whispered, winded, and his thumb was free—wet and shining. He put himself away, did up his pants, left the belt gaping. As expected, when he flopped to his original position stretched out alongside, he saw Billy’s poor neglected cock, rigid, flushed a deep rose, drooling on his belly. Tsking in sympathy, Steve settled his hand where Billy wanted it—then didn’t move. “You want to come right now, or be patient?”

Billy groaned, teeth bared in a grimace. A couple wheezing breaths, then: “Patient.”

“Okay.” He paused, toying with the sticky tip of the crown, smearing precome, a plan taking shape in his twisted, randy little mind. He was seriously turning into some kind of sex genius. Craning to Billy’s ear, he said, softly, “Here’s what I’m thinking…”

.

When Steve emerged from his own bedroom with the tie he’d worn to work earlier that week, Billy was kneeling in front of the couch, eyes a bit glazed, hands already clasped behind his back. Rather than go to him, Steve detoured to the TV, fiddling with the controls—sports and more sports this time of day on a weekend. NBA would do. Appropriate, given this all started from a casual chat during a basketball game. 

He pushed aside the coffee table, making room enough for him to crouch behind Billy and tie his wrists—not too tight. “Tell me if it gets uncomfortable,” he said, and Billy nodded.

Now he’d made it to this point in the plan, his thrumming pulse kicked up a notch, stomach pitching in anticipation. Stacking the throw pillows that had come with the couch, he made a cozy seat for himself, back against the pillows, placing him near enough the edge that Billy could reach him without straining, nestled between Steve’s legs.

You ready? he was about to ask, but one glance at Billy’s face and all language left him—as it had for Billy, clearly. The blue eyes were unfocused yet fixed, half-lidded, on Steve’s bulge, plush mouth parted, jaw hanging loose.

Steve pressed the heel of his palm to the base of his trapped cock, teeth clenched, lungs shocky. He had to last—this whole thing hinged on his lasting. Should’ve put on a movie, something more riveting than fucking basketball.

Wresting back control, he forced himself to go slow—unbutton his jeans almost absent-minded, take his time with the zipper. Fish his dick from his briefs, unrushed, eyes on the TV screen. Breathing even.

It was seven minutes into the first quarter, according to the announcer.

He gripped himself midshaft, held it steady, and waited. Couldn’t help his eyes slipping shut when blazing heat encased the tip, a swirling lick round the head. Blindly, he grasped for Billy’s curls, something to hold onto, and threaded his fingers deep, cradling the scalp. Coaxed him forward a bit, let him adjust, spit gathering at the lips, then slid further in, his cock gliding on a bed of tongue.

Sank as deep he could go—deep as Billy could take and breathe—and there Billy rested, warming the cock in his mouth, not sucking so much as… suckling? Was there a difference?

There was. Like this gentle, undulating pull, not enough to tug him over the cliff but enough to keep him balanced on the edge, drugged on it.

Steve was fast approaching mindless, buzzing blur between the ears, gaze locked on the television with every ounce of his willpower even as every sense registered the salty musk of their sweat and leaking spunk, the rasp of air through Billy’s nose, the sopping glove of his mouth snug and hot and perfect.

“Halftime?” Steve said, voice rough, shattered, when the whistle blew on the quarter. He had no idea the score—or even who was playing. The important thing was that he followed the bouncing ball back and forth down the court. “Halftime,” he decided.

Billy exhaled long, so long, the gust buffeting the base of Steve’s dick, his pubes, and his head tilted, cheek resting on Steve’s thigh with the air of someone settling in for a nap. Finally, Steve risked a glance down, and his stomach clenched, the banked heat flaring in his gut. 

Those eyelashes looked so long, brushing his cheeks like that, his brows relaxed but for the faint furrowed line that appeared when he swallowed down the gathered spit and precome Steve knew he was oozing like a loose faucet. 

Was it weird to think someone looked beautiful with your cock in their mouth? Because Billy did. He really did.

Breaths shaky all over again, Steve pet hair away from Billy’s face, softly as he could. Smoothed a thumb from temple to jaw, to the corner of his mouth, where his lips stretched around the intrusion. His lashes fluttered, and then dreamy blue stared up at him.

“Like you were made for me,” Steve said, wondering. “Made for this.”

A shudder, deep inhale, and Billy sank lower, skewering himself, plugging his throat.

“Ah,” Steve gasped, cradling the skull between his thighs. God, he wanted to drive deep, grab hold and just drill into him, but didn’t—didn’t. “Ah-ah.” Reproving, that time. “Be good.”

The pressure let up as Billy shifted back, contrite. Resumed his resting position.

“Halftime,” Steve reminded him, and Billy hummed, the vibrations skittering down every nerve ending. “Shh.” Stroked Billy’s hair, clinging to composure. “Shh.”

Over the next eon, Steve perfected the illusion that he was just… floating in a hot bath, maybe a jacuzzi with jets, to account for the waves of pleasure… 

These fucking refs, though. Just let them play, for Christ’s sake. Every whistle stabbed, the knife twisting the closer they crept to Steve’s self-inflicted finish line. And all these fucking commercials—

“Deep breath,” he said, with a minute left to go. Please God, no fouls. Just a sprint to the buzzer. He heard Billy inhale, and then Steve plunged, ground into the seizing inferno, holding him there, hips hitching, compulsive. He drew back, let Billy recover, then let it roll, jackhammering into him, feet planted on the floor, holding his head steady, drool dripping down his balls.

Seconds left, and Steve looked down again. Shaft sliding, gleaming spit, into lips swollen red, cheeks hollow as a starving man.

“Hungry, baby?” he said, and Billy’s moan rippled from his belly to his throat—shook Steve apart. Gulped him down.

Steve levered himself to the floor, and despite limbs loose as a rag doll, summoned the coordination to reach around, untie Billy’s wrists. “Sit, sit,” he babbled, lowering him to the carpet. “Lay back.”

Billy sprawled, dopey smile hitched crooked, his lashes wet. Didn’t seem to notice as Steve clambered half on top of him, though he hissed when fingers danced across his dick.

“You did so good,” Steve said, words hushed, and didn’t know why he kept his touch soft, a gentle rub where Billy’s cock lolled against his stomach. “So good. My good boy.”

A halting gasp, blinking at the ceiling, tear dripping down his temple into his hair.

“Billy.” Steve leaned forward, nuzzling his cheek. “Come for me. Be good and—”

Sharp inhale, and a full-body twitch wracked his frame, coating Steve’s hand in his release.

“Good.” He repeated it—good, good, good—wrapping Billy in his arms, smearing come between them. Rolled back, hauling Billy to lie draped over him, cradling his head to Steve’s shoulder.

Billy was quiet so long, save for his labored breaths, that worry sprouted in Steve’s chest. He’d been onboard with the plan, but maybe it’d been—too much?

“Baby,” Steve began, hands calming—and stopped, words caught in his throat. 

His throat, which Billy was kissing, light, lingering presses, lips buzzing with something barely audible. Like a purr. 

.

Now with following chapter: No Romeo, But He's My Loving One-Man Show

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

What if Eddie had been hidden at Steve's house after Chrissy? Part Three

Part one Part Two

Steve was holding Eddie's hand in the Upside Down, their fingers laced together. He was both giddy and trepdatious. Holding Eddie's hand, he definitely felt like he could get through this, but Steve couldn't help but think about what would happen to Eddie afterward. Would stopping Vecna be enough? If Steve had to, he could hide Eddie forever? They could go on the run if they had to.

"You know that was totally Ozzy what you did back there," Eddie said.

"What?" Steve asked.

"You don't know who Ozzy is?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah, I have no clue who you're talking about," Steve shrugged his shoulders.

"You know, he bit the head off the bat on stage?" Eddie asked, and Steve slowly started to grin. "Oh, you fucker, I thought I told you about him when we went to bed last night."

Eddie pulled away from him scoffing. Steve laughed and grabbed him by his hips, pulling Eddie to him. He leaned in for kisses, but Eddie turned away, causing Steve to kiss his cheek.

"Come on, Eddie. Please?"

"No. No kisses for assholes."

Steve started kissing his jawline and then moved down to his neck. Eddie bit back a moan, rolling his eyes.

"What if I apologize?" Steve asked and Eddie hummed. "I'm really, really sorry. Baby, am I forgiven?"

"What do you think?" Eddie asked and pulled him into a kiss.

Steve moaned against his lips, and just as he slipped his tongue inside of Eddie's, they both felt someone tug harshly on their ears. Robin was standing in front of them scowling.

"I'm happy you two are together, but if I have to break you two apart one more time. . .we need to get guns! In fact, you know what? Eddie, go walk with Nancy! Don't you give me those eyes! Now!" Robin said, snapping her fingers, and Eddie flipped her off as he walked away.

"I already miss you, sweetheart!" Eddie called out.

Steve crossed his arms and pouted at Robin.

"You're mean."

When they made it to Wheeler's house, Nancy realized that they were back in 1983 and there were no guns anywhere. Meanwhile, Steve had heard Dustin's voice coming from downstairs, and for a moment, Eddie thought that his new boyfriend had gone insane from the blood loss, but then he heard Dustin too.

"Dustin! Man, can you hear us? If you can hear us, Mummy and Daddy are doing just fine. Well, mummy's a bit chewed up, but other than that. . .Dustin?" Eddie asked as he looked behind a curtain. "Oh, Auntie Robin and Auntie Nancy are here too."

"Why the hell am I the mommy?" Steve asked, his hands on his hips.

"I think you just answered your own question there, Steve," Robin quipped, and Nancy snickered as Robin mockingly put her hands on her hips as she popped one out.

"I hate you guys," Steve mumbled.

"It's not our fault you have childbearing hips, Stevie," Eddie said, wrapping his arm around Steve’s waist and squeezing his hip.

They quickly figured out that, well, Nancy figured out that they could communicate with the lights like Joyce did with Will. Once they had a system set up, Dustin told them about their being a gate at each murder site. So, the gate they needed to go to was Eddie's trailer, which Nancy calculated was seven miles away. They gathered bikes to ride to Eddie's trailer, and Steve struggled not to laugh at the fact that Eddie was given a kid's bike. Eddie quickly flipped him off as he got onto the bike, and Steve rode off in front of him. Eddie couldn't help but wolf whistle at his boyfriend's ass wiggling in the air.

"Eddie," Robin hissed. "Bats, remember?"

"Right."

They made it to Eddie's trailer and walked in to find the gate on the ceiling. Eddie paled and slid his hand into Steve’s, gripping it tightly, trembling.

"This is where Chrissy died. Like right where she died," Eddie gulped. "One minute, she was laughing, and then she she was. . . Steve, there was something there. . .for a moment, there was something there with us, and she was like a bright shining sun that was hidden, eclipsed by darkness. She let me see it, and I wish she knew that I was so grateful for the way she smiled at me. I swear to God, Steve, I hate him for never giving me a chance with her, but then I never would have had this chance with you. I feel so guilty because I feel so selfish."

Eddie hadn't realized that he had been crying until Steve had pulled him into his arms.

"It's okay to miss her, Eddie, even though you didn't know her very long. It's okay to miss what could have been," Steve whispered. "Plus, if she was still alive, then I would have been happy to share you."

"Seriously?" Eddie asked.

"Yes, seeing you happy would make me happy, Eddie. If you wanted both of us, then you could have had both of us. It's okay to miss that too," Steve said.

Eddie surged forward and kissed him, holding onto him tightly. They broke apart when a broom handle came bursting through the gate. They looked into the hole to find Dustin, Max, Lucas, and Erica Sinclair looking at them.

"Oh my God! Steve, Eddie, are you guys holding hands?!" Dustin squealed.

"Yeah, we found some super glue down here, rubbed it on our hands, and high fived each other without thinking now we're stuck like this," Eddie said sarcastically.

"Aw, really?"

"No, Dustin!"

Dustin slugged Eddie in the shoulder once he came through the gate. Robin had come through when they heard Steve screaming Nancy's name. Eddie told Robin to find anything to play for Nancy while Eddie crawled back through the gate to help his boyfriend. Nancy collapsed into their arms crying, and they ended up bringing her to Max's in the right side up. It was still dark, so they all agreed to get some rest, or at least they would try to. Nancy was still clinging to Steve and Eddie, shaken by what happened. She couldn't help but crack a joke.

"I'm sorry, Eddie," Nancy said.

"For what?"

"For coming in between you and your boyfriend," Nancy said and then burst into laughter.

"Lame joke, Wheeler," Eddie said, and then he started laughing too.

The next morning, Nancy was ready to talk. She told them what Vecna or rather Henry Creel had shown them. He had become one of Brenner's experiments after killing his mother and his sister. She told them of his plans for Hawkins, how he was using all four deaths to open a giant gate into Hawkins to bring balance. He had shown her Hawkins under seige, and there would be no difference between Hawkins and the Upside Down. It was Max who realized that he had been telling them his plan all along with the chiming of the clocks four times.

Just when they were ready to lose hope against someone as powerful as Vecna, Dustin was the one to remind them Henry could travel like Eleven that he would be vulnerable in that moment where he would be going after his fourth victim. They didn't know when it would happen. That's when Max volunteered herself as bait. Eddie and Steve immediately jumped up.

"Nope! No way! It's not going to happen!" Eddie exclaimed, looking at Steve. "No way is our kid -,"

"Not your kid!" Max exclaimed, scowling.

"No way is OUR KID going to be bait!" Eddie exclaimed.

Steve scowled and pulled Max into his arms. Eddie joined him, squishing her in between them.

"I am NOT your kid!" Max exclaimed, struggling then relaxed and sighed, hugging them back. "I have to try, don't I?"

There was no use arguing with Max. Even Lucas tried to talk to her. Of course, it was a suicide mission, but it was the best plan they had. Everyone hated to admit it. Steve hated knowing there was nothing he could for Max. He should be the one in her place. It should be Steve being the one to distract Vecna. Not Max, never Max. Hadn't she been through enough?

Pretty soon, they were wiring an RV to steal weapons for their trip back into the Upside Down. Well, Eddie was wiring it. Apparently, Steve was going to be the one driving it. Once inside the War Zone, Steve focused on properly bandaging his bites and getting fresh clothes along with some shoes. When he came out, Robin was staring longingly at Vickie, a disappointing look on her face.

"Don't lose hope, Robin. I never thought that I would wind up finding someone again who could give me hope for the future, but I did. If I could find someone, then someone could find their way to you," Steve said. "I refuse to let that asshole Vecna take away my hope, and you shouldn't either because what else do we have, right?"

"Right."

They managed to avoid getting caught by Jason and his goods, peeling away. Eddie had collapsed in the seat next to him, smiling. He looked so good in his new battle vest and bullet belt, one leg propped up. Steve had to force himself to focus on driving, and he couldn't help but start talking about his dream.

"I know it's a lot early, but am I a part of your dream, big boy?" Eddie asked softly.

"Do you want to be?" Steve asked.

"Yes," Eddie said, taking his hand. "By the way. . .six kids?!"

"It's a joke because of the ones we already have. No, one of each sounds nice," Steve said.

"You guys are so cute," Robin said, popping up between them. "By the way, if adoption isn't an option, you guys can totally put your babies in my little oven."

"Ah, you're so vein, Buckley," Eddie chuckled.

"What?"

"You just want to see how big your boobs get," Eddie cackled.

". . .No, no, that's not it at all," Robin said with a shake of her head. "Moving on, and I'm totally going to be the best man at your very illegal wedding. I mean, if Eddie is still a fugitive by then, it shouldn't matter, right?"

"If Eddie is still a fugitive, let's hope not, but if he is still a fugitive, then I'm one too. I think that would make us Bonnie and Clyde," Steve said.

"Hell, yeah, I can see it now. Fucking and robbing banks up and down the coast in a stolen winnebago," Eddie said sending Steve a lewd grin. "I've always wanted to see a beach."

"Ew, you just made it gross," Robin said.

They dropped off Max, Lucas, and Erica at the Creel House while the others went through the gate. Steve hated the idea of parting with Eddie and Dustin, but the plan was set. Eddie and Dustin would distract the bats while the other three would enter the Creel House. When Eddie called his name, Steve turned toward him. He could see the fear in Eddie's eyes, the worry that they might not see each other again. Steve marched over to him, cupped his face, and kissed Eddie deeply. Dustin watched with a fond smile on his face until Steve slipped his tongue into Eddie's mouth, and Dustin scrunched his face up in disgust.

"Ew. EW! Come on, we have a world to save, guys! Stop it!" Dustin screeched.

Steve reluctantly pulled himself away after he made them promise not to be heroes. As they walked towards the Creel house, Nancy talked about how excited she was to go to Emerson and talked of her dreams of being a reporter. Steve and Robin started arguing about whether her partner in crime should be a cat or a dog.

"How about a talking dog?" Nancy suggested.

"That would be so cool!" Robin exclaimed.

"Dustin would make an excellent reporter," Steve said, and everyone laughed.

The laughter stopped when they entered the house. They were almost thwarted by vines wrapping around their throat, but they eventually made it to the attic. They made quick work of it, aiming for the head. Nancy shot him while Steve aimed the axe at his head, and Robin threw molotovs at Vecna. The shells pierced his forehead as Steve slammed the axe into his skull while flames engulfed Vecna's body. Steve removed the axe and repeatedly slammed it into his head. Vecna's body let out a piercing shriek as it shriveled up, the flames burning it to a crisp. Vecna was dead.

The others didn't waste any time running back to the trailer. They were close when they heard Dustin's screams, calling Eddie's name. Steve felt like someone had punched him in the stomach, and he ran faster. Eddie lay on the ground, surrounded by dead bats, with Dustin crying over him. Steve let out a sob as he collapsed next to Eddie. He was still breathing pretty good, but he was in worse shape than Steve.

"I wanted to buy you more time," Eddie said coughing up blood.

Steve lifted him in his arms and started carrying Eddie towards the gate. Meanwhile, Robin and Nancy helped Dustin. It was difficult, but they managed to maneuver Eddie through the gate. It closed behind them, as though nothing ever happened. Steve stepped out of the trailer in the right side up to find Wayne Munson pulling up in his truck. To his surprise, Max and Lucas had spilled out too. Lucas's face was beaten up.

"EDDIE!" Wayne yelled and made his way over to help him in the truck.

"Uncle Wayne!" Eddie said, his words slurring. "What a way for my boyfriend to meet my uncle. He saved my life, you know."

Steve climbed into the back with Eddie and held him in his arms while the others climbed into the bed.

"Eddie, you know your uncle saved our lives," Max said, trying to keep him awake.

"Yeah, he's a good egg like that," Eddie mumbled.

"I heard they were out hunting you, Eds, I couldn't let them hurt you," Wayne said as he pressed on the gas. "You hold on now."

Eddie gave his uncle a watery smile.

"I love you, Uncle Wayne," Eddie muttered.

Steve clung to Eddie, pressing a kiss into his hair, sobbing.

"What's your name, son?" Wayne asked Steve.

"Steve Harrington," he sniffled, looking at him.

"You love my boy?" Wayne asked.

"Yes," Steve cried.

"That's all I need to know."

Eddie's world was growing dark, and the last thing he saw before darkness overcame him was a beautiful angel yelling his name.

SIX YEARS LATER. . .

The winnebago parked itself on the beach. It was obviously new. Its white walls shone brightly in the sun, and the headlights glinted. Inside, it was just as shiny, but it was cluttered with objects that belonged to the family who bought the winnebago. Pictures were secured of family gatherings, graduations, of a wedding, and the birth of beautiful children. Newspaper articles with the author's name circled lay nestled in the drawers along with letters from older teenagers in college.

Steve stepped out, breathing in the smell of the ocean, and grinned, shielding his eyes from the sun. His toes curled into the sand as he waited patiently. He turned back towards the door and stared. It opened up with a bang.

"Did you leave enough sunblock for the rest of the world?" Steve asked.

"Chrissy is a ginger, Steve! Do you want our daughter to burn?!" Eddie asked as he held their baby on his hip.

Steve shifted Chrissy's twin, Tori, on his own hip. Chrissy giggled as she slapped her baby hand on her arm as she played with the sunblock that Eddie put on her. Twins had been a pleasant surprise, and when Chrissy's hair came out, strawberry blonde, there was only one name for her. Victoria, of course, was named after her surrogate mother. After Robin had watched Alien for the first time, she developed a phobia for pregnancy. Vickie had quickly volunteered, seeing as she was the one to suggest the movie. The twins both had curly hair and big brown eyes from Eddie, but Tori's was a dark brown like Eddie's. They both wore matching bathing suits with matching hats. Tori wore red, and Chrissy wore green.

"Hi, Daddy," Steve said, greeting him with a kiss. "Despite the extreme amount of sunblock, you both look good."

"Right back at ya, Daddy. Although you and Tori could use some more," Eddie said.

Their daughters sat between their legs as the water gently tickled their toes. Steve and Eddie both watched them with fond smiles on their faces. Steve looked over at his husband, his heart full. God, he was so glad he decided to hide Eddie in his house. It had given him the best gift of all.

And they lived happily ever after. . .

@gregre369

@goodolefashionedloverboi

@stevesbipanic

@estrellami-1

[freshcuntgrass]

An unflattering assumption I have about every NPC in Stardew Valley

Sam: gave Gus a fake ID to get alcohol. Jodi never goes to the saloon and Kent is afraid he forgot how old Sam is, so he's never getting called on it

Sebastian: has ruined at least one online D&D group playing an edgy lone-wolf rogue with no parents

Maru: still brings up her SAT score in conversation sometimes

Demetrius: has the Neil deGrasse Tyson thing going where he assumes every field is easy because he's good at biology. Maru finds this endearing with her gadgets; he is banned from looking at Sebastian's code

Wizard: same as Demetrius but ten times worse

Robin: first marriage ended because she slept with the wizard (Sebastian is his). What can I say, she likes em brilliant, socially awkward, and just a little insufferable

Clint: you KNOW this man's on Reddit and you KNOW he does not have a healthy relationship with it. I am begging Sebastian to "fix some tech problems for him" (install a secret browser extension block on the manosphere subreddits)

Elliott: hair-trigger crier. Poems, books, the end of every rom-com, songs you do not think it should be possible to cry during, noticed the cat sleeping in a really cute way, remembers that he lives near the ocean... honestly he'd have a lot more written by now if his entire day wasn't taken up by crying and hair care

Willy: has lived alone too long, holds conversations with most objects in his house

Leah: has NEVER swept or mopped the floor of that cabin. You can't see it in the pixel art but it's a biohazard

Pierre: Twitter power-user, unironically calls it X

Caroline: doing her own research on the COVID vaccine

Haley: Swiftie

Penny: even bigger Swiftie

Abigail: Homestuck

Alex: media literacy so bad he doesn't realize the insane homoeroticism of Top Gun

Harvey: terrified that someone in town will look closer at the degree on his wall and realize he's technically an RN, not a doctor, and then it'll just be awkward

Lewis: that truffle oil was for pegging

Evelyn: "secret family recipe" is boxed chocolate cake mix with mayonnaise instead of the oil

George: Hey... um... hey guys? Where was George on January 6th?

Pam: Hey guys, where was Pam on January 6th???

Gus: definitely drunk behind that bar most of the time. He gets away with it because it comes across as "jolly"

Linus: can't go back to Zuzu City. He knows what he did

Jodi: biggest Swiftie of them all. She name-searches. Yes, she's still on Tumblr. Hi Jodi, your fave is mid, looking forward to the anon hate :)

Kent: agrees with Alex that Top Gun isn't gay. Nothing's gay in the military

Sandy: unreal amount of mobile gaming going on back behind that counter. stop sending me Farmville requests

Marnie: actually accepts Sandy's Farmville requests. Keeps texting Shane minion memes

Shane: the real unflattering assumption with Shane is when you correctly clock a fellow Stardew Valley player as a Shane girlie. In our defense, he's going through a lot and we can fix him.

Krobus: eats those void eggs raw. Cracks the shell and drinks em. Slurp slurp bitch

Dwarf: honestly HUGE drug dealer vibes. Miner's Treat has got to be the dwarves' version of cocaine, right?

Vincent and Jas: safe for now, I don't roast anybody under 12. once we hit like year 5 I'm coming for you though

Emily: wants to reblog this but can't. her queue is full and she's hit post limit