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#robin musings
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hawkinshightigcrs · 2 years
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write a letter to your inner child  + i'll tell you what flower you've blossomed into    
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Barb
a poppy, for remembrance - "through the dancing poppies stole a breeze most softly lulling to my soul." — john keats, endymion (1818), book I, line 565. — you seem to mourn your past, as your inner child has died. you've been through your battles yet still have an immense amount of hope for the future. a yearning for peace of mind is what you have when you try to look for the sparks you've once felt in your life. but remember, you will no longer have to fight or defend yourself after you grow in a field where the vibrance of your petals are commemorated.
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Chrissy
a wallflower, quietly standing still - “it takes as much time to build walls sturdy enough for wallflowers like you and me to lean against as it does for us to bloom.” ― ayokunle falomo, thread, this wordweaver must! — you're comfortable with being left alone, yet perhaps there are slivers of empty cracks you wish to fill with joy. staying at the side lines, on the side walk, by the wall... these are all places you are used to being in. you're trying to find a way to grow in other places, farther away from what you've always known. the inner child within seeks to reach further out into the world. perhaps it's scared, has some anxiety, and wishes to cling onto the past... but only time will tell — your beauty is nevertheless a silent and distant sort, lingering.
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(I still have no icons for him, I’m so sorry 😪)
Gareth
a dandelion, rapidly growing in the field - “dandelions, like all things in nature are beautiful when you take the time to pay attention to them.” ― june stoyer — your resilience is what's gotten you very far in life. those who have trampled and picked on you made it easier for you to spread your seeds — the bright yellow petals you once had, certainly transformed into white, delicate whispies. They floated away into a distance, only to provide you with new opportunities for you to grow your thoughts, ideas, and feelings in other places— that were perhaps harder for them to reach before. even though you've felt unwanted, you nevertheless continued to thrive where other flowers could not.
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Kent
a rose, bold and full of thorns - “but he who dares not grasp the thorn should never crave the rose.” ― anne bronte — you have always been someone who had strong boundaries. your past troubles led you to become someone who needed to protect themselves ― it has been difficult to let people close to you, as your thorns were defense mechanisms to keep you from getting hurt. only those who are able to handle the intensity within you, are capable of holding you. they are willing to do so because they've been hurt before too... so perhaps, your inner child chooses to attract the people who have the vigour and passion you yearn for in this life.
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Robin
a poppy, for remembrance - "through the dancing poppies stole a breeze most softly lulling to my soul." — john keats, endymion (1818), book I, line 565. — you seem to mourn your past, as your inner child has died. you've been through your battles yet still have an immense amount of hope for the future. a yearning for peace of mind is what you have when you try to look for the sparks you've once felt in your life. but remember, you will no longer have to fight or defend yourself after you grow in a field where the vibrance of your petals are commemorated.
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Rosemary
a hibiscus, with rare and delicate beauty - “...scarlet hibiscus looked too bright for this devastated world.” ― jane wilson-howarth, snowfed waters — you thrive in the warmest conditions, and it helps attract more beauty to your vibrant petals. hummingbirds and butterflies: symbols of healing, joy, and transformation are themes throughout your life, as they find you wherever you are. your brightness and abundance of sweetness allows them to appreciate the life you live — you are a generous giver, selfless, and have a heart full of gold deep down inside. the inner child wants you to continue sharing parts of you to those who deserve it, but be wary of those who suck and drain out all of your energy.
tagged by I actually found this one on my dash!​
tagging: @scarednotscary​, @edhellfire​, @hawkinsnewbie​ (or any blog of yours you’d like!), @wildcardwheeler​, @chivalrites​, @bcldecgle​, @kamchatkatraitor​, @havvkinsqueen​​, and anyone else interested omg!! ❤️
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horrifichaunts · 5 months
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Robin tag dump
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locallibrarylover · 6 months
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*by live theatre i mean plays, musicals, operas, ballets, concert versions of musicals, staged readings, & things of that nature. EDIT: YES this includes amateur, local, kids, high school, & community theatre. almost every show i've seen has been local
if you want, list the names of the shows you've seen in the tags!
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wigglesdtuff · 9 months
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My arms around his neck My fingers laced a crown I was a heavy heart to carry But he never let me down
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i-am-minty-fresh · 3 months
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I love in post-time skip when the Strawhats meet a new pirate foe or a new marine officer with the piss poor task of reining them in and they’re like, “oh so this is the fabled strawhats crew, eh? I am aware of your strength and resilience, and will treat you as the dangerous collection of super soldiers and assassins that you must be-“
Only to see that none of the strawhats have acknowledged their presence at all. Zoro and Sanji are still fighting. Chopper’s still napping in Robin’s lap as she reads. Usopp and Luffy are still finger-painting on the helm. Brook hasn’t stopped playing and Jimbei hasn’t stopped peacefully listening. Franky’s helping Nami design a new desk for map making without as much of a glance in the intruders direction.
The pirate/marine gets to see the ridiculousness of the crew in full view. They’re just a bunch of silly guys. They’re just a bunch of silly guys with power scaling so off the fucking chart that they have embarrassed the world government along with every Emperor of the Sea, most Warlords, and all of the Worst Generation.
Isn’t that thought terrifying? That they weren’t even taking any of that all too seriously? What if they had? What if Luffy wanted his enemies to bleed? To choke on their own blood? Would this group follow him? Slit their throats? Snap their spines? Burn them, beat them, tear them limb from limb?
The strawhat crew could run the ocean red if they wanted but instead they spend their afternoons finger-painting and designing new map making equipment and sunbathing.
Let’s all be thankful for Luffy’s endless mercy.
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084392 · 7 months
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some one piece girls...
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libraryofgage · 2 months
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Harlequin Prince (2)
Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually
Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two | Three | Four Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One | Two | Three Harley Quinn One | Two (you're here!) 10th Doctor and Rose One | Two (on the way!) Scooby Gang (there are plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz) Jedidiah and Octavius (from Night at the Museum) One Queen ClarisseRenaldi One | Two
This part was line-jumped on Ko-Fi, which means y'all got it sooner than I originally planned!
If you want to line jump your favorite series, you can learn more here
Ironically, even tho the post says about a week of turn around, I get so excited that somebody wants to line jump that I just write it immediately lmao
Steve finally gets a good fight in this one, but it ends way too soon the poor boy. Either way, he also gets to meet some of the party!
As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;)
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Steve knew his dad wasn't in the picture, but he never knew why. He never asked, but he started to get this horrible feeling after a while. Harley Quinn's past was well known to Steve, her previous...associate and her relationship with him isn't exactly a secret, no matter how much his mother tried to keep them from him. She couldn't protect him at school, and she couldn't protect him from hearing people talking on the streets.
So, yeah, from the age of nine, Steve walked around with this horrendous knowledge in his gut, a knowledge that he wanted to think was just him being paranoid. But it wasn't. He knew it wasn't. He just couldn't admit that to himself, and he couldn't ask his mother because he didn't want to send her down that particular lane of memories. So it festered, and Steve pretended it didn't exist at all.
Until, that is, his 13th birthday. It was held at Uncle Bruce's mansion because his mother wanted to go all out. It was as much a celebration for her (a full three years without getting sent to Arkham!) as it was for him (managing to stay alive for 13 years in Gotham with Harley Quinn for a mother). Steve hadn't minded, either, especially when he saw the absolute joy she had when picking out the hugest bounce-house she could find with Uncle Bruce's sleek black credit card.
The party was catered by Steve's favorite Indian restaurant, the guests were limited to immediate friends and family, the bounce-house was extra bouncy, and a table was practically buckling under the weight of the gifts piled on top of it. It was, by far, Steve's best birthday, surpassing even the one he spent in Arkham after letting Poison Ivy out of her cell.
"Hey, Dumplin'!" his mother shouted, waving at him from the top of the bounce house she'd managed to climb. When Steve looked at her, she grinned even brighter and jumped, launching off turrets and rolling down sloped walls before landing on her feet on the ground. "Let's get to them presents!"
Steve laughed, looked at the table eagerly, and nodded. Her grin somehow getting wider, Harley turned, cupped her hands around her mouth, and shouted, "GET YOUR ASSES IN GEAR, EVERYONE! STEVIE'S OPENIN' PRESENTS!"
Soon enough, Steve was standing in front of the table, surrounded by everyone, and not at all sure where to start with the mountain of presents. "You should open mine first," Jason said, grinning as he gestured to a bike-shaped package.
It was, in fact, a bike. A motorcycle, specifically, with a red and black helmet and the promise of lessons from Jason whenever he wanted. Steve loved it immediately and ignored Uncle Bruce muttering about driving laws and how Steve couldn't operate any motorized vehicle until he was fifteen. "Well," he said, "as long as I don't get caught by Batman, who's gonna know?"
That had earned him a laugh and his mother's hand ruffling his hair. "Go on, Dumplin', choose another."
Dick got him a literal outfit's worth of Wonder Woman merch, accessories included, that made Bruce look ready to pop a blood vessel. Tim gave him small tracking pins and a hacked handheld game console to watch the trackers with the promise of free upgrades anytime he wanted. Damien gave him daggers since he "wasn't good enough for real swords, but everyone should have a blade" on them, just in case. Cass, Steph, and Barbara pooled their skills together (and Alfred, they borrowed Alfred a lot) to make him an Unofficial Robin costume, complete with shorts only slightly less scandalous than Dick's original costume.
Bruce, when he finally stopped glaring at the three of them, gave Steve a fingerprint panic button shaped like a bat and easily attached to a key ring. "For emergencies, Steve," he said, "Just hold your thumb to it for three seconds."
"This is perfect for the next time we run out of ice cream," Steve said, grinning as he attached it to his key chain.
"Emergencies."
"Oh. So if we run out of mint chip, specifically. Got it."
Bruce merely sighed and let him return to opening gifts.
Alfred gave him a tin of homemade cookies that Steve immediately had to protect from the others. Poison Ivy gave him a Venus flytrap and the promise to help him grow it properly. Selina couldn't be there, but Bruce passed along her gift: a pair of goggles Bruce had handed over with a sigh and quiet request for him to use them responsibly.
Steve opened Duke's present last, eyes widening at the red leather jacket. "Wait, seriously?" he asked, holding it up as he looked at Duke.
"You're gonna be a troublemaker, Steve," Duke said. "Might as well make sure you're bulletproof for it."
Steve grinned wider and pulled on the jacket, swimming in the leather but eager to grow into it all the same.
There was nothing from his mother in the pile, but Steve figured the party itself was his present since she'd done all the planning. When she pulled him away to a secluded room in the manor after they'd all had cake, Steve realized it was just because she didn't want to share this moment with anyone.
She smiled at him, reaching up and gently tucking a few strands of hair behind Steve's ears. "You grew up so fast, Dumplin'," she said, sighing softly.
"Ivy says I'm like a weed."
"Ives is right," Harley said, nodding once before looking away. "Okay, ready for your present?"
"Wasn't the party my present?"
"No, no, Dumplin'. The party was for fun," she said, grinning as she reached behind her and pulled a comically-large mallet from seemingly nowhere. "This is your present."
Steve blinked, leaning over to look around Harley. "Where'd that even come from?" he asked.
"Jester Logic, Dumplin'. Don't worry about it. I'll teach you the trick later," she promised, holding the mallet out to Steve with an expectant expression.
When Steve took it, the weight threw him off. He frowned, shifted his grip, and suddenly had no problem holding it up. He took a closer look, noting the scratches and marks on the mallet and the faded paint. "This was yours," he said.
"Yeah, it was."
"I've never seen it before."
Harley sighed, tugging on one of her pigtails with a slight frown. "Yeah, well, I wasn't exactly a great person when I used it, Dumplin'. Tried to forget about that Harley and all," she explained.
"Then why give it to me?"
Harley looked back at Steve and smiled, reaching out to cup his cheek. "Cuz you're so much better than me," she said. "I think you'll do some great things, Dumplin', and maybe all the good you do will erase most of the bad this mallet's got."
Her words were so serious, her smile was so bittersweet, and she looked ready to cry and deny it. This was the closest he'd ever gotten to learning about her past straight from the source, a past he knew about it, a past that involved a certain person that haunts Steve's mind with terrifying potential. Suddenly, he had to know.
Steve didn't really think before blurting out, "Is the Joker my father?"
Harley froze, her shoulders tensing and her eyes widening as she stared at Steve. "You don't got a father, Dumplin'," she finally said, her voice quiet and her expression conflicted.
"Fine. Was he the sperm donor?"
With a sigh, Harley stepped closer and placed her hands on Steve's shoulders. "I won't lie," she said. "He is, but that don't mean a thing. His crazy ain't hereditary, Dumplin', and he's never gettin' anywhere near you."
"Does...does he know?" Steve whispered, "About me, I mean."
"It don't matter," Harley said, her voice firm and her eyes more serious than Steve had ever seen them. "I'll kill him before he gets near ya. Ives will kill him. Hell, Brucie wil---no, wait, he's got those pesky morals. Fine, Jason will kill him before he gets near ya. Actually, Jason'd kill him anyway, but the excuse will be good if Brucie scolds him for it."
Steve couldn't help laughing at that, feeling a little lighter when his mother smiled back at him. When his laughter trickled to nothing more than a smile, he asked, "Then, was I the reason you left?"
Harley nodded and gently tugged Steve into her arms, holding him to her and cradling the back of his head. "Yeah, you were," she said, her voice soft and soothing. "I was excited to tell 'im when I learned about you, but then I heard him talking to some goons. He was laughin' about running a kid over, breakin' their legs, and I realized...you wouldn't be special to him. You'd've been like his goons, all expendable and not even worth a glance. I couldn't put you through that, and I couldn't put me through it, either. So, I got us out the only way I knew how."
"By finding Uncle Bruce," Steve said.
He felt her nod. "By finding Brucie," she agreed. "He tried to deny bein' the Bat and all, but your mama ain't dumb, Dumplin'. I'd done my homework, and the butts matched. Once I explained it all, once I told him about you, he agreed to help."
Steve nodded, listening to his mother's heart beating against his ear. He glances down at the mallet again, tightens his grip, and takes a deep breath. "Thank you," he said, "for the gift and for telling me. I'll do good with it, I promise."
"That's my boy," Harley said, pulling back and ruffling his hair. "Now, lemme explain that Jester Logic to ya."
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Hawkins remains boring even after meeting Eddie. After all, Eddie's in high school (his second attempt at senior year, apparently), and Steve...isn't. He should be, probably, but there's no way he's stepping one foot in that suburban nightmare of a building. He can feel the normalcy, the utter boredom, oozing from the place, and he'd rather not subject himself to that.
So, he spends his day wandering around Hawkins, getting a feel for the little town until he could navigate the place blindfolded. He can do the same in Gotham, but it's more impressive there with the winding streets and sprawling sidewalks. Here, it's nothing special.
The most interesting part of his day is when he's sitting on the roof of a video store, one leg dangling over the edge with the other pulled to his chest so he can rest his arm on his knee. He's about halfway through a cigarette when a cop car pulls into the lot and a middle-aged man steps out.
He looks up at Steve, frowning as he calls up, "You shouldn't be there, son."
"I ain't your son," he calls back, grinning as he takes another drag and blows smoke out as the guy rests his hands on his belt. It reminds him so much of Gotham PD rookies trying to posture that Steve can't help laughing. "Is that supposed to intimidate me?"
"I'm serious, kid," the cop says, apparently ignoring Steve's question. "It's dangerous up there. If you don't come down, I'm gonna have to call the Fire Department to bring the ladder."
Steve sighs and puts his cigarette out on the roof. He gets up, stretches his arms above his head, and stands on the ledge of the roof. He grins at the cop, casually stepping into empty air and hearing the guy shout as he falls. He lands in a crouch on the awning over the door, swings to hang from it, and lands on his feet on the sidewalk.
It wasn't even much of a fall, but the cop looks like he's about to have a heart attack. Steve glances at the badge on his chest. "We done now, Officer Hopper?" he asks.
"Don't do that again," Hopper says, pointing a finger at Steve, "Or I will drag your ass to the station and call your parents."
Steve snorts, doing his best to hold his smile back. "I'll keep that in mind, sir," he says, giving a mocking two-finger salute before turning on his heels and walking down the street.
After a few blocks, he veers off into the forest, figuring he'll wander around the trees for a while before going to the Hideout to bother Bev and stare at Eddie and quietly pray someone else is gonna look for a fight.
Did he mention Hawkins is boring? Because it's fucking boring.
Steve sighs, kicking a stick as he shoves his hands into his jacket. He idly notes the forest is healthy. Sure, a few pieces of litter are strewn around, but it's not as bad as the parks in Gotham can get. Poison Ivy would find this place barely passable, which is hard to manage, and he's tempted to call her when he gets home to tell her about it.
He hums softly as he walks, enjoying the sounds of the forest until they just...stop.
The entire forest falls silent, which is weird; forests are too full of life to go silent. Even the bugs seem to have frozen in place, too scared to risk making a sound by moving. Steve stops, looking around him with a frown and trying to figure out what's caused this.
He gets the answer a second later when he hears a scream. The voice sounds young and cracks slightly, so it definitely belongs to a child. Despite himself, Steve can't help grinning as he takes off in the direction of the scream.
This is the most exciting thing to happen in the four weeks he's been stuck in Hawkins. As he runs through trees and easily jumps over bushes to take the shortest path, he makes guesses on what he'll find. Maybe Hawkins has a villain that's only now showing up. Maybe the town has a secret alligator or something that's decided to have a midday snack. Hell, maybe someone just decided to be a dick today.
He realizes every guess is wrong when he slides into a clearing to see a few kids (two boys, one girl) surrounded by some weird dog-looking...things. They have heads but no faces, crouched low to the ground and growling at the kids they've cornered. There's around ten of them, which would normally make Steve hesitate, but he's so desperate at this point for a real fight that he doesn't care.
Instead, he reaches over his shoulder, thinks about how fucking hilarious it's gonna be to jump out of nowhere with a giant mallet, and grips the handle as he swings it over his shoulder. "Hey, monster mutts!" he shouts, grinning when all the monsters and the kids finally notice him. "Let's play."
Pure, unfiltered joy rushes through him when the first monster-dog jumps at him. Steve's eyes are bright and his grin is positively feral as he swings the mallet and sends it flying into a tree. He roundhouse kicks another dog, using the momentum to bring his foot down on the head of a third before smashing its body with the mallet.
"Are you insane?!" one of the kids shouts.
"Certifiably!" he shouts back, watching as another monster-dog jumps at him. He waits for the perfect moment to back flip, bringing his feet under the dog to send it flying. He brings the mallet up as he lands, clocking another monster under the jaw. It yelps, crashing into another dog.
"Where'd this guy even come from?" the girl asks, turning to look at the boys with her.
"I don't know, but I'm happy to let him deal with the demodogs."
Oh. That's what they're called. Steve hums softly at the name, grinning as he twirls the mallet and swings with all his strength at one of the demodog. He rests the mallet on his shoulder like a baseball bat, watching the demodog arch in the air with an appreciative whistle. "Solid air," he says, nodding once before looking at the remaining demodogs.
There's only three, the others scattered in the clearing. He can't tell if they're dead or not, but he could always smash them to mush when he's done. Steve grins at the remaining dogs. "C'mon, then," he says, only to be filled with disappointment when they creep back, turn heel, and run.
"Damn, that's no fun," Steve says, sighing as he rests the mallet on the ground and leans on the handle. He looks at the kids. "You guys okay?"
The girl has orange hair pulled back into a messy braid. She's staring at him like he's got two heads but is kind of impressed by it. One of the boys has curly hair being smothered by his hat, and the other is wearing a basketball jersey. They're also staring at Steve like he's crazy. "Dude," the curly-haired one says, "that was awesome!"
"Where'd you get that mallet from?" the girl asks.
"Jester Logic," Steve explains, shrugging as he picks the mallet up and walks over. "Wanna hold it?"
When the girl lights up, he passes the mallet to her, snorting when she immediately staggers under its weight. "How do you hold this so easily?"
"Jester Logic. Again. It's funnier when other people find it heavy."
"That makes no sense," basketball jersey says.
"Who are you?" curly hair asks.
"Steve. Moved here recently. What about y'all?"
"Dustin," curly hair says.
"Lucas," basketball jersey says.
"Max," the girl says, her voice strained until Steve takes the mallet back, twirling it like it weighs nothing.
"Great. Nice to meet y'all. Now, what the fuck were those?"
"How much time you got?" Dustin asks.
Steve grins, thinking he's finally found something that can keep him entertained when he's not hanging around Eddie. "Plenty."
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Tag list (let me know if you'd like to be added!)
@nectandra, @y4r3luv, @just-a-tiny-void,
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blondebxt · 25 days
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in my brain this is taking place in the the middle of a wayne gala (:
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greyskyflowers · 7 months
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A idea with a darker approach but...
I'd like to see something about Zoro bringing everyone on the crew a head at some point.
Zoro and Robin have no issue killing. I personally like the idea of them actually enjoying it. I personally feel that every ship and every crew needs a few bloodthirsty people.
Sanji and Franky will do so if absolutely necessary. What qualifies as necessary usually depends on the situation.
Luffy doesn't usually see a point in it, more than willing to beat someone down as many times as it takes for the lesson to sink in, but he has his fair share of blood on his hands.
The other crew members aren't supid, they know all this.
By this point they've all killed someone, on purpose or accident, it's more who stays up with nightmares from it.
Luffy makes them ask for things. Zoro is the same. Asking for someone to die is something you need to be able to give voice to, otherwise you don't want it enough.
He won't go on his own, he needs to hear it, but they've all pulled him aside before and asked, "please." In fear. In hatred. In anguish.
And Zoro hums lowly, and disappears in the shadows.
He still carries the title of hunter and there's a good reason for that.
It never takes him long before he's back, a bloody bag in his hand that drips along the deck but no one says anything. Luffy catches his eye and whatever passes between them stays between them.
He drops it at the feet of whoever asked for it, like a cat bringing their human a mouse.
That's it. There's nothing else to say or do. Zoro said he'd handle it, and he did.
Sometimes the only people who even know who's head is in the bag are Zoro and the person who asked. And probably Luffy, because he always seems to know everything Zoro does, and Robin because thinking she doesn't know would be an insult to her.
The bag gets tossed over the side once confirmed by the person who asked for it.
Franky makes a big show of cleaning up the blood with wails about birds shitting on his ship. He drags Usopp into helping and it doesn't usually take much for chaos to break out.
Chopper follows Zoro around until he finally lets the little doctor causally look him over for anything that may need attention.
Robin smiles at him behind a tea cup and Sanji calls him something insulting as he walks by but a bottle of sake and a snack always find their way over.
Luffy clings to him, as long as he's not hurt, and they speak to each other the way only they do, without words.
Nami quietly drops his debt down a little in her head and Brook plays something soothing.
~
The day will come when Zoro asks them. Not a single one of them will worry about blood on their hands.
~
~
Am I in love with the idea of morally grey strawhats? Yes
Do I think everyone is low-key terrified of the strawhats? Yes
Do I think everyone should be high-key terrified of the strawhats? Yes
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idk but to me something so quintessential about timothy drake is that he is your average american teenage boy and as your average teenage american boy he is viscerally and desperately terrified of loneliness. the way he latched on to every single aspect of dick's life in an attempt to be close to someone who showed him kindness as a child, the way he'll lower his distinctly bruce-wayne-shaped walls to let in young justice because once his friends know him they won't leave him, hell the way he somehow keeps up his friendship with ives despite all the times he's dropped off the radar. something about this child is such an achingly yearning beast which adores company that he rips through typical fantastical comic book angst and falls straight back into the behavior of My New Neighbor The Average American Teenage Boy in a way i don't think i consciously realized until recently
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Robin stares up at the sky, thinking about what has been said to him. “Do… do I really seem submissive and breedable…?” He asks the cosmos, now questioning if he truly is this. What does it mean for his future..?
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hawkinshightigcrs · 2 years
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what tragic horror character trope are you?
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Barb
the werewolf - there's something inside a werewolf that's sharp, thorns and barbs coiling up in tight knots of vine even on their best days. halfway through a conversation, you'll forget your happiness and the pain comes back in a flash. you never meant to, but the sharpness has done harm on your behalf. it's defensive. it's leftover artillery from a battle you spent so long fighting that it still doesn't feel like it's truly over, does it? you want so badly to be soft. to take the hand that you are offered instead of baring your teeth. and it might be hard to believe, but you are soft. you're the softest one out there. it'll just take a while to untangle those vines enough to know that very little is often life-or-death, and not everything touches to hurt.
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Chrissy
frankenstein's monster - this plight is the simplest of them all: you did not ask for this. you were never given a choice. no part of yourself feels human, just a collection of traits you've picked up from mirroring anyone you could, even the people you meet through a television screen. it's alienating to live that way- yet someone has called you the alienating one. maybe too many people to count. maybe they treated you so uncomfortably inhuman that it's all you can understand now, or you've dug yourself into such a deep hole in an attempt to keep safe that you can't remember a person living in the home of your body at all. being alive is confusing and painful and lonely and loud but living is all there is to being human- you're already there. just take air into your lungs and breathe. close your eyes and picture a beautiful sky. you made that. you painted that yourself.  
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(I still have no icons for him, I’m so sorry 😪)
Gareth
that which cannot be known - oh god. how did it come to this? to some extent, you've gone so far past your own idea of "human" that it must be kind of fun, right? maybe. i'm not sure. as an artefact of cosmic horror, you're wild and wacky and colourful and people are probably drawn to that, but you will never let them know you. the mystery intrigues for a while, but it'll wear everyone down. it'll wear you down, too. who are you? do you remember? are you so far gone that you can't go back? and maybe that's the most tragic thing of all- becoming so distorted in your identity, and for so long, that no matter how hard you want to return you can't ever seem to figure it out. but you've learned a vast amount up in the stars, and people will work hard to get to know you. it doesn't matter who you used to be. sometimes, you should just start from scratch: give yourself a name, a birthday. let someone celebrate these things with you.
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Kent
the harbinger - the harbingers have been through fire. you've got the scars to show for it. some people say harbingers are jaded- scary, even, to people who don't understand that the harbinger has seen the edge of the world and survived it. but being the harbinger means you're cursed to watch younger, brighter eyes fall for the same traps you did. trying to help isn't enough for you; you know what they're getting themselves into, and you want to protect them the way no one ever protected you, so why won't they just listen? it's frustrating. it's terrifying. no one should have to live through what you did, and i hope you know that you can't protect everyone but it's damn noble of you to try. it's not your job to save the world but i hope you know you've already made a difference to everyone who has taken your words to heart.
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Robin
the final girl - the final girl comes out the other end of trauma alive- or, they were supposed to. honestly, you're not so sure you're really alive anymore. you saw the same hurt take those you were closest to while everyone paraded your bruises as bravery, as strength, as if you're the hero. and it hurts. you're tired and you don't want to have to be brave anymore. whatever you went through, it changed so much of who you were that you're still getting used to the person you see in the mirror. you didn't have a say in any of it, but you're here now, and that's gotta count for something. you'll make it count for something. but first, you need to let yourself find rest.
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Rosemary
the witch - people need to find blame wherever they can; it makes the bad things in their life feel just a touch more bearable. the witches are so often blamed for the curses others are under that no one even questions it anymore. you point to a supposed witch and everyone else prepares the stake, no matter their innocence. to be born and believed a witch is one of the worst curses of them all- you can have friends and family, but there's always a dread that someday, someone will point to you, and everyone you once trusted will throw you into the pyre. if you're here, reading this, you've probably been burned before. and i don't blame you for wanting to hide away, to really become the witch they all say you are, to curse them. but to be a witch is to brush your fingertips over the bark of a tree and watch it grow a touch stronger. keep that in mind.
tagged by: @scarednotscary​ ❤️
tagging: you! yes, you!! if you see this do it and tag me cause I really wanna see your results omg 👀👏
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martyrbat · 6 months
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batman #428 / batman: legends of the dark knight #100
It's over. It's begun. The end of the training and the worry that he wouldn't pass the tests and make the grade, the beginning of a life with meaning. Jason smiles. A bright smile. The kind of smile Robin, The Boy Wonder should have. And he is Robin after all. For now and ever more.
‘Part of me recalls him putting on his costume that first time... the look on his face... his smile... as if it were yesterday. That first time, I must keep it alive... the memory of it. Alive in my heart so that the memory of this... here now... doesn't destroy me. We're together at least. One last time together... as it should be.’
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rebouks · 6 months
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Go on, press like, and make my clicks spike... I lost the plot or maybe two Remind me who the fuck are you?
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wigglesdtuff · 18 days
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Damn the signs were really there I just couldn't see them until recently huh
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