Hey! This blog is just for me to share pretty much anything RobStar related <3 I 100% ship DickKory but this blog is going to be Teen Titans (2003) centric. Enjoy!
It’s that time of year again, let’s celebrate another year of RobStar with this year’s RobStar ship week, taking place from July 17 to July 23.
This year’s prompts are:
Day 1, July 17th: Firsts
Day 2, July 18th: Trust/Fidelity
Day 3, July 19th: Denial
Day 4, July 20th: Gotham/Jump City
Day 5, July 21th: Mythology AU
Day 6, July 22th: In Between
Day 7, July 23th: Honeymoon
FAQs -
1. What kind of content can I submit?
Any kind! Fics, fanart, graphics, video edits, whatever you feel like creating.
2. Do I have to follow the prompts?
Not necessarily. Anything you make for the week will be happily reblogged and enjoyed.
3. Can I do their comic versions?
The preference is for the toon versions but this blog is honestly not that picky. As long as it’s DickKory, it’s good in my book.
4. What should I tag?
Tag #robstar, #robstarweek, or #robstar week, and feel free to @ this blog (@robxstar) in case Tumblr’s algorithms cause your post to be eaten by the ether.
If you have any questions or need any clarification about the prompts, feel free to ask.
As a tall girl robstar/dickkory art where Star is shorter than Rob irks my soul why can’t we just let the hot sexy space alien woman who comes from a tall species be tall ffs 😫
Katniss and Peeta leave Papaw in charge of toast baby on their first night away...
“It's just one night,” says Peeta bracingly. “You'll hardly even notice we're gone.”
But the way Katniss is twisting the end of her braid like a wet towel through the laundry wringer, I know she agrees with me. This is going to be hell.
“What if she's hungry,” I grunt.
The boy sighs and swings open my fridge door. Inside are a half dozen prepared dishes color-coded and labeled in his neat handwriting. Macaroni and cheese. Rabbit stew. Chicken pot pie. If I weren't so distraught, I might have exchanged a look with the girl and rolled my eyes.
“Say the electricity blows and it goes bad?”
Peeta slams the door and stabs his finger at a list of phone numbers on the front of the fridge. Greasy Sae-emergency provisions. And since there are ten other names and numbers listed there–Vera-Apothecary, for boo-boos; Abel-Sherif, for bumps in the night; Tobias-plumber, if you clog the damn toilet again, etc. etc.-- I decide it's no use to protest.
Katniss puts a hand on my arm. “Nobody I'd trust her with but you,” she says, and it darn near breaks me.
I suck in a deep breath and puff it out through my cheeks. ‘Course they need a break. Three years, two months they've been pulling sleepless nights, and now Katniss is round and glowing with their second. It's high time they had a little get-away. Besides, there's a visceral desperation in the way Peeta is gazing at his wife, and knowing the way they used to go at it like rabbits…well, let's just say the boy's in need of a fix, same as her. Probably why she's been cranky as all hell lately.
“Alright, alright, you two,” I concede, just as a tornado in a red dress and two dark braids blows in from the living room to tangle in my legs.
“Papaw ‘Mitch!” She cries as I scoop her up off the floor and swing her through the air like a hovercraft.
“Hey there, my little gosling,” I say over an eruption of hysterical giggles.
“You see,” says Peeta, picking up their suitcase and putting a hand on the small of Katniss' back. “You'll have a grand ‘ol time.”
“Be a good little gosling,” coos Katniss, kissing her little one on the head and looking up at me with a watery smile. We don't need to say anything. We know. I'm afraid of staying, my eyes say. I'm afraid of going, say hers. We're safe, we remind each other.
And then they're gone. A minute passes before Daisy’s lip starts to wobble. I just barely avoid a flood of tears to rival the cistern I burst all those years ago by ushering her outside to the goose pen. Nothing my gosling likes more than to feed the geese.
I smile as I watch her flitting around the yard tutting at the ganders to mind their manners and not hog all the good feed. By noon she's tuckered out, so I sit her down at the table and heat up the mac and cheese.
Daisy spends half the time she's supposed to be eating stringing cheesy noodles onto a length of chives to make a necklace. Oh, Maysilee would have liked this one, I think wistfully. After an hour of trial and error, I'm satisfied her belly is full. We alternate between reading story books and playing pretend for the rest of the day. Somehow every scenario requires my hair to be done up real pretty with her mom's elastics and a handful of clothes pins.
Surprisingly, bath time goes better than expected, though she does spring from the tub at the end and dash butt-ass naked down the hallway giggling like a banshee before I catch her in a fluffy towel and wrestle her into PJs embroidered with little dandelions. A gift from Annie, who's taken up needlepoint.
I put her to sleep in my own bed, tucking the blankets around her just so, fetching a glass of water and then another because she needs the green cup, and stroking her hair till she falls asleep, her lips parted in a tiny “O.”
Then I go downstairs to pace, same as I always do when the night is black and my thoughts grow dark. But this time it's different. Because there's a little life up there. By best friend's grandkid. My darling gosling.
Before dawn I sleep, and for once, I dream of nothing at all.
— — —
The next day I wake in a panic. The bed. It's empty. Heart hammering in my throat, I tear through the house screaming bloody murder. But that's when I hear an old forgotten sound drifting out of the guest room. The door I never open. I try the handle now, my heart still jumping like a bullfrog.
She's there on the floor, an orange scarf tied up in her braid, tune box on her lap. My heart stops leaping and plummets straight to my toes, then slowly floats back up, entranced by the sound of the music like a cobra to a flute.
“Look Papaw ‘Mitch!” she says, blue eyes bright and happy and alive. “I'm a magical-ician!”
I laugh at the way she struggles on the word musician. But then, when I think about it, she had it right. Because it is magical the way I feel seeing my little gosling with my girl’s old tune box
“You are a magical-ician,” I agree.
— — —
When Katniss and Peeta arrive home that evening, she's sleeping on my chest in the rocker by the front window. I raise a finger to my lips and whisper, “Shh, she's asleep.”
Peeta winds an arm around Katniss’ waist and they share a smile. Their baby is safe. The house is still standing. And the toilet's still flushing. It's a miracle, frankly.
“I can take her, Papaw,” says the boy, but I hold up my hand. I'm not ready to let go. “Nah, you two go home. I think I should stay here.”
Katniss’ lips twitch up and I know she knows I'm stalling.
“She'll howl like a wolf cub if you wake her up,” I grumble, though I know my cover is weak and fooling no one. “I may be old, but my ears are still working.”
“Ok then, Papaw,” the girl says gently. “Sweet dreams.”
And they are. Sweet like stack cake on Sid's birthday. Sweet like Lenore Dove's lips. Sweet like the love of a family.
beetee latier came up with one singular plan ever to defeat the hunger games and canonically tried to make it work TWICE despite the fact that it literally blew up in his face the first time.
this officially makes him the world’s most accurate fictional scientist because he HAS a favorite hypothesis that he IS going to make sure works even if it fucking kills him
I didn’t expect to come away from a book about Haymitch even more convinced of Peeta Mellark’s crucial role in the rebellion, but I did. Because the book showed that Katniss was not uniquely rebellious. It reminded us that Snow’s worldview hinges on one fact: he is the victor. There is no room in his world for the vulnerability that Lucy Gray caused him. Haymitch recognizes it: Snow will not allow him to die. There must be a singular, selfish victor. Because every lone victor sends the same message to Panem: your will to power must come before any loyalties, any sense of justice. The people around you cannot be trusted. They are your enemies, when the chips are down. It is a a brutal slap in the face of any organized resistance. The idea of two victors is completely and utterly antithetical to Snow’s personal demons, and to his system. He rationalizes his betrayal of Lucy Gray this way. He drives the point home to Haymitch when he kills Ma, Sid, and Lenore Dove: any attempt to sidestep your fate will be met with awful retribution. It probably gave him some personal satisfaction to kill a Covey-girl, but it didn’t matter. She was a dead woman regardless. And Katniss? Okay, she sings some songs. She buries a child in flowers. Beautiful. But if she wins fair and square, she’s less of a threat even than Haymitch, and more of a victory for Snow. Not even Covey-blood are above his rules.
Then Peeta throws a wrench in the whole thing. Because he loves her. And he wears it proudly. But even then, Snow is not worried. This is nothing new. Star-crossed lovers mean nothing. No alliance can last. One of them must kill the other, in the end. That is how this story goes.
And then it doesn’t. Because they refuse. There will be no singular victor. Either there will be none, or there will be two. He says Seneca should have killed them on the spot, and maybe that would have bought him some time, but as soon as Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark determined that life or death at each other’s side was more important than anything else, it was all over. The system really was brought down by a handful of berries.
beetee latier came up with one singular plan ever to defeat the hunger games and canonically tried to make it work TWICE despite the fact that it literally blew up in his face the first time.
this officially makes him the world’s most accurate fictional scientist because he HAS a favorite hypothesis that he IS going to make sure works even if it fucking kills him
Robstar really was the og situationship and if snapchat was a thing back then, Starfire would 100% have a note in her notes app dedicated to stalking Robin's snapscore
Robstar really was the og situationship and if snapchat was a thing back then, Starfire would 100% have a note in her notes app dedicated to stalking Robin's snapscore
So sorry for being #dead on here, my senior year of high school started and I have a full AP and dual enrollment schedule so I'm a little busy 💀
Also random but my AP Lit class just finished reading A Separate Peace by John Knowles and oh my GOD that book is so good and so heartbreaking. It's making my stomach turn two days later.
Anyway love yall, will post some RobStar brain rot soon
robstar fans, rainey @cruulsummer just posted the most incredible robstar work!!! please please please go check it out!!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/58032589/chapters/147743575
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
AHHH guys I’m so sorry I missed RobStar week. Take this multi-chapter Robstar arc Im writing as an apology????
The Lessons We Learn
SUMMARY: Everyone knew Starfire and Robin would get together eventually. They just hadn’t had the time… at least, that’s what she’d told herself.
He just needed a break - a moment of peace to realize how blind he’d been all these years.
But in the aftermath of their victory against the Brotherhood of Evil, Starfire finds that forming a real relationship with Robin is more difficult than she ever could have expected.
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