#robin gifts
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'Let's Bee Friends' 100% Cotton Tote Bag
#bees#bee#bumblebee#red robin#birds#bird art#bee art#bee bag#robin bag#friendship#friendship quotes#friendship bag#friends#friendship gift#bee gifts#housewarming#housewarming gifts#robin gifts#tote bag#cotton bags#summer bag#shopping bag#handbag#bird bag#garden bag
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I think itās really funny if Tim just assumed that everybody is on the same wavelength as him so he never explains anything because he thinks everybody already knows.
Tiny Tim shows up at Dickās apartment and Dick is just flabbergasted because, āYou know that Bruce is Batman?ā
Tim nods like, āEverybody knows that.ā
Red Hood comes to town and Timās like, yeah. Thatās obviously Jason Todd back from the dead. The League of Assassins probably had something to do with it. Like, āThere were signs.ā
Jason, breaking into Titans Tower in full Robin costume, āWhat do you mean there were signs????ā
āOh, you know.ā
#Timās got gifted child syndrome so he always thinks heās the dumbest person in the room#Tim drake#Red Robin#dick Grayson#jason todd#red hood#batfam
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lulaw bodyswap (or, the exquisite humiliation of trafalgar law) for @strawhattery's birthday!
bonus: the original toilet humor gag that ended up on the chopping block
#one piece#luffy#trafalgar law#lulaw#dont worry hes intolerant not celiac#for gluten i mean. hes surprisingly tolerant in all other ways#anyway. hes not in danger. hes just in absolute misery from those sandwiches#oh uh...#sanji#zoro#usopp#franky#chopper#jimbei#nami#brook#i really hope tumblr still only searches the first 5 tags so i dont spam anyone#wait#is it#robin#or#nico robin#IM SORRY ROBIN IVE FORGOTTEN MY OWN TAG FOR YOU#happy bday stinky. stinky bree. i hope ur happy with this :')))))))#its a gift for u. but also its so self indulgent that its probably for me too...
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how embarrassing š¤Øā¦
#damian wayne#nika flatline#flatline#batman and robin#don't come at me.... but i think it's so much more in-character and equally as cringe#if damian just had sketchbook pages filled with life-like drawings of Nika#instead of his self-insert manga#is it not cringe enough that he was a weird classical art kid in the first place#also ahhhhh........ left-handed damian... if DC comics truly is bestowing this gift upon us then who are we to deny it š!
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"I think it's sweet," Steve says.
Robin wrinkles her nose. "Nothing about Eddie Munson is sweet. He's a sewer rat, at best. Or like twenty opossums in a trench coat."
"Opossums are cute."
"He probably has rabies."
"You say that about me all the time, so I guess that's good. We'll have rabies together."
"He gave you a rock."
"You give me rocks all the time," Steve says, rolling his eyes. He runs his thumb along the textured edge of the rock Eddie'd handed to him.
"Yeah, good rocks." Robin scoffs. "That one sucks."
#steddie#stobin#autism eddie and robin but they have different tastes in rocks#robin like smooth ones especially if they're shiny#eddie likes the ones that are shaped a certain way with texture#steve has jars FULL of their gifts#IS the rock collection/gifting thing an autism-ism??? me and my undiagnosed/undefined mental state does not know#ALSO opossums are naturally extremely resistant to rabies!! fun fact from your local opossum defender yaba#my steddies
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Skele-kon gift for @chaoswithcausation !! young justice hangout scrumping for apples :)
closeups under the cut!
#crowcraft#skele-kon gift exchange#superboy#conner kent#kon el#tim drake#robin#robin tim drake#red robin#bart allen#dc impulse#impulse#young justice#young just us#yj98#cassie sandsmark#wonder girl#cissie king jones#arrowette
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I've always liked this Sanji moment. He is so cute here (yes, he is simping, as he does, but still, super cute).
I love that he arrived to Skypea, saw flowers and he thought of getting one for Robin and one for Nami, and my ABSOLUTELY FAVORITE THING is that he is not trying to act suave and cool, he is just like "I brought you a flower" puts it on Robin's hair and continues his mission.
(Her surprised face at the sudden act of affection gets me too. She looks so confused. She is so not used to it. *)
I watched this moment again after hundreds and hundreds of episodes. And you know what Sanji reminds me of?
Himself
His love language had always been acts of service, isn't it?
And giving a flower he thinks they may like counts too, right?
#black leg sanji#vinsmoke sanji#nico robin#one piece#I rewatched it and I was like :#oh. looks like a child giving a gift to his mother...#this doesn't mean he sees his crew members as his mother. just that that's a way he shows affection#I am over explaining myself again*
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Youāve heard of āBruce Wayne is dating Batmanā, now get ready for the spinoff: āTim Drake is cheating on his boyfriend with Robinā.
What do we call this? Timbin? Robathy?
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B-day gift Robin for a friend (who loves her and chickens)
#my art#digital art#nico robin#op nico robin#OP fanart#one piece#cowboy Robin#bday gift drawing#look at all those chicken xD
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Do you think Dick Grayson canāt go to parks? Do you think that each time he hears the creaking of metal bars, he gets whiplash to the split-second he met his parents eyes when they all realised they wouldnāt make it?
Do you think Jason Todd canāt ever keep a timer on? Do you think he hears the bomb ticking down everytime he closes his eyes?
Do you think Tim Drake canāt decide whether to start talking or stop? Do you think heās afraid theyāll forget him if he doesnāt, afraid theyāll think heās gone mad if he does?
Do you think Duke can never go to concerts? Do you think that the moment the first smoke starts slithering into the crowd, their cheers sound like screams reminding him of his mother?
Do you think Damian never allows himself to try new things? Do you think that the moment he isnāt perfect, he hears everyoneās voice in his head telling him he will never be enough?
Do you think Stephanie refuses to do any treasure hunts? Do you think the moment she sees scrawled handwritten riddles she sees her fatherās first descent into madness?
Do you think Barbara had to suppress a shiver when everyone hosts a surprise birthday party? Do you think waiting in the dark and listening to the victimās footsteps reminds her of the moments before Joker shot her?
Do you think Alfred canāt let a single room collect dust? Do you think that the last time he put off cleaning a room he never saw their occupants again?
Do you think Bruce knows all of this? Do you think Bruce can only sleep at night knowing his kids didnāt turn out like him? Do you think he still blames himself for every wrong done to those he loves?
Do you think he can stop?
Do you think any of them can stop?
#was feeling a bit Angsty#so hereās a gift:#batman#jason todd#dick grayson#tim drake#nightwing#batfam#red hood#bruce wayne#damian wayne#headcanons#batfam headcanons#batfam headcanons angst#dick Grayson angst#red hood angst#Stephanie brown#Barbara Gordon#Alfred pennyworth#Batman angst#nightwing angst#red robin angst#Tim drake angst#duke Thomas#the signal dc
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Beg You to Love Me
"I'm surprised you even remembered, Harrington," Eddie shrugs, hoping he comes off as aloof as he wants to, instead of shaky and unsure like he feels. He was sitting atop the picnic table, arms behind him trying to look as unaffected by Steve's presence as he can, but he's been thrown for a loop ever since Steve emerged from the woods instead of Robin Buckley, like he was expecting.
"Of course, I remember. I- I've never forgotten," Steve whispers, head down and fists clenched at his sides. He looks more like a child being wrongfully scolded than a man defending himself.
The words pull a scoff from Eddie, though. Never forgotten? What the fuck ever. "Right. Something to hold over me, then, if I'd stepped too far out of line? Mutually assured destruction?"
Steve's head snaps up and he looks horrified, which Eddie will admit to almost believing. Steve doesn't seem like the type to join the drama club but his acting's pretty fucking good. "What? No! I would have never- I would never have said anything about us to anyone."
"Right. Sure. Of course. Your own reputation to think about there."
Something like hurt flashes across Steve's face before it frosts over. This is the face he's used to see on Steve. Cold and distant. "I- whatever, man. I don't even know why I thought..." but Steve doesn't finish his sentence. He just shakes his head and turns his back on Eddie, heading back the way he came.
He doesn't know why that sparks a rage from deep within him. "Yeah, that's right. Tuck tail and runaway again!"
"I ran away?" Steve shouts back, turning sharply on his heel to glare at Eddie. "You think that I ran away?"
Eddie just spreads his hands to the empty clearing as if to say 'look at all this room around me you've never occupied'. "You weren't here, were you?"
"Because you told me to not be!" Steve stomps back to Eddie but stops a couple yards away.
"Like fuck I did," Eddie argues back, because he didn't tell Steve to go away. He'd told him-
"'If this isn't good enough for you, there's the fucking door.' That's what you told me," Steve quotes, "I thought it was pretty fucking clear what you wanted."
"Yeah, I fucking thought it was clear what I wanted," Eddie snarls, lunging from the picnic table, closing those last few feet to get into Steve's face. "Yet here we are!"
"Don't act like this is my fucking fault. Like you weren't the one who forced it to be my fault. My decision-"
"Yeah, it had to be your damn decision! You were dragging it out-"
"-because you were too much of a coward to do it your-fucking-self-"
"-acting like you were. Acting too good to actually slum it with the trailer trash-"
"-so of course I made the choice that was best for me. Because I deserved more-"
"-like what I had to offer you would never be good enough for the goddman King-"
"-than just being your hookup when I wanted to be-"
"-like I wasn't good enough to be your friend, much less-"
"-your fucking boyfriend!"
"-your fucking boyfriend!"
The contrast of this sudden silence that falls following their screaming match that ends with identical sentiments is jarring. Eddie feels wrong-footed and lost. Confusion and hurt mixing in him that he can see reflected on Steve's face.
"What?" Steve is the first to break the silence, drawing into himself. Arms crossing to hold himself at the elbows as he takes several steps back, as if to be able to see all of Eddie will clear the confusion he's feeling.
Eddie just stares back, slack jawed for a moment. That's. What. No, wait. Really, what? "What what?"
"You- you said 'if this isn't good enough for you, there's the fucking door'. How was I- I thought you- you were breaking up with me!" Steve cries, "you. You said that to make me pick, because you knew I wanted more and you didn't. That's- you were breaking up with me!"
Eddie's in just as much disbelief. "No, you broke up with me! I said if this isn't good enough but, like, I meant if I wasn't good enough. And you left! You walked out because I wasn't good enough to be with you!"
Steve looks stricken and he claws harder at himself, sort of folds into himself like he's going to be sick. "No. No no no, that's- then that means I- it's all been my fault. No no no no."
Eddie stares wide-eyed and frozen as Steve talks to himself. Eddie kind of feels nauseous. There's no way that this is possible. That these last two and a half years of heartbreak have been because of miscommunication. That they both thought the other was breaking up with them and neither actually wanted to.
"Why didn't you- Why didn't you say something?" Eddie asks.
Steve laughs at that, sounding a bit hysteric. "Me!? Why didn't you! I wasn't- I wasn't going to beg you to love me like I had with my parents. You were the one who told me I shouldn't have to do that!"
Yeah. He had. When Steve had broken down and cried on his bed, in his arms, wondering what it was he had done to lose his parents' love. Eddie told him it wasn't his fault, never would be, and that he would never need to beg for love from someone who does love him. It was the same advice Wayne had given him when he'd taken Eddie in.
"I already thought you were wanting to break up. You were being so distant, I thought..."
Steve sucks in a deep breath and nods, "Yeah. Yeah I was. I was scared of scaring you away. Of being too much. Because I- what I felt for you was a lot. I was afraid I'd chase you away if I continued to be so clingy. I pulled back, to reign it in but. Fuck. Fuck!"
Eddie drops to a squat. His legs feel like jelly and he can't keep standing. He squats and looks down so his hair becomes a curtain separating him from the reality of the situation, if only for a moment. Fuck is right.
He's spent his junior and first senior year being pissed at Steve. Hurt by him and what he thought happened. And it's- if Steve's being honest, it's all been for nothing. If they both wanted a deeper relationship, they could have had it. They might still be boyfriends if Eddie hadn't been so wrapped up in his Munson Doctrine. He'd been convincing himself Steve was embarrassed of him, and was working on breaking off their- whatever they were. But he hadn't been.
He's thought such terrible things about Steve over the years. God, what has Steve thought of him over the years? No. He doesn't want to know, actually. That's not what he cares about right now.
He lifts his head to see that Steve's plopped himself onto the ground, sitting cross legged, elbows on his knees and head in his hands.
"Steve. Steve!" He calls Steve's name out until he looks up, looks at him, "why'd you come out here?"
He laughs again, slightly less hysterically, and he's shaking his head like he can't believe what he's about to say. "I. Fuck, I was coming out here to beg you to love me."
"No you fucking weren't!" his tone is filled with disbelief.
"I was," Steve repeats, sounding amused and heartbroken at the same time. "I really, really was. Graduation's coming and I know you want to get out of Hawkins the second that happens and I'm. I was running out of time trying to get you to notice me again, so I was going to beg."
Notice him again? As if Steve doesn't haunt his every waking thought. As if he doesn't dream of Steve every night while his eyes seek him across the halls and in their few shared classes like he's the goddamn night sky and Eddie is a sailor lost at sea needing the north star to guide him home. Eddie's never not noticed him, and he thinks he has to come out here and beg? "When someone loves you, you don't have to beg."
"Yeah, I know," Steve sighs, defeated, which lets Eddie know that Steve does not, in fact, know. He looks away from Eddie, down to his lap.
Fuck, it's like every fantasy Eddie's had of them making up and then making out has been handed to him on a silver platter and he's blowing it. His words are too vague, too easily misinterpreted. Again. He falls forward on to his knees, hands catching him so he's on all fours like an animal. "Steve. I mean it. You don't have to beg."
"I get it, Eddie," Steve huffs, not looking at him. Not actually understanding.
Eddie starts to crawl the distance between them. Steve looks up then, probably to see what the fuck Eddie was doing with the shuffling sounds and the chain on his belt clacking. Eddie watches Steve's eyes go wide, mouth dropping open to a small 'o'. "See, the thing is, Steve," Eddie says, pulling himself up to be just on his knees to shuffle the last few inches closer. Steve leans back to keep his eyes on Eddie's face, which opens his lap up. "You said you know, but I don't think you do." Eddie brings his hands to rest on Steve's shoulders and Steve lets him. "You don't have to beg." He uses his hold on Steve's shoulders to balance himself as he swings a leg wide, to straddle Steve, then shifts his weight to repeat the process with his other leg before settling himself into Steve's lap. Steve's hands land on his hips and Eddie isn't sure if it's intentional or a reaction to Eddie plopping himself in his laps but he's going to believe it's the first one. "You've never had to beg with me."
Steve sucks in a sharp breath and then he collapses into Eddie. Steve's hands on his hips slide up and pull him into a hug, as close to Steve's body as he can get, while Steve shoves his head under Eddie's chin, into the junction of his neck and shoulder and breaths him in like it's the last breath Steve will ever take. "We're so stupid."
"Yeah," Eddie agrees, as he lifts one hand to hold the back of Steve's head while the other drops to rub soothingly at his back. "Yeah, we are."
They sit in the dirt, the closest they've been since that summer between '81 and '82. They should probably talk about. They're going to have to, if they want this to work. Full sentences with no hidden meanings, even though the thought of that kind of vulnerability makes Eddie skittish. It's going to be difficult, but it'll be worth it. Steve has always been worth it.
Eddie wants to say 'I love you', just to get it out, in the open, and not just implied, but there's a different first step to take. One that's actually a little easier. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
"Me too," Steve whispers, "I'm sorry. I should have-"
"Shut up," Eddie cuts him off, voice quiet and soft as he can be. "This is, and I cannot stress it enough, a we situation."
The huff of laughter on his skin from Steve feels like the start of something. A new beginning, a start over. A re-do.
A goddamn miracle.
Later, they'll drag themselves apart and up. Make it to the back of Eddie's van in the school parking lot to talk. Going to either's house feel too much, too soon. Their big fight happened at Eddie's home, and Steve's house isn't warm enough for the kind of comfort they want to share.
They'll have a talk. Filled with long pauses, stumbling over words and fears and insecurities because this is the hard part of a relationship. Getting it all out in the open so they can learn if they'll even work. The fear that they aren't going to be compatible anymore looms but doesn't deter. They both want a second chance, to give it a real shot, by the end of that first talk. But taking it slow.
They'll discuss what went wrong the first time (diving in without talking about anything certainly played a big part) and how to avoid that.
But that's later. Right now, Eddie just holds Steve, and Steve holds him back, and it certainly feels like the beginning of something good.
-
@i-less-than-three-you @nburkhardt @afewproblems
#steddie#my fic#this is just Miscommunication The Fic#hurt/comfort#steve harrington#eddie munson#robin buckleys the mvp for setting up the meeting by lying to eddie#shes going to demand a thank you gift for giving them the time to talk#and eddie WILL send her a whole fruit basket
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Steddie Wrong Blind Date AU š
what if you meet the wrong love of your life?
He doesnāt know how the fuck he got here. At a very nice bar in a very nice restaurant.
Sitting alone.
Or well: heĀ knows. Itās more that he canāt believe he let it happen.
Again.
Because Steve had finally (finally!) made sufficient enoughĀ threatsĀ logical arguments to curb Robinās attemptsāwell-meaning, dingus, well meaning attempts!āto set him up with so-and-soās cousin or whoever-the-fuckās roommate. The blind dates had actually been his first successful method to ultimately shoot down, on the basis that they werenāt just fucking humiliating: they were goddamnĀ degrading.
For reasons such as his current situation.
And of all the things Robin desired for him, they both knew sheād neverĀ knowinglyĀ cause him pain. So that left him working with awkward introductions at parties, sometimes at completely random places even, like too-weird-to-be-coincidence run-ins at the grocery store and shit, where Robin just so happened to be shopping whenĀ bothĀ her targets were there. It was borderline frightening, but. It was veryĀ Robin. And Steve adored her more than anything and struggled too much to stay mad at herāheās definitely tried his damnedest, more than onceāso. He knows her intentions come from the heart, regardless of how disastrously they pan out in reality.
Which is why Steve is allowing this onceāandĀ only onceābecause heās not stupid, but. He appreciates the ingenuity.
And getting yourĀ girlfriendĀ to make the blind date pitch wasā¦technicallyĀ honoring his rules.
So. Heās allowing this to slide once. Once. One time.
One.Ā More.Ā Time.
And heās already got his justification, fucking iron clad too, to call it on sight. Failed attempt, the guyās already twenty minutes late and thatāsā¦thatās past fashionable, really, especially for a set up like this. He glances at his phone, just to see if heās got anything from Chrissy as an updateāSteve loves her, and RobinĀ adoresĀ her, and thatās the only reason heāsĀ notĀ spending the minutes he waits, sipping stupidly-slow at the same tequila sunrise, plotting revenge against her for being so gullible, so willing to not merely enact Robinās last-gasp efforts but toĀ participate, actively, because apparently tonightās āperfect match, heāsĀ soĀ your type!ā wasĀ ChrissyāsĀ suggestionābut thereās nothing. Just the last message from an hour ago reassuring him against backing out in the first place:
heās tall, dark, handsome, 100% your type. maybe a little *theatrical*: youāll LOVE him š
Steve didnāt, and still doesnāt, understand what she means byĀ theatrical, and honestly heās kinda wary for itāhe doesnāt like playing games when it comes to romance: heās too all-in, and too quickly, for any of that.
Which also means that, as much as he thinks itās a fucking laughable sham to have agreed to this, and as much as heād walked inĀ knowingĀ that, knowing he was entertaining the farce against his own will: it stillā¦doesnāt sting, exactly. But it definitely squeezes uncomfortably in his chest for no good reason that heās been fucking stood up and yeah, yeah, that means itās time toā
He reaches for his drink and notices itās empty. Just another sign, really, so he move to gesture the bartender over to pay butā
Someoneās got a better angle, actually gets the guyās attention before Steve can even tryāa someone sitting two empty chairs down who lifts his glass for another, then gestures the exact same way with an empty toward Steveās sad glass of ice.
āOn mine,ā he tips his chin Steveās direction before the bartender grabs Steveās glass along with the strangerās and makes for refills, then itās just the stranger turning the whole of his body around on the stool to faceā¦Steve.
āFor the handsome nobleman,ā and he says it with a stilted lilt thatās somehow not disingenuous, and itās odd, to put it mildly, paired with a little bow of his head that definitely matches the affected voice but alsoĀ definitelyĀ gives the stranger a perfect window to run his gaze up and down Steveās seated frameāitās a good move, Steve canāt even deny it, no matter howā¦weird.
Butā¦also, thereās a warmth in it? Maybe in the gaze, something thatās not justĀ heat, or maybe in the tone thatās notĀ justĀ putting on a show.
Something.
āIn fact I do say theĀ veryĀ handsome nobleman doth sit alone beyond comprehension,ā the stranger seems to correct himself, and the way his lips curl, wider and then pull back a little, like he hesitates, like heās maybe bolder than this in other situations but is reserving himself just a touch for here and nowāand goddamnĀ but this is pretty fucking bold already, whatever it actuallyĀ is:
āAnd he deserves plentiful libations,ā and Steve didnāt even notice the new drink on the counter until the stranger reaches, tips precariously on his stool, and slides the glass closer before nodding toward it, almost like another little bow: āin his tarrying.ā
Steve stares wordless for a second because, outside of that weird fucking Renaissance Fair thing the kidsĀ draggedĀ him to, heās never heard anyone talk like that. So the settingās all fucked up because this is Manhattan, at a not-particularly-inexpensive bistro type venue, definitely devoid of turkey legs.
Plus the guy in question doesnāt quite look the partāgorgeous curls to the shoulders, facial structure to kill a man, legs for days draped down the stool and dressed in shades of black top to bottom, from the button up in charcoal fucking silk, to the weirdly-suited boots that might have a steel toe hiding or might just be playing, the only color on him the pout of his lips and the slight flush visible in the low bar light brushed over his cheeks before he leans a little closer, eyes maybe the darkest thing about him and kinda goddamnĀ mesmerizingĀ for it, especially for how they somehow tiptoe along a fine line between almost disorienting focus on Steve and Steve alone, and something close to hesitant, or maybe more bashful when he clears his throat and asks:
āPerhaps this very handsome nobleman would also enjoy some company,ā and his toneās not even playing coy about being hopeful, before he full-on lays a palm to his chest inĀ old-fashioned apologyĀ as his lashes flutter a little and he goes all self-deprecating, and genuine in it, as he adds in that same bashfulness:
āEven if only that of a humble bard, such as myself?ā
And Steveās not above being wholesale dumbstruck for a good second, like his hearing goes tunneled and his pulse echoes for the narrowing: this man is unreal.
Veryā¦theatrical.Ā One-hundredĀ percent his type.Ā Two-hundred percent, even. Jesus.
So Steveās quiet for a second, but heās not known for his charm because he canāt bounce back quicker than average, certainly quicker than risking that gorgeous face falling for the dashing for the hope painted open all over it, not a stroke of artifice in sight.
Steveās not even trying when he fucking feels his own automatic walls start to slip as he leans, meets the man move for move so they can hear each other close as the bar starts to fill a little more:
āOnly if I can get the next round,ā and if Steve purrs it, itās a reflex; if it darkens those already depthless eyes, well. Heās close enough to appreciate the swell of the pupil, the deepening of the flush on those cheeks.
If Steveās heart jumps a little, thereās not a soul who can call him out for it; tree in the woods with no one to hear it fall.
But it does. ItĀ soĀ does.
The man does an adorable little shimmy across the seats between them, taking the one closest to Steve and then doing a little scootching of even that to settle all the closer, and it shouldnāt be endearing, but Steve feels like he can bet on his ribs being sore by the end of whatever this is, or ends up being, just for the swelling beneath them already underway.
āIf my request is being so highly honored, so as to join you,ā the man takes a little bundle of his curls and drags them across the corner of his lips before tucking it back andā¦Steve has the immediate urge to have done it for him instead, what the hell, too fucking soon, manā
āDoes his majesty have a name?ā
It takes Steve a couple long seconds to register that the man meansĀ him, though it doesnāt escape Steve that the reference, while it took a while to land? Never for an instant felt like it did in high school, or even shortly after. It feltā¦warm.
āSteve,ā he says with a smile, more twisting his palm than extending his hand to shake given their proximity; āand you, my,ā Steve licks his lips then presses them tight around a grin before choosing his words: āvery odd butĀ veryĀ endearing bard, was it?ā
āIt was, indeed,ā the man lights up near fluorescent; āIām Eddie.ā
Maybe itās the way he says it, or the way he takes Steveās hand. Butā¦Jesus.
Itāsā¦a really good name.
āThen tell me, Eddie,ā Steve doesnāt let go of the hand in his, their touches just slowly slide apart and it feelsā¦like a loss but not a crushing one, Eddieās still close enough to feel the heat of him.
āUnless Iām totally off, I think I know from exposure,Ā notĀ playing, that a bardās a musician, yeah?ā Or is it a storyteller, or maybe both, thereās a good fucking reason he never have in to playing the nerd gameā
āTell me what makes you introduce yourself like that right off the bat, then.ā
And EddieĀ glowsĀ for the opening, the invitation, and the thing is? He doesnātĀ stop; heās like a star unto himself, shining and bathing Steve in the glimmer as he talks about music, about growing up in a house of it, about it being tough sometimes but his mother took him to live with his uncle, the three of them and then it was easier and there was alsoĀ moreĀ music, new music, and he tells Steve about bands heās played in, joined and left, guitars heās loved and lost, the whole shipping boxes he has piled with full notebooks of lyrics and ideas from years upon years; and then he pivots, or maybe thatās not even it, because what he really does is test the waters around where Steve thought the bard reference came from in the first placeāthe nerd game. Steve confesses he was a mostly an unwilling bystander but it was probably more because he didnāt get it, and honestly his reluctance was more for show than anything, he loved what his kids loved at the end of the day, what made them happyāwhich left Steve explaining the kids, explaining Robin, explainingĀ hisĀ family in a way Steve hasnāt done in relationships that lastedĀ months, let alone first conversations on very first dates.
He should be terrified. He isnāt.
He should be terrified of theĀ isnāt. Andā¦andĀ yet.
āMy turn for a question,ā Eddie fills the first soft lull in conversation, one that stretches taffy-sweet and almost kinda giddy; Steve doesnāt even know what heās feeling because he doesnāt know if heās ever felt it before, like, everāall he knows is that itās kind of fucking fantastic, like something he already never wants to let go of. So of course he nods, welcomes Eddieās turns for a question even if it doesnāt seem entirely necessary; the back-and-forths sliding so natural, so balanced.
āWhy the choice of drink?ā
Eddie nods at the glass almost empty in his hand while Steve squints and laughs a little.
āWhat?ā Steve asks because he doesnāt understand, sure, but also because the unpredictability, alongside the sheer earnestness of this man isā¦itās disarming in the best fucking way. Like maybe Steveās falling but he never wants to stop andā
Too soon, too fucking soon even if thatās not what he meant, exactly; he thought it, and itāsĀ too fucking soonā
āEveryone has aĀ reasonĀ for ordering a drink,ā Eddie explains with a grin that pops those delicious dimples; āhabit, by which thereās a story of the first time you tried it,ā he ticks off on his nimble looking fingers, the rings on them catching the lights; āspontaneity, by which thereās a tale of what inspired it,ā and fuck, theyāre so long, those fingers, Steve kinda wonders how many knuckles he could fit in his mouth; āmemories, by which thereās something poking at them.ā
Eddie pauses, takes Steve in, no doubt sees Steve hanging onto, damn near salivating over his every word even as he swallows and takes a breath to collect himself as discreetly as heās capable; it just makes those dimples divot deeper.
āI could go on,ā Eddie offers, a little sly in his smile, the knowing kind, but his tone is soft, like maybe Steveās not the only one feelingā¦things. And maybe Eddie wants him to know it. Maybe so that heās not alone. Maybe because they both fucking like it. Maybeā
āHabit,ā Steve answers, unable to keep from smiling around the rim of his glass when he takes a sip. āI got sick on shots and swore off straight tequila, but I was always up for the, yāknow, frou-frou drinks,ā he swirls the maybe-two-swallows left for show: āso long as it tasted good I didnāt give a shit, yāknow, and then a,ā Steve pauses a second, wonders how best to describe that particular figure from his past before settling on:
āAn old friend, told me once,ā and then Steve pauses again, this time because he can feel the rush of heat to his cheeks because oh, shit, now heās backed himself into having toĀ sayĀ itā
āOh, now youĀ haveĀ to share,ā Eddie coaxes, a singsong in his voice and a wide-eyed wonder to him, something like genuine investment in what comes next, whatās next in something solely aboutĀ Steve, that almost soothes the embarrassment;
āUnless youāre displaying the answer with this,ā and Eddie only just brushes the flat of his fingernail to Steveās cheekbone, too quick to appreciate the shiver it sends down Steveās spine, through his fuckingĀ veins, thatās not helped one bit by Eddie murmuring, a little sensual, but somehow also a little dazed, a little starry-eyed when he breathes out:
āBlush like the sunrise.ā
And if he wasnāt already, fuck knows Steve isĀ now.
He misses Eddieās touch against it, too. Even so fleeting. Wishes he were bold enough, or foolish enough, to grab Eddieās hand and let him feel what heās doing, the heat in him. The way his blood rushes.
Heās not, because thatās fucking insane andĀ way too much too soon, but.
Wanting doesnāt play by those rules.
āAlmost,ā Steve picks up the glass and swirls it again; āhe said I was like sunshine,ā Steve recalls with a little grināitās a softer memory now than it used to be. He laughs a little and downs the last of whatās left of his drink. āThink it was more because of a yellow sweater I wore way too much at the time, but,ā and he places the empty down and so he doesnāt see it coming until it happens: Eddieās hand. On his hand, on the glass.
āNo.ā
Steve looks up, barely breathes. Eddie has soft hands.
āNo, I think it was more than that, Sunshine,ā Eddie tells him, honest and certain and a little breathless and Steveās of two equal minds: heās never been so aroused. But heās also never felt soĀ seen.
AndĀ wanted.
āAnother?ā Eddie asks, but his eyes donāt leave Steveās to look at their drinks, to be anywhere but in this moment, here with him.
āYouāre sure?ā Steve makes himself ask it, doesnāt bother forcing himself to sound anything but pulling for one answer and one answer alone. āDonāt have somewhere better to be?ā
āWouldnāt have asked otherwise,ā Eddie does look away then, but down at their hands, strokes his thumb a little down where Steveās wrist starts to curve. āAnd Iām struggling just now to think of anywhere better than right here.ā
And then Eddieās placing his fingers between Steveās, just resting them in the middle spaces: theyād fit. So well.
Theyā¦will. They will fit fuckingĀ gloriously.
āMy round, then,ā though Steveās lost count if theyāre even, how many drinks theyāve actually hadānot too many, heās pleasantly buzzed at best and maybe more on the company than anything else if heās honest, but he likewise doesnāt know how long theyāre been there, sipping between baring their fucking souls in the most mundane ways thatā¦
That Steve thinks have started to kindle something in him. Started to breathe life into a part of him he didnāt know was dormant, forgot he could feel until it started unfurling like this, deep in his chest.
āNeed something to cut through the sugar,ā he says idly, but he doesnāt miss the way Eddieās breath catches when Steve tightens his fingers to catch Eddieās before letting go, sliding the glass forward so the bartender can see and then he orders: āThe Glenlivet 14,ā he points; āneat,ā then he glances at Eddieās glass of melting iceāheās been on Black Russians the whole time;
āKeeping at it, or something new?ā
āYou make a compelling argument for easing up the sweet,ā Eddie cocks his head, taps his chin consideringly; āespecially whenĀ youāreĀ agreeing to remain as my company,ā he shoots over a heated glance and a smile too big to be as wicked as Steve thinks Eddie might have aimed for but it doesnāt matter, it has the same bewitching, pulse-stuttering effect either way.
āBulleit Rye, on the rocks,ā Eddie taps his glass with a certain finality.
āA man after my own heart,ā Steve comments with a nod; itās a good order. He doesnāt think about the words themselves before they come out.
āAnd if I wanted to be?ā
And then Steve thinks about the words with every goddamn cell in his body, like his blood repeats them and the electricity that works his brain as much as his heart is making little lightning storms around the comment, then the question, and then theĀ implicationĀ because Steveā¦
Steveās never wanted anything more. Steveās never been offered anything evenĀ closeĀ and hereāsĀ this man?Ā And he canāt be saying what Steve..thinks he has to be saying because what else can those wordsĀ meanā
āToo quick?ā Eddie pulls back the slightest bit and Steve misses him immediately; āI usually am, Iām soāā
SteveĀ misses him, and will not have him doubting because Steve knows that feeling intimately, knows this man deserves none of it, and knows itās anything but warranted when Steveās heart, the one Eddie mightĀ want to be after, just took up leaping in his fucking chest like a goddamn gazelle.
So Steve doesnāt think, at all, when he grabs the hand Eddie placed on his a few minutes ago and cups it to his chest, the best proof he knows that canāt be overthought, or rationalized away.
Eddieās eyes are confused, for a second, until he feels it.
And then: but,Ā fuck.
Steveās never watched a flower blossom all at once before butā¦thatās all he can think of with the slow crawl of a smile, the bright gleam of something like wonder in eyes that get impossibly wider, a chest that rises and falls heavy abd quick under the silk Steve wants to unbutton a little, see more of that milk-smooth throat save now that heās looking, he can see enough to take note of Eddieās pulse there: riotous.
Itās too good. Itās too much.
But Eddie feels it with his own hand. Steve sees it with his own eyes.
Here theyĀ are.
āThatās usually my line,ā Steve finally exhales, tries to make it a joke between them, an understanding and maybe it works, maybe theyāre both too distracted by the hinting promise of maybe never needing to have such a joke again:
āNot too quick.ā
And Eddie stays there, riveted,Ā beamingĀ something blinding and Steve justā¦feels his own heartbeat. Under a hand that doesnāt seem inclined to want to move.
NotĀ tooĀ quick.
Eddie blinks at him, almost like heās waking up from something he wasnāt even aware heād been sleeping through, or walking through half-dazed. Like heās seeing something real for the very first time. His breaths are fast, a little shaky, and then heās standing, pulling Steveās hand from his chest up to Eddieās mouth and kissing his knuckles, watching Steve every second as Steveās own breath hitches, and then pulling away, but not letting go yet. Like heās reluctant to.
āLet me hit the head real fast, throw some water on my face to make sure Iām not dreaming,ā Eddie whispers to him, breathless still and looking almost like heās trembling; āwhile he gets those poured,ā he tips his head toward the bar where their drinks are still waiting their turn.
Then Eddieās brining Steveās hand to his lips again and whispering there, and yeah, the manās shaking a little as he breathes, almost shy:
āDonāt go anywhere?ā
As if itās even aĀ question.
āWouldnāt dream of it,ā Steve promises with all heās got, because he thinksā¦itās insanity, but he thinks maybe he walked so reluctantly into this bar however many hours ago and somehow, by some act of benevolent fate, heāsā¦found the man whoāll prove to be the love of his life?
Steve could not be moved forĀ anything.
Eddie walks half-backward for how much he turns to look back at Steve, and Steve waves a few times, makes a few stupid faces just to see Eddie struggle not to giggle, and itāsā¦
HeĀ didĀ say his chest was gonna be sore by the end of the night but,Ā Jesus. He doesnāt know if he even has ribs left, or if theyāre all broken, crushed to smithereens, for howĀ fullĀ his chest feels. Nothing so common and simple as the bones of him could stand up toĀ thisĀ and not be changed.
He smiles as he pulls his phone outāwhen was the last date he had where he didnāt look at his phone? Has heĀ everĀ been on one before?āand he registers theyāve been sitting here,Ā sharingĀ themselves in a way that feels more like laying a foundation, deliberately, and thatās, that isā¦
Steveās spent a very long time wishing for someone whoād want that, with him of all people. He was pretty sure heād made his peace with never finding it. And then: here he is.
He bites his lower lip, lest his grin crack his face, when he thinks of texting Chrissy real quick and justā¦thanking her. Because, yeah.
Steve did, in fact, end up loving him.
Likeā¦too-soon-but-for-real-pitter-patter-heart-skipping-beats shit.
So he thumbs open the chat and seesā¦unread messages.
He doesnāt full-on frown, too high on, just,Ā everything, so he opens the texts before he can assume the worst of someone texting him during a date they, you know. Played a key role in setting up:
he may be running late for traffic, if you havenāt left please STAY I promise he is WORTH IT šš»š
Steveās not even sure EddieĀ wasĀ late, maybe theyād been sitting a few stools away for twenty minutes: it feels like a lifetime ago, now, andā
Then Steve sees the timestamp. Sentā¦like two hours ago.
Heād been atĀ leastĀ two tequila sunrises in,Ā withĀ Eddie versus on his own, by then so, what was Chrissy even talking aboutā
He scrolls to the most recent message.
Seventeen minutes ago.
omg Steve Iām so sorry and *he* is so sorry, heās absolutely cut up about this heās still in traffic but he says heās determined to try, heās got flowers for you and everything heās SUCH A GOOD GUY STEVE I swear I wouldnāt have done this if if I didnāt think heād treat you like you deserve and this isnāt his fault, I even checked waze and itās a mess but he understands if itās too much andā
āEverything okay?ā
Eddieās already taken his seat, and is looking at Steve with polite interest, not leaning to see whatās on his screen like so many people do on instinct, but thereās actual concern underneath, and investment in it. Like whateverās wrong, Eddie wants to help fix it.
Steve, reeling over the way the puzzle pieces are slotting into placeānamely that, by all accounts, the earliest his intended date could have arrived was maybe ten minutes agoālooks up at Eddie, turns his phone screen-down on the bar and clears his throat, bites the bullet.
āThis may seem like a,ā Steve takes a deep breath, because he has to ask even if he is almost dead certain of the answer; āa kinda out-of-nowhere question but.ā
And then Steve meets Eddieās eyes square on, lets them wash over him and fucking hell:Ā theyĀ steady him. Already, theyāre an anchor for him in the worst of storms.
āWere you, by any chance, here for a blind date?ā
Steve watches Eddieās face cycle through maybe the five stages ofā¦shock, more than grief given the context, he guesses, but theyāre somehow closer to one another than Steve wouldāve thought, definitely considering they only just met, though then heās gotta consider that it feels like Eddieās burrowed safe in his chest amidst all the blossoming joy, all the warm fullness like he lives there to be kept inside it always and also to maintain it, preserve it, as its sole cause and reason to be: but EddieāEddie looks at him with eyes that go wide, that fall with the rest of his face and then shutter a little, and that tears into Steve the hardest, to see something come up like barrier when Eddieās the reason Steve feels so raw right now, andĀ aliveĀ for it; he canāt let Eddie feel less than that, feel the need to pull back from that, fromĀ himā
Then heās placid. Calm. Accepting.
But he deep wells in his eyes: theyāre wet. Theyāre devastated, somehow.
Andā¦no.
But before Steve can move, can speak: thereās a bright, colorful thing that stands out in his peripheryāhe catches it, flowers near the hostess standāand his eyes flick to the person holding them, looking dismayed and definitely out of breath; attractive, brunet, weirdly familiar, and then heās gesturing just so andā¦
Oh. Oh, thatāsā¦
Steve made the comment two weeks ago, after the show he and Robin had gone to at the Gershwin, that heād climb the lead like a goddamn tree. Sheād groaned, pushed him into a nasty-ass wall thatād earned her the bill for dinner and drinksābut sheād had that look in her eye. And heād ignored it but nowāstaring said lead, out of costume, still very handsome even while so fucking distraught, wilting more by the second as Steve tries not to stare too obviously, but then add in that Chrissy knowing half the standbys, that her being the reason they even got tickets, and RobināsĀ lookāwell.
āTheatricalā beingā¦fucking literal, like a little clue, suddenly makes a whole lot of sense.
āOh, shit,ā Eddie says it under his breath but thereāsā¦way more disappointment than their objectively-brief encounter should merit as he processes, eyes already having followed Steveās, and puts the pieces together: no matter how late, Steveās very-probable blind dateās entered the building.
Whichāif Eddie answers the question the way the resignation making its home on his face suggests he willāmakesĀ Eddieā¦
āNo, sweetheart,ā and Eddieās gathering Steveās hands slowly, gently, and his face is mostly lax and his mouth tries for a smile but itās just this side of a grimace as his eyes, god, theyāre so bright, like maybe if you canāt stare you wonāt see the hurt but Steve doesnāt have to look long for it to burrow into his own chest and flay at his beating fucking heart.
āNo, I wasnāt.ā
And Eddie looks down at their hands, like he did before, and the tenor to the staring is wholly different, now, subdued and mournful, and Steveās mindās already made up but, if it hadnāt been?
The unthinkable reality of witnessing this beautiful manās heartbreak would seal the deal entirely.
āYou know what?ā Steve grabs Eddieās hands back, and squeezes them tight as he makes to stand:
āNeither am I.ā
Eddieās lips part, and his brow furrows, eyes cutting to the front entrance, to the flowers, to a man who isnātĀ himĀ as if that man could ever somehow be preferable, be moreā¦moreĀ anythingā
āBut,ā Eddie tries to protest, confusion undergirding the heartbreak, holding it still. Likeā¦like breathless waiting, held in a frightful uncertainty, like weighing hearts against feathers: some cosmic importance in the balance.
Steve honestly couldnāt agree more. He just already knows how this scale tilts.
āYou wanna get out of here, continue this conversation at any of the hundreds of other bars nearby?ā Steve says, buttoning his blazer and reaching out a hand, hoping it stays steady; praying Eddie will read his conviction, his certainty, hisĀ heartĀ and want to reach back.
And all the slow-rotting sickness in his stomach trying to climb upward and puncture all the buoyant joyful wonder in him for for every second that ticks by without Eddieās hand in his, itās all wiped away, burned by the flame of wanting and thenĀ getting, of Eddieās hand in his properly held and Steve was fuckingĀ right.
They fit togetherĀ gloriously.
āIt would be my heartās-sworn honor, my liege,ā Eddie breathes, like maybe heās afraid to hope and Steve wonāt have that; and he thinks he knows what Eddieās saying, knows what the fanciful words mean but he needs to be sure, so he lifts a brow and waits until Eddie grins again so his dimples start to show and he huffs, relief in it:
āIād fuckināĀ loveĀ to.ā
They down their drinks in one go, gather their things and leave double their bill, barely paying anything so much as a glance when they could look at each other and marvel instead. They walk out opposite the flowers, paying neither the blossoms nor their holder any mind. The thing blooming between them, in Steveās chest all the bigger and full andĀ brighterĀ for every step he takes with Eddieās hand in his: itās so much more than anything with stems and leaves, that grows in the ground. Like Eddieās glow is more than a star could even hope for. Like the sunshine thatās maybe not Steve at all, thatās really just this feeling, and the way that it growsāitās beyond explaining. Itās held between their hands alone.
And maybe Steve will text Chrissy and explain, ask her to send his regrets to the theater guy. Tomorrow.
Then Eddie tugs him closer unexpectedly, his laughter all music as he brings Steveās hand to his lips again, then to his chest where this time, Steve catches the wild gallop ofĀ hisĀ pulse as proof.
He doesnāt think either of them have a fucking clue where theyāre headed. They have every option in front of them, and want nothing more than the touch of the other, and the promise it holds inside.
So Steve does the tugging, now; curls one hand around Eddie and draws him in, his hand caught between their chests so perfect and tastes the coffee liqueur beneath the rye on his tongue and thinks of nothing else, not texting, not set-ups, not waiting: because heās here. Right here.
And Eddieās heartbeat feels like home somehow already; the taste of him is nothing short of divine. Theyāre fully clothed on a New York street and this is the most intimate thing Steveās maybe ever felt, after the most meaningful evening heās maybe ever spent with anyone. At a bar. Drinking tequila and grenadine.
He starts laughing, right against Eddieās lips, right into Eddieās mouth, so maybe some of the joy will trickle down into his chest, insideĀ hisĀ heart so heāll know even just a fraction of the joy thatās making Steve feel not lighter than air, or dizzy with the speed of it allābut again, maybe for the very first time: real. Solid. Worth something this momentous.
And maybeāincreasingly likely, even, as if thatās not the most incredible, unfathomable, heart-starting thought heās ever entertained but he thinks maybe he might just actually have a shot here, or can even already say just a little bit that heāsā
Loved.
Fuck.Ā Fuck.
Scratch maybe sending a text by tomorrowāheāll process getting ahold of Chrissy (and that conniving girlfriend of hers) to invite them to the goddamn wedding.
Because right now? Steveās kissing the man heās gonna spend the rest of his life with, the man heās going to live and die learning to love better with everything he is and ever could be: one hand pressed between both their chests, and itās not too much because Eddieās pressing them together tighter, body to body and hanging on like heās trying to hold Steveās heart in from the back of his ribs just in case; and itās not too soon because it feels like every single goddamn thing heās waited for his whole life, beating and clinging and gasping and melding into place finally,Ā finallyĀ because itāsā¦everything. This is everything.
They areĀ everything.
For @starryeyedjanai, who requested 'Wrong Number/Wrong Blind Date AU' at my HOBBIT-STYLE BIRTHDAY MONTH PROMPT FEST and incidentally also for @steddie-week for the Day Three prompt 'Long' (which is employed in a couple of abstract ways here)
āØpermanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @nerdyglassescheeseychick @swimmingbirdrunningrock @goodolefashionedloverboi @sanctumdemunson @theheadlessphilosopher @lawrencebshoggoth
divider credits here
ao3 link here āØ
#steddie#eddie munson#steve harrington#blind date au#modern au#wrong blind date#fluff#love at first sight#flirting in nerd#steve's weak for it#romance#so so soft#steve's tired of robin (and chrissy) trying to set him up#this is the LAST STRAW#how was he supposed to know he'd be showing up to find the tall dark and dorky love of his life?#...or DID he find the love of his life? was he WRONG?!?#stranger things#gift fic#starryeyedjanai#hitlikehammers' hobbit-birthday prompt fest#hitlikehammers v words#hitlikehammers writes#steddieweek2024
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BBC GHOSTS (2019-2023) | 05E07 (A Christmas Gift)
#bbc ghosts#robin the caveman#julian fawcett#six idiots#them there#larry rickard#simon farnaby#bbcghostsedit#*a christmas gift (05x07)#userligaya#let's pretend this is not a day late#robin imy come back :((
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Cujo the Bathound
EDIT: Now a fic on AO3 :) : Let Dead Dogs Lie āHand over the dog.ā Gothamās reputation for crime and many flavors of strange preceded it, but Danny did not anticipate being robbed at sword point for a dog. Granted, a green, glowing dog does attract some attention, but this was a city with rampaging clowns and toxic sludge. Cujo wriggled excitedly in his arms, tightening the leash wrapped around Dannyās wrist. āThis dog?ā Danny freed his other hand to point at Cujo emphatically, cartoonishly looking around the deserted alleyway as if the sword swinging child might have been mistaken. āAre you sure? You can have my wallet, it has 15 cents and a Bat Burger punch card, only one more visit for a free side!ā āDonāt be absurd.ā āYeah, I heard you used to get a free combo. Punch cards arenāt what they used to be.ā The edge of the blade pressed into Dannyās throat, Cujo jumped down and Danny raised his hands placatingly, keeping the leash out of reach of the would-be petnapper. āIām afraid I canāt do that, what kind of person would let someone take their dog?ā The kidās face softened slightly at that, and Danny took the opportunity to swat the sword away, scoop up Cujo, and run. āSTOP!ā Danny kept running. Faintly, he heard the click of a device, but no one pursued him. It was a good thing too. He lied about the punch card. āHand over the dog.ā Gothamās reputation for crime and many flavors of strange preceded it, but Danny did not anticipate being robbed at sword point for a dog. Granted, a green, glowing dog does attract some attention, but this was a city with rampaging clowns and toxic sludge. Cujo wriggled excitedly in his arms, tightening the leash wrapped around Dannyās wrist. āThis dog?ā Danny freed his other hand to point at Cujo emphatically, cartoonishly looking around the deserted alleyway as if the sword swinging child might have been mistaken. āAre you sure? You can have my wallet, it has 15 cents and a Bat Burger punch card, only one more visit for a free side!ā āDonāt be absurd.ā āYeah, I heard you used to get a free combo. Punch cards arenāt what they used to be.ā The edge of the blade pressed into Dannyās throat, Cujo jumped down and Danny raised his hands placatingly, keeping the leash out of reach of the would-be petnapper. āIām afraid I canāt do that, what kind of person would let someone take their dog?ā The kidās face softened slightly at that, and Danny took the opportunity to swat the sword away, scoop up Cujo, and run. āSTOP!ā Danny kept running. Faintly, he heard the click of a device, but no one pursued him. It was a good thing too. He lied about the punch card.
Cujo was Ace the Bathound. Need I say more???
#Cujo#cujo dp#Danny Fenton#dp x dc#Damian Wayne#Ace the Bathound#Cujo the Bathound#Robin#"HEY#Batfam#They assumed it was Ra's#If a dead child isn't off limits#Someone needs to teach him to send flowers. Or gift baskets.
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Short haired Robin, our beloved š¦
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Hello I participated in the āØJayTim Exchange 2024āØ
@jaytimexchange
And I got @jaytim-addict as my giftee! I loved the prompts they gave! I hope i did some of them justice!
I tried going with a comic book style...
Prompt: "robin Jason finds pre-robin Tim stalking him and the bat"
Prompt: "Jason is kidnapped and Tim comes to the rescue"
#digital drawing#digital illustration#digital painting#dc comics#dc universe#dcu#tim drake#dc jason todd#dc robin#old robin days#red hood#dc red hood#dc red robin#red robin#tw kidnapping#getting caught#electricity#tw blood#stalker tim drake#gift#gift art#jaytim#timjay#jaytimexchange2024#just realized i should probably explain the prompt#opps#jaytimexchange
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