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#FINALLY I CAN WRITE AGAIN!!!!
astearisms · 8 months
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fionna and cake drawings before and after watching the episodes so far. it’s nostalgic and somehow cathartic and poignant and relatable and—it just started
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posting this with absolutely no context
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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 11 months
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Why would you—That's not—I just wanted to ask for help, why did you have to go and make it awkward???
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stevebabey · 1 year
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part one, part two, part three. this a part four. this is so accidentally long but hickies as promised, w a brief return out touch starved steve <3 mwah!
Eddie is sure his kiss tastes of uncertainty.
He can’t help the way his lips betray his nervousness in their obvious restraint. He knows he had been far more enthusiastic last night, eagerness behind every kiss. This kiss is… softer. Shyer.
He can’t help it. Because even though Steve said yes, had maybe flattened Eddie’s heart by adding a please, Eddie’s still… unsure. Still worried. Still waiting for a punch to come because that’s what happens to boys who kiss boys.
But… Steve’s hands are still holding onto Eddie’s wrists, keeping them in their place where they cup Steve’s face so gently. When Eddie had leaned in, lips grazing Steve’s, he had felt the other’s tightening grip like a silent prayer, saying come close, stay close. Even now, the grip around Eddie’s wrists holds firm.
Though it’s the last thing he wants, Eddie breaks the kiss. He draws back, savouring the moment — the sweetness of Steve’s lips for what might be the final time — with his eyes shut tight. Did I do it right this time? He thinks, he hopes. Can I kiss you and keep you?
“I’m…” Steve starts, his voice a whisper. Eddie’s eyes open. His fingers flex along Steve’s jaw instinctively. “Really confused.” Steve admits quietly.
His face is reserved. Only slight ripples of anxiety peek through. The crinkle between his brows speaks of his abundance of confusion. Eddie’s eyes drink in every expression and he can’t stop help how his eyes catch back on Steve’s lips. He stares when Steve speaks.
“I thought you— I thought you didn’t want…”
“Didn’t want this?” Eddie echoes, with a tone of incredulity, eyes darting back up to look Steve in the eye. He punctuates the last word with another touch, the pad of his thumb touching Steve’s bottom lip bravely.
Steve shivers. His eyes flutter for a moment, in a way Eddie has come to know means his strange aversion to touch is flaring up but — but Steve’s hands keep Eddie from moving away when he tries. Steve nods slowly.
Eddie swallows — tries to push down the ache to kiss him again. They’re still twisted; Steve still doesn’t get it.
Neither does Eddie though. He can’t even imagine what Steve came over to apologise for. What mental gymnastics he had put himself through to somehow be the one who needs to apologise in this situation.
“Where the fuck,” Eddie breathes softly, with an appalled chuckle, letting Steve know he wasn’t mad. Wasn’t in the slightest bit annoyed, only confused. “Did you get that idea?”
Beneath his hands, Eddie can feel Steve’s cheeks grow hotter. The colour soon follows, a glorious crimson that fills the apples of his cheeks. And sure, fine, okay, sue Eddie if he enjoys the sight a little too much. Steve all flushed in the face, ears definitely warmer than they were a second ago.
Steve starts to stammer. “You— You sounded annoyed when I was leaving.” His brows are nearly touching in the middle, drawn together in concern. “I thought you were regretting—“
Eddie interrupts to clarify, suddenly aware of where they’d gotten so muddled. “I sounded annoyed because you were leaving, Steve. Not…”
Not because you asked for a kiss. Eddie’s throat dries up. He can’t say it aloud, not just yet. The words dance on the tip of his tongue. Eddie doesn’t trust himself not to fumble them.
Even though, Steve’s sudden departure had been due to a genuine misunderstanding, Eddie can’t— he’s not… He’s got to be realistic with himself, just in case. Not say too much too soon.
Steve reads into the silent lull in Eddie’s words and in an instant, his eyes are widening in understanding. Somehow, his cheeks glow even warmer.
“Oh,” Steve says, the word doused in relief, in understanding. “Oh my god—“
The rest of his sentence is lost as a car drives by, tires groaning loudly along the tar road. It serves as a quick reminder of where they are. In public, in such close proximity. Eddie steps back instantly, hands ripping away from Steve as a lick of panic runs up his spine. His eyes track the pale blue car down the road.
They were covered by the van but, still.
“C’mon,” Steve says softly, calling to catch his attention.
The panic wavers wildly for a moment before eventually relenting, Eddie dropping his shoulders as he turns back to Steve. He’s delighted to find Steve is no less red in the face.
Steve clears his throat, “We can call a tow back at yours.”
He gestures to his car, an invitation, with a smile. Eddie’s not even sure he’s meant to say something so reassuring; a mixture of the use of we and the implication Steve would come back home with him. Would come inside.
Eddie can’t help how he ogles at Steve. He’s doing another once-over to make sure Steve isn’t a mirage about to fade. Maybe Eddie had actually crashed his van when the engine spluttered on him and all this was a weird and extremely vivid coma dream.
Except, Steve doesn’t look perfect — not like a dream would.
Eddie can tell from the flatness of his hair, he likely didn’t sleep well. He’s got a tired but kind smile on. It’s shyer than Eddie’s ever seen before.
He’s still wearing that bright green Family Video vest for Christ’s sake — if Eddie was in a coma, he had some serious self-reflection to do if his brain picked this as his dream-Steve fit.
“Yeah,” Eddie says, with a nod and a smile of his own. “Lemme, uh, lemme just grab my stuff.”
Eddie turns to hide his face before Steve can see it grow into a wild frenzied smile, too gleeful to contain. He pops the driver’s side door and scurries around, grabbing all the essentials; cigarettes, lighters, and tapes with actual good music on them.
Steve’s waiting for him, still in the same spot when he slides the door shut. Eddie works the rusted lock to lock it up. No, Eddie thinks gleefully, this is not a dream.
-
Steve is surprised it’s not more awkward.
Not that he wants that— honestly, this sweet in-between phase where Eddie keeps glancing over at him, brown eyes longing and like he was checking if Steve was still there, as he talked on the phone, suited Steve just fine. More than fine.
And yeah, okay, maybe Steve swooned a bit when Eddie started twirling the cord of the phone, so much like a lovey-dovey teenage girl that Steve nearly laughed aloud. He wasn’t sure if Eddie even realised he was doing it. Just leant up against the wall, stealing glances at Steve — his fingers fiddling with the cord til they began looping it over and over.
Steve wouldn’t though— laugh at Eddie, that is. It feels pretty much impossible to do anything except sit with all his giddiness, just knowing that… his feelings for Eddie are mutual.
That Eddie hadn’t regretted the kisses in the slightest. That Eddie had wanted Steve for just as long.
It’s achingly sweet to look back on that first hug Steve had asked for — knowing they had both been toeing the line, trying desperately to keep their pining to themselves. Idiots, Steve scoffs to himself affectionately, they were both idiots.
Rerunning the memory of his hasty exit last night is less of a breezy memory. Steve doesn’t want to think too hard about what malicious ideas Eddie’s brain might have spun up to taunt himself.
He must’ve thought that Steve had left for entirely worse reasons. That the reason Steve hadn’t been able to look at him because he thought Eddie was… that he regretted… Steve shakes his head. None of those thoughts are pretty.
And, more importantly, they were untrue. Steve very much liked those kisses. His only regret that night was leaving the way he did. Honest, Steve would have more kisses if he could.
Something scorches across his heart delightfully because he can have more kisses — he just has to ask.
“Okay, thank you so much,” Eddie says appreciatively into the receiver. He dashes another look over at Steve, an apology in the form of his sorry grimace. He focuses back on the phone. “Yeah, I’ll be in tomorrow to see the damage. Thanks, again.”
He sets the phone back in the cradle and for a moment, Steve can’t see his face. Can’t see any of the nervous contemplation. Eddie finally seems to grasp his courage and spins, fixing Steve with a smile.
“Um,” He says, a nervous chuckle leaking through. Eddie moves closer but he moves all skittish, one of his sneakers catching on nothing. He stumbles just a bit, taking a quick seat on the couch arm beside Steve.
“Wh—“ Eddie starts to say. He huffs another nervous chuckle, one hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck. “This might be a stupid question but what… now?”
Steve thinks for a moment. He’s considering how to go about this when Eddie blurts out in a hopeful tone— “More kissing?”
There’s an unspoken please. Steve revels in the blush that follows the words.
He smirks up at Eddie, eyes tracing the bloom of pink on his cheeks. “What? On the couch, like I’m some common whore?”
“You seemed to have no problem with it last time, my liege.” Eddie points out dramatically, all with a grin.
“And I have no intention of repeating last time.” Steve counters. Then frowns.
“Well, except for the good part.” He corrects himself. “The first part! Just- Christ, can we go to your room instead, please?”
Eddie’s on his feet in an instant. He brings his hand up to his forehead and gives a salute with enough force to rip his arm off. Then marches down the hall and disappears into his room without waiting for Steve.
Steve thinks the nerves might be getting to him.
He walks the steps he’s walked a hundred times before, crossing into Eddie’s room and pressing the door shut behind him.
Eddie’s sat on the bed, criss-cross apple sauce style. He’s kicked his sneakers off — one’s by Steve’s foot, the other on the other side of the room.
Steve swallows and toes off his own shoes. He approaches the bed, climbing on gingerly and folding his limbs to match Eddie. That familiar swoop of nerves sits oh-so present in the pit of his stomach. Steve tries to think of it as a good thing — it’s good to have something so good that he’s nervous in his excitement.
For a moment, they just sit. Staring at one another. One of Eddie’s fingers is digging into the rips of his jeans, toying with the loose strands. It gives away his restless energy.
Steve waits. He asked last time and he knows — he knows Eddie wants to kiss him. But a small part of him…
“Why is this so hard?” Eddie blurts out all of a sudden. Like before, the words seem like they’ve come out without Eddie realising, but he barrels on. “Shit, I’m so fucking nervous. You make me so nervous, Steve.”
Eddie’s eyes won’t settle. They dart around. Move from Steve’s eyes to his lips, down, to the bed sheet beneath them. Like he still isn’t sure if he’s truly allowed to look. His admission makes Steve sorta wanna roll over and scream into the pillow. In a good way.
“I’m— Me too," Steve admits, a smile curling at his lips. “The- fuck, the way I feel about you honestly scares me shitless.”
Eddie seems to be both chuffed and relieved at his words.
“But I… want to kiss you,” Steve says assuredly. The next sentence he poses as a question, words a little more hesitant. More nervous. “And… and you want to kiss me?”
Across the bed, Eddie grabs a piece of his hair, twisting it nervously as he pulls it to cover his face. His usual nervous tell. Steve can’t help how he breaks into a grin when Eddie nods fervently.
“Cool.” Steve breathes. Then mentally smacks himself for saying cool. He tries to recover but Eddie beats him to it, with a question of his own. “Can I kiss you now?”
Steve answers by shuffling closer, til their knees are touching and then — like beside the road earlier — mimics the touch Eddie had given him.
Hands on either side of Eddie’s face, gentle as they curl under his jaw. Steve can feel the curls of his hair tickling at his fingertips. Another inch forward and he’d be burying his hands in Eddie’s hair. Steve bookmarks that urge for later.
Eddie looks nervous. Steve is undoubtedly making it worse, taking his time like this. But he can’t help it.
He wants to look — wants to stare, wants to devour every detail of Eddie’s face. Commit it to memory so he can picture it with his eyelids closed. What Eddie Munson looks like while waiting for a kiss.
The amount of affection that swells in Steve’s chest hits like a sucker-punch, enough he sucks in a tiny breath. He can see the smallest quiver in Eddie’s lip.
“You gonna stare all day, Harrington?” Eddie teases, but it lacks conviction when the words wobble a bit.
“Just enjoying the view,” Steve remarks, and then, finally, he kisses Eddie.
It’s the floodgate. It’s a frenzy, kiss after kiss after kiss, the softness of them slipping away in lieu of making up for missed time. Steve kisses every apology onto Eddie’s lips and he receives forgiveness a dozen times back. It’s bliss.
Eddie’s a very enthusiastic partner, to say the least. He’s a little messier with his kisses, hands gripping the front of Steve’s shirt tightly, pressing forward in a way that pushes Steve back— but Steve certainly doesn’t mind. He removes his hands from Eddie’s face to lower himself back, elbows against the comforter as Eddie follows eagerly.
For a moment, a sprout of doubt pulls them apart. Eddie hovers, not getting too close. “This is… this is okay?”
Steve grabs him by the collar and tugs him down, meeting him in the middle for another kiss. It’s a fat unanimous yes. Something glows hot in his chest when Eddie smiles into the kiss. Grins even. In fact, he has to take a moment to cheese it out, his face tucked into hiding against the crook of Steve’s neck.
Steve doesn’t mind. His hand strokes idly over Eddie’s hair, twisting in with the curls. He lets him take his time, lets Eddie work back up the nerve to kiss him again, except— with a gasp, Steve squirms at the sudden kiss on his neck, hot and soft.
“I think you were the one overdue for a hickie,” Steve breathes, hands threading through Eddie’s hair gently. He doesn’t pull him away though; lets Eddie figure out the best way to scrape his teeth against Steve’s skin as best he likes.
“Uh huh,” Eddie murmurs, barely heard. He’s too distracted.
“Eddie,” Steve tries, but it comes out far too close to a sigh. He tries again, this time with a proper tug to pull Eddie back from him.
It’s a bit of leftover King Steve the way he manoeuvres the both of them, rolling deftly so it’s Eddie upon his back and Steve hovering above him. Eddie manages to look both impressed and disgruntled at once.
Steve doesn’t let him get a word out. The pale stretch of skin down Eddie’s neck has been calling his name for too long and Steve is hungry for it. He grants Eddie one, two, three more kisses on his lips before he’s moving down.
He’s just getting started, lips pressed to hot skin when it happens. Eddie’s hands move up, skirting barely up and under Steve’s shirt, fingers searching. The unpleasant aversion prickles under Steve’s skin.
He locks up. He’s unable to do anything but; it feels helpless even as he tries to shake it off but he knows, he knows Eddie can feel it as he grows rigid under the touch.
It’s worse when Eddie tries to reel his touch back in. Steve wants to cry with frustration because it’s not Eddie— it’s fucking him.
“Don’t,” Steve pleads, his hand diving down to catch Eddie’s wrist and holding it there. He knows Eddie’s watching him closely, even as Steve’s eyes scrunch shut and he fights to fend off the uncomfortable feeling attempting to make home under his skin.
“It’s…” Steve wills himself to look Eddie in the eye, hoping the sincerity bleeds through his words. “It’s not you, Eds. Just— fuck, just… give me a second, okay?”
He releases Eddie’s wrist. Eddie nods, a minuscule motion. His brown eyes are watching Steve closely, darting all over his face wildly and after a moment, they still on his lips. Eddie makes a decision and pushes forward, planting a tender kiss on the corner of Steve’s mouth.
“S’okay,” He assures. Then gives Steve another kiss, this time on the lips, slow and sweet. Steve drinks it in, tries to savour the feeling of being kissed by someone who wants him. Wants him in every way they can have him. It's maddening.
Eddie’s hand moves an inch cautiously, testing the waters as his fingertips trace the skin of Steve’s tummy. He doesn’t flinch when Steve stiffens up again.
Like he can sense the frustration building up in the other boy, he captures Steve’s lips with his gently. Whispers against them again as soothingly as he can. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”
It’s like the words run across the raised hackles of Steve’s soul, soothing and seeping out the tension from every muscle. Steve can feel himself relax under the words. Feels something inside him wobble and then tip over, finally soothed, finally settled.
This time when Eddie’s hand grazes along his waist, Steve shivers in a good way— and leans in closer, kissing back. His hands clutch back at Eddie’s hair, raking through to grip it sweetly. He tugs, jerking Eddie’s chin up and exposing his throat.
“Can I…” Steve begins. It’s a tease.
“Shut up,” Eddie grinds out, hands fixed on Steve’s waist. Now he knows he can touch, that Steve isn’t tensing up or flinching away, his hands are rabid. Hungry. They crawl across the skin, leaving hot scorch marks behind that tingle delightfully. “This hickie is so overdue.”
Steve grins wolfishly.
Eddie’s neck is a thorough shade of violet by the time he’s done, chest heaving. He looks devilishly handsome when Steve pulls back to admire his work and he barely gets a moment before Eddie’s back on him, lips hot against Steve’s own.
“My go.”
This time when Steve’s getting ready to leave, he half-heartedly pulls on his shoes. It’s a pitiful attempt to slow down the inevitable. He can’t believe leaving is harder this time; maybe it’s more to do with the hickies adoring his own neck and collarbones.
“Hey, I-“ Steve starts, already feeling flush in the face. Eddie’s watching him pack his stuff up, still pink in the face, but so evidently content with himself. He’s laid back on the bed, arms crossed behind his head. He’s showing off the dark lovebites on his skin, neck craned proudly.
“Mm?” Eddie hums, a cheeky smile on his face.
“When I— Robin.” Steve says, flashing a hand to his neck. “She’s- she’s probably gonna ask.”
Steve swallows. He somehow gets the feeling Eddie already knows what he’s going to ask — that he’s waiting for him to say it. Eddie’s grin says as much.
“And when she does, I—“ Steve continues, one hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. The kisses on it tingle beneath his own touch. “Can I… call you my boyfriend?”
Eddie glows. It’s the only word for the excited laugh that punches out of him, like a gleeful goblin.
Steve thinks he might just be falling all over again when Eddie rolls over and buries his face in his pillow. He pretends for Eddie’s sake not to hear his muffled shout that’s almost a squeal. His cheeks are ruby red by the time he sticks his face back out, his grin so wide it makes his eyes crinkle in the corner.
“Yes,” Eddie says, voice giddy. “Yes, please.”
And Steve’s so fucking glad he asked for that stupid hug way back when, because got a gremlin-level of affectionate boyfriend now to show for it.
-
and that's likely a wrap on the can i series for now ! i had an inkling of an idea for future but tbh i wasn't supposed to write this i like have 7 other fics callin my name. but alas! thank u so very much for the love on this, whether sending kisses to my touch starved self or talking bout needing a hug too in the tags <3 hopefully this heals all the right places <3 mwah my loves
tags below:
@original-cypher @maya-custodios-dionach @uwujinniee @attic-cat-blog @immortal-iratze @anaibis @orangeandthefairroadkill @etaka @silversnaffles @invisibleflame812 @eddie-hero-munson @jesskier @princess-eddie @impeachy @estrellami-1 @bloomingconflagration @newtstabber @iwouldsail @sundead @darksmistress @sydstroons @leethegay @superchellerific @eddielives1986 @jinxjinn @breealtair @steddieassheg0es @loopholesinmydreams @savory-babby @alittlegreyfish @izzy2210 @em9515 @killjoy-patrixtump @mrspasser @spectrum-spectre
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crybaby-bkg · 5 months
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Bakugou asks you to join him during one of his photoshoots for a pro hero campaign. he doesn’t understand the point of it, nor why he has to only be in his underwear, but he doesn’t mind it much when he gets to look over to your shy little face.
you’re propped up in a corner on an old couch, laptop perched in your lap, its glare bright despite the way you never really look at it. you’re supposed to be catching up on some work, but you’ve been distracted by the glorious sight that is the love of your life.
when he looks at you, do you duck down, eyes suddenly focused on your screen again. it only makes him smile a little, step away from the assistant of the photographer who comes up to him, calls out your name.
“Huh?” your head whips up with a quickness neither of you expect, goes to show just how invested you really were with your work. but Bakugou only grins at you now, jerking his chin over to you as he grabs the bottle of oil the assistant was trying to pour over him.
“C’mere and gimme a hand, won’t ya?” he asks you, boyish smile gracing his face as he tilts his head at you. immediately, your face warms as you put together the request that’s suddenly dropped in your lap. everyone in the studio looks at you, with both envious and excited gazes, and it only makes you shrink in on yourself.
“I hate you.” you mutter under your breath when you finally rise up from your place on the couch, which he somehow hears. but Bakugou only laughs at you, grabs you by the waist when you’re close enough to kiss you breathless in front of everybody, before he’s handing off the oil to you.
“Such an attention whore,” you whisper when you’re close, the air between the two of you thick. everyone tries to look away, give you guys a bit of privacy, but it’s hard when such a soft and amused look passes over the usually rough and hardened hero’s face.
“Only for your attention.” he grunts back to you, holding his arms out for you to start dripping the oil down his skin. it’s a sensual gesture, the softness between you two sliding into something more, something that you only ever reserve for the bedroom.
you tip the bottle over his shoulders until it drips down his chest, massaging it all in with your hands in crude, circular motions. you can see the way he bites his lip, ignore the way he looks at you down the bridge of his nose lest you two create a scene not meant for the public eye. you gather more oil, warm it between your palms, kneeling in front of him to help massage it into the defined muscles of his stomach.
you ignore the twitch in front of you, swallowing thickly, glancing up to Bakugou who hasn’t taken his eyes off of you yet. you mouth at him to behave, but he only grins, something feral.
“We only need it above the waistband.” the photographer suddenly calls out, snapping you back to attention. you stand on shaky knees, nodding with your eyes casted low, ashamed, that your freak of a man had you doing something so…so—
“Go wait in my dressing room, yeah?” Bakugou asks you, pulling you in close to peck at the corner of your mouth. “Gonna wrap this shit up.” he promises you, and you can only nod silently, mind going a mile a minute. but before you go, you remember to grab the oil. just in case.
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afewproblems · 4 months
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Christmas Party Wish Part One
After The Christmas party, Steve manages to avoid everyone for all of two days before Robin shows up at his front door, ready to knock it down.
He crosses from the kitchen and into the foyer just as Robin starts yelling.
"Steven Marie Harrington, you open up this door or so help me--"
Steve rolls his eyes, pulling the door inward quickly enough that Robin loses her balance and nearly topples onto the inside floor mat. If not for Steve's quick reflexes she would be face down in a heap, he tells her as much with a sly grin as he helps her to stand.
"And whose fault would that be? Nice way to treat the person who is here to help you out Dingus," Robin huffs, brushing off imaginary dust from her shoulders while Steve moves aside to let her in.
"Merry Christmas to you too Rob," Steve says tugging her towards himself. He sighs as she immediately wraps her arms around his neck, content until she blows a long wet raspberry into his check. Steve drops her with a yelp and wipes away the wet mark she left behind with grinning lips.
"That was for ignoring my call," she says with narrowed eyes, "you were supposed to come for supper on Christmas day remember?"
She shrugs off her blue parka before lifting each foot to pull off her snowy boots, Steve takes the coat and tosses it over the back of the closest chair and crosses his arms over his chest.
"I know," he manages after a beat, sighing as Robin scoffs. She turns on her heel and wanders into the kitchen, leaving Steve to trail after her.
"I can only assume it's because you had other plans, you can't have possibly ignored my call for some other reason, hmm?"
Steve lifts his head to stare at the ceiling and count to five.
The thing that Steve both loves and hates about his best friend is her ability to read him through and through and call him on his shit. He'd hoped to have at least a little more time to wallow in self pity though.
"You've been wallowing for two days Steve, and I know it sucks," she chews her lip for a moment before sighing, "I'm sorry about the wish game, I feel like it's my fault".
Steve shakes his head and moves to the fridge. He opens it and reaches inside for two cans of cola before turning and using his foot to nudge the door closed again. He stacks the cans, holding them both with one hand and he moves to the pantry, grabbing an old open tube of Pringles, before making his way back to the kitchen island.
"Nah," he says eventually, "it wasn't your fault, if anything it proved why I was right not to say anything".
Steve places Robin's cola and the chips on the counter beside him and cracks the tab on his can with one hand as he leans heavily against the edge. He takes a long swig from the can, pounding his chest as he finishes to release a long burp.
Robin grimaces and swats at Steve's bicep as she grabs her own can and hops up onto the counter next to Steve.
"Dis-GUST-ing," she enunciates, wrinkling her nose, "and it doesn't prove anything Steve, of course Eddie would wish for his band to succeed, he doesn't even know you're on the table".
"And besides," Robin continues, gesturing to Steve with the can, "Nancy and Jonathan don't know that I'm a friend of Dorothy and we've known each other for over a year now. You've known them for three years and haven't said anything either, Dingus, so why would Eddie feel comfortable sharing something like that in front of everyone?"
And, huh, well what Robin says does make a lot more sense than the rambling depressing thoughts that he's been playing on repeat since their movie night.
He and Eddie have gotten a lot closer since they escaped from the Upside Down for the last time. Since Steve managed to carry him out of hell and got them to the hospital in time.
And Steve has been trying so hard for months not to expose himself, to show the most vulnerable parts of his heart to someone that could stomp on it as easily as Nancy did.
But Robin has a point.
On the one hand Steve has been protecting himself, and on the other he's also made sure that there would never be a possibility of--
Steve shakes his head, "first of all, I only just figured all of this, Bi-Sectional stuff, out Robin--"
"Bisexual," she sighs as Steve keeps talking.
"Whatever, and second, we have no idea if Eddie swings that way either…I just don't want to take the risk and end up fucking it all up".
Robin stares at him, an unhappy frown marring her normally sweet features. It feels too much like she's evaluating the inside of his mind --though she did always have the uncanny talent of knowing exactly what he was thinking.
"And what would you say if I told you I had a plan?" Robin says slowly, her gaze unwavering still.
Steve meets her eyes for a moment, taking in the smirk and the raised eyebrow. There's a challenge in her expression and Steve knows there's nothing for it but to listen to what she has to say.
"I'm going to regret letting you in today aren't I?" Steve says as he lifts his can towards her own.
Robin answers with a wide grin and knocks her can into his with a metallic click.
"Don't you always? Anyways," she clears her throat and looks at him with a mischievous smirk, lifting her hands into the air and wiggling her fingers, "I'm thinking, are you ready? New Year's Eve!"
"No--"
"New Year's Eve Steve, come on!" She insists as Steve grazes on a stack of chips from the Pringles tube.
"All we need to do is invite everyone over, Eddie included, to Casa Harrington for a little New Years Party," Robin continues, ignoring the eye roll Steve sends her way, "with enough liquid courage you'd have another opportunity to actually talk to Eddie, confess your feelings, and Boom! Maybe even get a midnight kiss out of the whole thing!"
Steve stares at her wide eyes and wider grin, forcing himself to keep his expression blank.
"So, just to be clear," Steve says eventually, around a mouthful of chips. Robin exaggeratedly gags and snatches her own stack from the tube.
"Your plan is for me to host another party and talk to him".
"Well, yeah--"
"...Robin, that's not a plan, that's a repeat of what already happened," Steve groans as he puts down the chips and runs his hands over his face until they've tangled into his hair.
"No, no, nuh uh, because you didn't say jack shit to him all night," she huffs, gently pulling his hands down, "the crucial difference my sweet bozo, is that you are actually going to tell him how you feel this time".
"How am I supposed to do that with my ex-girlfriend and her boyfriend, and everyone else here smart ass," he counters, letting her continue to hold his hands in her own smaller ones.
She rolls her eyes but squeezes his fingers as she continues, "it will be easy to get him alone, come on, you could tell him you want to give him his Christmas present in your room, you could ask him to go for a smoke outside, you could show him the basement stereo and your ridiculous music collection, must I go on while you don't write this down?"
With every suggestion Steve feels a surge of warm affection for his friend and allows for a fond grin to replace the skeptical frown on his face.
"Do I have to do all of those or should I pick one?" Steve asks, lifting his now free hands to protect his face as Robin whips her own at his chest and head.
"How you were ever considered a ladies man, I will never know," Robin says, though the words are rather undercut by a laugh that turns into a giggle as she finds a particularly ticklish rib and begins her assault.
"You are a fucking menace birdie," Steve manages to say as he catches the offending hands and steps away from the counter and his friends attack.
"You love it," she scoffs, stealing another chip and crunching it loudly as though to make her point.
And he does, Steve thinks to himself.
They have five days to figure out the final details, and Steve can't help but move back to the counter to swing an arm around her shoulders.
Because when in doubt, he can always count on Robin.
"Okay, New Years it is".
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shirozora-draws · 11 months
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New weekend twofer scribbles while I continue the merch design grind. Was going to be nice and cram the images next to each other to save space but decided these are too nice and I will instead hog space on your dash. You're welcome.
First one came to my sleep-deprived brain during one of my 10-hr days at the office earlier this week. Forever obsessed with dinluke + intimacy I can't help it.
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Second one came at me like a hurricane after seeing this post and arguing with myself because it unlocked something fucking feral in my sleep-deprived brain. Yes, we love all the Darksaber stuff but hand-to-hand combat? Learning how to make, take, and roll with the punches? Bodying each other into the nearest solid surface? Hells yeah.
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In conclusion,
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meirimerens · 2 months
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a mask of someone else's gold
commission for @spkyct8 🔑
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naffeclipse · 3 months
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Temperate Tail
Tigertaur!Eclipse x Reader. Sickness. Non-consensual touching. Kidnapping.
Prev
You moan quietly at the arms underneath you, lifting you away from the cool cave floor. Blearily, you peek between heavy eyelids to watch the deeper shadow of stone break away to red evening, burning into a black-blue twilight on the horizon. The leafy foliage flutters with a warm breeze. You shudder underneath it as the arms that hold you squeeze you a little too tightly. The motion of being carried away is not as smooth as the nagas ought to be.
Sun and Moon went to hunt for themselves. You thought they had only awakened you a moment ago, gently fed you another sensitive plant, and told you their plans.
They worried, whispered, but you had shooed them away. They can only hunt together in the dusk or dawn, and you’re well aware that they’ve kept from satisfying their stomachs to watch over you in your sickness. You can survive a little while on your own—all you do is sleep.
And the nagas are not the only dangerous creatures in the jungle.
“Back already?” your hoarse voice crackles under the ill strain to speak. You allow your head to loll against the firm arm cradling you. 
You desperately long for the flower to kick in soon and spare you the furious whiplash effect of fevers one moment then chills the next. Sun and Moon have been diligent in tending to you; a fact you still have to stomach. Under their constant care, you’re useless, at their ever gentle mercy.
This body pressing you close is not the warmth of a sun-heated patch of grass nor the cool shadows stretching underneath a misty tree. It’s even, neutral, calm. The being is steady in a way that betrays the skilled strength hiding under short fur of orange and deep red. An unagitated killer, carrying away his prize prey.
Your eyelids fly open.
“Eclipse,” you half growl, half groan.
A large hand, tipped in compacted but curved claws, slaps over your mouth. Your weak protest is muffled under his near smothering palm. Deep red eyes flash in warning. His gait is swift and seamless, not the swaying motion you register with Sun or Moon. The beast holding you flies over the forest floor upon four tiger legs, his upper half bearing the resemblance of a man in form. The silent pads of his paws let him ghost through the forest, you caught in his muscular embrace.
His focus remains on the forest as it deepens with shadows and reddens with the last slips of sunrise. You boil internally, not only because of your sickness, but at how long he must have been lying in wait, watching, willing Sun and Moon to leave you for but a moment. The fiend.
Eclipse is the only beast who stands a chance against Sun and Moon, save for one other in this mad jungle.
You try to bite his hand but only succeed in scraping your teeth against his palm and getting hair in your mouth. His round ears flicker. Turning his head, he watches for a moment, still bounding between thick, mossy trees before resume his cunning getaway.
You want to snarl at him, threaten him, demand he puts you down now. His hand gags your every attempt to throw threats. Furious and festering in your feverish state, you struggle to find a way out of his arms. His claws press against your cheek, almost squishing the flesh against your molars. The promise of bruises hangs over his fingertips.
His own threat flares in his round, black pupils—so unlike the slitted gaze of Sun and Moon.
You glare at his orange, light yellow, and dark red mane-like growth of fur around his head, flaring around him like sun rays. He’s always made you think of a dark sunset, eclipsing a land of light. Upon his face, he’s marked by an orange and deep red jagged crescent, and around his deep red eyes are vertical white stripes that cut from the corner of his gaze.
Through the quiet buzz of the jungle, you fight his vice-like hold and your own fading strength while he carries you from the lush and verdant part of the jungle to tall grass, wild and whipping in the summer breeze, to thickets speckled with rocky crevices. 
Eclipse’s territory. The pulse in your throat quickens. You try to kick but weakness sets upon your sickly form.
He stops in the center of the verdant field. His large head tilts down to gaze at you. The appetitive glint in his wine dark eyes fills you with acidic apprehension. He nimbly folds upon his tiger legs, sitting not unlike a cat pleased with the mouse he’s brought back. His large palm lifts away from your mouth—there’s no worry that Sun and Moon will hear you now. He lays you down on the thick grass. The emerald green colors darken just as the sun slips away, leaving a purple twilight against the sky. The lush vegetation brushes against you like strands of hair. You shudder.
“Take me back, right now,” you demand is overwhelmed by your croaking. That is not the fierceness with which you want to address Eclipse.
His wide grin upon his large head splits to reveal curved canines. He licks his teeth once. You force yourself to not flinch, though holding your head off of the ground is beginning to take its toll on your limited energy.
“No. You’re staying here, with me, until I say so.” He bows over you. Large tiger paws dig slightly into the moist dirt as his hands arch for you. “As if those two snakes were taking care of you. You still have a fever.”
You glare. He has too many limbs, too many claws to watch for. Though you fade under the aching pulse eradicating your body, you refuse to close your eyes for even a moment.
“I don’t need your help.” Before his hand takes a hold of you, you twist onto your belly. Shoving your knees up and working your elbows, you begin to crawl away—as slow and pitiful as you are, you refuse to stay here a moment more. You push with strength you do not have. Glass blades swipe against your arms. The almost muddy ground soaks into the fabric of your long khakis. 
A large hand seizes your ankle. With a rattling breath sucked out of your lungs, you’re dragged back over the grass and flipped upright. Before you can curse him, Eclipse tucks you under his white hirsute belly of his lower tiger half, two massive paws pinning your arms by your sides. His weight holds you down like a striped blanket. 
You groan sickly. Throwing him a half-lidded stare of disdain, you can only watch as Eclipse lays down on top of you, his arms crossed over your midsection as you struggle to breathe under his weight. He tilts his head, his mane-like fur too short to take after a lion, but the tufts are spikey and vibrate with orange, light yellow, and deep red hues.
“You won’t get any better crawling around in the mud,” he drips with derision. “Why are you so difficult?”
Clutching your hands into fists, you bare your teeth as if you had as sharp of fangs as him. He laughs. The harsh, sharp sound makes you vibrate within your ridiculously chilled body. If you weren’t sick—if you had your machete—
“Get off me,” you rasp. 
“Relax, kitten,” he purrs, lifting a hand to trail a black claw over your arm, tracing from the crease of your elbow to the curve of your shoulder. “Don’t bite the hand that feeds you.” 
He does not feed you, and you very much want to bite.
You shiver. Goosebumps prickle your skin under the lethal brush of the tiger’s hand. Your breath catches when his touch nears your neck. Your fever spikes. Caressing your throat, Eclipse’s claws linger on your jugular vein. The very beat of your heart pushes back on his presence. You will your frantic pulse to not give away the violent fear flooding your veins, too weak to throw him off you and run.
His deep red eyes flash with a predatory smugness. You squirm. In what you can only understand as delight, he shifts his hand to firmly press on your shoulder, restricting your movement further.
A moan slips past your teeth.
“I will make you feel better,” his throaty growl fills your body. You freeze, eyes wide like a gazelle. 
“Eclipse,” you try to argue, but you cough.
Softly, so softly you almost don’t understand what’s happening, Eclipse begins to purr. You feel it within his tiger half as well as his chest. Fully laid out underneath him, deep rumblings fill you like the echoes of thunder. A strangely gentle vibrancy soothes the edge of the fever. You gasp quietly at how sweet the relief is—how swift and consuming it is of the ache that’s been plaguing you for a day and night now.
“What are you doing?” you ask, harsh in your allayed confusion.
“Giving you what you need: me.” His wicked maw splits into a wide smile. “Don’t deny you feel better. I can already see it in your face.”
“No,” you groan, but it’s not your best lie.
He laughs softer this time, condescending but adoring, as if he can’t get enough of your antics.
Internally, you writhe. The aching soreness, the flip-flopping of shuddering from chills and melting from the fever is washed away like mud from a stone, but you wonder if that could be due to the flower you consumed earlier. His purring… it is enticing, seductive in how it urges you to stop resisting. You hate that a sliver of you wants it. You loathe that you want him to keep taking away the sickness.
You’re useless. Eclipse has stalked you time and time ago, and pounced just when you were foolish enough to believe you were safe. Now, you don’t even have a weapon to brandish against him. He’s too swift and cunning—he always has you before you realize what’s happening. 
A perfect ambush predator.
He keeps telling you that you need him. You have never revolted against such a bold declaration more than this. His bone-snapping strength and his sound-breaking speed are intimidating, certainly, but you won’t let him play with you. 
He acts hungry, he keeps looking at you as if you were a sweet morsel, and you refuse to believe that he is anything but a monster yearning for flesh after he’s finished playing with his food.
Depleted of adrenaline and reserved energy, you can do nothing but soak in his healing rumbles.
Eclipse’s body lays lightly over your own. You carry vague suspicions that he’s not resting his full weight on you—crushing you to death is not his means of slaughter. He has far too many claws and a pair of powerful jaws for that. Instead, stomach to stomach, he longues over you as if soaking in the starry light. This close to your chest, you wonder how well he senses your angry heart.
Insects buzz through the grass. You have an urge to shiver in the lack of safety in the night, but Eclipse’s purring keeps you from feeling too aware of your surroundings. In the darkness, his orange and deep red hues have melted to a muted color. The length of his tail playfully flickers behind him, long and tipped in black. He is too cat-like, too large, to be trustworthy.
“Relax, sweet little kitten,” he croons in a low voice, “I’m not letting you go anywhere.”
You glower in the dark. His predator eyes can see your expression perfectly, but he only sneers in reply.
As if sweeping aside your ungrateful attitude, Eclipse plays with wisps of your hair, twirling the strands around his claws with a casual intrigue. He never tugs on the strands. You do little but breathe. His purrs are alleviating the worst and you need every ounce of strength you can steal to get away from him. The gleam of his deep red eyes become black in the crescent of moonlight.
He leans down. You turn your head away but that does little to stall his nuzzling. He rubs affectionately against your nose, your neck, even your hair, and you protest with loud grumblings. You squeeze your eyes shut at the stroke of his sleek fur—something so dangerous shouldn’t be so soft. A whimper escapes you, and you bite the inside of your cheek to hold back the next one. His purr picks up. He effortlessly ignores your half growled cursing while fussing his fuzzy short mane against your cheek.
When will he have his fill? Is he ever going to be satisfied bating you around like a delicious little mouse? Your heart skips a beat.
“Why are you doing this?” you grunt.
“You smell like those awful snakes,” he growls lightly. He pulls back in the slightest so you can catch the sizzling pleasure in his gaze. “You have no idea how much better you smell with me all over you.”
“I don’t smell like anyone but me,” you hiss. But you’re not sure. Have Sun and Moon left their scent on you? The thought hadn’t crossed your mind seriously until now.
Eclipse tilts his head slightly. The wild fluff of his head speaks to his jungle prowess. Hanging only an itch above your mouth, he muses in tune with his purring. 
“You do smell lovely.” He traces a tapered finger from your temple to the edge of your jaw, as if sizing up a morsel. “Like dried petals with a slight spice.”
A shudder takes over your shoulders. He hooks your chin in his grasp then deliberately rubs his fluffy cheek against your mouth. A thick sultry ting of amber and dark earth fills your senses, ending with a lingering, spicy musk.
You sputter, tasting hair. He snickers with a simper when he lifts his head.
The strong scent reminds you of when he first surprised you. He pinned you to the ground before you realized you were being hunted. A mistake you refuse to make again. There was no doubt in your mind that he was going to tear your throat out, but he purred and fawned over you, and dragged you off to a rocky crevice to find out more about you. You were terrified then—but you at least had your machete on you.
The shiver that rolls down your body is not for his pleasure, despite his smirk. You’re going to find a way to wring his neck.
“Stop it,” you snap, your voice thick and labored.
“I am good for you. You can’t deny that,” he leans in closer. He lays his head beside your own, covering your chest. You swallow at the graze of his teeth against your soft neck. 
His voice lowers, “You like to think you have claws, but you don’t. You need me. You need to trust me.”
You screw your eyes shut.
No. You can’t. You can only rely on yourself. Sun and Moon are sweet, they practically begged to help you, but you can’t accept that, not truly. You won’t let them have your back just to get a fang or claw in it.
It hurts. You remember.
When push comes to shove, you can only hope you’re out of reach of everything and everyone.
“Kitten,” he purrs, turning your chin with a sharp finger. “You’re safe with me.”
You stare back at him, eyes narrowed with disbelief. The rhythmic swells of his purrings have yet to wane. The delicious relief holds you down still. He envelopes you like a waterfall, crashing down, drowning you where you stand.
A sliver of you wants to trust him, and that part of you is very, very wrong and weak.
His one round ear twitches, and then both lie flat against his skull The summer breeze ceases. Unease pricks your spine. His expression sharpens as he rises, hands pressed into the grass on either side of your head, claws extended.
The deep purr within his body cuts off. For a fraction of the night, he holds your gaze with a promise.
I will steal you away again soon.
His jaw splits open in a snarl that quakes the meadow. Your heart climbs up your throat, rattling under his force. The next second, Eclipse leaps off of you. You gasp at the sudden loss of the tiger’s presence. A flash of midnight blue scales darts through the grass. 
Moon.
The naga strikes in the blink of an eye. Moon’s fangs snap inches from Eclipse’s neck, vicious spit dripping from his sharp incisors. The flare of his hood makes him larger, and horrifying, and the glinting red and yellow diamonds flaring underneath his intimidating display promise lethal retribution. The tigertaur dives deeper into the field, effortlessly lunging out of reach from a furious swipe of Moon’s claws. Eclipse grins; there is nothing humorous in his glinting jaws.
The meadow rustles to the side of you. A sweeping mass of golden scales circle you, crushing grass and smothering vegetation. Hands take your shoulders. A low hiss fills the air with a threatening rage but soon softens. You look up, stunned. 
Sun, too.
The naga instantly grabs you and holds you against his warm chest. You lock your arms around his spindly neck, minding his sharp head spikes. His blue eyes are dark as if ink were spilled into his irises. His arms tremble for one moment before steadying around you. In the emptiness of Eclipse’s purrs, your entire body shivers and the fever returns in thick, heavy waves.
You twist your head back, fighting the ache dripping back into your limbs. Moon is coiled upon his tail, tall, taller than you’ve ever seen him hold himself up. He watches the meadow with a fervent rage. His red eyes are wide, glinting dark like arterial blood.
Sun says Moon’s name. In a snap, Moon is slithering to your side, his hand brushing the small of your back with a reassuring—or in need of reassuring—touch. You try to say their names. Sun tucks your head against his shoulder.
The moment they turn away, you see Eclipse in the tall grass, not yet gone. He’s crouched, half-hidden. He grins like the Cheshire Cat between wavering blades of green. His fingers dance in a goodbye. Your heart drops into your stomach.
Sun and Moon shoot away—a fight avoided is the only good fight. Cutting through the grass, rustling through it with thunderous hissing, they spirit you out of Eclipse’s territory. You cling tighter to Sun and watch Moon’s and his long tails become whipping blurs, scales glinting with shards of starlight.
“You came?” you gasp. You try to not choke Sun with your crushing grip.
“Are you hurt?” Moon hisses.
“No.” You shake your head. “Eclipse was watching the cave.”
“We put that together,” Sun gives without his usual musical timber. “Did he do anything to you?”
“No.”
He nods, relieved, but it’s short-lived as a dark cloud passes over his usually sunny expression. “You scared us, lily pad. That’s the second time I’ve found you gone.”
“We should have stayed,” Moon says, his snarl lowering into remorse.
You let your head fall against Sun’s shoulder, bouncing along with his swaying. Moon’s concern rings in your head like a bell. 
They came for you. They didn’t let you go. You close your eyes even as liquid spills underneath your eyelashes.
They take you far away from the tall grass, and they don’t stop until you’re well into the densest, darkest shadows of the jungle. You cling to the quiet sound of the nagas’ hissing.
You still feel Eclipse’s purr deep within your chest.
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seraphic-sibyl · 9 months
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There are two wolves within you. One of them just came up with a fanfic you desperately need to see, and the other refuses to write it.
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starrystevie · 6 months
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steve falls in love with eddie because he's this perfect amalgamation of everyone he's ever loved.
there's nancy's curly brown hair, of course, but also her fierce stubbornness and her bashful little smile when steve is being purposefully obtuse. there's tommy's passion, his impulsivity, his need to get under steve's skin in the best way possible. there's jonathan's quick remarks with a crooked grin and heather m's soft touches on bruised skin and robin's flailing hands when she talks that steve loves so much.
there's even the dorkiness of his kids that only amplifies when eddie's around them, all their talks of fantastic worlds that steve knows nothing about but nods along like he gets it. there's the bright blinding smiles that seem to pull at every face in the room when they win, hooting and hollering in a harmonious chorus.
steve falls in love with eddie for all of those things but also for all of the things he possesses on his own. his charm and his wit, his need to make steve smile every waking moment. the way he knows when steve needs quiet and dark so he closes the blinds before wrapping him up in his steady arms.
eddie falls in love with steve for all of the things that seem new to him.
he's never had a guy treat him like steve does, never had soft smiles and cards on valentines day, never had date nights or kisses in the daytime or a hand that fits gently against his own. he doesn't feel like a dirty secret pushed away to closets and out of windows. he doesn't see the quick glances around to make sure no one's watching before he gets into steve's car like he's used to getting with old partners. he doesn't get shushed or ignored or heartbroken.
he's used to being shrouded in darkness but steve is like sunshine, his love warming eddie like sunrays in and of themselves. he's used to confusion and questions but steve makes him feel wanted. makes him feel loved back.
steve is protective and smart. he sees through the bullshit eddie's built up around himself and holds him when those walls inevitably crumble down. eddie falls in love with steve because he sees him for who he truly is and loves him because of it.
they fall in love with each other because their jagged edges were made for one another, like puzzle pieces in the wrong box finding their way back home. they fall in love with each other because nothing else has ever felt more right. they fall in love with each other because everyone they loved before was a trial, a test, pushing them together whether they knew it or not.
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theminecraftbee · 11 months
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okay now that i'm no longer trying to keep a project secret from certain people i can complain publicly about a thing i've been losing my mind about:
why the fuck is the evo wiki like that.
listen. i know. i know fandom wikis being decent entirely relies on whether there are people who both want to obsessively categorize things enough to fill out the wiki, with the free time to do that kind of obsessive categorization, and the desire to manage it all as a wiki. believe me, i know. but please i'm just trying to do research please, please at least bigb's page was just Entirely Empty so i knew i had useless information and just left. why the fuck did the mafia's page, by contrast, have this:
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a sentence that is actively LESS USEFUL THAN IF IT WERE NOT THERE.
and then grian's page - GRIAN'S. GRIAN'S. THE ONE PAGE I THOUGHT MIGHT HAVE A SHOT OF BEING FILLED OUT. JOKE'S ON ME I GUESS.
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BECAUSE IT HAS THIS????? I'M LOSING MY MIND. WHY ON EARTH IS THE WIKI LIKE THIS. WHY IS IT THIS BAD. PLEASE I'M JUST TRYING TO FIGURE OUT WHAT EVERYONE'S RELATIONSHIPS WITH JIMMY AND MARTYN WERE PLEASE,
anyway thankfully i had friends who could help me with their own knowledge and who also found the evo recap but in conclusion i have been being driven mad by this for weeks, thank you for coming to my ted talk.
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nemurian · 11 months
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@bigboobyhalo Your sacrifices have been accepted by the great Dapper. I'm so sorry but I don't think you'll be getting them back anytime soon. Or ever.
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lattaeyongs · 1 year
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[5:09 PM] Feeling tsundere!Jeno relax in your arms as you hug him, you smile against his shoulder, about to pull away when he grips you tighter. "This is merely an exchange of heat," he says quickly. You gaze into his eyes, noticing his dialated pupils and accelerated heartbeat, which gives away how he truly feels about you.
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bet-on-me-13 · 1 year
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Immortal Danny meets his Families Reincarnations after years
So, Immortal Danny had to suffer through the deaths of his friends and family. For some reason, they never became Ghosts in the Zone, but he has kept looking for them in the Zone for centuries.
Then, one day, Clockwork come to him and explains that his Friends have all been Reincarnated. Due to them having died peaceful deaths, there weren't enough emotions to be turned into Ghosts, instead their souls were Reincarnated due to the amount of Ectoplasm in their bodies.
Danny goes to the Universe where they were Reincarnated, and finds that they all ended up reincarnating in a similar time-frame and location, and all ended up meeting eachother again.
His family and friends Reincarnated as the Bat Family
Bruce is actually the reincarnation of Jack Fenton, and while he is still a much better driver than before, Alfred prefers life thank you very much. He uses his Tech Know-How to build all his Bat-Gear. Hall also freakishly strong, and he isn't a Meta, so he has always been a little confused about that. His lingering guilt at being a bad dad in his past life leads him to be as great a dad as he can in this one.
Maddie Fenton is now Selena Kyle, using her natural athletic expertise and genius level technical know-how to steal artifacts from museums better than her canon counterpart ever could. She has always felt a connection to Batman for some reason, and flirted constantly.
Jazz became Barbra Gordan, and she is just as much a psychologist in this life as the last, but she uses it for Crime solving instead. I'm just going to say that she was officially adopted without Comissioner Gordans knowledge. He is not happy when he finds out that his daughter is legally shared by him and bruce.
Sam became Cassandra Cain, who for some reason has new Plant Powers reminiscent of Poison Ivy. Her soul is still technically that of the "Daughter of Undergrowth", so she gets her plant powers even in death. She now considers Poison Ivy her new sister for some reason. She is also still a Vegan.
Tucker is now Duke Thomas, who is confused as to why he seemingly has Egyptian Magic alongside his own Meta Abilities all of a sudden. He also has a talent for Coding and Hacking that could rival every other member of their family.
Tim used to be Wes, who befriended Danny after a while in his old life. He uses his smarts to figure out Batman is Bruce Wayne, and becomes the second Robin.
Dick was Dash, who mellowed out and became a good friend to Danny a while after the end of the series. In his new life, he is much kinder to everybody around him, as a remnant of his guilt for being so mean in his past life. It's alsowwhy he became a Cop.
Jason is undecided. Maybe he is still a friend to Danny, but he met him when he died and Danny found him while wandering. He considered him a little brother before he was resurrected and lost his memories. Or maybe he was another of Danny's friends, idk.
Alfred used to be Mr Lancer, and he has always had a weird talent for dealing with chaotic and freakishly strong teenagers. He also has a Love for helping children down on their luck.
Steph could have been Star, who rekindled her friendship with Danny after a few years as well. I honestly just like the idea of Danny's bullies becoming his friends after getting their life together.
I don't know about many of the others
This could then go 2 ways
Option 1:
When Danny discovers that his Family has all Reincarnated, he decides to Reincarnate as well to be with them again. With the help of Clockwork, he becomes Damian Al Ghul, born only a little time after his other family and friends.
He makes it so that he will slowly regain his memories and powers over his lifetime until he hits the age of 14, the age he was when he died.
The other Batfamily Members are confused, because Damian all of a sudden called a Family Meeting, and began telling them a story about how they were all the reincarnations of the mortal friends and family of the Ghost King. And that he is the Ghost King as well.
And it makes sense for some reason, they have all had vivid dreams of past lives, or skills and abilities that they don't remember picking up.
They slowly accept his story and the story continues from there.
Option 2:
Danny just goes directly to them after figuring it out, and the Batclan is suddenly visited by the God King of the Afterlife shouting about how he finally found his family.
Danny is just happy to be there, while the others are looking at bruce like "Oh my god, his Adoption Addiction has gotten so strong that the souls of the dead are being adopted by him"
And Danny is meeting his new brother Damian.
Or, Bonus Option
Danny goes to meet with them, then Damian walks in and pulls him aside. Tells him to ask for Clockwork to Reincarnate him, and pushes him through a portal.
A combination where Danny meets them, and then after he meets them goes back in time and Reincarnates himself as Damian.
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carpathiians · 8 months
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im just drawing whatever now
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