#as much as Jonathan tries to not be like Granny

[scarecrowdrugs]

Finally filled my entire sketchbook and the last page gets to feature Shivers Jonathan and his kidnapped baby sister adopted daughter, Clarice

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

The Case of the Missing Lifeguard

pairing: steve harrington x female byers!reader

WC: 3.9K

warnings: cursing, sexual innuendos, byers and steve fighting (so sorry). should be all!

summary: more russian decoding

A/N: ALL PARTS UNDER THE TAG - The Byers Harrington Story-

look i know i said byers and steve would be happy and in love this season. and they are, but of course byers has common sense and doesnt want to deal with this shit for a third year. TOO MUCH TRAMUA ALREADY!

@alecmores​ my lovely editor and friend💕

series masterlist / steve harrington

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The ringing wouldn’t stop.

Well, it would for about a minute before blaring its noise again then stopped and the cycle repeated until someone picked up. This routine happened three times before it was cut off and you faintly heard someone talking.

You readjusted your head as you tried to slip back into a deep sleep. Your back felt warm and scratchy. A nice weight was thrown over your waist and a slight touch to your stomach that twitches every time you took a breath. You pulled Steve’s arm tighter as you shuffled closer to his chest. You heard his intake of air as his nose rubbed over your neck.

“Stop…” he trailed off in his groggy voice. A sleepy smile tugged the corners of your lips, eyes still closed. “Sorry,” you mumbled as you finally got comfortable again.

You didn’t have to work until later this afternoon as you were happy to take full advantage of sleeping in and have Steve all to yourself until work looms over your freedom. Skin to skin, legs tangled beneath the sheets, your hands interlocked over your stomach… this was happiness.

Sadly, happiness always comes to an end in Hawkins. In this case, the knocking at your door and the voice of Jonathan on the other side calling your name made you groan as you squeezed your eyes in frustration. Steve’s puff of air hitting your neck also shows his discontent at being bothered by your brother this morning.

“What?” You yelled aloud, voice pointed away from the door with your sleeping position.

“Is Steve there?” His voice was muffled. “Yes,” Steve gave a simple yelp.

“Are you both dressed?” “No! What do you-”

“Mr. Harrington is on the phone. So I suggest some pants, Steve.” A simple knock on the door before you heard Jonathan’s footsteps falling away.

You felt Steve’s arm tense at the mention of his dad and could feel the shift in his attitude. With another sigh, he reluctantly pulled away from you and went to one of the drawers in your dresser that held a collection of items Steve brought from home or clothes you found at the thrift. He pulled a pair of black sweatpants over his boxers and a simple oversized band tee.

“Looking sexy,” your morning voice rasped. You saw the shake of Steve’s shoulders and the shake to his head, “shut up,” he grumbled. He set a knee into your mattress and leaned down to press his lips to the side of your head. You hummed at the affection and peered at him when he pulled away, “one more?” you questioned with a pout to your lips.

“How can I say no to you?” He whispered before swooping low. It was a simple press, nothing hot and heavy like last night. You just knew Steve needed something sweet before talking with his father who he hasn’t heard from in almost two months, only his mother calling every few days at night.

“Wish me luck,” Steve mumbled as he left your room.

You waited about two minutes before sighing as you pushed yourself off your slept-in bed. With the weather warm in the summer you’ve been wearing nightgowns to bed, allowing you to feel your periodic fantasy. You slipped a yellow gown over your body, ruffles at the shoulders and collar with embroidered flowers detailing the top. Everyone makes granny jokes when they spot your flowy gown.

As you stepped into the hallway, just a foot past the threshold, you could hear Steve as he spoke to his father. Sighs and hums with a grunt here or there before you hear a weak “yes sir” and the phone being hung up. You leaned further out and saw Steve leaning against the wall with a hand on his hip with the other running through his bedhead. He looked stressed.

With bare feet, you walked the short distance from your room to the kitchen. Feet stopping you immediately in front of Steve who had his eyes closed and lips downturned. Fingers curled into the cotton fabric of his oversized shirt and gave a gentle tug for his attention.  Steve’s hands immediately settle over yours, his fingers rubbing over your wrist as his dimmed eyes look back at you.

“Oh, Stevie.” You cooed at the shadow over his features. Just a simple phone call with his father caused all joy to wash away, it was Mr. Harrington’s superpower, which made him the villain in Steve’s story.

Steve huffed, “says he wants me home for a little before work and then, get this,” you raised your brows as you listened intently to Steve, “says we’re going out tonight as a family to some fancy place outside the city.”

You rolled your lips, “at least you’ll get a free dinner.” You tried to make him laugh or something. Steve gave a snort and a tiny smile, a win in your books.

The both of you stayed in your spots, not bothering to move a muscle. Steve’s hands left your wrist to then hold you by your hips and pull you closer, chest flushed to his. You set your chin against his clavicle and looked up with wide eyes.

“How long are they back for?” “Just the night.” His voice was so tired just from three words. You couldn’t suppress the eye roll. Of course, they were only here for the night before heading out somewhere far away from their only son. You felt Steve’s chuckle and heard the single noise, at least you could make him happy again with the show of annoyance towards his parents.

“I wish I could keep you forever.” The words just flowed from your mouth. Steve’s eyebrows rose a bit, “I think that would be considered kidnapping, but I’ll happily be your hostage for life.” Your teeth were on full display with the wide smile, “Stockholm syndrome love.”

“You guys are gross.” Both your heads whipped to the new voice. Jonathan leaned against the hallway with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face.

“Just jealous your Nancy Drew isn’t here.” You teased your moping brother. Jonathan rolled his eyes at you and walked into the kitchen.

You pulled Steve’s hands away from your body and he frowned a bit at the action, but you tugged him behind you and towards the couch. You were suddenly reminded of yesterday and what was probably Dustin and Robin eagerly waiting for the both of you to arrive at work so the four of you could crack the Russian mystery code. You still didn’t want to get involved in any way, but with people you cared about doing this you couldn’t just back out and leave them hanging dry. You would push away your anxiety and nagging. Plus it was just figuring out what they were doing in Hawkins, you’ll bring the information to Hopper once you know.

“Steve… I’ll be by your side during this… investigation. I still don’t like us getting involved, but like you said, it’s nothing crazy. Also, we go to Hopper once we have enough information for him to relay to… higher government officials.” You looked deep into his eyes making sure he was understanding each letter. You find the Russians then tell Hopper. Not doing anything stupid after.

Steve licked his lips, “Okay, yeah that… that’s good. Perfectly good. I’m sure Dustin will understand, even though he wants to be an American hero.”

You pressed a finger to his chest, “Don’t act like that wasn’t your first thought when Dustin brought up the tape. I saw the look in your eyes. We’ve been American heroes for two years, just hidden in the dark.”

Steve glanced towards the living room windows. Fully in tack and in need of cleaning. You touched a hand to his cheek facing away from you and pushed his attention back to you.

“Steve, I hope you understand the worry I’m pushing away for you. I could fully ignore this, but I won’t cause the thought of you or Dustin or Robin being hurt in any way when I could have been there… just don’t misplace my trust in you.” You let your thumb rub his cheek.

His brows downturned just a bit and his eyes softened into doe eyes, “I won’t. I promise. And I’ll be there to protect you and everyone if something happens.”

“You need to stop putting your life on the line.” You pleaded. Steve didn’t say anything, his eyes just buzzing about. He moved his fingers to circle your wrist, “I’ll always put myself in front of danger if it keeps everyone else, especially you, safe.”

You closed your eyes with a pout and leaned your forehead into his. The two of you didn’t say anything else, just wallowing in the words that were exchanged.

Stupid fucking Russians.

-

An hour into your shift is when Erica and her friends make their presence known.

You were busy in the backroom. Cleaning, sweeping, inventory, hiding in the ice box so you could avoid people letting their anger out on you. Robin said she could handle manning the front on her own, but hearing the service bell ringing nonstop, you felt lied to. Bracing for impact, you pushed the metal door open and threw the sliding divider open to see Robin wearing headphones with her eyes focused on a book. You gave a shove to her shoulder to pull her back to work. Her brows furrowed and she moved the headphones off her ear and around her neck.

“What?” Acting like she was doing the one thing she wasn’t supposed to be doing while out front. Your brows shot up and you pointed a finger behind her which prompted her to turn and lean against the counter.

Erica gave a smug smile to both of you before opening her mouth. “I’d like to try the peanut butter chocolate swirl, please.” Giving the act of innocence to any passersby.

“No.” You were putting your foot down, “No more samples today.” Leaning your upper body on the countertop.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re abusing our company policy.” Robin pointed out. Erica just rolled her eyes before getting a bit defensive, “Where’s the sailor man?”

“Sorry, he can’t help you. He’s busy.” Robin replied with a smile as she turned her back to the counter. “Busy with what?” Erica was always persistent.

Robin shot you a look before turning around again, and you could hear a smugness in her voice as she said one word. “Spy craft.” Like that would explain everything to a ten-year-old and her friends. You would have chosen the word, numskulls, but to each their own.

When Dustin arrived at the shop he instantly whisked Steve away and you had to bite your tongue. You were going to be a supporting friend and girlfriend no matter how much the circumstances made your skin itch. Dustin was rambling about something to do with the Russians as Steve did a quick look over his shoulder at you, and you just gave a tight-lipped smile and a simple nod.

“Robin, can you please not wear the headphones when behind the counter? Please, just be a little professional today.” There was a slight edge to your voice. You were getting stressed and when you got stressed you got… Well, Jonathan calls you ‘bitchzilla’.

You noticed how Robin’s bright blue eyes swept over your face, how the front of her brows pinched in the middle. Even a downturn to her lips changed her freckle-splattered face into one of worry.

“Everything okay in lovey-dovey land?” She went for teasing to get answers. And you were trying to see how much pushing she could do before you spilled like a running waterfall.

You sighed with your shoulders held high from tension, “Perfectly fine. Exceptionally fine. Probably just my period and stress being mixed.” Your eyes stayed fixed on the counter as you drew a figure eight over and over.

Robin’s hand landed over yours and it forced you to look at her. “Yeah, I’m not buying this bullshit. What’d lover boy do? Need me to beat him up? Need Eddie to beat him up?”

That pulled a laugh from you. “No, no. He doesn’t need to be beaten up, plus I would do it if needed.” Giving her a knowing look, remembering Billy last year. “I- I just…” Your tongue licked the corner of your lip, “I don’t like us getting involved with this Russian business.” The real answer was said aloud.

“Why?” Robin’s question instantly. You looked at her like she grew two heads at once. “Why?! What do you mean why? It’s dangerous!” How come you were the only one seeing this clearly?

She shrugged her shoulders, “it’s just figuring out the coded message. Nothing crazy and we probably won’t even run into any Russians.”

You wanted to tug at your hair. You haven’t told Robin of the Upside Down or the demogorgons or El. She doesn’t understand the full severity this situation could lead to. Nothing has been normal for two years in Hawkins, and yeah, Russians are more of a government concern. But the Upside Down was also caused by the government. They are always up to something.

“You know what, fine. Continue decoding the message and I’ll continue coming off as the overdramatic friend worried for your safety. Enjoy your book, Robin.” You pushed away from the counter, ignoring Robin’s call of your name. You walked back into the freezer and screamed even though you were sure it wasn’t soundproof.

-

“Have a good day.”

The elderly couple left holding hands and you drank up their love for each other. The tables and booths were empty and wiped down multiple times since you needed a mindless activity. You could hear Robin muttering to herself behind the divider and you tried to block her out and focus on the pop music playing from the speakers. While the music wasn’t loud enough, the knocking on the back door certainly was.

You pulled the window open and Robin didn’t pay you any mind. “Could you get the door? Or would you like to man the front?” Robotic monotone. She cocked her head to the left and hopped off the counter to the door.

You saw it was a delivery person and turned back around. You once again wiped the ice cream counter out of sheer boredom. Your eyes drifted up and were met with Dustin and Steve’s disappointed faces. You cocked a hip and set a hand to the bone, “How was the spy craft?” full sarcasm.

“Oh, you’re not gonna believe who Dustin thought was a Russian.” Steve scoffed and shook his head. “You did too,” Dustin tried to defend himself. “No, I did not.” And you heard his voice and he thought the same thing. The two continued bickering about someone as you heard the swinging door being pushed open and saw Robin dashing out of the store into the mall. The three of you shared a look before Steve and Dustin ran after her.

“Guys!” You yelled after them. You may dislike your job, but you weren’t gonna leave it abandoned. So you huffed as you were left in the dark until they came back with some revolutionary news.

It wasn’t until twenty minutes later that they came back. Robin had a spark in her eyes and she couldn’t stop smiling. Dustin and Steve were behind her and both looked just as pleased. They didn’t even stop to say anything, just walked into the backroom and sat at the table. They were starting to piss you off. You continued serving ice cream and cleaning tables until you got your fifteen-minute break.

You leaned on the counter as you called threw the divider, “Steve, work the front. I’m going on break.” And your voice held no room for arguing. Which prompted Steve to jump from his seat and rush to your side.

“Baby-” “Just let me have my fifteen and I’ll be back to my winning personality.” More sarcasm to deflect. You threw your sailor hat down and started towards the entrance until you felt Steve wrap his fingers around your wrist and tug you back. You narrowed your eyes as he peered down at you.

“Steve-” “Robin cracked the code. Again.”

You just shook your head, “Okay, so…” you trialed off waiting for more. Steve licked his lips as he quickly looked around the empty parlor then his eyes were back on you. He leaned closer and lowered his voice, “The Russians are using the mall as a base of operations.”

Your brows ticked, “I thought we already knew that because you heard the song.”

Steve’s eyes darted around, “Well, yeah. But, we now know they are using the delivery company for something.”

You gave a slow head nod. You looked over your shoulder then back to Steve, “Okay, great. Can I take my fifteen now?” Your tone lightened up but you could still see a bit of hurt in Steve’s eyes as he slowly let you free. You rushed past the crowd of shoppers and went to sit outside and just people-watch. Distract yourself from the panic growing cause you know they won’t stop at this. Dustin is always nosey and Robin falls into that same category without intention at times. And Steve just kept playing the hero.

You hunched over your legs with your head bowed, hair blocking the beaming sun from your eyes. Knee bouncing in a fast rhythm as your fingers curled tight around the cement blocks you were sitting on.

“Stupid fucking Russians.”

-

“Wish I could join you.” 

“Oh, trust me. You don’t. After only two minutes I’ll have to restrain myself from stabbing my ears.”

Hands intertwined and resting on your thigh, Steve drove the two of you back to your house. You pushed earlier away from your thoughts and just focused on Steve who would have to be with his parents for the night. You only wish you could join him so you could be his human shield from the scrutiny of his father.

“If you see anything I like, could you maybe get it and bring it tomorrow for lunch?” Head turned on the leather of the seat to stare at Steve’s profile.

He tilted his head, “We’ll see.” He’ll bring you food tomorrow.

You dragged the pad of your index finger over Steve’s knuckles, head lost in thought. Your attitude from earlier nagging at your brain. You were being a bitch, but for a good reason.

“I’m sorry… about earlier, at work.” Eyes looking up from your downturned head.

Steve took his eyes off the road for a second then back, “It’s okay. I know it's from a place of worry.” He pressed a kiss to your skin.

His headlights beamed onto your dark house, no one’s cars out front. You grabbed your backpack from the floor and held it in your lap. You leaned over the console and gave Steve a sweet good night kiss to his lips and then pulled away to give one more to his nose, your second favorite place to kiss.

“Ignore your parents. Just think of something you’d rather be doing while at dinner.”

Steve’s eyes crinkled and a devilish smirk popped up. You rolled your lips. “Oh, I think you know what I’d rather be doing.”

You scoffed as you pushed the door open, “Get out of here, perv.” Jokes to hide the ache forming in your stomach.

You sent Steve off with a wave when you opened the door and saw him reversing out the driveway. Once the door was closed you heard the clap of thunder and the fast thudding of rain pelting on the roof. You headed to your room to change before going to the kitchen. You heated up one of the frozen dinner meals and sat in front of the TV.

While you were engrossed with the new episode of Moonlighting, a loud pounding on the front door gave you a heart attack. Setting a hand to your heart to wait to see if it could come again and it did, then it was followed by voices shouting over the rain. You pushed off the couch and headed to the door where you could hear the voices a bit better. You threw it open and were greeted by two soaked teenage boys.

“What are you guys doing here?” Leaning against the door.

“Is Will home?” Lucas asked. You looked between the two, “No. Why? What happened?”

They exchanged looks before Lucas spoke again. “Will got mad at us and rode away earlier.”

You straightened up and took a step closer, “What did you two assholes do?”

“Nothing!” Mike cried. “Bullshit! Will takes a lot from you guys, so what did you do?”

Mike groaned, “He said it was supposed to be a day free of girls and we would play Dungeons and Dragons. But we were goofing around and not taking it seriously and I’m still upset about El-”

“What’d El do?” A sudden detour. “She dumped his ass,” Lucas answered. You hummed, “Good for her. Now continue.”

Mike rolled his eyes, “Will and I got in a fight in my garage and then he took off.”

You were simmering with anger. “Go home. Both of you!” And you slammed the door in their faces.

You checked his room, but he wasn’t there. So, you checked the next place he could be if he came home without your knowledge. Throwing on a raincoat you headed to Castle Byers.

As you got closer you could hear noises when the thunder stopped. There was yelling and the sound of something being hit repeatedly. Your steps quickened and your heart broke at the sight lit up by the lighting.

Will sat in the mud outside the broken-down fort. His back was hunched and his shoulders were shaking with cries that you wished to never hear again. You took slow steps and called his name a few times before he looked up. His face was scrunched in agony as he heaved cries over and over. You fell to your knees and pulled him into your chest, one hand holding the back of his head while the other rubbed his shoulder blades. Will’s arms snaked under your coat and wrapped tight around your waist, his fingers curling into your shirt.

“It’s okay. It’s okay, Will. I’m here.” You cooed into his ear. Tears bubbled to the surface and when they fell they mixed with the rainwater.

“Ever- Everything has- has changed.” Will hiccuped. “It’s- It’s not fair!”

“I know. I know it isn’t.” You petted his hair. “I wish things could be different.”

“Stupid. So stupid!” Another cry of pain.

You wish you could fix everything with the snap of your fingers like comic heroes. But all you could do was be there for Will and console him through his anguish.

Will’s crying slowed down, and his arms loosened. You kept your hold on his and continued the repetitive petting of his slick hair. Then you felt him tense and he pulled away from your hold, eyes looking around the dark forest.

“Will?” He raised a hand to the back of his neck and turned his back on you.

“Will! Will, you okay?” You heard voices coming your way. Lucas and Mike emerged from the darkness. You just narrowed your eyes.

The three of you focused your attention on Will who was wide-eyed and shivering. His arm dropped to his side and it was like he was seeing everyone for the first time tonight.

“Will?” You held his shoulders, “What’s wrong?”

He looked from you to the two boys then back to you.

“He’s back.” He shuddered.

...

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*STRIKED OUT MEANS TUMBLR CANT FIND YOUR USERNAME*

[r1ddly]

pretty please talk about your crane.

Yes!!! I'd love to talk about him!!!

TW: gore and abuse- I'm sure there's more but I'm blanking on what it could be so be careful on reading!! Also sorry I'm on mobile and idk how to insert the keep reading thing LMAO

So in my verse my crane has been scarecrow for much longer then others, it started immediately after killing great granny- he grew up tortured by him and he hated her and his birth mother with all of his being. He never knew his father and his mom died in childbirth, while pregnant with Jonathan though she tried her best to kill him without getting an abortion which led him to have fetal alcohol syndrome disorder, he was also born with coloboma, scoliosis, and had a bad overbite when he was younger. Before going to college (I'd say around 17 to 18) he and his grandmother got into a tussle that lead to her death, he was so angry he skinned her face off and drenched her blood into her prized white scarf, he wears the face as his mask as scarecrow and also wears the scarf.

No one in Gotham knows he's scarecrow, most people if not all believe scarecrow is just a rumor, a boogeyman of sorts to warn people to not be so reckless but no he's real. He stalks at bars and strip clubs waiting for the right people to jump out and beg for him to swoop them away (in his mind at least), he's pretty well connected with people and holds a lot of black mail on specific bar/club owners so they let him do his business. Scarecrow has a lot of hideouts around Gotham that he dubs as "crows nests" where he keeps most his equipment, not a lot of them have victims but when they do they're organized but it's extremely disgusting. He keeps them in dog cages (sizes very) almost to completely naked, the cages are rusty and more then occasionally has someone in it still (dead or alive is 50/50), these specific crows nests is where he experiments his fear toxin on them, to see how strong it is and the affects- he does a lot of experiments from very simple ones like just injecting it into the vains to extreme or questionable like seeing if body excrement like urine or sweat can extract the fear toxin if injected in high enough doses. When people die though depending on their usefulness he uses in creative ways, some he creates as human chemical chambers as he'll insert a bunch of chemicals that when given energy (like from a defibrillator) would cause a chain reaction and produce fear toxin or a close equivalent to it (usually these are people who are still alive somewhat), others he'll dump them in the Gotham bay or dump, places he knows people don't care about.

As crane he pretends to he jolly, he's always smiling calmly and us very kind and gentle with his patients though realistically he doesn't care about them whatsoever. Nurses think he's got an ugly boy charm about him and are friendly to him and most psychiatrists there are pretty respectful of him, no one ever questions him and his actions as compared to everyone else he's the smartest member of the team, only one to question him is arkham but he's too intimidated by him to do anything.

He's extremely cunning and violent, he often plays games both as crane and scarecrow and is often in a goofy silly mood- a serious crane/scarecrow is an absolutely scary thought ngl! He doesn't really have any friends, closest I'd say is arkham (who when finds out he's scarecrow is forced to become his assistant) and riddler, I think I've mentioned it before in the post about Quandarism but riddler does a lot of exiling and he usually give those exiles to scarecrow as he knows he'll wipe them out of existence

Also here's a list of little tidbits about him that I'm only now remembering

He was born with bad joint and muscle problems and thus is always in discomfort or pain, because he's so used to it he can't tell the difference in pain when being punched compared to his joint and muscle problems, he's pretty resilient because of it

Also because of his joint problems he has a cane, the handle is in the shape if a crow

He uses Sickles instead of a scythe

He often has trouble finding companionship or even the heart to care, when he does he doesn't know how to handle it and usually leads to death or even worse

When not being scarecrow or pretending to be dr. Crane he's just dissociating.

He doesn't have DID, I can definitely see him having it but I just don't feel comfortable writing that for him (reasons)

He doesn't care or like most things, he doesn't like animals, he's not a fan of music or movies or art, he doesn't eat a lot of food so he doesn't care. When he does like something it's extremely specific and nothing is consistent

That's a gist I think, there's a lot more about him but that's all I can really think of for him atm. I have another anon asking about my riddler that I'll get to later- hope you weren't too grossed out! Lmao!

[sweetlikehoneystingslikeabee]

So, let us say, for the dork squad (general). They meet a girl who seems to know all about them and who they are. A fan, so to speak! And she knows so much about them. She mentions a 'thank you' for all the souls they've sent, but really...when are THEY going to end up punching their ticket? Maybe they notice something like tapetum lucidum flashing in her eyes at the wrong angle. And then they start seeing her everywhere. They're being followed. Or hunted. Can they keep Death from her dues?

So to clarify there is a romantic spin on this and girl means young woman adult in this occasion (I asked). While I figured most people would know, it helps being clear. That being said. Death becomes her.

Tw: murder, child abuse (mentioned in past tense)

Scarecrow

- For a moment he's ready to tell her not to bother with the little charade. That he has other things to deal with rather than some young woman with flights of fancy in her head. Then he sees the flicker of an animals eyes looking back at him.

- It shakes him to his core, at first. She disappears and he's left with many thoughts. The afterlife? What does this all mean...? She said she was a fan. Of him?

- Then he keeps seeing her everywhere it seems. At one point he finally just sits down in the park at night, waiting for her to join him. Once she does he asks plainly, "Is it my time?"

- She hums, "Not necessarily. Not unless you wanted to go. I'd take you by the hand to the rotting dark right now if you wanted."

- "I don't. I have things that need to be done first." He says simply. She shrugs. Worth a shot!

- "Then I wait." She smiles, "You don't mind me waiting in sight, do you?"

- It strikes him as an odd question. Would she still be waiting, just unseen, if he wished it? To that he shakes his head, "I don't mind much. You've seen it all, have you?"

- "Of yours? Yup. Ever since your granny. Big pause after that, though." She tilts her head. A "simple" mix-up of medications by a young Jonathan Crane took care of all that easily.

- Death continues, "People should cherish their lives. And the lives of others. She didn't cherish yours much."

- His silence answers the insinuation. When she leans on him, he seems surprised. It's comforting, somehow. She softly sings an old folk song he knows quite well growing up where he did.

-"O death... O death... won't you spare me o'er another year?"

- His eyes close. His voice, ragged and not quite as pretty- joins hers.

- It's the first of many intimate moments between them.

Mad Hatter

- Nervous laughter, what the fuck. Look, he's spooky in his own way, incredibly so but this is a whole other level. Her eyes shining like that when a truck went by scared him deep into his soul.

- The rest of it doesn't really process or register until later. The souls HE'S sent? Oh dear, oh no, oh... fuck. Jervis, dear boy, you're really in it now. But- but- he hasn't even met his Alice!

- The next few times he sees Death, he outright tries to ignore her. Smiling, watching. Tries to make tonics to send him to Wonderland in an attempt to forget... to not think about her... Even there he still seems to see her.

- Eventually she's walking beside him and he says pointedly, "I cannot go with you, I need to..." He looks upset.

- "Find your Alice?" Death asks, "Haven't you tried that already? There's been a few souls delivered that way. A lady killer." Her eyes narrow on him and he feels faint.

- "It wasn't like that! It wasn't-" He stammers, "Everything just keeps..."

- "You're not meant for this world. These people. I understand. Always feeling like you don't belong." She says, "I'm not taking you. Yet. You can stop being so worried. I told you, I'm a fan."

- He stops as she continues to walk. A hopeful look in his eyes, "Do you... perhaps... like Alice in Wonderland?"

- "I love it. I had a long conversation with Mr. Carrol when he passed about the books." She looks so proud of herself, "Do you want to hear?"

- It takes him a moment, but he offers his arm, "After you, dear lady!"

Riddler

- You're joking. You can't be serious, right? What a cute little prank. He gently pats the young woman on the head and tries to walk away as quickly as he possibly can.

- The tapetum lucidum was what bothered him the most. Whatever that was, she wasn't human.

- He gathers himself and the next time he sees her he approaches her oh-so-smug, "If you're really Death, then who was the first person I killed?"

- Smiling, cute as a button she'll respond, "Your father. You set up a very complex web of information that made him think he was going to get the payday of his life if he went to a certain spot. A certain spot you set up with traps. The moment he entered his hand into the cuff for the key, you gave him options to stay trapped and starve or risk bleeding out by cutting his hand off. Like an animal. That hand that hurt you so often, right?"

- Edward's face goes white. He's never told anyone that. She doesn't even need to tell him how as a young man he made it look like a burglary gone wrong afterwards. He gets the message. Seeing her around afterwards makes him paranoid.

- He's going to use her fan status- or try to. You think he's witty? Clever? Let him tell you all about it. Behind the scenes on his most brilliant and sometimes fatal traps! He figures if she won't stop following him the least he can do is talk his way out of this.

- People have done it for eons in stories about Death, haven't they? What he's not ready for is the sweet way she listens. And comments on his stories. She doesn't even necessarily judge him, not the way a regular person would.

- fuck, he's caught feelings. Disgusting. But he can't quite help himself with how he leans in with that smarmy grin and charming voice. Pity him, oh Death, spare his mortal soul! What great offerings can he give in penance for his... Mistress?

[just-an-enby-lemon]

Uuuh character thingy except I tried to put it into different categories

• I know u know this character

> Edward Nygma

> Carlos(from wtnv) idk his name

> Jonathan Crane

> Dirk Gently

• Blorbos from my show that I hope u don't know nothing about so u come with funny headcannons

> House (House MD)

> Jonathan Sims (TMA)

• Idfk what I'm writing anymore

> Cebolinha (yes from turma da mônica)

:3<

Okay let's go.

> Edward Nygma: He collects strategy boardgames. While it was Doctor Leland and later Oswald that tried to make an Arkham boardgame night he is both the one sugesting the games and (in Oswald's case cause there was not much he could do in Arkham) provinding it. He is also an insuferable player.

> Carlos: He learned embroidery from his granny and was really good at it. He mostly uses this talent to make beutifull paterns in his lab coats sleeves as a way to different his morning lab coat from his night lab coat from his fancy lab coat from his date labcoat from his sleep labcoat from his seductive labcoat (that has changed from seductive labcoat to the labcoat that seduces Cecil in specific) from his serius science labcoat to his just assisting the other guys in the lab today labcoat to his Esteban's PTA meetings labcoat from his secret labcoat and so goes on (he cannonically has a bunch of labcoats for different occasions and I love it for him). He does cute patches for Cecil and Esteban (he also did one for Aubregine, he never did for Khoshekh because like a proper cat he hated cute clothes) more rarely for his friends and since they adopted Steban he is learning to knit to make him a cute baby onesie of the uncomprehensive horrors.

> Jonathan Crane: When Jonathan worked on Gotham University he was a firm supporter of inclusion programs. He would never shame a student that was dedicated but simply didn't had the same tools as the others (be because they came from a school from a poor area with low govermental investiment or because they were neurodivergent or had to work all day and had no time to study or was facing personal problems stopping them from succed like an abusive househood or relationship or bullying or simply systemic discrimination) and would do all he could to help them. On the other hand priviledged students specially bullys always suffered in his classes and a lot of them became his text subjects.

> Dirk Gently: [blorbo it's been sooo long!!!] He is ace. I won't explain he just is. He also is nb and uses all pronouns. Todd knows neither of this things and tbh closested Todd likely doesn't even know what an nb person is until he Dirk and Farrah (and Amanda and Rowdy 3 and Bart and Mona) went to a protest against the rise of transphobic laws in the UK.

Now since the hc ended up being more about Todd I'll also say that Dirk loves sweets and eats the head of people/animal shaped things first so they die and won't be in pain. He also unfortunally eats the cookie first and preffers it from the white part when eating orios. Farrah rarely buys oreos because of that and when they have oreos she and Tood refuse to look at Dirk eating it. Also yeah I'm a firm defender of they lvie together at Todds house after they created their agency. I'm firmly divided between Dirk/Tood and Farrah/Tina or Dirk/Todd/Farrah as my ships for the show (besides Amanda/Rowdy3, best polycule).

• Blorbos

> House: He secretly loves gummy bears but he will never let people know because they might think he is soft and he is not. The only times HD eats gummys in front of the other doctors he slowly eats the members before the head so they will assume he has no feelings and let him be. And yes last time I saw this show was almost ten years ago this was a very blind hc.

> Jonathan Sims: Okay, this is a real blind hc because I want to listen to Magnus Archives (though I'm afraid I'll cry a lot) and won't risk spoilers. So this is a very simple one: he loves Animal Crossing and has the best island (but Nico every island is beutifull and what matters is the love the player has, nope, the best one is Jomathan, it has the horrors). Also my first instinct was to say he made all the other characthers in the Sims but that was a low pun.

• O Rei da "Lua"

> Cebolinha: He scams gringos to practice his infalible plan making talent. This six year old boy might never have succeeded in stealing a bunny plushie from the six year old girl with super strengh but he comited identity fraud and stoled a bunch of money. He is six so he has no idea how to convert or use the money but he has it. (Eu deixe em inglês pq eu acho mais engraçado do ponto de vista de alguém que não conhece o cebolinha).

[enigmatic-robin]

Crows (Free Space)

Scarecrow Week day 7

LAST DAY!

🎃HAPPY HALLOWEEN🎃

Words: 1271

CW: child neglect, speech impediment caused by neglect, injury of an animal (natural injury)

—

Friends were hard to come by in Arlen. In such a small community, there weren’t really ‘unlikely’ friends, or anything like that; new people really didn’t filter in, so one knew everyone around from the time they were able to comprehend socialization as a toddler. Friendships formed early and lasted lifetimes, and the same would happen in the next generation, and the one after that, for however long the little town would remain standing.

Jonathan was set for failure from the start. He had to start schooling a little later than his peers- only by a half a year- due to a speech delay. He wasn’t a slow learner by any means, but he was understimulated. At home, he wasn’t as much talked to as talked at. So the speech delay made sense.

Unfortunately, so did the stutter that appeared when he started talking. Between friendships having already been cemented by the time he’d come in and the fact that no one wanted to wait around for him to finish a sentence, he didn’t have a chance. He spent his time alone, and that was just the way it was, so he accepted it with as much grace as he could.

He was alone at home as well, at least emotionally. He couldn’t remember when he’d started being sent into the decrepit church to atone for things he’d done- was there ever a time when he wasn’t? He supposed it didn’t matter. There was no sense of time there, the attacks coming so quick but seeming never ending from the sharp talons and beaks of the crows roosting inside. Granny didn’t provide any solace, any comfort in his distress. Only the crows ever came to him, and all they brought was pain.

For that reason, Jonathan was always alert in parts of their property the crows frequented. Oddly, they never attacked him outside the times he was sent into the church, but they were present elsewhere, staring down from wherever they chose to perch with sharp eyes that made Jonathan’s heart speed up. They all stayed in a large group, a murder, his mind supplied unhelpfully, on the property, generally remaining quite close to each other. Generally.

The sun was beating down hard against Jonathan’s neck as he passed the birds, shoulders tense as he tried to ignore them in favor of searching for the hoof he’d hidden in a box tangled in tree roots, where it couldn’t be taken from him. He remembered the general area but no exacts, nothing that would lead him straight to it.

And then came the noises.

Loud shrieking caws rand out, filling Jonathan with terror as he threw himself to the ground and wondered what he’d done for them to attack him outside. However, nothing came for him, and the noise continued. He pulled himself back to his feet hesitantly, searching for the source of the sound until he found a group of crows flocking around, making angry noises and lashing out at something. He didn’t know what it was that made him immediately run over to aid whatever they’d been attacking, sending them flying in different directions to clear his path. Maybe it was kinship, or a moment of bravery. All he knew was that he had to help. He knelt down, flinching when he saw what it was.

It was another crow. It laid on its side, breathing rapidly- maybe it wasn’t rapid for a bird, he didn’t know, but it looked like hyperventilation to him- and bleeding. He reached out, fingers twitching nervously until he lifted the bird, who barely shifted.

It couldn’t hurt him, it couldn’t even move much. It wasn’t scary at all. But it was, he realized, weak. It wouldn’t make it on its own. He knew there were hawks in the area, and he knew crows would abandon weak or sick members of their group if they thought they would be a liability and attract predators, so he had a pretty good idea of what happened; it must’ve been attacked, escaped, but was now unable to keep up with the group and had to be pushed out.

He could sympathize with that.

“It’ll be- it’ll be ok” he soothed quietly, holding the juvenile bird close to his chest as he brought it back to the house. It was empty at the moment, meaning he wasn’t as scared as he could’ve been as he climbed up onto the counter, opening the high cabinet and taking out the red wine. It was the only alcohol in the house as far as he was aware, and placed the bird in the sink. He gently poured some in the bird's open wounds, disinfecting it as best as he could without using a noticeable amount of alcohol. He then wiped the excess away as he lightly felt around the area.

The bird flinched away as he ran his hand over one area, giving him pause. He unfortunately had to repeat it, feeling over the area again and noting the odd bend in the wing. That wasn’t good.

He bandaged it tightly in a makeshift splint, taking his time to carefully take care of the wounded bird and bandage it up gently as he could. He took a handful of peanuts from a large container in the pantry and held the bird close, cleaning the area before taking the bird up to his room.

He placed it in a box, un-shelling the peanuts and placing them in the box with the bird. He tossed the shells out his window, then sat down in front of the bird to watch.

It was helpless, wasn’t it? It couldn’t protect itself, it was rejected by those around it. It relied on Jon right now.

It felt nice to be the most capable one in a room.

—

The bird got better in the month Jonathan had kept it with him. He would sneak out onto the roof some nights, bringing it to get fresh air with him. He snuck fruits or peanuts up regularly, letting the bird eat as much as he needed.

He watched the wing mend.

It was wrong.

Because of the structure of a bird’s hollow bones, they were not the easiest to set correctly. A bird's wing is very specific in formation, evolved in the right shape for the bird to fly. Birds with broken wings that didn’t heal right, for that reason, often don’t fly right after.

Jonathan really had hoped he did well enough, but when he brought the bird outside, it was only able to fly about 20-30 feet before landing again; not far enough to be able to get its own food, or escape a predator, or keep up with a family. But maybe enough to live in a sheltered area on the property, enough to live in comfort with Jonathan bringing food for the bird.

He wouldn’t have to leave. He wouldn’t have to say goodbye to his friend.

Maybe this injury didn’t have to be a horrible thing, he decided. Maybe they were meant to take care of each other.

“Well, you- you need a… nuh- name then.” He mused, looking down at the bird. “What d-d’ya reckon?”

The bird looked up at him and hopped closer, making a noise.

Craw! Craw!

He laughed softly, bending down and letting the bird perch on his hand.

“Craw? Well Craw- Craw it is, then.”

The bird looked at him oddly when he said it, making Jonathan laugh again.

It’d be nice to have some people to talk to, sure. But it was nice to at least have one friend.

[once-was-muses]

Jonathan doesn’t care for masturbating. Partially because it makes him feel shameful, giving into such base desires like that, and partially because he can’t. Something in him just will not let him- even if he tries, he can never finish on his own.

God knows Granny and her particular methods of preaching drilled it into his head that, among so many other things, self pleasuring is a sin. So much so that she forbade him from closing his door once he reached 10, and began looming outside his room for a few minutes when he first went to bed most nights. Then Gerald made it worse, teasing him and embarrassing him with questions closer to that of a high school bully looking to humiliate him than a father checking in. His employees would join in on the heckling as well.

Both of these godawful humiliations have stayed with Jonathan, convinced he’ll see Granny’s ghost watching him if he tries anything on his own, and he remembers Gerald and his employees’ mocking whenever he so much as considers masturbating.

(This is, he realizes and admits, a very foolish thing considering both Granny and Gerald would consider Jonathan’s same sex affairs far worse, but trauma is a funny thing like that.)

[gvbejvmesmichaels]

Pop-Up Task: Gabe’s Dream Family

Because Gabe is a child of the 70s and 80s, his dream family comes from the characters of that era. 

Jason Seaver (from Growing Pains) would be his dream father, mostly due to the fact that he’s the opposite of Gabe’s own father. This man gave up a hospital career to be a stay-at-home dad and run his practice out of the house. The idea of a caring (although not perfect) father is appealing to Gabe, and they would be close. And you know there would be a very special coming out episode. Carol Brady (from The Brady Bunch) would be his mother, if only because she’s the most supportive mother in the history of mothers. She would give him a gentle speech about how disappointed she was with him when he would make mistakes. When he came out as gay, she would be the type of mom to throw a gigantic coming out party. She would be supportive to the point of annoying and embarrassing the fuck out of him. So you know, that would follow the very special coming out episode.

Henry Blake (from M*A*S*H) would be his grandfather. While the character is a serial adulterer, there is something about the way he talked to his staff and got involved into shenanigans himself, that appeals to Gabe. He would definitely be the fun grandpa, and Gabe wouldn’t spend too much time with him out of fear that he wouldn’t accept his sexuality. This would lead to an episode of pure chaos where Henry would be convinced Gabe knocked a girl up. He would be relieved to find out: “Oh, you’re only gay. I thought it was something terrible.” Daisy “Granny” Moses (from Beverly Hillbillies) would be his grandmother. Now, he doesn’t have a real reason for this. He just thinks she’d be a hilarious grandma, and she’d be the one to watch Gabe after school. She would rope him into crazy shenanigans and there would be an episode where she tries to treat his chicken pox without calling a doctor and leads to her dying his skin a weird color.

Jonathan Higgins (from Magnum P.I.) would be his other grandfather. While Higgins is also rather traditional, he’s also willing to bend the truth for the greater good. Gabe would spend summers at the house Higgins ran in order to learn how to be a proper gentleman. He would be annoyed as hell with his grandfather’s need for Gabe to be a proper gentleman. For Higgins, there would be an episode where Gabe is convinced Thomas Magnum was his grandfather’s much younger lover. He’d spent the episode trying to catch them in the act. It would end with a very telling wink at the end. Sophia Petrillo (from Golden Girls) would be his other grandmother. Gabe would be one of the few people who wouldn’t get annoyed by her stories about Sicily. She would be the first person he would come out to, and she would have some story about something back in Sicily that reminded her of his situation. There would be an episode about Gabe bailing his grandma out of some sort of shenanigan -- like stirring up trouble at a gay rights rally.

Punky Brewster (from Punky Brewster) would be his sister, and his best friend in the world. Georgie loved watching this show when they were kids, so this is obviously the ideal substitute for his sister. They would be attached at the hip, and every episode would be the two of them getting into trouble. Jo Polniaczek (from Facts of Life) would be his cousin -- the one he was never allowed to hang out with because of her personality. She would constantly egg Gabe on, and he’d egg her on right back. There would be an episode were they get picked up by the cops, and have a very serious talk with Gabe’s parents.

Alex P. Keaton (from Family Ties) would be his other cousin, and they would not get along at all. They would be polar opposites and would argue and banter the entire time they’re together. For all their bickering, they’re still family and there’d be an episode where Gabe threatens to break someone’s knees with his baseball bat because they’re being rude to his cousin.

[who-is-muses]

Jonathan doesn’t care for masturbating. Partially because it makes him feel shameful, giving into such base desires like that, and partially because he can’t. Something in him just will not let him- even if he tries, he can never finish on his own.

God knows Granny and her particular methods of preaching drilled it into his head that, among so many other things, self pleasuring is a sin. So much so that she forbade him from closing his door once he reached 10, and began looming outside his room for a few minutes when he first went to bed most nights. Then Gerald made it worse, teasing him and embarrassing him with questions closer to that of a high school bully looking to humiliate him than a father checking in. His employees would join in on the heckling as well.

Both of these godawful humiliations have stayed with Jonathan, convinced he’ll see Granny’s ghost watching him if he tries anything on his own, and he remembers Gerald and his employees’ mocking whenever he so much as considers masturbating.

(This is, he realizes and admits, a very foolish thing considering both Granny and Gerald would consider Jonathan’s same sex affairs far worse, but trauma is a funny thing like that.)

[yandere-wishes]

⭐Yandere Joestars⭐

(Parts 1-7 + Bonus Charcter: Joseph and Johnny’s characterizations are based off @dear-yandere​ ‘s interperations) I tried to write this mostly in the Joestars' POV. Their respective darlings resemble lifelike dolls rather than human beings to further illustrate how out of touch with reality the Jojos have become.

Warnings: Gore, kidnapping, dehumanization.

Edited: By the amazing Peri!! (@tealyjade-libran )

⭐Jonathan Joestar is possessive. ⭐

It's only when you lose something, that you start to cherish it...

It's an old saying, one that Jonathan remembers from an antique storybook his mother use to read him. It didn't mean anything back then, when he was still an infant too young and new, to fully comprehend what "owning" and "losing" was. But as the years ticked by faster than any clock could keep track of, things started to change. What had once been a passing quote in a chivalrous story about knights and dragons, soon turned into the epitome of Jonathan Joestar's life. 

Soon love wasn't about saving a princess or impressing the neighborhood girls with his boxing skills. No, all too soon love became about own and guarding. 

There may have been a time -long before "Jojo" and Dio met- when Jonathan was just like any other gentleman. Tender and sweet, flirtish at gatherings and charming in ladies' companies...but that was a Jonathan from a could-be-past that had been demolished the minute Dio Brando stepped foot onto the Joestar estate. From then on things depleted all so quickly. Everything Jonathan had come to unconsciously cherished had been so easily stripped from him by his beloved new "brother". 

Everything he loved had been killed, destroyed, or broken in some inhuman way. His friends had abandoned him, his lover had distorted him, his father didn't even notice him...

"It's only when you lose something, that you start to cherish it". The second time he hears that phrase, it freezes him to the pavement, his body star-struck like he just received a message from the heavens. Although it's rather peculiar, why "heaven" would convey a message to him in such an unholy place. 

With Dio having practically kicked Jonathan out of the mansion and countryside. Jojo had no other place to go but the back allies of London. Sure he still tried to be home for supper and bedtime and any other time his father may get an inkling of his absence. But when there was no need to 'appear' Jonathan took to the London streets away from Dio and his lackeys. 

In fate's bizarre game, it's in a backstreet that reeks of days old licker and rotting flesh of paupers that no one has bothered to bury. That Jojo hears that life-defining idiom once more. His dulling sapphire blue eyes follow the mist of those melodious words. Staring until they're practically itching to cut through his sockets and run after those little words. But they stop right before they can leave their eyelets, they stop and stare at the figure that strolls out of the shadows, in such a way, that would make Jojo's father slap him across the face for being "barbarous".  

It's luck or fate or maybe even destiny that leads the heir of the Joestar legacy to meet his darling in the slums of England. 

"How my heart resonates when I lay my weary eyes on your enchanting face..."

There's an odd sweetness about the naivety that surrounds his little friend. A sort of innocence that comes with not knowing about the hell that he's gone through. It's charming in a moderate way, his darling can't come to despise him if they haven't got a clue who he is. Keeping both his worlds as far apart as possible is really the only option left. Dio and his friends can't hurt his new friend? Lover? Companion? In actuality, Jonathan really doesn't know what you are to him. At first, you're merely a distraction from his crumbling, lonely shell of an existence. A sort of invisible pillar holding up London's bridge before it collapses into the  River Thames. Sure he views you as another person, unlike the other noblemen Jonathan has no desire to treat you as anything less than a respectable young lady despite your social statutes. 

 Dio can have the noblemen and ladies, he can have all of George's affection and favor, Heck Dio can have the whole goddamn world for all Jonathan cares. So long as he has his darling, his sunflower, his only means for living, then he will be content. 

Jojo lost everything he once loved, but he swears it to every star in the night sky that'll preserve his darling from the wickedness that runs this cruel world. He'll cherish her while she's still in his arms...

He'll protect her, just like the knights did in the old bedtime stories his mother would tell him. 

"...I swear on my honor as a Joestar that I shall never lose you to the likes of anyone, I'll be a true gentleman, a true knight and I'll protect you from any who wishes cause you harm."

⭐Joseph Joestar is Protective and all so patronizing.⭐

Why must Love hurt so much?

It's solitude, pure utter solitude that attracts Joseph to his darling. Oh sure, he must have known them from an earlier time in his life, back when the words Hammon and Ripple just sounded like fancy dessert names. Back when he was still a naive kid wishing on every goddamn star that he could just meet one of his parents for a fraction of a second. Back when life was easy when everything made sense. That's when he first met his darling. Although all so many years ago he probably just thought of them as the little sister he never got a chance of having. 

There's a numbness growing inside him now that his life has slipped off its axes, hurling into unknown darkness that plagues him in the form of Pillarmen and red gems. 

Everywhere he looks there's a reminder that nothing's going back to the way it used to be. No waking up to Granny Erina's voice calling him down for breakfast, no running around chasing Old Man Speedwagon. Everything is gone, replaced by Lisa Lisa's brutal training and Ceaser's endless taunting. 

Day by day nothing changes, but once he looks back every little thing is different. Ruptured and mangled into something unrecognizable. 

But then there's his darling. Someone -or rather something- that's still the same. Just like before. Her smile is still the same as ever, bright and cheery as she runs up to him wrapping her arms around his abdomen muttering about how much she missed her "Dear Big Brother".

(Y/N) is a comfort, a familiarity in a strange new world. She's something so frail and vulnerable, not to mention naive. Thrusted into a world where horror writers don't dare venture into. It's so likely that she'd be captured by one of Kar's zombie vampire things or -even worse- charmed by Caesar’s silver tongue. 

It's thoughts like these that haunt Joseph at night, keep him up and wandering into her room just to gaze at her sleeping form. He's lucid enough to know how it might look. Like he's the bad guy trying to take advantage of a defenseless little girl. But he can justify his actions, he's her big brother, he has to watch over especially when she's at her most vulnerable. If Ceaser ever tried anything or some vampire freak snatched her away in the dead of night, Joseph would never forgive himself!

But what does he get for all his efforts? What does he get for all his sleepless nights and hours upon hours of worrying? Just a small smile and a fleeting kiss on the cheek. No sincere, "Thank you big brother," or, "You're my hero Joseph!" Nothing, nothing worthwhile anyway. 

Now it's a competition, a battle to the death if it has to be -funny how he takes this more seriously than his match against Wamuu.- He's competitive by nature and he's willing to do anything to earn his darling's affection once more. He doesn't care who he has to beat within an inch of their life so long as he can have his darling back in his arms.

There is an aftermath to all of these, once all the fighting has ended and the battle's won. Once Joseph has finally claimed his prize. There's a certain way his darling has to act. She’s got to smile and play the role of the dotting little sister once more. Just so Joseph can justify his actions...

"And your next line is, 'I love you more than anything else big brother Joseph!'...at least I wish it was." 

⭐Jotaro Kujo is cold and sadistic.⭐

Never learned how to love...

A lover by Jotaro's book is nothing more than a walking, talking doll. Someone who cooks meals, irons clothes, and kisses him on the cheek before he leaves for the day. Sure they have other uses, in flares of passionate moments, they're something to hold onto, another pair of limbs to get tangled in. Something hot and solid, someone to push down, to weigh his force on. 

That's it, that's all there is to it...

A lover and a convenient toy are one of the same. 

He knows it's wrong to think about someone that way. To deprive a living thing of all their thoughts and feelings just so it's suitable for him. But at the end of the day who wants to hear idle chatter and gossip or go outside for walks in crowded areas. All too social, it's all so troublesome. All Jotaro wants is a closed-off life, away from the scums of the earth...away from people in general. 

It's such an inconvenience to seek out a lover, to hassle through dates and meetups in hopes of finding someone that clicks. Jojo would even go so far as to call it wishful thinking. So it has to be a pure accident that he even meets his darling. They're just someone who gets tangled in with the crusaders. A perfect living perception of 'wrong place, wrong time'. Someone who's life gets blown to bits and shambles just because fate decided to play a cruel joke on them. 

And that's what piqued Jotaro's interest. The desperate, depleted look of pain cemented over their face. The sparse dying gleam of determination that blazes within their eyes. Oh, what Jotaro wouldn't do to snuff that little ray of hope. To watch as what little purpose they have is ripped from their arms. What he wouldn't do to see them in pain...

Pain is submission, that's really all Jojo wants. A darling submits, not out of their own free will, but because every little thing they've ever loved has been slaughtered, all that they cherished has been stolen from them. 

But it's not enough 

It's never enough

Although Jotaro adores the looks of anguish that decorates his lover's face. There's something more satisfying about maltreating them. About leaving marks all over, about leaving bruises that never lose their violet glow. He's claiming his darling, physically and mentally. Not a single day goes that Jotaro doesn't remind his lover who they belong to. From verbal taunts that plague his darling's mind day and night, to punches that break bones leaving them paralyzed on the floor begging for help, to cuts that are just a little too deep to ever heal properly. 

Even when his darling is behaving, even when the poor little thing does everything her lover tells her to do, there's still going to be some sort of violence directed at her. Some backhanded remark about how useless they are just because they couldn't follow his mother's recipe. Some sort of blow just for greeting him 'too late'. Trivial things morph into punishments, just for Jotaro's sick amusement.

At his core, Jotaro is an unresponsive man, one with no regard for how others feel. He's distant, it's a trait he can't change. He likes how he does things, how there's no room for slip-ups when it's only him. Even his darling isn't someone he'd consider opening up to. Their opinion of him doesn't matter and their feelings are irrelevant. Most days he's gone until the last possible moment, leaving his darling an endless amount of time to mull over every word and scar. 

But here's the catch.

As the clock ticks by, as the nights and days begin to merge into an endless existence, as all hope burns in the pits of hell, darling's mind is also going to stray. Ever so slowly losing its perception of reality. 

'Maybe' spiders begin to spin webs of doubt through darling's empty cranium. The isolation begins to bite at her skin like the razor-sharp fangs of frostbite. They start to crave Jotaro's harsh touches, they start to miss the venom-like words. Every insult and slap to the face is welcomed, all the misplaced anger and death threats start to feel like sweet kisses and flowery touches. 

Poor darling no longer sees big scary Jotaro as a monster. They've lost the ability to see him for what he truly is.

And what happens when Jotaro does finally come home? Oh, how little (y/n) will ravish in the gut kicks and loathsome words. How she'll take every beating with a sweet sugar-coated smile.

Cause this is her life now. A meaningless existence that revolves around Jotaro and his bleak personality. A life that's only worth living when Jotaro is around.

Is it even a life?

"Yare yare daze you're such a hassle, be glad I keep you around...”

⭐Josuke is obsessive with delusional tendencies.⭐

Maybe I'm the one you'll fall in love with next...

Just like his "father" Joseph, Josuke is stuck in a perpetual state between diaphanous and phantasm.

There's something all too wrong with Morioh nowadays. The narrow streets and verbose buildings have started to feel like a transparent cage. The town has always been small, barely reaching a population of 3,000 despite all the new families that keep moving in.

Nevertheless, everything has dulled, faded, and withered into a monochrome collage. The layers of repetitiveness had finally begun to pick at Joskue's nerves...

And yet somehow, by some diabolical twist of fate. In the mists of the oceans of familiarity, Josuke’s eyes grab onto some shimmering pearl lounged into between the crowd of familiar faces. 

Sure he's seen this girl before, but he's never actually seen her. Never stopped to look at the odd way their eyes twinkle like newborn stars or how their skin shimmers with the glow of a thousand suns. 

One second is all it took, a fleeting compliment as you passed by Jojo in the peppermint flavored afternoon. Your hair flowing like a tapestry of the galaxy as you disappeared in the crowd of dead pulsars. Not a care in the world, not for him, not for anyone.  

Destiny was definitely up to its old cruel tricks again. 

He's not stalking. Josuke will swear on his grandfather's grave that he'd never "stalk" a harmless little girl, like some distorted maniac. He just happens to bump into you at the beauty parlor when he's picking up a new brand of hairspray. And it's totally an accident when he meets you out in the abandoned fields! Honest! It's not his fault fate wants the two of you to keep meeting, it's not his fault that you guys are meant to be!

It's not technically a friendship that you two start to build up, it's far from one. Friends don't dream about sugar-filled kisses behind school walls. Or about ice cream that tastes like scandalous touches and candy induced moans. No, Joskue isn't your friend, he NEVER wanted to be your friend. He knows that! He knows what he wants...but with each passing day, he's beginning to doubt that you know that. 

He'd never realized he's been so sensitive on you. So entranced by your out of tune voice that muttered rather than spoke. He's seldom been so eager to throw a punch and crack his knuckles on someone's skull, just for saying you looked "lovely today". 

Whenever his eyes don't land on you, a rage-filled volcano bubbles in the pit of his gut, uncontrollable anger that festers inside of him, like lava waiting to spill out and burn anyone that wanders too close. His palms itch with the need to hold you, to feel your soft skin rubbing against his. 

The jealousy is always there, pricking at his skin like rose thrones. Until they inevitably cut through his flesh and make him lose his composure. He's ready to kick and punch and hurt and kill anyone that comes too close to you, anyone that saunters off their orbit and makes a beeline for you, disturbing the balance of solitude that Josuke so eagerly sets you into.

Sometimes in the dead of night, when the world has finally dozed off, Joskue's mind begins to wonder. He thinks the way he feels about you is the same way an addict feels about his drugs. Maybe to him, you're even more addicting than heroin and ecstasy...and yet he can't quit you, he just doesn't want to quit you. Nothing in this world could compare to your sweet voice that tickles his ear when you lean in, to whisper a secret, or the may your full lips move when you throw another honey-filled insult at him. 

He prefers when you're alone when he's the only one you talk to. 

Sure there are exceptions like everything in life, although in the end  

there's a sort of backhanded irony.

It's those exceptions that are going to hurt him in the. 

Josuke trusts his friends, he knows that Okuyasu and Koichi would never do anything to hurt him...

But you're not on that list and to be fair you're surely the only one who can truly hurt him.

You fall for a friend of his. Not him, not the boy that's been driving himself insane just to earn a smile from you, not the boy that let you get away with insulting his hair and poking insults at his look, not him never him, it just can't be him.

"You're like an older brother to me"...Did you wash your mouth with acid before you spat those words at him? Did you intend to lace your words with knives and blades and rubbing alcohol before you stabbed him? It's figurative, sure. But it might as well be literal. No pain, no cut, no punch from any stand would ever hurt so much! You really don't know what you do to him, do you?

"I'm happy for you," it's a lie, blank and simple. Automatic words that he's practiced in the mirror a thousand and one times. He'd rather watch you suffocate on your own blood than in the arms of another man. He'd rather break every bone in your body than watch you kiss one of his friends. 

How on earth had he ever come to love you? Someone as cruel and cold. Were you even human? You resembled some ice stand more than a flesh and blood person. HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO HIM.

He really hadn't meant for it to become an addiction, he hadn't meant to get all so used to the crunch of bones beneath his foot, and the bloodied lips quivering, shuttering out apologizes for having the gall to utter your name in his presence. But there's only so much a teenage boy can take, only so much torture that he can bury inside with a moonlight smile. 

Addictions really do funny things to semi-sane people, huh?

It's a split-second decision, done in the heat of an all so regular moment. It's just a simple half-hearted punch when you beat him at another videogame. Then another

And another

And another

Then a crack, another and another, and before either of you knew it you're on the floor screaming out in pure agony. 

Josuke vows he's not being cruel when he breaks your bones so delicately. He can justify every crack, every fracture. Although it's rather repetitive and in certain cases borderline petty. 

Five broken bones on your left leg just for "kissing" your new boyfriend. Your right leg is bent at an angle you're sure it's not meant to be. All because you hugged said new lover before going to class. 

Josuke's once liquidy blue eyes that held the softness of clouds have been dulled over by a sort of thick mania. His once soft touch is nothing but nails digging into already bruised tissue. His lips wobbling as stray tears flow past his eyes. Muttering apologies and stuttering curses at both you and himself.

It's not really like his darling can leave after that incident. Josuke is known around town as the boy with a diamond heart. There's no way in hell anyone will believe what he did to you. It's just better, safer, to stick close to him, to swallow the indignities and paint a loving smile over your face when you gaze into his depraved eyes. 

It's better to pretend to love him, rather than have another limb broken...

"Come on (Y/N), it's just a little crack. If you promise to give me a tiny kiss I'll let Crazy Diamond fix you right up."

⭐Giorno Giovanna is sneaky and manipulative. ⭐

Sono pazzo di te. Sei la cosa più bella che mi sia mai capitata...

There's a sleekness to Giorno, a cunning that's hidden behind layers of charisma and charm mimicking that of his birth father's. It's so easy for him to fool his darling into believing that he's a charming prince from a storybook. He's the good guy trying all so damn hard to make his dream a reality. He's admirable, he's noble, he's Giorno Giovana, the golden boy.  

It's not like he ever intends to hurt his darling. He'd never dream of laying a hand on them, he's all too familiar with the wounds that come from endless beatings. The bruises and phantom pains, that get worse as the days slip by. He knows real pain, and unlike all so many others on both sides of his family, Giorno doesn't want his lover to experience an uncia of it. 

He'd never repeat what his stepfather and mother did to him. He's going to try and do everything he can to make sure that his darling is safe...

Because isn't that what's important? To make sure the one you love is safe. To make sure they don't get swept off their feet by some masquerading drunkard or taken advantage of by some fanciful sadist. 

Giorno will do anything to keep his darling safe, even if it means tampering with their mind a little. Nothing too serious, he'd never even considered changing anything about them. Although isolating them isn't completely off the table and a few verbal threats are fine from time to time. Just for precaution...

Giorno is a rather determined boy, he'll go to any lengths to isolate his lover. Scaring away friends by letting Gold Experience give them a small out of body experience. If they're persistent then he can't guarantee that that out-of-body experience will simply remain an experience much longer. It's not out of malice, but it's what must be done for the sake of his darling, the only other thing he cares about.

There's a shift, a difference between the young naive Giorno Giovanna, the golden boy with starry eyes, and the new boss of Passione, the Mafioso who holds the whole country in the palm of his hand. 

Oh sure, as a simple Soldato Giorno was dangerous in his own right. But Don Giorno? He's the sort of monster written about in the grimmest fairy tales. Wearing the appearance of a true king but underneath the luxury suits and priceless watches, he's just another greedy, fire-breathing dragon.

As the Don of Italy's most influential gang, Giorno's manipulation tactics have gotten rather ....hazardous. He doesn't have time to waste getting rid of every single person that poses a threat to his darling. If someone looks their way, he'll send some goons to take care of them. 

Although it's so much easier to keep his lover locked away, he even has the perfect excuse now. He's the head of the mafia, he has all so many enemies who jump at the opportunity to hurt him in some way. So he has to keep his defenseless little lover locked away in some mansion that's all so far away. 

He's also a bit more violent now. Giorno's more physical, ready to break a bone just for a wrong word or a cracked jaw from a punch for even asking to go outside. He blames it on the stress of running an organization...although it's more likely that all the power from passion has begun to rinse away Giorno's caring side. 

"Cuore mio, Resta con me per sempre"

⭐Jolyne Kujo is clingy and obsessive and delusional.⭐

I can't stay away from you...

Jolyne is a rather condescending yandere. Her rough ragged exterior does little to hide the clingy neediness that writhes inside her shattered heart.

She's soft, dependent, desperate at best. Wanting her darling to approve of every tiny trifling thing she does. Needing their words of praise and approving smiles to have the courage to live another day. 

At times it seems like the only thing keeping Jojo alive is the  "good girl!" and "I'm proud of you!" her darling throws her way. Chanting the words of praise with closed eyes and fluttering smiles of anxiety. 

It's difficult to make her sweetheart realize how virulent this relationship is, far too hard to call Jolyne a Yandere. The derogatory term applies to someone who ceases all control from their lover, who locks them in a basement, and throws away the key. It applies to murders and 

stalkers and lunatics that roam the streets in the dead of full moon nights. It applies to those who were thrown into Green Dolphin for a reason.

 Not to some girl whose life has been demolished over and over and over again. 

Not to the girl with a star birthmark that follows her darling around like a lost puppy in the freezing rain. 

But even Jolyn has her limits. She's been let down time and time again, abandoned and framed by those she thought she loved unconditionally. From friends to boyfriends to even her own father, everyone leaves, they take what they want, and then they leave. 

Flesh like strings, stitched into a web of antithesis and distraught moods, act as a  solid, interchangeable reminder of who really holds the power in this relationship. Of how Jolyne can go from needing her darling to controlling her darling in just a fraction of a heartbeat. She loves them, she swears she does...but they need to stay close to her, they need to only think about her. 

Her addiction gets worse as the days tick by. It's less romantic, less loving. Morphing into a dependency, a compulsion. Rotting thoughts of her darling suddenly leaving, plague her every waking moment. The once semi pleasant conversations between her lover and her friends, get cut off like a severed limb. 

Even Hermes and Foo Fighters aren't "good enough" to be around Jolyne’s lover. She's all so, scared they'll try to take them from her. Stealing the ONLY good thing in her life.

There's a certain degree of control that Jolyne's willing to give to her darling. A sort of freedom to make, revolting appalling choices, so long as they include her. A freedom to boss her around and make her submit. Her darling is free, so long as that freedom revolves around Jolyne.

"(Y/N)~ don't look at them! You should only focus on me! I'm supposed to be your world!"

⭐Johnny Joestar is sadistic and manipulative.⭐

Arrogance disguised as affection...

It's all degradation, all harsh words that sting worse than bullet wounds. Glares from dull wicked blue eyes that might as well kill, cause it's better than the alternative. Smirks that make being alive so damn distasteful. Kisses that engrave the lingering taste of rotting lead into your tongue.

Johnny isn't sweet, he doesn't smile at his little sweetheart. He doesn't pat their head and kiss their temples while uttering sweet nothings into their blushing ear. No, his lover doesn't deserve a honey-coated life. They don't deserve to have what was stolen from him by his so-called "loved ones". Instead, he uses them as a living dart board, for both his acid-laced words and bullet-like fingernails. 

There's no love when it comes to Jojo. He doesn't want to waste time on something so frivolous as a "significant other". But he does like having someone -or rather something- to play with, a form of entertainment that bends at his will. Not a pushover, not someone who's too proud either. But a living doll that can take a few verbal spats and survive an armada of fingernail bullets through the stomach. 

Oh, sure he wants to break them, having a toy that's so conflicted, that questions their own sanity is so much more fun. But it's the intervals that count. Johnny wants to be the one to break his darling. To engrave the helpless look of distress into his memory. He wants to preserve every scream, every tear. That's the whole purpose of even keeping a darling. 

Johnny rarely lets his darling out of his sight. It's so much easier to play with their mind if he's the only one they ever talk to. They'll become so easily dependent on him if he's their only companion. Although sometimes Gyro can get a little too touchy and friendly. And there will be occasions when Hot Pants start to pry into the darling and Jojo's personal life. But the incidents are few and far between. Not like Johnny minds, if anything these minor secondary "meetups" are useful to the paraplegic jockey. They refill his darling with the most precious thing..." Hope". Just so Johnny can beat it out of them all over again.  

There's a darkness that resides deep within Johnny. A toxicity that laces his actions. His life is miserable and he's damn well sure it'll always be that way.....

So why not take his lover down with him?

"Don't you love me darlin' ? Cause I certainly don't love ya."

⭐Jorge Joestar is delusional and obsessive.⭐

What if we lost our minds, together?

A love story better than his parents, that's all Jorge wants. Flower field dates, and quick lingering kisses before midnight. Something sweet, that doesn't have a macabre end. A romance without body-snatching vampires and zombies that shed their flesh. Something normal, gentle, lovable. 

Although with the family he's been born into and the kind of things that keep finding him. Jorge doubts he's ever going to get such a hopeful love life. He's all so desperate to carve a life for himself outside of his family's shadow, but in the end, it's simply eager wishing. 

He's not exactly sure what he's even looking for in a lover. Someone sweet but strong-willed, an average answer. Someone who bears a sort of resemblance to Lisa Lisa. Not physically but rather mentally, he's not a coward, he swears he's not, but he just wants someone who can protect him. A fair exchange in his eyes. His lover will guard him against the bullies and freaks of the island and in turn, he'll protect them from the grim ghouls that run amok through the world. Although when push comes to shove he isn't sure if he'll really be 'protecting' his lover or running away and hiding somewhere with them.

He just wants to fall in love and not go insane, a reasonable request, if he hadn't seen the worst that the world has to offer. It's just wishful thinking, sweet dreams for a boy designed to attract trouble. 

He doesn't want to have conversations with his dead lover's head. He doesn't want to wear their skin and waltz around town. He doesn't want any of that creepy, supernatural stuff that destroyed his parent's love. 

He just wants normal. But as the years slip by Jorge's grip on "normal" slowly begins to decay.

Normal is something, but what that something is has become a blur. Normal isn't vampires and zombies and ghost clowns that throw nooses around people's necks...Yet on the other hand maybe it is? 

He's so far gone that he can't even differentiate between methodical and irregular. His brain's capacity to understand the difference has gotten so altered and broken.

Once he finds his darling he does try to act like the ordinary people of the Canary Islands or England, depending on where he's residing at the time. He tries to follow the mode, just to impress his lover. It's a façade, a bloody masquerade that's bound to deteriorate once he and his lover have settled down.

Although a poetic, domestic life had always been Jorge's dream, he soon comes to learn that it just doesn't suit him. Jorge's paranoia starts to increase. It's comical at first, the way his eyes dart to closed doors, half expecting a killer to emerge. Although the same paranoid tendencies can become rather smothering at times. He's all so certain something is going to jump out of the shadows, some creature with sharp fangs and knife-like claws is going to rip his lover's body to rags. 

He's gotten rather umbrageous now that he's the one who's married and living in the Joestar estate. His tendency to run away from any form of conflict has morphed into a rogue-like sense, much similar to a rabid dog barking at anyone who gets too close to its territory. He keeps his darling locked away inside, triple-checking the locks to make sure no one or thing can get in. He avoids the probing disquieting neighbors who still speak ill of his widowed mother and murmurs about the "curses" bestowed on the Joestar bloodline. Sometimes even getting physical when the insults shift towards him and his new lover. 

Punches are thrown.

Insults exchanged.

And then the door and windows are locked once more.

Leaving both Jorge and his darling in the chilling company of the semi alive shadows.

It's safer in the basement. It has to be safer down there. After all his mother kept his father's severed head down there for decades before anyone found it. So it's only sensible that his lover will also be safe, tucked away in the darkness of a brick room some few meters under the earth. He's not acting like his mother -and deep down he prays that this isn't something his late father would ever even consider doing- It's a thin line of justification, but he can reason with himself so long as he knows it's not something his other family members have ever done. He does try to keep his darling comfortable down there. Buying them the most luxurious furniture and comfortable bedding. Constantly bringing them new forms of entertainment. 

Keeping them in this preserved state is what any reasonable person would do. Not just another insanity driven Joestar.

"It's for your own safety" he's repeated that phrase an umpteenth amount of times, although every time the sculpted words leave his tongue, Jorge becomes less sure of who he's really trying to convince. 

Jorge is all so sure that he's doing all of this for both his lover's safety and to erase whatever misfortune follows around the Joestars, like an airy plague. Even his enrolling for the great war is done with this mindset...

Even though in the end it's also this mindset that gets him killed. Leaving his darling a wide window to freedom. 

"Darling, what do you think when you look at me?"

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

[inkdrawndreamer]

1, 2, 3, 21, 33 - jonathan crane

With pleasure!

1.) In a short summary, what was their childhood like? College years? What are they like now?

When Jon was a baby, his family initially gave him up for adoption. He was slightly premature and needed extra care, so once the hospital released him, he spent several years in a group home instead of going straight into foster care. Unfortunately, the one he ended up in was really poorly managed. Around the time his great-grandma decided she could use some free child labor, a medical company came in and conducted experiments on the kids, infecting them with different diseases and giving them untested drugs. When he was four or five, Jon was purposely given the measles and got really sick. He had barely begun to recover when great granny keeny went looking for him, and he developed chronic pancreatitis soon after he went home with her.

Jon rarely got any medical treatment growing up. His grandma usually attributed his bouts of illness to God punishing him, and he had a hard time not believing her. Between her abuse and being bullied at school, his support system mostly consisted of whatever few adults took pity on him at the time. A family at the church potlucks who always gave him extra food, a school librarian who held his books so his grandma couldn't find them, a farmhand who let him practice driving in his pickup, things like that.

He was an awkward and overly polite kid, always afraid of speaking out of turn on the rare occasions he talked to anybody. He tried to kill himself as a teenager, survived, and killed his great-grandma soon after. After that, he taught Sunday school in exchange for room and board at a complex run by the local church. He worked a lot of different jobs from his teens onward, and got surprisingly good with people because of it. He's always observing people, and is good at manipulating them without needing to give a lot of input.

2.) Professor or Doctor? Arkham or Gotham University?

Jon was a psychology prof rather than a psychiatrist, though he did work at Arkham prior to being a patient. During and after college, he worked as an orderly and in the cafeteria. Observing the patients was interesting in its own right, and it definitely fueled his interest in fear as a career path.

3.) What is their Scarecrow get up like?

It depends on what he has lying around, but he usually wears a wide-brimmed hat, work boots, and a long jacket with some other layers for the weather. The burlap mask is kind of a mess, with a hole in the mouth for a gas mask to fit through and drawstring laces on the sides (I actually used this design for my BTAS costume last year). He has a couple of belts and sashes for different weapons, including a sickle, knives, and/or fear toxin canisters. He also carries a burlap sack around for whatever he steals.

21.) What are their eyes like?

Jon's eyes are brown, almost bronze in color. When it's really bright outside, they look kind of like pennies.

33.) Any regrets about anything they’ve done or could have done?

After he killed his great-grandma, he was really angry at himself for not doing it sooner. His suffering could have been over so much quicker, but he didn't think it was something he could actually do until it happened. He definitely had some regrets about the whole "firing a gun in a classroom in getting fired" thing. He was so depressed and angry in the days after it happened, in part because a part of him genuinely believed it would blow over. He's more or less past it now, but he's still prone to sulking when his plans go awry.

[theinvisibledreamergirl]

#49 #50 love you ❤️

angst/fluff prompts:

#49. Who hurt you?

#50. Nothing is wrong with you.

A.N: love you too and thnx for asking❤️ and I’ll definitely catch up with other asks so just be patient☺️

Warning: none

———————————————————

Ethan was now exiting the operation room with a long and a relief sigh telling him that he really needed to rest.

But before than that he needed to check on a certain resident whose tempting offer had remained on his mind even during the surgery.

After changing quickly his scrubs, he got the elevator impatiently to meet her again this day. The last time they exchanged a look was before they would enter together in hospital giving each other’s a quick kiss.

He had never felt such a horny side of him until he met this woman, his girl, his colleague. A badass if he added.

When he opened the door of diagnostics office she was seating on his chair with her eyes closed clearly that she was exhausted too from surgery appointments. He decided to tiptoe before giving her a lingering kiss on her cheek that made her jolted.

“Jesus- Ethan!” They both chuckled when she put her hand in her chest. “You scared me I thought it was someone else for a moment!”

“Have you forgotten my beard Rookie?” He said playfully.

“Ethan, even Dr. Thorne has grown a beard now.” She raised her eyebrows.

“Very funny Dr. Craig now can you please stand up for occupying my seat?” She did as he said but he dragged her back bringing her to his lap that made her gasp. “Who hurt you?”

“What?” She eyed him incredulously and laughed. “Ethan, what is this question?”

“You didn’t answer me.”

“There’s no such thing Ethan.” She laughed nervously. “If someone would hurt me you know that I have my self defence skills right?”

“I have no doubt that you can make anyone fall to your knees but still you didn’t answer the question. Klaw-” He cupped her cheeks. “-tell me what’s wrong.”

Whenever she had something on her mind she would always sit on his chair as to clear her thoughts from anything and to find the comfort by his scent. She had done this even in his apartment. It was like she could find peace with her inner self and find the way how to work things out.

She lowered her eyes to focus only in his buttons of his white shirt rubbing them softly. “Do you think I’m a mistake? No. I mean... do you think that I’m not responsible enough? No, not this. What I- I want to say is that-”

“Klaw calm down.” He caught her wrists to stop her fingers fidgeting nervously to meet his eyes. “Just breathe and don’t be confused.”

She did as he instructed her closing her eyes and finally it seemed to work. Her words were a murmur giving him a sad puppy face that he adored so much.

“A kid asked me to play some games with him until his mother would come back but I said to him that I didn’t have time because I had to in a surgery. And obviously I was lying because I didn’t know how to play board games and I didn’t want him to leave the satisfaction that I am a granny for these things.” She pulled out her hair frustratingly. “And in that time Sienna comes and says that we should go to Donahue’s and... the kid heard it and started crying. Can you believe that I made someone crying?! Especially a six year old child!” She whined. “And then Sienna went to calm him down whereas I just got away without even apologising.”

When she rubbed her face Ethan was stifling his laughter but it seemed not to work.

“Oh come on Ramsey it’s not even funny!”

He chuckled when she tried to hop off but he kept her waist firmly. “I’m sorry I’m sorry-” Then he gave light kiss in the corner of her mouth. “- I was just messing with you.”

“Then don’t.” She grunted while crossing her arms. “I mean I come here because I want to spend time with you and I really missed you and I want an advice from you to know what’s wrong with me but no- you clearly have something to say.”

He caught her chin between his fingers and when she didn’t protest he tilted her head to face him. “Nothing is wrong with you.” His eyes bored into hers and she thought god how was lucky to have him. “You’re just not used to take care of kids because you’re a surgeon like me and we aren’t in Paediatrics working with them all of the time like Dr. Trinh is. I know that you don’t hate kids or detest them because I know that you operated Jonathan who had only 10% of survival and you took all of that risk all of that responsibility to make sure he would be back to his normal life without worrying about the tumour.” This time he got closer, their faces only a breath away. “You’re the most freaking, amazing, devastatingly awesome woman I know and... a badass who would do everything in her will to make everyone happy.”

The warmth that he gave her between their lips radiated through her body and let a content sigh while still continuing to kiss. When she parted for breath he trailed on her neck and her eyes widened. “No no no.” He frowned in confusion. “I don’t want another embarrassment in front of the kids now.” She got up from his lap and hurried to the door. “We’ll continue this in house okay? Love you, bye!”

Ethan scoffed in disbelief while shaking his head. “Indeed we’re going to continue this Dr. Craig.”

—————————————————————

TAGS WILL APPEAR IN A REBLOG!

let me know if anyone else wants to be tagged!

[frasier-crane-style]

Watching Snyder League

-Diana literally vaporizes a guy armed with nothing but an assault rifle.

-Also, these have gotta be like the dumbest terrorists. Their plan:

A. Send multiple armed gunmen to take hostages.

B. Stall for time

C. Set off a suitcase bomb on a one minute countdown (why not just set it off immediately? It's In The Script)

You have a suitcase bomb--just park a car somewhere, set the timer, leave it in the trunk, and walk away. You can kill as many people as you want without losing any of your own guys.

-Superman's scream sends out five separate shockwaves. Which makes me think the guy's milking it, personally.

- I'm amused that both SOP for the Amazons is having, like, fifty people standing around guarding the Mother Box. AND that they don't ramp up security after it wakes up.

- And there's this system of burying the Mother Box.  Which 1. seems like the only way to get there in the first place is to teleport in. What good is this system against a teleporter?

2. It takes six guards to suicide themselves by knocking down pillars, which seems like--in five thousand years, you couldn't come up with something where you just pull a level from twenty feet away?

This is the problem with the Amazons. They're all women, so none of them go into STEM fields.

- It's also real weird that this Bruce Wayne doesn't even try to hide that he's Batman. He just walks right up to Aquaman and goes "hey, Bruce Wayne, I'm also Batman." And remember, he's getting the Justice League together entirely based on a hunch. At least in Josstice League, there were Parademons all up in Gotham.

- And should I even bother to ask why Darkseid's people can't just bring three new Mother Boxes to Earth? Are those the only three? If so, you'd think they'd try to get them back sooner. Like, A LOT sooner.

- Okay, this was supposed to come out one year before Infinity War, but still, it was pretty obvious what Marvel was doing with Thanos and the Infinity Gauntlet. They had to know they were inviting comparisons.

-I love the implication, tho, that Darkseid just lost track of the Mother Boxes and just... no one realized they were back on Earth. And they have Parademons that can specifically sniff out the Mother Boxes. 

-And if Superman dying was such a momentous occasion that it woke up a Mother Box, why not the Old Gods dying? Why not Ares dying? Wouldn't that have left Earth just as undefended?

-I have no idea why any of this is happening a couple years after Superman debuted and then died and not in, like, 1446.

-Are the Mother Boxes like finicky computers? Do you need to turn them off and on again? When Superman showed up, did they shut down for real, and then he died, so they came back on for real? Is it like a Windows 95 thing, where you can't JUST turn the computer off, you have to go to the start menu and press Shutdown and then wait for it to close up shop?

-It’s so weird that this is supposed to be a Dark, Mature Adaptation For Adults! And it doesn’t have the same basic logic you’d get from an episode of Power Rangers. 

-So. Much. Daddy issues.

-Please stop letting Ezra Miller improv.

-They cast like the gayest man in America to play the one guy with a love interest.

-Diana: "I lost someone I loved once." Well, twice, but who's counting?

-All those reshoots and they couldn't get Amber Heard to knock off the British accent?

-Why is Desaad, of all people, Darkseid’s dragon? Is it just because they were rifling through all the Fourth World saga to find the few guys with scary names instead of Granny Goodness or Virman Vundabar?

- And they really play up Darkseid appearing to Steppenwolf, but we've not only already seen him in the big flashback, we saw him get his ass kicked by Zeus of all people.

- And the whole thing where Steppenwolf is part of Darkseid's 'family' really isn't helping the Thanos-Nebula-Gamora comparison.

-It's weird to introduce Darkseid as the guy who was already beaten once. Wouldn't it make more sense that Steppenwulf was the guy who lost, and that allowed Darkseid to take over, and now he's trying to redeem himself for his defeat? Or that Darkseid was never defeated at all, but someone stole the Anti-Life Equation from him and hid it on Earth? Something. Instead, it’s literally just randomly burnt into the crust of the Earth, Darkseid discovers it, then forgets all about it for reasons the movie doesn’t get into despite being four damn hours long.

-It’s only the central plot, whatever, forget about it.

- Pretty sure Kal eye-lasered a couple Army guys to death after he was resurrected, not that he ever gives a shit.

-Third big reveal of Darkseid. Come on, you've shown him three times now. We've heard him talk.

-And this does the same thing as Josstice League with Superman being more powerful than the rest of the JLA put together. Here, he even no-sells Steppenwolf's axe. He just lets it hit him and it doesn’t do shit. So Doomsday could kill him, but Steppenwolf can't even scratch him. And yet Wonder Woman seems pretty evenly matched with both, if not outclassed by Steppenwolf.

-Barry Allen spends the whole climax running in a circle. And he fails at it! Dude's really retarded when he doesn't have Team STAR Labs cheering him on.

-He also casually travels back in time to undo his side getting a Game Over, which makes you wonder how any conflict in this universe can ever have any stakes. Say what you will about Endgame, but at least they explain why time travel can’t solve every problem they ever have.

-Hell, the Mother Boxes can bring people back to life. The example used is literally “it can turn smoke back into a house.” Why not bring Joe Morton back to life? He did a good job in T2, c’mon.

-Speaking of, according to TV Tropes, Ray Fisher got to come up with his own backstory for Cyborg (”I don't praise Chris Terrio and Zack Snyder for simply putting me in Justice League. I praise them for EMPOWERING me (a black man with no film credits to his name) with a seat at the creative table and input on the framing of the Stones before there was even a script!”), which makes it kinda hilarious that this movie’s characterization of Cyborg is that he’s a genius sports hero who also loves helping out the underprivileged.

-AND his big conflict with his dad is that Silas Stone was never there for him, as literally represented by there being an empty seat next to his mom at Vic’s big sportsball game. So apparently the black experience is indistinguishable from Austin Powers In Goldmember. Who knew?

-What else? It's weird that the narrative tries to put some importance in Martha Kent, but then in her big scene with Lois, she's really Martian Manhunter (not kidding) and when Superman is resurrected, he hears encouraging words ONLY from Jor-El and Jonathan. All she really contributes to the story is hugging Superman after he comes back.

-Also, Batman spends a lot of time in the climax shooting people with a rifle. They're bug people and it's, like, a Halo rifle, but still. You can tell Snyder's just chomping at the bit to have Batman carry around a Colt Commando.

-They give no shits about secret identities in this, so why do they still bother with putting a shitty distortion effect on Batfleck's voice? He has a pretty good Batman voice outside the suit, but once he puts it on, he starts sounding like he's giving a blowjob to Daft Punk.

-One of the movie’s, like, four cliffhangers is Lex Luthor telling Deathstroke about Batman’s secret identity, because Deathstroke has a private vendetta against Batman and is out to get him. Of all the Bat rogues who are solely motivated by taking out Batman--why choose Deathstroke, the guy that’s just a mercenary for hire, to characterize as simply hating Batman? (They also imply Batman took out Deathstroke’s eye and THAT’S the big feud between him and--guys. C’mon. This was really supposed to be a whole movie of Deathstroke getting revenge for his eye?)

- The movie ends with them making Wayne Manor the JLA headquarters--God, just tell me if secret identities matter or not.

-Did we really need two ‘beyond the impossible’ scenes back to back, one for Cyborg and one for the Flash?

-Oh, it’s not Arkham Asylum, it’s ‘Arkham Home For The Emotionally Troubled.’ Was this supposed to be one of those Arrowverse things where they call it Starling City for a while, only to rebrand it Star City because that’s somehow better than just calling it Star City in the first place?

- "[Snyder] also said that the reason Darkseid lost track of which world the Mother Boxes were left on was because he was gravely injured and their forces sent limping away, and upon returning to Apokolips had to fight a civil war for the throne (possibly the event hinted where Steppenwolf betrayed him), wherein their records were lost." Imagine having a movie four hours long and not explaining the fucking backstory.

[risquefanfics457]

Jojo flower headcanons!!!

Jonathan is the guy that brings his s/o flowers all the time. He thinks they make great decor that brights up the room, but he also enjoys watching his s/o taking in the scent and smiling. His favourites actually are dandelions. He likes the way they seem to glow. Even if they are considered a weed, he grew up appreciating the smaller things and enjoys seeing them held under his s/o’s nose and watch it glow.

Joseph isn’t much for the bouquet thing, he likes going to places and picking them for himself. He has a knack for finding the prettiest ones, but often go in trouble as a kid for picking flowers for Granny Erina from her garden. But he likes to go out into open fields and picking what he can find. He finds daisies are the best. Simple, sweet and with sweet sunshine yellow centres! He makes comments like how the middles are bright like sunshine, like your smile. He’s a goof. If he can wade into a field of wildflowers he could be here for ages just finding flowers for you. He might actually put some in Caesar’s hair just to piss him off.

Jotaro and flowers? Uh. He’s not much for romantic gestures. He might get flowers for anniversaries and whatnot, but he’s clueless. Store bought? What do you even like? Do you even like flowers? Flowers are stupid expensive. Chocolates would be cheaper. Whatever. Roses? Uh... too cliche. How about... nah. Honestly he’d look around for a while. He doesn’t know what you want and really doesn’t want to mess up. Shoot. This is harder than he expected. Finally he decides on a bouquet of Ranunculus. Pretty, not roses and not hugely expensive. Hopefully you wouldn’t be disappointed.

Josuke is terrified to find flowers for his s/o. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He has come across small flowers and tucked them behind you ear, but not a whole vase of them, that everybody could see. In an attempt because he couldn’t find any nice flowers around town or afford quality stuff. He found some paper at home and spent hours making origami flowers. He puts a ton of work into them, he tries a few different types, but he doesn’t get the hang of it for a while. A lot of trial and error. A lot of paper goes into the recycling. Finally he’s happy with the results and brings them to you. The best thing is that they’ll never wilt. And when you feel sad he leaves origami flowers for you to find, and if you open them up, they have cute messages inside.

Giorno can make any life from practically anything he touches. As Don, he makes a secluded area for his s/o. An small but open space outside, a small pool with some fish, with a small swing, a tall tree and constant blooming flowers that could curl affectionately at his s/o’s feet. He makes sure there is shade, so that it is a comfortable safe space for you to be. He makes it as much of a paradise as possible using nature and Golden Experience.

[jojo-reader-hell]

oh! speaking of the wolf fic that anon was talking about, would you make a part 2 for that? maybe they finally caught the little wolf pup and she gets to meet the rest of the wolf clan of her family. it'd be to cute to see a wolf as massive as the jojo's be around such a smol bean XP

Ask and ye shall receive... like, months later 😂 sorry it took so long, hope you’ll enjoy!

...

“Bunny, don’t you remember your Papa Jojo? I used to hold you and feed you your bottle. Remember? We would cuddle with your blankie and your stuffed rabbit.”

“No! Leave me alone!”

You’re currently wedged into a tight space under an old tree root system. It’s a painful fit, but you’re not going to come out for anything. Especially not with the blue black muzzle of the large wolf at the entrance, currently trying to coax you out of your hiding place. The muzzle is peppered with grey hairs, and a very deep familiar voice emits from the shiny white fanged mouth in a rumble. When you yap at him to go away he whimpers, pushing his nose further into the tight space as he tries to dig you out. It only succeeds in making you press tightly against the root wall behind you, entire body shaking and muscles aching from the twisted position you’re contorted into.

“Bunny please!” He whines.

“Help! Help! Monster! Mama help!” Your barking almost sounds desperate, like you’re being tortured and it makes the bigger wolf howl in frustration, his digging more frantic as he tries to get you out.

“Jojo stop it! You’re scaring the baby!”

A sweet voice barks away the large wolf from digging, taken over by a cream pair of paws even lighter than your mother’s coloration.

“Stop digging. You’re only going to scare the baby even more.” A soft voice admonishes the beast and makes him whine in submission.

“But look how far they are, all the way in the back, what if my Bunny becomes trapped forev-...”

“Shhh... let me try.”

Another muzzle visible next to that of the blue black wolf appears, and a sweet voice tries to beckon you out. Both the newcomer’s scents confuse you, because even though they have that canine whiff about them you can still smell an underlying note that’s definitely more human than anything. It’s a clean smell, just like the Castile soap your mother often uses to clean the laundry because of Jotaro’s sensitive skin. Totally not the comforting patchouli scent of your mother nor is it Jotaro’s stinky musk, so even though it’s a good smell, you don’t have any positive connections to it. It’s foreign and scary, and you begin to whine for your mother.

“Baby, come to your Mama Erina.” the sweet voice coos to you. “Come on out my darling, don’t be frightened. We’re your family and we all are here to help you.”

You’re completely silent, wide eyed as you see her soft blue eye peer through the entrance. Never in your life have you seen something as big as she is (Good Lord, she’s even bigger than your mother!), her cream colored fur is almost white with age. Her mouth rests in an almost human like smile, and her black nose moves as though she’s taking in your scent.

“Come on darling.” She says, extending a paw as though you’ll take it. “Come to me. Come to your Mama Erina who loves you.”

Whoever she is, she most certainly is NOT your Mama. You can see her deeply pigmented gums and threatening pearly white fangs as she talks, and this only cements your stubborn refusal as you duck further into your crevice.

It’s not long before more voices join in, words intermingling with howling and snarling.

“Mother? Mother?! Did you find them?”

“Granny! I looked everywhere and couldn’t find the baby!”

“Jojo, Georgie, come here. I found them.”

Vaguely, you hear the familiar voice of your grandpa Joseph, a wheeze evident in his voice as he’s had a hard time catching up with the rest of the cacophony of paws. You can hear your mother too, conversing with your brother who is grumbling about having to follow you all the way out here and abandon the meal your grandpa had brought for you.

“My Bunny...” moans the blue black wolf in despair.

“Oh land sake’s Jojo stop it.” Scolds the white wolf.

“Mama Erina, maybe I should try getting them out?” Holly is most certainly worried, there’s a tinge to her voice that almost coaxes you to her, but you won’t stir a stump if everyone else is out there.

“You can try, but I’m not sure there’s a way with everyone crowding.” Erina from the sounds of things is still trying to console the one calling you Bunny (you suppose he’s called Jonathan because that’s what they keep saying when they comfort him).

Your mother tries to help, unfortunately compared to the others she’s got stumpy paws that won’t quite reach you, and even though she’s calling and calling for you telling you it’s alright, you won’t move.

“Papa, do you think you’ll have any more luck coaxing out the baby?” She finally sighs.

“‘Course I can! I guarantee I can make my baby pop right out of there like a cork from a bottle!”

“You be careful with my Bunny!” It’s the blue black wolf again, Jonathan, reluctantly moving aside to allow your grandpa access to you.

It was quite surreal to see your once human grandfather as a wolf, Grandpa Joseph’s pelt is much the same as his regular hair color, a deep hickory peppered with the beginning signs of gray. He grunts with the effort of laying down on the forest floor. When he exhales a whoosh of air, his scent completely fills the little space. Wonderful, memorable with the musk of his deodorant and leaving a sweet after smell, sugary like the cola he likes to drink with you on hot days.

“Come on baby. Grandpa’s here.” Joseph coaxes out to you softly.

“Vieni qui vita mia... Granny is here for you too.”

You hear the sweet soft dulcet tones of your granny Suzie using that almost crying tone of voice, that kind she used to use when you were a little kid and you hurt yourself.

“Granny?”

Your high pitched voice strikes a nerve among the creatures present, and you see another cream colored snout press into the entrance. Immediately you recognize the scent. It’s your grandma Suzie Q! You know her smell anywhere: a heady cloud of White Diamonds perfume with just a touch of amaretto.

“Will you come out for me? Please baby? It’s alright. Granny won’t let anyone hurt you.”

You’re almost ready to come out, slowly wedging your way to the entrance where your grandparents soothe you out little by little. But the minute you push your head through the tiny opening you know something is wrong. You scream in your puppy voice, afraid that now you can’t get out as everyone moves in all at once.

“Stay still.”

A deep feminine voice barks out a command, the approach of a brown wolf silenced all of you into submission. She sniffs around you, noticing your little paw that’s caught in a root and nudging it with her muzzle. Her teeth are unnervingly close, you’re unsure if her exposed teeth are a threat display. Her smell is almost indistinguishable from the damp forest soil, completely odorless and lacking the canine whiff, but there’s an underlying musk of pine sap emitting from her pelt that is all too familiar. A memory threatens: being cuddled to a bare chest in midwinter, chapped lips grazing your cheek as you doze off lazily. It’s not your mother who held you during that time. It was the strong human form of the wolf before you, formidable in such a way that suggests her humanity is just as feral as when she is a wolf.

“Move your paw this way.” She commands and nudges at the same time.

You’re so frightened you obey automatically. Not even stopping when she takes you by the scruff in her mouth and helps to yank you out from your prison. You expect her teeth to hurt, but your skin is so pliable on the back of your neck you hardly feel a thing as she pulls you free and into her furry stomach. With her paw, she presses you to the softness of her underbelly, a long wet tongue lathing along the sides of your face as the shewolf begins to clean you meticulously.

You suddenly know her now... so many more memories of her and what had to have been her mate keeping you warm between the two of them as you reached for their faces. The memories are soothing, coming back fast and as if they’ve always been there, just like the memory of your mother laying you on a massive man’s chest, his blue black hair wild and unkempt as he lifts you up to kiss you. Or the memory of another woman with your Granny Suzie, the two of them swaddling you up and hardly able to contain their soft giggles as they place a small hat on your head.

Another wolf, this one nearly a carbon copy of your grandpa, laths at your face with his tongue, telling you in a deep baritone that he’s your great grandpa George and he’s so happy to see you again. Holly approaches and begins naming the ones you don’t recognize in the group, each one submissive when they press against her to get to you. You’re even comfortable enough to allow the wolf that calls himself your Papa Jonathan to shower you in his dog kisses, tail wagging a mile a minute as he squeals about how much he’s missed you, and how he’s got an important gift to give you so you won’t ever get lost again. His mate, your Mama Erina, rubs her head against yours, tail swishing politely as she praises you for how you’ve grown up so wonderfully. All the while everyone crowds around into a big pile of swishing tails, whines, kisses, and reassurances that your big, warm, happy family will help take care of you as you navigate this scary situation.

It’s the one who helped you out, your great Granny Lisa Lisa, that breaks wolf form to place your Papa Jonathan’s old collar around your neck, the little bell makes such a pleasant sound as she flicks it gently.

“For next time.” She advises, “That way when you try to run, you’ll know I’ll grab you by the collar.”

Everyone laughs, adding in how Holly should keep you on a leash, and you’re so overwhelmingly happy you can’t help but to join in the laughter with them.

It’s nice, you decide, to belong to such an unusual family.

[once-was-muses]

Where Great Granny Mary was exceedingly strict and proper, her husband Conall was far more lax and forgiving, very much the sweet to her sour. He genuinely cared for his great grandson as well, shielding him from Mary’s resentment for his very existence as bwst he could. He tried to make Jonathan’s life as happy as it could be in a place like Keeny Manor and its gradually failing farm, often taking him into town with him, teaching him how to read and how to plant seeds, buying him toys and books and candy, letting him play with the few farm animals and the horses Conall raised with a friend, showing him how to get almost any animal to love him, and more.

As Jonathan grew older, however, Conall grew ill tempered, crotchety, and harsh. It genuinely had nothing to do with Jonathan, rather an unfortunately persistent part of his reckless past, but Mary made sure to convince the boy otherwise, to have him believe it was all his fault no matter how much Conall assured him that wasn’t the case. But as time went on, Conall only grew meaner amd angrier. He began to snap at Jonathan more frequently, the smallest of things setting off his temper. He ultimately returned to the nasty drinking habit he had sworn to leave behind in Dublin, getting drunk most nights. He never hit Jonathan, however, and continued to try and keep him safe up until his untimely death.