#🦇 – jonathan

[syrupsyche]

So, I decided to follow along for Dracula Daily this year

And

And

Jonathan Harker is going on a road trip :D

yeah, he's pretty stoked about it! and even more excited to tell his fiancée all about it soon 😄😄

[myinternettrash]

Cáncun [Chapter 1, Years 1-3]

summary: He was finally going to do it. Avenge his parent’s death. Joe Chill would die just like his parents did, shot and left to bleed out. An eye for an eye seemed almost too fair for Bruce.

Joe Chill should suffer.

*

An AU in which Bruce Wayne kills Joe Chill and is sent to Arkham Asylum, only to meet the one and only Joker.

an: hey y'all! welcome to cáncun! i wrote this first chapter during this week and last week in my classes when i had free time. it’s basically been a stress reliever during the weeks leading up to my exams! this fic is important to me for so many reasons but my AU is also something i haven't really seen on any batjokes fics. i hope to write more fics like this to fill that void!

i hope you enjoy this fic and the first chapter!

so many thanks to my beta (@kingofspadesdelusion ) for supporting this fic and proofreading!

xx

YEAR ZERO —

Bruce switched the car into sixth gear, the needle on the 72’ El Camino’s speedometer steadily rising. The car’s motor growled as Bruce tore through the streets of Gotham. His revolver lay heavy and cold in the inside pocket of his coat.

He was finally going to do it. Avenge his parent’s death. Joe Chill would die just like his parents did, shot and left to bleed out. An eye for an eye seemed almost too fair for Bruce.

Joe Chill should suffer.

He parked his car haphazardly in front of the steps of the courthouse, Gotham’s large and imposing architecture only heightening Bruce’s emotions.

The courtroom’s atmosphere was thick and cold, the sting of Bruce’s ice-blue eyes never leaving the slumped-over form of his parent’s murderer.

He shifted in his seat, a slight move of his hand into the inside of his coat pocket, and then his hand was on the gun.

Time seemed to slow down as Bruce pulled out the gun, fingers grasping the trigger with fervor. The metal was both freezing and scalding to the touch.

He shot three times, in non-lethal areas, an ambulance would not be able to reach the courtroom in time to save him. Everyone would watch him suffer.

Joe Chill’s blood would stain this courtroom and all of Gotham.

Time sped up as screams rang out, cops rushing out to detain Bruce. He was pushed to the court’s marble floor, left cheek pressed painfully to the stone. A hand held Bruce’s head down, ruffling deep-brown locks. The metal of the handcuffs stung and cut into Bruce’s wrists, the click of the lock mechanism boomed loudly in his ears.

Emotions that had been bottled up for twelve years came out like a flood. It wasn't long before Bruce heard his own guttural screams through the cacophony of panicked and horrified noises.

*

Jim Gordon’s eyes lanced through Bruce’s foggy mind, cutting their rage into his brain.

“Mr. Wayne.”

Bruce’s jaw tensed, he shifted his head to look at Gordon more closely.

“I never thought I would see you in the station,” Jim walked towards him, his footsteps pounded loudly in Bruce’s ears, “not like this.”

Bruce bit his tongue as Jim continued, “What would your father think?”

A growl reverberated from his throat quickly, broken and animalistic. The chains on the handcuffs snapping apart as Bruce desperately reached for the officer’s shoulder. His nails tore at Gordon’s uniform, “Don't talk about my fucking father, Gordon.”

*

His court date came faster than time should allow, other, less serious cases were pushed back to allow the speediest of trials for Bruce. People were still in shock that, Bruce Wayne, Prince of Gotham could have murdered a man. The news channels and papers covered Bruce’s trial and sentencing closely for weeks, it wasn't every day that a billionaire was tried and convicted of first-degree murder. Mike Engel’s voice kept playing on a loop in his brain.

Bruce was in the same courtroom that Joe Chill was, except sitting shackled on the other side of the stand. Hundreds of eyes looking at Bruce, judging him for what he had done.

They had no room to judge. Their parents weren't mugged and murdered in front of their eyes, just for him to be left there alive and alone. They didn't know the rage that clawed at his organs and musculature. They didn't know the dark beast that told him to let his rage consume him.

The judge’s voice cut through the haze,

“Bruce Wayne, you are hereby sentenced to 20 years in Elizabeth’s Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane, the first two years of that sentence being served at Blackgate Penitentiary.”

The gavel hit like a period on a sentence, the decision was final.

*

YEAR ONE-TWO —

The two years at Blackgate went quickly.

Bruce, unsurprisingly, was targeted by the other prisoners.

To the surprise of the other inmates, Bruce could fight. He was glad now that he had begged Alfred to let him take countless different martial arts classes when he was younger.

Alfred, though angry, still called Bruce whenever he could. He caught him up with the business at Wayne Enterprises and the manor, always mentioning the state of Bruce’s vast car collection. Rachel called once, voice stricken with anger and grief. She had never called again.

He was so thankful for Alfred.

Bruce had just turned 24 when he was due for his transfer to Arkham. The psychs re-evaluated his mental state every quarter and diagnosed him with a violent form of schizophrenia, chronic depression, and a multitude of unnamed emotional and anger disorders.

He honestly wasn't surprised.

*

YEAR THREE —

His psychologist at Arkham was a man named Jonathan Crane. He was beautiful in every definition of the word. Delicate features, full lips, high cheekbones, sophisticatedly styled black hair, and artic eyes that hid behind nerdy wire-framed glasses.

His eyes were the most interesting part of his facial features, they were so blue they almost looked white. They acted as bright, clean windows into his deep, dark soul.

His mind, however, was what Bruce loved most about him.

Dr. Jonathan Crane was obsessed with fear and how it could control people.

Bruce knew that is why they became fast friends.

*

“Good morning, Bruce!” The doctor was cheerful this morning, with a smile on his face, and two cups of coffee in his hands.

“You’re happy this morning, Jon.” Bruce looked at the shorter man, his own blue eyes trying to analyze what was causing the other man’s gleeful demeanor.

“I was just thinking about you,” Jonathan set the cups of coffee on his desk before Bruce interrupted him.

“Think about me a lot do you, Jon?” Bruce smiled at the psychologist, he reached for his cup of coffee, Jonathan always seemed to make it just right.

“Only sometimes, Bruce.” Jonathan smiled back, bringing his own cup of coffee to his lips, he liked his with two sugar cubes, no creamer. “I was thinking,” he paused briefly, “that today I will have a breakthrough.”

“Listen, you know that little monster that lives inside your head?” Jon’s blue eyes peered up at Bruce, he smirked before continuing, “I think it’s a bat.”

“Because bats are my greatest fear?” Bruce’s hand shifted to hold his chin, his elbow resting on the deep mahogany of his doctor’s desk.

“No, Bruce, that bat,” Jon’s smile slipped, his face morphing into something more serious and befitting for a psych, “is your greatest weapon.”

*

Being friends with Jon had immense benefits. The head psychologist could pull a lot of strings, and he often did, just for Bruce.

Even if that was just to get a hot shower or a piece of veggie pizza.

“Wayne, Dr. Crane needs you!” one of the guards on duty shouted to Bruce from across the cafeteria. He looked up, it was Mick DeLange, one of the better (and more malleable) guards. Bruce stood from his seat, grabbing his tray, “Bye, Victor, if I don't see you at dinner tonight I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” he said smoothly.

He gracefully cleaned off his tray and put it into the return cart, he waved briefly to Mick in thanks and walked toward the swinging double doors of the cafeteria.

“Bruce,” Jonathan spoke tersely. He always did when guards and other patients were around.

“Dr. Crane, you needed me for something?” Bruce spoke like always had, planned, effortlessly smooth, with the holier-than-thou edge of a billionaire playboy.

Jonathan turned on his black oxfords, expecting Bruce to follow after him.

Once they reached his office, Jonathan leaned against his desk and rubbed his hand over his face.

He looked tired today, exhausted really. He had heavy eye bags and circles under his cornflower blue eyes. His glasses were pushed back into his hair, his jet-black strands disheveled and misplaced. His hands trembled every few seconds.

Bruce scrutinized the other man’s behavior, Jonathan never acted like this. He was always confident and sure of himself, if Bruce was a psychologist, he’d question him on his huge ego.

“I’ve been working on something,” Jonathan finally looked into Bruce’s eyes, “I think you'd like to hear about it.”

Bruce’s jaw clenched, he moved from his place by the door to stand in front of his friend.

“Ok.” Bruce nodded slightly, his beast itched at his guts, Jonathan did something insane, he, and the beast, could sense it.

The black-haired man sighed unsteadily, dragging his shaking hand under his right eye to the bottom of his face.

“I’ve been working on my fear toxin.” He licked his full bottom lip, “I used it for the first time last night on some meth junkie, he was going through withdrawal.”

Bruce stared amazed at Jonathan, he nodded again, keeping his movements subtle so he would not startle his friend in this state.

“He was terrified, Bruce, he was so scared.” Jon’s demeanor shifted, a smirk gracing his features.

“I felt so powerful, I had his entire mind under my control!” He reached for Bruce’s broad shoulders, shaking them slightly with excitement.

His smile stretched wider and became genuine happiness, “See! Bruce, fear is what powers everything!” Jon’s hands shifted to hold Bruce’s jaw gently, “I will be unstoppable, and this is just the beginning.”

Bruce couldn't help but smile back.

“What will they call you?”

“The Scarecrow,” he whispered.

Jon’s hands gingerly fell away from Bruce’s face as Bruce thought about Jon’s apparent experiments and plans to control people’s fear.

He was fascinated really, as much as Jonathan picked at his brain, like a crow to seed, Bruce stuck his talons in and split open Jon’s.

His brain should be the one being studied.

The other man’s voice faded back into focus, “Would you like to see my mask?”

He smiled, pearly-white, perfect teeth gleamed under the murky, yellow light of the room. “Of course, Jon.”

Jonathan smiled, he strode behind his desk, slender fingers grasping a patchwork piece of burlap.

He held it up for Bruce to see, “Isn't it amazing?”

“Their fear will consume them, but they will also be consumed by the symbol of my mask,” the shorter man clutched Bruce’s wide palm, brushing it against the material of the mask. “I will be fear.”

“You're incredible, Jon,” Bruce grinned, “but I think I might have to report you to HR…” Jon let go of his hand, chuckling, he put his mask back in his desk drawer.

“Funny. Don't you have art therapy right now? Nurse Ratchet won't be happy you're late.”

Bruce blanched, “…Thanks, Crane.” Bruce turned for the door, the orange Arkham uniform crinkling as he moved. He twitched his fingers at the doctor, his wrist not moving enough for it to be considered a wave.

He left his friend's office quickly, the dim, white lights of the Arkham halls stretching out Bruce’s shadow. Ratchet will be sure force his anti-psychotics down his throat tonight.

*

None of them should have been surprised. The countdown had been ticking down ever since they first met.

She had pushed too hard, Bruce’s calm and collected facade snapping as soon as she uttered the words,

“You should have been the one that died, you freak.”

Bruce went for her throat first, the blunt edges of his nails clawing at her trachea. “You ugly, fucking bitch!” He let his beast talk for him, his body being possessed by his dark terror. His long, slender fingers wrapped in her short rust-colored hair, tearing strands out at the root.

“Don't fucking talk about them,” his voice dropped an octave, deep, harsh, growling, commanding.

Her screams rang in his ears, the rush was too consuming. His head came down, the CRACK of her nose providing an auditory cue for more adrenaline and rage to pump through his veins.

His arms reached for where her limp hands were resting, the pill bottle that was in her hands had rolled three-feet away when he had first reached for her. He took her fingers into his broad palm and flexed them up, the skin on her knuckles were stark white, if he just pushed a little more.

His monster flew around his body restlessly, “Break them!” It screeched in garbled tongues.

Bruce listened.

The snap of the bones sounded like gunshots in Bruce’s ears, resonating in his mind, the sound was perfect.

Her screams became more blood-curdling, guards rushing through the door.

Bruce’s wrists were clutched behind his back; the cool metal of handcuffs brought him down from his rage-induced high.

The reality of his actions crashed down on him, his own sobs causing his body to tremor and seize.

“Get up, Wayne!” the barrel of a gun resting on his temple, its threatening presence warning Bruce what would happen if he didn't obey.

He got up, legs trembling as he took a look at the nurse’s body, her hair and face was bloody, and her mangled fingers laid limply on the floor.

He shouldn't have felt as good as he did as the guards drug him off to solitary.

*

“Bruce.”

“Jonathan.”

Bruce stared blankly at his psychologist, he knew that this conversation would eventually come. The week in solitary allowed him to mull over his response. He didn't want to disappoint Jonathan or else some of his privileges would be revoked. He had already said goodbye to his hot showers for at least a week.

“Why did you attack that nurse?” Jonathan was leaning over his desk, his delicate features now hard lines forming a harsh, serious face.

“She told me that I should have died instead of my parents,” he rasped. His eyes stared into Jonathan’s gauging his reaction. Surely, he could sympathize with Bruce. That sentence would have initiated anger in anyone.

“Oh, Bruce…” Jonathan’s face softened, his hand shifted from its place on the desk to the top of Bruce’s hand, it was warm in contrast to the ever-constant AC blast the Arkham staff insisted on having.

“If only I would have known,” his thumb was subconsciously rubbing hearts into Bruce’s skin. “I’m sorry, Bruce, that's horrible, I’ll report her as soon as I can.”

Bruce nodded, “Thanks, Jon, that means so much to me,” he moved his hand on top of Jonathan’s patting it delicately. He smiled softly, “You don't even know how much you mean to me.”

The other man flushed lightly, the faintest blush coating the apples of his cheeks. He cleared his throat before slowly moving his back to its place on the desk, as if hesitant to pull away from Bruce’s touch.

After a minute of silence, the clink of Jonathan’s fountain pen and the rustling of his composition book’s pages rushed through Bruce’s senses. The doctor’s slender fingers were wrapped around the black metal of his pen, the ink forming beautiful, elegant shapes. From his place on the opposite side of the mahogany desk, Bruce could tell that it was a report of some kind, most likely noting the nurse’s threat against Bruce.

“Jon,” the man startled, ink from his pen swiped haphazardly across the page of paper, “thank you for listening to me today, but I promised Waylon I would help him set up group.”

“Y-y-yes, of course,” Jonathan’s stutter poked through his sentence. Bruce suspected it was an old habit from childhood. “I’ll see you later, I have to meet Falcone tonight anyway.”

“Alright,” Bruce steadied the other man’s hand, —ink was dripping off the nib of his fountain pen— he rubbed a half circle on the skin with his thumb before heading for the door. His muted orange Arkham jumpsuit flashed against the neutral tones of the room “Bye, Jon.”

He had already left the room when the other man let out a stuttered gasp, “…fuck.”

*

A few days later, Carmine Falcone was admitted into Arkham. Jonathan had taken time off, apparently, he had important things to take care of with his class. At least, that’s what Mick told him.

He had caught him in his cell reading Dante’s Inferno, the sound of the guard’s footsteps already letting him know it was Mick. Before the guard was finished shuffling through the cell door, Bruce called out, “Hey, Mick, how’s the wife and daughter?” The officer was surprised but answered that everything was good and his daughter was currently learning how to crawl. Hey moved closer to Bruce, “Hey, Wayne, I just wanted to let you know that Crane’s out for the next two weeks, professing thing, something about his class.” The guard’s black glove moved to a foot infeont of Bruce’s face, a white card held loosely in it.

“He wanted me to give you this, told me it was important for you to read,” Bruce reached out crasp the card between his fingers, the stationary was expensive and familiar, a reminder to call or write to Alfred when he was next able.

“Thanks, Mick,” the guard was turning to leave, “hey, it was nice to see you, tell Izzy I said hi,” Bruce smiled politely, his canines glinting in the light of his cell. Mick smiled back, knocking on the cell door twice before leaving.

Bruce directed his attention to the letter in his hand. He gently placed a bookmark in his book, closing it softly. His name was elegantly drawn on the front of the card, something so chareristacilly Jonathan. Bruce pulled the letter out of the envelope, the same graceful loops and lines covering the page.

Dear Bruce,

As you already know Carmine Falcone was recently admitted into Arkham, of course I’m sure you have already figured out that his insanity is fabricated. My fear toxin is becoming stronger, more impactful. Scarecrow has a lot of work to do on the streets regarding deals and getting things under my control. I’ll be back to see you soon, I promise. I’m getting whole news segments about my alleged plans! Engel and Vale don't know anything though. My plans go far deeper than what they are reporting. They don't know, but you do, Bruce. I know you understand.

Regards,

Jonathan Crane

And that was that.

*

Bruce’s thoughts flared. Intense thoughts of violence would overtake him doing the most mundane things. Visions so realistic he would have to pinch himself to come back to reality. He wanted to strangle the guard that stood at the end of the lunch line, wanted to see his face turn blue with lack of oxygen, wanted to watch the consciousness slip from his behind his eyes.

His mind reenacted the attack on the nurse when he was feeling especially empty. That, of course, would only lead to him sobbing, rocking himself back and forth on the cot in his cell, Dante’s Inferno forgotten on the floor.

God, he wanted to get the fuck out of here. Out of Bruce Wayne, out of that shell, his beast clawed and tore at his organs more often than not now.

He swore he could feel the bleeding.

Of course, Jonathan came back. Just like he promised. Dr. Crane wouldn't want to disappoint his patients, or Bruce.

He had told him that things were getting serious with Scarecrow, mass production of his fear toxin, creating toxin junkies, and getting involved with gangs. He was shaking when he told Bruce this. Bruce analyzed the other man as he was talking, he was scared, incredibly so. Not of getting caught or the gangs, but of something else.

A few months later the cops caught him. He was admitted to Arkham. A cell placed right next to Bruce’s. None of it surprised him. He knew that his friend would weasel himself back into power at some point.

Bruce thought as he read, that Jonathan most likely got caught on purpose, to protect himself. Bruce grinned, bright white teeth shining under the flickering LED in his cell. He knocked three times on his cell wall.

“Happy New Year, Jon! This year’s gonna be great!”

He heard a woeful sigh beyond his wall, “Bruce, you have no idea.”

END YEAR 3

[acheronist]

Oh my fuck dracula starts this week 🛐🛐🛐🛐

[grimgrinningghost456]

🦇Random Drac fact of the day! 🦇

If he ever lets Jonathan leave the castle to hunt alone, the second he gets back he gets tackled and then forced to sit and get nuzzled for an hour

it looks cute, but in reality, the count is re-scenting him. Nuzzles can be for affection but they’re first and foremost a type of claiming tactic. That doesn’t mean it can’t be cute. (Johnny only lets the Count do this because he finds the Vampire’s resulting purrs endearing)

[undeserved-halo]

nancy and jonathan are married now,, currently on their honeymoon in tahiti👍🏻

[spookymulti]

   “ For ze last time, I don’t zay ‘bleh bleh bleh’! ”

[scvereignreigned]

TAG DROP - MAVIS DRACULA

🦇 – mavis

🦇 – dracula

🦇 – jonathan

🦇 – dennis

🦇 – murray

🦇 – griffin

🦇 – frankenstein

🦇 – eunice

🦇 – wanda

🦇 – wayne

🦇 – wolf pups

🦇 – winnie

🦇 – van helsing

🦇 – ericka

🦇 – vlad

🦇 – linda

🦇 – martha

🦇 – mike

🦇 – bela

🦇 – aesthetic

🦇 – about

🦇 – wardrobe

🦇 – headcanon

🦇 – musings

🦇 – shrunken head

🦇 – tinkles

🦇 – blobby

[scvereignreignedarchived]

TAG DROP - INGRID DRACULA

🦇– ingrid

🦇– vlad

🦇– dracula

🦇– magda

🦇– robin

🦇– graham

🦇– elizabeth

🦇– chloe

🦇– ian

🦇– paul

🦇– wolfie

🦇– boris

🦇– ivan

🦇– olga

🦇– eric van helsing

🦇– mina

🦇– jonathan

🦇– will

🦇– aesthetic

🦇– wardrobe

🦇– musings

🦇– about

[augustinesinclair]

𝓶𝔂 𝓷𝓪𝓿𝓲𝓰𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷

hi! i'm augustine!

i live in hawkins with my aunt and uncle now so yay! my little cousins, lucas and erica, are pretty cool too. i have an older brother and may or may not talk about my niece every chance i get because she's so cute!

i'm from new york so it's definitely a shock but i'm having fun here and admiring hot people from afar.

i am 19 years old, bi, and totally into reading and exploring more than i should be. i'm also black/white mixed and a lover of pretty things <3

my nicknames are: august, auggie, dino, augustus(thank you lucas /s), and tina(at least back home)

i'm excited for all the adventures hawkins has to offer! can't wait

𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞 | 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬 | 𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩

𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟖, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐

//faceclaim is amandla stenberg and i live in the cst timezone i am totally cool with different storylines and everything and i'd love to discuss some things with anyone down! roleplaying is so much fun and i can't wait to participate in the stranger things roleplay community.

𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓼

[erosyrup]

Meet the Harkers! 🦇

Wanted to pin down my designs for Jonmina; settled on slicked-back hair w some flyaways for Jonathan, and an Asian Mina!! 🫶

[paradiseprincesss]

my random jonathan crane headcanons 🦇☕️🩺

i’m bored at work so i decided to jot down some of my personal headcanons & thoughts of our favourite little psycho doctor :] im talking about nolanverse!jonathan crane in these also <3

warning: nsfw themes/18+ MDNI

🧸💌💉🌙

• i think he's a scorpio sun, capricorn moon, and a virgo rising because it just...makes sense

• if we're on the topic of astrology, he'd definitely think it's bullshit - like i know he'd roll his eyes as soon as someone starts to talk about astrology because where's the scientific evidence proving this stuff is legit?

• he drives a mercedes prove me wrong; and i know he'd always pick you up because he insists on doing it. just got off work? he's there. need a lift to class? you best believe he's driving you and picking you up after

• for safety reasons too, of course

• and its tinted like im talking completely blacked out so nobody can see him because he values his privacy or whatever

• despite what everyone thinks, he drinks his coffee with cream and sugar just not overly sweet. he dislikes black coffee because it's just too bitter and i think he wouldn't even bother drinking something that doesn't taste that good if u know what i mean?

• if you brought him coffee AND you remembered his order he would pretend to not care but deep down, his cold heart is melting lol

• he wears mont blanc cologne. no i will not elaborate any further — but he does. specifically mont blanc legend

• he gets flustered when you compliment him on how good he smells i can definitely see him having a hard time accepting compliments from you

• i also think when he compliments you, it's a little stiff or awkward at first because he doesn't really know how to show genuine love because he rarely ever feels this way

• if he was to move in with you, even if you were the girliest girl ever with all the shoes, clothes, and handbags you could dream of... his suit collection would still take up more closet space than your things to the point where you'd probably have to have two walk in closets or separate closets

• he will NOT compromise getting rid of any of his suits to make space for your things, BUT he will buy you another closet/get your place renovated and pay for it so you have more closet space

• he would want a girl who is smart — intellectual stimulation to jonathan is extremely important. you simply cannot be with him unless you're willing to talk about theories, psychology, anatomy, etc with him because who else is going to be able to share his thoughts with?

nsfw themes below

• i think he'd much rather give than receive because he strikes me as a little insecure — if he's eating you out you're focused on the way he's making you feel and he gets to focus on your body, rather than his own

• his stamina is fucking WILD because the self control this man has... like it's insane? could go round after round and will let you have your pleasure before his own, not a selfish lover despite what people think

• i think he's one of if not the most selfless lover in bed because i just know he'd fuck you so good, leave you a mess and make you come over and over again first before letting himself go

• i also think if you aren't into the whole "fear play" thing, he wouldn't force you. he would want you to be kinky and he'd totally experiment with you, but he'd never ever make you uncomfortable or push your limits if you didn't want to or agree to it

• he would 100% pay for your hair, nails, etc whatever is is you want because he thinks it's even sexier when you're all dressed up and done up for him before he ruins you

• especially the whole manicured nails thing...he'd pay for you to have them done because he likes to see them while your hands are wrapped around his cock and you're taking him in your mouth, looking up at him desperately

• buuuuut him actually letting you give him head is kind of...rare? because like i said, he's a lil insecure so he really has to trust you if he's going to let you in like that? and we're not going to talk about how long it takes for him to actually fuck you without any pieces of clothing on

• literally would rather you be naked and him fully dressed for obvious power dynamic reasons, but also because HE LITERALLY IS A NERD LOL he's not confident in his body

• even though you'd die for him and kiss the ground he walked on he's like :[

• lowkey...he's into body worshipping. everyone's like oh he's into bondage, punishment, fear play, all the extremes and stuff - ok sure. yes, but also BODY WORSHIPPING. i already know he falls more in love with you every time you do it to him

• but there's a fine line between body worshipping and letting you take the reins for real. he would rather die than be a sub :]

• lowkey after care is giving!!!

• towels, warm baths, glasses of wine and if you don't feel like drinking, maybe some hot tea and lots of gentle love after

• sigh, you love your little psycho nerdy doctor

• come at me for making him soft but i believe he's like this due to 1) his actual canon backstory and 2) nerds lowkey do it best sorry i don't make the rules

• ps, the glasses STAY on

🧸💌💉🌙

taglist:

@girlinterrupted505 @ciriceimpera @jordyn-yeager @thevelvetvampyre @galactict3a

@xanaxiii @nocturnest @psylrd @bloodandglitter207 @humbuginmybones

@oceanstem @futurefamousdeadmusician @jonathancraneslittlepet @esotericdoe

@kpopgirlbtssvt

@ll4n4 @ilovetoxicfictionalmen @the-buddy-things @ellebelleshelby @wiseyouthinfluencer

@abprill @minedofmoria @strangeobsessed @5tud10-54r4h @franzine-xii

@stsrfujid @psylrd @eyraaaaaae @nyxxie-pooh @momoewn

@fauxcongenialite @ceruleanrainblues @o0laura @fiona-my-love

[caeru-rose]

🏳️‍🌈Pride 2024🏳️‍🌈

For the entire month of June, I drew 16 Queer ships & couples from my favorite series, movies, webcomics, and short animated films for Pride Month🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️

we got…..

🎵Charlie & 🪽Vaggie (Hazbin Hotel)

🖤Ballister & 🌟Ambrosius (Nimona)

🐚Olivia & ⚔️Yunan (Amphibia)

🌙Elias & 🪴Vincent (How to be a Werewolf)

💗Sherwin & 📖Jonathan (In a Heartbeat)

🥞Aldo & 🐺Skelly (Dirty Paws) 

📝Jasper & 🍰Rachel (The Glass Scientists)

🍎Applejack & ⚡️Rainbow Dash (MLP)

🌸Flower & 🪲Beetle 

+ 🌰Cornelia & 🥜Nutalia (The Acorn Princess)

🦉Eda & 🎻Raine (The Owl House)

🦇Lilith & 🎀Lou (Dracu Date)

👑Rupert & 🗡️Amir (The Two Princes)

🦜Kelsey & 📚Stacks (Craig of the Creek)

☕️Espresso Cookie & ✨Madeleine Cookie (CRK)

🍬Gary & 🎸Marshall Lee (Fionna & Cake)

[yandereunsolved]

🦇 𝙱𝚊𝚝𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚢 & 𝙳𝙲 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜 🦇

“Sometimes you have to take a leap of faith first, the trust part comes later.” – Clark Kent (Superman)

"I get it. Guns make things go faster. But what's the damn rush?" — Richard 'Dick' Grayson (Nightwing)

"Sorry I'm late. But you try changing clothes in a hybrid." — Oliver Queen (Green Arrow)

— 𝙼𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚋𝚘𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚜 —

Alfred Pennyworth

Barbara Gordon

Bruce Wayne

Cassandra Cain

Clark Kent 'Superman'

Damian Wayne

Diana Prince 'Wonder Woman'

Dick Grayson

Duke Thomas

Harleen Quinzel

Jack Napier 'Joker'

Jason Todd

John Constantine

Jonathan Crane

Katherine 'Kate' Kane

Pamela Isley

Selina Kyle 'Catwoman'

Stephanie Brown

Tim Drake

— 𝖠𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗍𝗂𝖼 𝖻𝗈𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗐/ 𝖽𝗋𝖺𝖻𝖻𝗅𝖾 —

Yandere Bruce Wayne

Yandere Clark Kent 'Superman'

Yandere Damian Wayne

Yandere Jason Todd

Yandere Jonathan Crane

Yandere Richard 'Dick' Grayson

Yandere Stephanie Brown

Yandere Tim Drake

— 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜 —

Yandere self-aware Bruce Wayne - ,, unpolished ⋆

Yandere self-aware Dick Grayson - ,, unpolished ⋆

Yandere self-aware Jason Todd - ,, unpolished ⋆

Yandere self-aware Jason Todd (part 2) - ,, unpolished ⋆

⋆ unpolished: not a full set of headcanons (still spellchecked)

[moonsun2010]

Commission of @peach-heartsss 's vampirised Jonathan design 🦇

find my commission info here

[strangersteddierthings]

Shovel Talk(s) Part 3

Part One 🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four

Steve wants to be self-sabotaging. He wants to give Eddie a reason to break up with him. To end this before Steve ends up hurting him. Yet he's also helplessly in love, so instead of being ten minutes late for their date, he's fifteen minutes early.

He forgot he was going to just honk the horn until Eddie appeared and only remembers he was going to do it after he's already knocked on the front door. Eddie answers, looking as beautiful as ever even though he wore that shirt yesterday, but the jeans are clean, and his hair is brushed. Steve does manage to hold himself back from opening the passenger door for Eddie like he usually does, instead sliding himself into the driver's seat.

Eddie does shoot him a curious glance but Steve's careful about not looking at him as he starts the car and heads towards the bowling alley.

Jonathan, Nancy, Argyle, and Robin are also at the bowling alley. It's not exactly a coincidence they run into them because Steve knew they would be here. (Sabotage was the goal. Turning their three-month-aversary into a group hangout might do the trick.) But Eddie likes bowling, and their friends, and also seems to be using the group atmosphere to hang off of Steve more than he would if they were bowling just the two of them.

And if Steve's being honest with himself, part of him knew that would happen, too. That Eddie wouldn't mind the group because their friends cover for them wordlessly. Eddie wraps his arms around Steve and suddenly Jonathan is standing between them and anyone who could see. Eddie leans in to give him a quick cheek kiss and Robin is at Steve's other side doing the same thing. Argyle and Nancy spread out across the seating, leaving barely enough room for Eddie and Steve to sit, so their close proximity looks forced rather than wanted.

And Steve's bad at not wanting Eddie. He finds himself reaching out and having to snatch his hands back. He plays hot and cold all night and it does have the desired effect. He can see Eddie's patience waning, can feel a shift in their dynamic and his stomach twists with shame.

He keeps conversation with Robin, and Jonathan, and Nancy, and Argyle. But not Eddie. He doesn't outright ignore Eddie, though. When Eddie talks to him, he answers but he doesn't initiate conversation. Uses as few words as possible to answer before rushing to take his turn.

He should apologize.

He can't say anything.

He's in love with Eddie, so Eddie has to leave him.

He's in love with Eddie, so Eddie leaving will ruin him forever.

Eddie should hate him, so this would be easier.

Eddie should love him, so this would be easier.

Steve's a goddamn mess all night, and no one calls him on it.

Why would they? They think he's going to hurt Eddie anyway.

-

"Did I... do something?" Eddie asks. Steve feels a little sick to his stomach as he puts the car in park in front of Eddie's house but doesn't turn the key. After tonight it's not likely he'll get invited in anyway.

"What?"

"You've been distant all day, dude," Eddie says and Steve can hear the frustration in his voice. He also notices that Eddie called him dude, which he hasn't done since their first date. "Distant for a while now, actually."

"Sorry. I didn't realize," Steve lies, staring straight ahead. The voice in his head keeps chanting 'just break up with me already' because Steve knows it needs to happen, but he can't do it. But also he's thinking 'tell me you love me so I know we're in this together' and also 'I want to love you but I'm scared'. His whole mind is a contradiction right now.

Eddie looks at him, face carefully neutral, "What did I do?"

"Nothing," Steve is quick to say, because it is true and he doesn't want Eddie to think this is his fault somehow. "You didn't do anything."

"So, is it something I haven't done?" Eddie asks.

"No." Yes. But also no. Tell me you want this as much as I do. Tell me you hate me.

Eddie looks down to his hands, which are fiddling with his rings. They sit in silence because Steve doesn't know what to say. After what feels like an eternity, Eddie must decide something because he nods to himself and says, "right." before he climbs out of the passenger seat and slams the door shut.

The slam sounds so loud, so clear, so final, that Steve feels something inside him crack, echoing the slam. He rips off his own seatbelt and climbs from his car quickly, the need to reach Eddie before he closes himself behind his front door suddenly very important, suddenly overriding any other thought he's had. Steve just knows that if Eddie gets his door closed, then Steve really will have proven everyone right.

And he doesn't want to.

He feels it in his bones that if Eddie makes it into his house, and gets his front door closed before Steve says anything, that it will be with the thought that Eddie somehow fucked up their relationship and Steve will not be able to live with himself if Eddie believes that.

"Eddie, wait!" Steve shouts as he rounds the front of his car, beelining for the door.

His shout works, because Eddie, hand clasped on the doorknob, twists to look over his shoulder instead of opening the door. Eddie doesn't hide the hurt on his face, or the pain in his voice, "What, Harrington?"

Steve doesn't know what he's going to say, hasn't planned for this. He had never wanted either of them to hurt in this relationship, not in a way they couldn't fix (he'd promised Wayne three months ago-), yet he let his mind take him down the road of self-destruction. Self-sabotage. He'd fucking planned to ruin their date. Eddie should leave him.

And yet.

Steve might feel he's not good enough, or nice enough, or changed as a person enough to deserve Eddie, but in the end, Steve thinks, realizes, it's not his decision if Eddie finds him deserving or not. That's on Eddie.

And now, seeing Eddie, who always looks beautiful but now looks hurt, Steve doesn't want to just give up because everyone he cares about thinks he's not good enough. He doesn't want to have ruined this. If he can just be open, and honest, then Eddie will at least hear him out. He's just got to say something true. He opens his mouth and- "I love you."

Eddie's hand drops from the doorknob as his whole body turns to face Steve. His eyes are wild and wide as he asks, "What?"

That wasn't what Steve had thought he would say, but now that it's out he doesn't want to pretend he didn't say it. But he's possibly also having some sort of manic episode because he just starts talking and can't stop. "I'm in love with you, Eddie, and it fucking scares me to death, because no one seems to think that I can, or that I deserve to, but I do and I want to. I've just been spiraling thinking about it and about how everyone thinks I'm just going to hurt you, because that's the last thing I want to do, ever. But then I just spent this entire night trying to make you hate me which just means that I am hurting you. And, also, if more than one person makes a point to like, bring it up to my face, that I'm just going to hurt you, there's got to be some truth to what they say, right? Multiple people aren't usually wrong and now I've proven them right anyway because I've been an asshole to you this whole day, whole week if I'm really honest, and I hate myself for that beca-"

Eddie shuts Steve up by grasping both his shoulders and shaking him like a ragdoll. Steve didn't even register that he'd left the porch and had walked up to him. "Stevie, Steve, shh. You gotta slow down, sweetheart. That's a lot to take in."

"Right. Right, sorry," Steve's voice sounds watery to his own ears, and also Eddie looks a little watery, which is odd and- oh. He's crying, he realizes, when one of Eddie's hands moves to swipe a tear from his cheek.

"Go inside, sweetheart," Eddie nudges him towards the door, "I'm going to turn off your car and I'll be right in."

Steve obeys because he's pretty good at following instructions. Unfortunately, it does mean he just stands anxiously in the entrance hall waiting for Eddie to come in behind him because the only instruction was 'go inside'. Steve's not even aware that he's worried Eddie might not follow until he comes back into view and a wave of relief washes over Steve.

Eddie leads him down the hall to his bedroom before making Steve take off his shoes and clamber into the bed. Eddie fusses and arranged them so that Eddie is sat up against the headboard and Steve is cuddled up between his legs, head tucked under Eddie's chin. Steve worms his hands behind Eddie's back to hug him, and Eddie wraps his arms around Steve to return the embrace.

"Stevie, I got to be honest, I thought you were wanting to break up with me today," Eddie says.

Steve tightens his hold just a bit, "No. And yes. But also never?"

"That makes no sense."

"The thought of breaking up... I'm not going to lie, Eddie, I have thought it. But not because it's what I want. It's because there were moments when I thought it was what would be best, for you."

"How the fuck do you reckon it would be 'best for me' to break up with me?" Eddie is rubbing soothing circles on Steve's back, so he doesn't think he's in too much trouble.

"I let... I just got into my head about things. Your uncle gave me the shovel talk, which yeah, okay, fair. He's basically your dad, he's supposed to be on the lookout for people who would hurt you. But then, he wasn't the only one. And no one straight up said I would, for sure, end up hurting you, but then I learned that no one had given you a shovel talk and I just- Fuck. This all sounds so stupid! I don't want someone to threaten you. That's not what this is about but it's just- it feels like- why doesn't anyone care that I might get hurt, too? And then everything spiraled."

"Oh, sweetheart," Eddie presses a kiss to the top of Steve's head. Steve doesn't deserve this comfort.

"I just- I found myself thinking that like, if I just broke my own heart first, by breaking up, then they wouldn't be right. But also like, they wouldn't be wrong, because breaking up would hurt you, too, and then they'd pick sides and they'd pick yours because they were right about me but also, they're wrong because you have the power to fuck me up, too. 'Cause I love you."

"That's the third time you've told me," Eddie says.

"You don't have to say it back," Steve is quick to say, "I just- Now that I've said it, I can't seem to stop but you don-"

"I'm in love with you, too, you know," Eddie whispers, cutting Steve off as one of Eddie's hands comes up to play with Steve's hair. That thing that cracked inside him early, the feeling that made Steve call out to Eddie, settles back together somewhere deep within him.

Eddie plays with his hair for a bit before he says, "It's super fucking shitty of our friends to put that on you. And I'm sorry for not noticing that you were hurting. If it helps, Robin has given me a shovel talk. Kinda. I think she also gave one to Nancy at the same time? But for like, past you." That gets a chuckle out of Steve. "And Erica threatened to slash my tires if I hurt you, not even a full two weeks ago. And I don't think she even means like a breakup hurt. I think if she learns about today, she'll slash my tires even though we talked it out. Or, will have talked it out, by the time she finds out. Which I hope she doesn't. Because she'll slash my tires."

Steve is a little amused at the end of Eddie's speech because Eddie does sound, just a little bit, afraid of Erica. He tilts his head up and presses a kiss to the underside of Eddie's jaw and then freezes, because he's not sure he should have. Not after how he's treated Eddie this past week, and today especially. But Eddie doesn't react like he's upset. His fingers still glide through Steve's hair and his other hand rests on Steve's back in a half embrace.

"I'm so sorry, Eds," Steve says, shoving his face into Eddie's neck. "About today, this whole week, for- for everything. I'm so sorry."

"I'm sorry, too, sweetheart," Eddie whispers back, "I let myself think things of you, you know. Shit I know isn't true, and wouldn't be, because I was scared, too. That I'd fallen for you. I didn't let myself believe you'd love me back, so I thought some really awful things."

"Well, I acted on my thoughts, so you don't have to apologize."

"Yes, I do. And I accept your apology."

Steve huffs, breath warming his face along with Eddie's neck. "I don't think you did anything wrong, but I accept your apology, too."

They lay for a few moments more before Eddie's shoving softly at Steve, to get him to roll over, onto his side. He does, facing Eddie, and Eddie rolls onto his side to face him. Immediately Steve's hand seeks out Eddie's, he can't stand to not be touching him in some form right now. Steve slots their fingers together, and Eddie curls his fingers down to grip back. Steve brings their joined hands to his lips, placing a kiss on Eddie's knuckles before he says, "So, where do we do from here?"

"I don't know the where," Eddie gives him a soft smile, "but I do know that I want it to be together. So, I guess we just, go forward, together. With more talking. You have to let me know when you're hurting, babe. I can't help if I don't know."

"I know," Steve nods, "I know. And I'll try. I promise, I'll try my best but I don't- what if I can't?"

"I think you can," Eddie says. "You did, today, just now. And I guess, on nights we're really mad at each other, we go to bed mad but together. Same bed. Because I'll need the reassurance of you being here."

"Yeah, yeah, we'll do that," Steve says before pressing one more kiss to Eddie's knuckles, then letting their hands drop back to the bed. There's more talking to be done, Steve's sure. He wants to explain himself better, more thoroughly, but Eddie is content to let him lay here so Steve's going to take it for now. "Can I stay here tonight?"

"Yeah, sweetheart," Eddie says, soft smile on his face. "You work tomorrow?"

"No," Steve says, "why?"

"Redo date. Make it a whole day thing. Just us," Eddie explains with a shrug, "Not that the bowling wasn't fun. Just-"

"Yeah," Steve is quick to agree, both because he wants a redo, too, and because he doesn't want to hear the rest of Eddie's sentence. "How about we go to Indy for the day?"

"Sounds great. Now, let's get some PJs on and channel surf until we find something tolerable," Eddie leans in, giving Steve a quick kiss before rolling himself off the bed and beginning the search for pajamas. Steve's happy to watch him bend over the various piles of clothes around his room.

[argyleheir]

On the night before Dracula Daily, don’t forget to leave out paprika hendl for your dear friend Jonathan Harker 🦇