#strawberry manor

[lgbtpopcult]

What to watch when...

You feel sad

Comedy I care a lot

Or

Comedy Crush

You need a scare!

Slasher horror Fear Street trilogy

Or

The haunting of Bly Manor horror series

You want to practice your Spanish

Calle y Poché: No Labels reality show

Or

Las pelotaris 1926 Spanish period action series

You want sappy romance

Love classified Hallmark movie

Or

Strawberry Panic anime

You want some action in your life!

Killing Eve crime series

Or

Harley Quinn the animated series

[staticchoir1]

does anyone know why's cosmo ignoring sprout ?

[missmonkeymode]

If i was a poet (and not simply a writer) id write a poem of my allergy to strawberries being a metaphor for having a mental illness. Like. I dunno me going "im allergic to strawberries" always nets a "oh man i feel so bad, strawberries are great, id cry if i was you" where im just here stating a fact. Like. Idk its about the disconnect from normality that people seem to mourn FOR YOU. Like am I supposed to be sad over this? It doesnt feel like i should be sad, and im certainly not sad about it, its just is.

I know theres always gonna be this space, this divide from me and others. It only really comes up during lunch, and whenever i politely decline and tell them im allergic, they look at me with pity in their eyes and regret on their lips. "Im sorry." Well I'm not.

[nightingale-prompts]

Batboy Meets Batfam

First | Previous | Next

"Relax Batty, it's just one dinner." Dick parked the car inside the Wayne family manor's garage.

"But I hate billionaires. Can't we just go to Batburger and go home." Danny whined slumping in his seat.

"What's so bad about it? He's your grandfather now." Dick asked.

"The last billionaire I met was the only other of my kind. And he was awful. Tried to kill me, clone me, marry my mom, kill my dad, ruined my life. That last one was something he achieved." Danny's wings materilized and wrapped around him as he sulked.

"I know it's hard Danny and I can't promise no one will ever try to hurt you like that again but I can promise I'll stick by you. I can also promise to kick the butt of anyone who tries messing with you." Dick said ruffing Danny's black hair that popped out from under his leathery wings.

"Still don't wanna go." As Danny said this he began to shrink.

Dick sighed, he had learned recently that Danny was a shifter of some kind. It was useful to hide his identity but he would also use it to get out of doing things. When Dick told Danny to clean his room or study Danny would shrink to the size of a toddler and say "Im baby" to get out of it. Dick is ashamed to admit that he's let Danny get away with it because baby bat pictures are precious and worth their weight in gold. He has a wallet full of pictures now.

But Dick has to put his foot down this time.

"Danny being little won't get you out of this. Do you really want to meet your new family like this?" Dick asked.

Danny huffed and turned in his now ill-fitting hoodie the size of a 3-year-old.

"Alright come on." Dick gave up scooping the toddler-sized teen under one arm and walking into the manor. "Alfred still has Bruce's old baby clothes somewhere."

"Ahh!"Danny yelped.

"What? Don't want that? If you show up as a baby, they will think you are one. You know Tim Drake is going to be there. He's going to be in the same school as you. Do you want him to think you're a baby?" Dick said holding the kid at eye level.

In surrender, Danny grew back to his normal size.

Dinner was oddly quite as everyone studied Danny closely.

Barbara was the least concerned as he talked about work with Dick and pushed Danny a bowl of strawberry salad. She wanted good aunt points. Danny would love her the most.

Cassie studied Danny's features. It was almost creepy how much he looked like Dick. She'd believe it if Dick was his biological father. Except for the eyes. Danny had a very particular eye color they were blue in the center but kind of had a green ring on the iris. The condition was called central heterochromia and it's rare.

Damian wasn't glaring like he usually would. He looked almost wide-eyed at Danny but remained silent.

Jason was absent as always apparently he was moved by Dick's announcement.

Then again Danny was supposed to be a surprise.

Tim and Danny seem to strike a cord immediately. Danny despite how silly he was the teen was very intelligent. Tim wasn't as subtle as he wish, mostly because Danny cornered him in conversation.

"So you're more used to living in a small town?" Tim smiled politely.

"Hmm? I didn't say that exactly. I said Im just new to the city." Danny responded.

"So you're from a different city? Metro or Star?"

"Neither, It's nowhere you'd know. Not really notable."

"You're going to be family soon, of course i want to know."

They went back and forth for a while. Tim was probably irritated after finding nothing about Danny's identity. And that meant Bruce was probably suspicious as well. Dick had to bet that Bruce's overactive paternal instincts would overwrite his need to investigate.

"So Danny, have you heard of the new vigilante in Bludhaven? The one they call Batboy?"Bruce asked wiping his mouth with a napkin as he ate.

This was the question Danny was waiting for.

"Of course! Have you seen the pictures on social media! Everyone is talking about him. Like, he has wings like a bat. Do you know what I'd do to get that power?! I mean he's not Superman but come on its so cool. We don't have metas-Is that what you call them? Yeah, metas. We don't have them where I'm from so I didn't think I'd ever met one. Dick said he met him the last time he saw Nightwing and promised to get me a picture but he didn't and he said he forgot." Danny put on a pretty convincing fanboy routine.

"I see. So Dick told you he's friends with Nightwing?" Bruce probed.

"He didn't need to tell me. Nightwing found me after I ended up in Bludhaven. I was pretty banged up and he parched me up and took me to the police station. I tried to leave but he told me that Detective Grayson would look out for me." Danny said digging through his salad to pick out the fruit and nuts.

"What about your parents?" Bruce asked softly.

"Bruce," Dick said in warning.

"Its fine...my parents didn't want me anymore. I can't go back. They'd probably kill me. But it doesn't matter anymore, they aren't here." Danny said stiffly feeling uncomfortable for saying a bit of truth.

They say the best way to lie is to have a bit of truth. Danny disagreed. The best way to lie is to have no truth, so they can't tell the difference.

Dick pulled the teen closer as Danny pulled his hands inside this hoodie hiding one of the burn scars on his arm but just enough to show that they were there.

Bruce didn't say another word.

Damian seemed to make his mind up at some point and joined in the conversation.

"Do you eat meat, Nightingale? I've noticed you haven't touched anything with it." Damian sounded oddly cordial.

"Ew, no. I don't eat meat. My friend always said meat was murder and taught me about how evil slaughterhouses were. We once raided a local farm to-oop. I forgot there are detectives at the table. I promise I'm a law-abiding citizen and not an eco-terrorist...anymore." Danny smiled too innocently.

Damian nodded in understanding. They had found common ground. That still doesn't mean he liked Nightingale. But he couldn't fight him since he didn't seem to know anything about their vigilante lifestyle.

Damian had to begrudgingly admit that Danny's presence was welcome. Soothing even.

It didn't matter. He and Drake still had bigger plans. Finding out who this "Batboy" was. They just needed Dick give up some information about the bat metahuman.

Tim had his suspicions that it was Danny but Batboy had stark white hair with black streaks and green eyes. Not to mention wings.

They would have to agree to disagree.

"Danny you have to eat something other than fruit. Eat the rest of the salad." Dick tried to sound stern but caved almost immediately when Danny pretended he didn't hear that.

Bruce internally sighed. Does he step in and help or let Dick figure it out. How does one be a grandpa to a non-vigilante who you can't threaten with no patrols?

*Bonus*

Danny when he see fruit.

[cuppajj]

[BAAU] A Letter to Espresso

Madeleine Cookie sat at his desk, a soft smile with a touch of anticipation curving his lips as he carefully straightened out the letter in his hands. The parchment was smooth beneath his fingertips, the ink a deep, rich brown, almost like the coffee he could nearly smell. He closed his eyes for a moment and let his mind drift. He could almost see Espresso Cookie sitting in his workshop, the room bathed in the gentle, golden light that filtered through the half-closed blinds. There would be a comforting hum of machinery working in the background, the quiet whirring of gears and the occasional hiss of steam created a soothing white noise. It was a soundscape that Madeleine had come to associate with peace and warmth and familiarity. Of time spent waiting and watching his companion work, of warm banter and concentrated ramblings where experimentation seemed to be all that the other cookie would see. He could picture it all so vividly—the way Espresso would pause to take a sip from his cup, how the steam would curl gently upwards as he savoured the rich brew, his expression thoughtful and his eyes focused on the task at hand. It was as if he was sitting right across from Madeleine Cookie. Reachable, where Madeleine could outstretch his arm to brush some hair away from the scientist’s eyes and glasses. Espresso would, in turn, shoo him away and out of his lab. Calling him a distraction. It felt as if there was no ocean separating them.

Unfortunately, that was not the case.

Even now, within the city he grew up in, in a manor filled with family, his aunts nearby and only a few rooms away, he still desired to return home. As Madeleine began to read, he could almost hear Espresso’s voice, steady and calm, recounting the details of his days in the Vanilla Kingdom. It was as though he were sitting right there, whispering the stories meant only for Madeleine.

“Things have been well here in the Vanilla Kingdom,” the voice hummed, “Raisin Cookie is doing well, her army of seemingly never-ending crows grows each day.”

Madeleine's smile faltered for a moment as the image of Raisin Cookie flashed in his mind. He had met her once, the mysterious figure with a cloak of tattered fabric draped over her slim frame. Her magenta-eyed crows had followed her closely, birds that seemed as sharp and weary as their master. Pure Vanilla Cookie’s friend.

"Pure Vanilla Cookie claims he's alright, but I know him too well," Espresso’s voice continued. "His smile has been strained lately, especially with the recent news of the other Ancient Cookies.”

Madeleine could picture Espresso now, his dark brows drawn together in quiet frustration. Pure Vanilla’s health had been a lingering concern for some time, a recurring topic in Espresso’s letters. With everything that the hero had gone through, the destruction of his kingdom, the amnesia, and the reveal of Dark Enchantress, Pure Vanilla Cookie would be the worry of any cookie who had an idea of the events that had occurred. Even Madeleine, with his distorted perceptions of heroic stories and beliefs, had slowly come to realise that there was clearly something wrong.

“We can all see that it’s getting to him.”

A kingdom of sugar snow, now frozen with its infamous sea of terror tamed. A once warm and courageous cookie in a thriving kingdom now a tyrant, and a sovereign that turned all that breathed in her direction into the glimmering gold that would decorate her palace. Once the dearest friends of Pure Vanilla Cookie, now twisted monsters that brought along terror and fear with their reign.

Madeleine paused, fingers brushing the edge of the paper. If only he were there, perhaps he could help in some way...But for now, he would have to rely on words.

“We’re trying to make a plan on how to approach the situation. Not much progress has been made.”

What were they supposed to do against cookies that held such immense power in their hands?

“Also, Strawberry Crepe Cookie says hello. Sincerely, Espresso Cookie.”

Madeleine leaned back in his chair, the parchment still in his hand. He turned the letter over, and then back again, as if hoping for more hidden words to appear. A sigh escaped him.

“Espresso didn’t say anything about himself this time either,” he muttered to the empty room. Surely it wouldn’t have been so difficult to write just a single line about how he was doing?

With a slow exhale, he turned toward his desk, where a selection of fine parchment and ink waited. He ran his fingers over the paper, choosing the smoothest one, and then reached for his quill. The ink, a deep blue like the skies of the Crème Republic, seemed fitting for what he wanted to say.

He dipped the quill into the ink and began to write.

"Dear Espresso," he started, the words flowing as naturally as breathing. "I received your letter today, and as always, it was a delight to read.”

He paused, staring at the paper as his thoughts settled.

"You tell me of the Vanilla Kingdom, of Pure Vanilla’s struggles, but you do not speak of yourself. I worry. Not just for the kingdom, but for you too." He hesitated, thinking of what to write next. The tip of the quill scratched the surface of the paper as he pondered.

Espresso was such a strong cookie. Stubborn and determined, with ideals and goals that never once wavered. How could he not admire such a person?

"I hope that you’re taking care of yourself, too. I will wait for your reply. But this time, tell me how you are. Because more than anything else, I want to know that you are well.

Sincerely, Madeleine.”

Madeleine signed the letter and, with a small smile, added, "PS: Tell Crepe I said hello back!"

For a moment, he held the letter in his hands, gazing down at the seal, his thoughts far away, back in the Vanilla Kingdom where Espresso Cookie worked tirelessly without anyone to tell him to stop and rest.

With another sigh, Madeleine set the letter aside. ————

Thanks to @darkfluffydragon for writing!! Go check them and their amazing art out! <3

[my-castles-crumbling]

strawberry - @jegulus-microfic - word count: 225

(Guys, I had to write the tiktok trend for this. Sue me)

They were sitting in the living room in the Potter Manor- Regulus reading silently; James fighting his way through an essay of some kind.

Or, he had been. At first. Until Regulus had...existed. Because Regulus existing was so very distracting that James couldn't possibly hope to get something as boring as an essay done.

So as he stole glances at the angel in front of him on the other side of the couch, contemplating the pros and cons of grabbing him and kissing him, even though Sirius was just in the other room, Regulus shifted, taking something out of his pocket. And as he did so, he looked up.

"Staring, Potter?" he asked as he applied Chapstick to his lips.

His beautiful, mesmerizing lips.

"Erm...I was just...wondering what flavor it is," James shrugged, trying to make up a legitimate-sounding reason for staring.

"Strawberry," Regulus answered suspiciously. "Do you want to try it?"

And before James could properly process what the offer meant, he moved across the couch, murmuring a "Fuck, yes," catching Regulus's lips in his own.

It was only after he realized Regulus wasn't responding that he pulled back.

"Shit. You meant..." James trailed off, completely mortified, taking in Regulus's shocked expression.

But the Chapstick clattered to the floor as Regulus suddenly grabbed at his neck, pulling them back together again.

[the-modern-typewriter]

The Blue Key

On her first night in her new home, after a lavish dessert of strawberry cheesecake and cream, her new husband handed her a clinking set of keys across the dining room table.

“You can go anywhere in the house,” her husband told her, “except the basement.”

He showed her the key to the basement. It was midnight blue.

“Why? Is the basement where you keep the bodies?” she asked, with half a smile.

He didn’t smile back. “Do you promise me?”

She studied him carefully, feeling the weight of the basement key in her hand.

There were many keys to the house - hefty ornate keys for their front and back doors, a pretty gold one for their bedroom, a dozen little silver and brass ones for any other lock in the house that she might come across. Windows and cabinets and the like.

The basement key was almost insubstantial against her palm. Negligible. The sort of key that was easily lost, that looked like it might belong to a doll house more than a proper estate.

She couldn’t read his expression.

“You can’t tell me what’s in there?”

“I will know if you open the door,” he said, “and everything that we are will end.”

She laughed again, uncertainly, because the words were surely absurd and certainly not like him. He could have simply told her it was dangerous and so best avoided, or not given her the key to the basement in the first place. She doubted she would have given it all that much thought among all the other rooms.

Yet, his words instead piqued curiosity.

Once again, he did not smile. He stared at her solemnly, with a hint of something haunted that she had only caught flickers of during their courtship.

The laughter died in her throat.

He had been like something from a fairy tale from the moment they met; Prince Charming to pluck her out of the ashes of her drab life, even if she knew he had been married before. Everyone knew. Just as none of them had expected him to pick her. She had no experience in the running of manor houses, and no especially outstanding beauty nor fortune of her own to make up for that fault. In short, she was nothing like his first wife.

But, she had made him laugh, and she had liked him. God, how she had liked him – and liked him still – with such blushing ferocity that it almost made her dizzy.

Her new home was enormous, and beautiful, and filled with the kind of impossible luxuries that she had never even dared to dream of having. It was filled with him. She was nothing, and nobody, and he had given her the keys to be something and somebody else. Someone better. What was one small forbidden key against all that?

She knew the preciousness of privacy. Sometimes a secret could be the only thing that was really yours.

“Okay.” She bit her lip, and started to unhook the key from the ring. “Would you like it back, then? Just to be sure.”

He recoiled as if she’d drawn a knife on him and shook his head.

“Keep it,” he rasped. “Keep it safe. Keep it locked. Let it be forgotten.”

But from that moment on, though, she never really forgot about the blue key for a moment.

***

The library was probably her favourite room in her new home. It was astonishing to be able to have an actual personal library, stocked from soft-carpet and gleaming hardwood floor to cavernous ceiling with walls upon walls of books of every kind. The orphanage had maybe three books, worn and ancient, each crumbling a little more with every reading.

There were lots of stories in her husband’s books about girls with keys, girls with curiosity, heroes with something they were not supposed to look at under the pain of death or something worse.

Psyche with Eros, who was told without explanation not to look upon her perfect and mysterious host, for there could be no love without trust.

Orpheus, forbidden to glance back at his love, lest he lose her for good.

Pandora, with her strange once unopened box of evils and hope, told it was hers.

Eve, with her curiosity, with her knowledge, lured into plucking that shining forbidden fruit.

Bluebeard too, of course, with his many murdered wives, all told not to seek out their bloody predecessors behind his secret door, because – why?

Because it was a game of female obedience? Because it gave a predator an excuse to do what he did best, when he knew from the first instance that his victims would have to know? He chose them, after all. And why did they look, those wives, against all warning?

Because the uncertainty was unbearable? Because it was their home too? Because they loved the man they married and wanted to know everything there was to know of him? Maybe they wanted to save him. It was never cruelty.

The two of them were happy, her husband and her, as blissful as newlyweds were want to be.

In the evenings they would cuddle before the roaring fires, night caressing the windows, and he would read aloud from his favourite passages or play music. In the days he would work, or leave on some business or other, and she would wander the labyrinthian corridors alone and explore the many treasures tucked away behind his many locked doors.

The library could have lasted her years, but she found a room with a ceiling made of magnifying glass by which to observe the stars, a swimming pool built into the rock beneath the entrance hall, a lush garden bursting with colour that she could tend to in the sunshine.

There were servants to take care of the day-to-day running of the building, and so he did not seem to desire any particular purpose of her except to be his wife. Except for her to live in his home, in their home, and enjoy his easy company and the gifts he gave her. She found ways to keep busy. To contribute.

Thus, it took her many months to walk down towards the basement, to first look upon the door that she was not allowed to open. Spring had turned to the first icy breaths of winter.

The door was painted the same midnight blue as the key, and immaculate in condition. The lock was tiny. A dark slither, a crack, in something otherwise quite lovely.

She pressed her hand against the door and the wood was warm compared to the cool, slightly stale, underground air that filled her chest.

She dropped a hand into her pocket, fingers closing unerringly around the blue key. She tried not to touch it, not to think about it, but she had come to know it instantly by shape and feel alone. It was simply so odd to have a key so small. She had half expected the door would be in miniature too.

How could he possibly know, if she opened it? In some tales it was magic. The key would betray her. He would know by seeing it. But her husband did not want to look upon the key, he had never even mentioned it once after their first dinner.

What then was in the basement? Something so terrible that she could no longer love him? Or perhaps it was empty. Perhaps it was structurally unsound. Perhaps it was simply a test on if she would allow him that one thing that was his and his only.

She leaned down, and pressed her eye to the keyhole with a hammering heart. She didn’t know what she expected to see inside, exactly – a skeleton, or some ghoul staring back at her, or some hidden vault even. There was only darkness. Nothing to see. She straightened again, unsure if the painful feeling in her lungs was breathless relief or airless disappointment.

She walked back up the stairs.

She turned over the pages of stories in the library, and turned the key over and over in her palm, and wondered which of those many tales she was in.

***

“I think,” she said one night, as they lay in bed. “That it bothers me more that you will not tell me, than anything that could possibly be in the basement.”

He stiffened on the mattress next to her.

“Is there something I could do,” she rolled onto her side to face him, “so that you would know you could trust me with the truth?”

His expression was half-hidden in the dim light, his body made unfamiliar by slashes of moonshine slicing through the curtains. His blue eyes were open, staring up, away from her.

“You promised me that you would not dwell on the door.”

“No.” She reached out, tracing her fingers gently along the curve of his jaw, coaxing him to meet her searching gaze. “I promised I wouldn’t open it. There’s a difference.”

He snorted, but tipped his head towards her hand, planting a kiss to her knuckles.

“Can you at least narrow down the possibilities?” She pressed into the silence, because kisses were sweet but they were not an answer. “Is it something I shouldn’t see? That you don’t want me to see? Something that – I don’t know – can’t be let out? Are you the secret guardian of a nightmare world?” She attempted another smile, but it wobbled shaky. “Just give me something, and I’ll leave it alone. I just want to know. I need to know. Whatever it is – whatever it could possibly be – you don’t have to carry it alone. We’re supposed to be a team. That’s what marriage is.”

“Is my word not enough for you?” He sounded tired. “Is everything I have given you not enough?”

She scrunched up her nose at him. “You’d be happily blind, if it were you?”

“Ignorance can be bliss.”

“If you wanted me ignorant, why tell me about the key in the first place? You know me.”

They’d met on account of her curiosity, of her straying to places that she wasn’t supposed to be. He’d been visiting the library of one of the great colleges, reserved for great men like him, and she’d snuck in aching for a glimpse of the world.

Her husband said nothing.

“When you first gave me the key…” She swallowed. “You looked scared.” Her fingers, which had often brushed his in the library stacks once upon a time, grazed his pulse. It was racing. “I would fight monsters for you. Even if you’re the monster.”

As the silence stretched, she thought he might say nothing again, until the silence had grown so large that they might never reach each other across the abyss of it.

“I love you,” he said. His voice cracked. He caught her hand, entwining their fingers together, and squeezed. “Goodnight.”

The seconds ticked by into minutes, into she didn’t know how long.

“Is it a curse?” she whispered, into the dark. “If you’re not allowed or able to tell me, squeeze my hand twice.”

“Oh my god.” His voice was muffled, then, as he pulled a pillow over his face and wrenched free of her. “It’s two in the morning, darling. Go to sleep.”

***

She watched the door diligently for about a month. She didn’t think her husband had some poor creature locked up in the basement, but if he did then one would assume that either he would have to visit, or have the servants visit, in order to provide his victim some form of sustenance.

Nobody visited the basement door except her. There could not be anything living on the other side.

At least, not unless there was some other second secret door and tunnel system, hidden somewhere on the grounds. She didn’t see anyone vanish to one of those either, though. Would she, if it wasn’t on the grounds? How large a conspiracy could a little blue key possibly hold?

Would it count as ‘opening the door’ if she made a hole in the wall next to the door? 

She remembered her husband, in the college library the first time they met, spying the collection of ghost stories she’d been straining to reach. He’d grabbed it off the top shelf for her, easily, a glimmer of amusement curling his lips.

“I never really got these stories,” he’d mused. “If it were me, I would simply not have gone into the haunted house in the first place. Or, one look at a ghost and – no, no thank you. Goodbye! Have a nice life.”

She’d gaped at him.

He’d shrugged at her, and handed her the book. “But I can see that you’re a braver soul than me,” he said. “Sneaking into a place like this uninvited.”

She’d accepted the volume, clutching it protectively to her chest.

“Well,” she’d managed. “People like you are already invited everywhere, aren’t they? So you don’t have to be brave.”

He’d startled into a laugh.

She’d wondered if he would expose her to security, wondered if she should have denied it, wondered how he’d seen through her so swiftly and –

“Don’t worry.” He’d already been turning away, with a last lingering glance at her. “I can keep a secret.”

She’d only learned later who he was, and that it had been a month since his wife had died.

How, exactly, had his first wife died? The papers had said ‘tragic accident’, but there had been no witnesses. He didn’t talk about it, or about her.

No. She was being ridiculous. Maybe she had only imagined the flicker of terror on her husband’s face, the way he had flinched from the key, the rough urgency in his voice. Whatever it was, whatever it could possibly be, was not worth sacrificing what they had. There were other rooms; a dozen of them!

She buried the damn key in the garden. Out of sight, out of mind. Better that than completely losing her mind over something that probably had a completely rational explanation. Love was a leap of faith. 

She woke up the next morning to find the blue key back on the key ring, still covered with a fine sprinkling of dirt.

***

Her least favourite stories in the library were the ones about fate.

Maybe some people found such notions encouraging, comforting even in their reassurance that all of the suffering in the world was for a reason and that people could have some incredible purpose laid out for them. She’d always found the idea to be like quicksand beneath her feet, sucking her down down down trapped.

For, if it was fate, there could be no real escape. No chance. No hope.

She kept returning to the story of Bluebeard, tracing variations and retelling with the blue teeth of her blue key.

Maybe, if she was Bluebeard’s final wife, she would open the door and ultimately inherit a grand fortune, and recover from the trauma of falling in love with someone who wasn’t what they said they were.

What if she was only the second wife though, or the metaphorical third? What if her fate was to be some dead thing written only to add background colour to someone else’s happy ending?

It was all well and good of her husband to claim he would never go into a haunted house, but such declarations only really worked if one knew they were in a horror story instead of something else.

“Do you think, maybe,” she asked her husband as winter turned back to spring, “that we could go away somewhere?”

They strolled through the gardens, his arm wrapped protectively around her frail shoulders. Ever since the key incident she had found it difficult to sleep, to eat, to not find herself worrying about the door like worrying a hangnail until she tore off bloodied scraps of her own skin.   

The house, which had once seemed so large to her, had turned into something suffocating. She had no friends in the area, and however far she went along the grounds in the lonely hours of her husband’s working, the door would always be there for her and the key would always be in her pocket. The questions, the creeping doubts, would buzz in her brain like flies swarming a corpse.

“Go away?” He seemed surprised. “Is there something else that you need?”

She had tried simply hiding the key, then stayed up all night staring at the key ring laying on her bedside to try and catch the culprit who’d dug it up from beneath the roses.  One of the servants must have brought the damn thing back, right? Perhaps, the housekeeper? She got the impression that the severe woman had never really approved of her, never liked her. She was not as impressive and perfect a candidate as his first wife had been.

She had seen nothing, but when she fell finally into an exhausted slumber, the key had been waiting for her.

“I just thought it might be nice for us both to get away for a while,” she said. “A holiday. You’ve been so busy with your work.”

She had tried burning the key. It did not burn.

“There is a lot to do,” he said. “This is a large estate. It takes – management, a lot of care.”

“Perhaps I could help you?”

“It is not your burden, darling.”

“But it’s yours? A burden?”

The key, whatever it was, had to be of some supernatural origin. Of that she was increasingly certain. Well, the ghosts were in the house, so to speak, and he wasn’t leaving! He wouldn’t look at her, his attention fastened on the first snowdrops shoving their heads from beneath the hard earth.

“Tell me,” she said. “Or come away with me, please.”

He glanced at her, then.

She reached into her pocket and held up the blue key.

He turned away, quickening his pace as if he couldn’t wait to get away from it too.

“Where,” he said the next morning, “would you like to go, love?”

At the sea side, she tossed the key into the water when he wasn’t looking. If it was the servants, if there was any chance that something in the house was messing with her, with them, then even its evil reach could surely not reach beyond the borders of the property?

It was better for a while, after that. They were both lighter on holiday, away from his family home, with all of its history and responsibility.

The house on their return, waiting for them as it always was and would be, felt new and full of possibility again. They kept laughing over their first dinner back and fell asleep still high on love and freedom and everything they were supposed to be.

The next morning, impossibly, the blue key was on the key ring again.

She started to cry.

“I’m sorry,” her husband said. The colour had leached, stricken, from his handsome face. He looked older. Exhausted, too. His eyes were dark. “I wish—” He fell silent. He reached out to her, and she recoiled. “I’m sorry.”

“You wish what?” It came out whip sharp.

He said nothing. 

She shook her head, the laugh on her breath not really a laugh at all. Of course, he would still not tell her.

“If you don’t tell me,” she said, “everything that we are will end. You understand that, don’t you?” She fumbled the key off the ring and hurled it onto the sheets between them. It sat there, so disgustingly innocuous looking, a glint of blue among the white. “This isn’t fair. This is – sick. Take it back.”

“I know.” He folded his arms, less great man, more frightened child hugging himself. He stared down the key like an old enemy. “I know.”

“Or,” she said. A plea edged into her tone. “We could leave. For good. Let this house, let that door, be forgotten. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

He shook his head, less ‘no’ and more ‘I can’t’ and more ‘I’m sorry’.

She squared her shoulders, even as his slumped. “Tell me, at least, if I should go. You love me, right? If there was something rotten in that basement, you would want to protect me from it, wouldn’t you?”

“You can go,” he said. “If that’s what you want. That’s always been your choice.”

She stared at him.

He looked haunted, hunted, and he had known all along that the key would always end up back on the ring, hadn’t he? That was why he hadn’t simply taken it off when he first gave them to her. She would have thought he didn’t trust her if he’d never given her the keys to her own home at all too, wouldn’t she?

She debated leaving him. She debated walking out the house and – what?  

He looked so broken.

She sighed, the defiant fury sluicing off her shoulders too. She rounded the bed and craned up on her toes to kiss the lost furrow of his forehead.

“Just ignore it,” he said, clutching her hands. “Just ignore the door, and we can be happy.”

“Darling,” she said. “You don’t seem happy here.”

She kissed his lips, like packing up a suitcase, and snatched the blue key back up off the sheets.

Then she went down to the basement and opened the door.

[wonderlandwalker]

Shining Bright | James Potter x Reader

Marauders Masterlist / Inbox

Summary: You and James reunite after the winter holiday, reminiscing old memories and stumbling into new ones. Except Sirius doesn't know you're dating yet, and James is not particularly good at hiding it anymore.

Content Warnings/Tags: Smut, fluff, angst kinda idk, Reader is Sirius' sister (how do I even tag that), 18+, hinting at abuse, simping, traumatizing bystanders, not proofread just go with it, no use of y/n, ignore any plotholes

Word Count: 4.0k

A/n: I listened to the hazbin hotel soundtrack on repeat while writing and I'm praying it doesn't show. This was gonna make this longer but then I got impatient so lemme know if you'd like more. Not kidding when I say it's not proofread this came straight out of my notes so sorry for any mistakes, will come back later to fix them xx

The black family siblings were all as bright as the stars they were named after, James knew this for a fact. Sirius was the brightest star in the night sky, scorching others with his light in a way you couldn't look away from even if you wanted to. Regulus, not as blinding as his brother, but shining in his own right amongst those who took the effort to look for the constellation he carried with him. And you, you were a puzzle James couldn't yet solve, the light luring him in like that spark people spend their lives looking for, never sure if they'll ever get to hold it.

After Sirius had been sorted into Gryffindor in his first year, your parents had been very strict about who you socialized with, not wanting any further damage to the oh so carefully crafted family image. Not that it mattered, you and Sirius found plenty of ways to talk, most people didnt care enough to snitch and the ones who did were familiar enough with what you both were capable of to watch their tongues. Sirius was more loud and proud in his defiance, living up to his namesake in the sky, but you were better at hiding it, playing into the part people expected. Yes, Sirius was a fallen star, and your parents had worried he’d drag you with him, but you only shined brighter in his absence, trying to make up for the light lost as if something wasnt permanently dimming it.

And that's exactly what he was worried about right now, because you were never really yourself after a holiday at the Black family manor, always a part of you left behind, a part dimmed. But James was your sun, always there shining bright enough to ignore anything else, because with his light you were never truly dulled. He had missed you, he had missed you so much, your relationship was fresh, but he had been head over heels from the first time you kissed. He had been replaying the memory in his head so often he could almost see it. 

You were slytherin’s head girl, just as he was gryfindoors head boy, and you had run into each other while doing rounds of the hallways. Typically this would be a job for the prefects, but for some reason the both of you had decided to take over their duties for the evening, you called it luck, James called it destiny.

It was simply banter while walking down the halls, and it was mostly at James’ expense, but he wouldn’t trade the moment for anything. He was loud with his body, moving his hands as he talked and sometimes kicking his feet ahead of him, but you were more quiet, more calculated. So James did what he always did, talk. “I had a dream once about a glass of strawberry lemonde except it was only as big as my pinky finger, and there was this duck who tried to keep stealing it from me.” You stop in your tracks as he finishes his rant, staring right at him. “Oh my god, I had the exact same dream.” “Really?” his eyes were wide as he saw your face change.

“Are you crazy, of course I didn’t.” You fell back into step and he hurriedly caught up with you again. “Well you never know, Sirius and I have the same dreams sometimes, I mean we’re basically brothers-”

“Does that make me basically your sister?” Your eyebrows were raised at him as you asked your question, and he had to do his best not to trip over his own feet as he answered.

“What, no!-” his face had turned bright red rather quickly, and you would probably never admit this to him, but you had found it quite endearing. “I don’t, I just don’t think of you as a sister, definitely not a sister.” Somehow you had turned him into a nervous wreck in under a minute, and you were quickly getting addicted to the effect you had on him, letting him tumble over his words further.

“Like, if I married you, Sirius would be my brother but you wouldnt be my sister, you know. Those two things don’t have to go togethe-” his thoughts slowly trailed off as he turned his head to look at you, a bright smile now evident on your face, and if this is how your face lit up, he’d gladly make a fool of himself for the rest of his life. “You’ve been thinking about marrying me?” Your head was turned up towards him, challenging him to continue his train of thought. He looked frantically around him as if searching for an answer, hiping the right thing to say would magically appear, but of course it didnt. “What, of course not, I don’t wanny marry you. Wait- no i mean, hypothetically I would but-” “You can relax James, I’m just messing with you” Your shoulders were slightly shaking, suppressing laughter he was desperate to hear. “Right” The tension seeped out of him right as he started laughing himself, and it was so infectious you couldnt help but join him in it.

The two of you fell into an effortless silence as you continued, and James was about to break it before you beat him to the punch. 

“You know, right now would be a great moment to kiss me” he was sure he would get whiplash from the way his head turned towards you. The look on your face didnt give anything away, and for a moment he had wondered if he had made it up. “If that's the sort of thing you’d want to do” you were looking down at your shoes now, roles reversed as you had become the nervous one, and for another moment he just stared at the blush creeping up on your face before he realised he should probably say something, anything. 

“Don’t you think this is wrong? '' Alright, maybe that wasnt the right something to say, but he genuinely pondered before you put his worries to rest. “dont you think that’s up to us to decide?” You were looking up to him now, eyes enchanting him with a single glance.

“If Sirius finds out-” “I won’t tell if you don’t”

“Well- “James, do you want to kiss me or not?” “Merlin, yes.” with that the last of James’ self control was lost, and he pushed you into the wall behind you as his lips found yours, dedicated to explore you for as long as youd let him. You melted into the kiss just as quickly, leaning your body into him as he pressed up against you. James was eager with everything he did, and this was no exception. His hands didnt know where to go, never staying still for long as they roamed your body, you couldve sworn they were little rays of sunshine, lighting you up everywhere he touched. Your own hands found their way to the nape of his neck, tugging at some hair, resulting in a small moan leaving him, and after the taste you were desperate for more. James found himself in a similar situation, completely forgetting his surroundings as his mouth made its way to your neck, trailing kisses down from by your ear to your pulse point until you were silently moaning his name, begging him not to stop, not that he’d ever dare to. 

He continued his assault on your neck, his hands trailing up higher and higher underneath your shirt, longing to feel more of you, you tugged at his hair again and led him back to your face, connecting your lips once more, this time more sloppy, your patience completely gone. 

James was ready to drop to his knees for you, and he would have if he didnt hear someone nearly shriek behind him. He turned around, coming face to face with a second year Hufflepuff who looked close to fainting, stuck in place at the corner she had just turned. 

“Shit” he mumbled as he leaped forward, not sure whether to comfort the girl or scold her for being out past curfew. As James looked back at you you were close to losing it, and he couldnt deny the humour of the situation himself. In the end the two of you walked the girl back to her common room, not too worried about the situation with how in shock she seemed to be.

So yes, winter break had left him simply wishing to be near you again, and now he was so close he could almost already feel you in his arms again. He had debated telling Sirius, it would be so much easier, since he had moved in with the Potters a while ago and James was struggling to keep his yearning for you to himself, he was sure his parents had figured it out already, but simply choose to let him deal with it on his own for now. Everytime you send Sirius an owl he wanted to take him by the shoulders and shake him, hoping that information about you would fall out like loose change.But he knew Sirius couldn't know, he knew that. Everyone assumes it's James who can't keep a secret, always wearing his heart on his sleeve, but really that's only because he's never really had  a reason not to. Truly, it was Sirius who couldn't keep a thing to himself, once he knew, half of Hogwarts knew, he just couldn't stop himself from talking about the things that excited him, which was one of the qualities James so adored, but not one which would play in your favour at the moment. 

You were still living with your parents, still subject to their ways and while James had begged you to come live with him as well, you were hesitant. Hesitant to leave Regulus behind, hesitant to leave the life you had grown so accustomed to, even if it wasn't a good one. The both of you knew your parents would never approve, sure, James held the pureblood status, but it had lost its value the moment he harboured Sirius.

And so when the winter holiday came to an end and they once again reached Hogwarts, James was the embodiment of pure excitement. He was glad no one was questioning it, most likely brushing it off as joy at reuniting with his friends, which wasn't entirely untrue. 

For a little while he truly got lost in seeing everyone again, trading stories with Remus and Peter about what they had been up to, discussing pranks that needed to be set ij motion to make up for lost time, but when the start of term party took place and he walked down to the common room with the others he froze in his tracks, because there you were. For a split second he wondered if it had been a dream, he had been having them so often now, but Sirius rushed past him to envelop you in a hig so tight you spilled half of your drink over yourself, cursing at him in such a soft tone of endearment as you hugged him back.

"I've missed you, you know" Sirius was beaming at you, doing a quick double check of you, something James used to not think much about until je started doing it himself after he found the strange bruises none of you dared to speak of. 

"Yes Siri, I do know" you chuckled back at him, and in that moment all the worry disappeared.

"I've missed you too" 

The rest of the group caught up with the two of you, and it was Remus who first spoke

"It's good to see you back" he acknowledged with a small nod, not one for big gestures, but you had all learned it truly was the thought that counts.

"It's good to be back, now if you'll excuse me, I have to go change so there's no longer firewhiskey all over my shirt" You gave a pointed look at Sirius, but his antics were nothing new to you.

"Just use one of my sweaters so you don't have to go all the way back to the slytherin dorms, I have some extras upstairs" sirius nudged his head towards the stairs, you gave him a final hug as you moved to take him up on his offer.

As you walked by him James could smell the blend of vanilla and rosemary that was still there despite the liquor, it intoxicated him like a drug he was already hooked on, finally getting a fix of it after so long apart, and he had to remind himself not to grab you and kiss you right then and there. 

You disappeared from his sight as you went up to the dorms and it only took another second for James' brain to spring to action.

"I gotta go" 

"What, why? We just got here" he knew he would need a better excuse, but the fuses in his head weren't connecting.

" forgot my wand" is what splurged out

"Why would you need your wand we're-" thankfully it was Sirius's short attention span that came to the rescue, because the moment he saw Marlene he made a beeline to go see her. James wondered if he had it in him to explain his actions to Peter and Remus, but neither of them seemed to mind much, so he sprinted off to the stairs as well.

As soon as he got to his dorm, he reminded himself to knock, not wanting to startle you.

"Merlin Sirius, how am I meant to find anything in this mess?" James creaked the door open to see you rummaging through your brother's trunk, still looking for the sweater you had come up here to find.

"Why don't you just wear one of mine" even the idea of it already made James's head dizzy. Your head spun around as soon as you heard his voice, and for a moment the two of you simply stood there, looking at each other like a long lost treasure. But it didn't last long, because right after James crossed the room in record time, he took you in his arms, connecting his lips with yours as if you were his last source of oxygen. The kiss was heated and filled with lust from the both of you, and James could finally let himself go, finally let his thoughts out and make them reality once more.

That’s why he decided not to waste any more time as he gently nudged you towards his bed, making sure you wouldnt hit the headboard as the both of you laid down. He remembered the path he was trailing down your neck with his eyes closed, had remembered the way your breath hitched and your hips squirmed everytime he did so. All he had to do was follow the same signs and you were a mess underneath him in no time. His hands made their way up underneath your skirt, massaging the skin underneath his fingertips as he heard you moaning out his name, pleading for him to keep going, and he was more than happy to fullfill your request. He continued his way down until he came face to face with your whiskey stained shirt, not thinking twice before taking it off you, but from how you were quick to connect his lips with yours once more you didnt seem to mind. But James was a man on a mission, and it was not one he was willing to abandon. So he willed himself to ignore the whine that left you as he moved away from the kiss, knowing you’d forgive him for it soon enough.

He found his way to your chest and took in the sight for sore eyes you were to him, once again glowing underneath him. He was starting to suck bruises onto your skin, love marks he knew only he would see, and when he would next time he’d be just as eager to leave even more of them behind. Having you like this again, feeling the heat of your skin against him, your hands tugging at his curls as he could hear more and more moans slip out of you, it got him hard in his trousers simply thinking about all the things you’d let him do to you, all the things he’d do for you. He was rutting his hips into the mattress, desperate for the friction of it, his hands krept up further towards your cunt, inching further up until he could slide your underwear to the side and feel just how wet you were for him. His mouth was still busy on your chest as one of his fingers found its way inside of you, making you arch your back towards him. “Fuck darling, your pussy feels just as good as I remember” You wanted to reply to him, telling him how good he felt inside of you, his long hands reaching places you never could on your own, but your words failed you as just another moan left you, your exterior having crumbled down in a matter of minutes thanks to the one and only James Potter, but he seemed to know exactly what was going on.

“I know baby, I’ll take good care of you don’t worry”

He had never broken a promise before, and he wasn’t about to start now, he added a second finger, crooking them inside of you towards the one spot that would turn your vision white as if you were staring straight into the sun itself. If this had been any other moment you might have been embarrassed about how fast you were starting to reach your high, but James wasnt the only one who had been waiting for this, dreaming about seeing each other again, counting down the days. It took him only a little while longer, encouraged only further by your laboured breathing until he was sure he was about to reach his own climax simply from the sounds you were making underneath him as he coaxed you through it. But he didnt give you much time to recover, not letting you catch your breath as he went further down the bed until he could start kissing your thighs, giving in to the urge to bite some of the fat leading up to your cunt, it made you produce a small shriek, and it encouraged him even further.

So he wasted no more time, attaching his lips to your clit and lapping at it like a man starved, wanting to make you cum again, wondering how fast he could make you come undone again. His tongue hungrily took in all the juices from your previous orgasm and from the next one creeping closer and closer. His nose kept bumping against your clit as his mouth was now on your opening, not quite reaching the spots his finger could but oh so heavenly in a whole other way. He was dangerously close to his own high now, rather sure he’d reach it the moment you started spasming underneath him from the overstimulation. But he wasnt letting down just yet, doubling down on his efforts as he felt you grow restless, gracing his ears with whimpers and whispers reserved only for him. He could tell you were about to tip over the edge, knew you and your body well enough by now to see the signs before you even registered them yourself. “You can let go, I’ve got you” he accentuated his words with a soft squeeze to your inner thighs as he could feel you melt into him and took everything you would give him. 

“I’m pretty sure you just beat your record” you were breathless but you were already softly giggling as a wide smile broke on his face, proud of himself for his endeavors but furthemore proud of how he had been able to get you to let your walls down around him, how you had let him help you disassemble them brick by brick with each passing day. It was still early in the relationship, but James had never been so sure as to the fact that he loved you, because your presence made him shine even brighter than he already did, and he wasnt sure how much longer he could keep it contained. He moved back up the bed, caging you in with his arms as he leaned down to kiss you, no longer hurriedly or messy, but soft and delicate like the first rays of morning light.

Just as he did so however, someone came barelling in the room, and James cursed himself for not having locked it. 

“You better not be cutting one of my shirts into a tank-top again- holy fuck” Sirius very nearly landed face first into the hard wood flooring as he caught sight of the two of you before he he steadied himself on the dresser. The both of you shot up from your positions on the bed, and, ironically enough, approached him as one would a startled deer. “What in Merlin’s beard were you two just doing” He looked as if he was contemplating life itself, and you almost felt bad for him

“What, nothing, you’re drunk-” James tried to defend, but you were rather sure there was no way out of this one.

“I’m not drunk, I’m sober and that's the problem” He was flailing his hands around now, and it was hard to suppress the laugh bubbling its way up your throat. 

“Don’t laugh, this is not a situation to laugh at” he was trying to be stern, but it didnt quite suit him. 

“It’s alright Sirius, James and I have been seeing each other for a little while now” He was no longer shocked, no, his current expression better resembled being offended.

��And neither of you told me” he was nearly shouting now, but the party downstairs was loud enough that it didn’t really matter anyway.

“We haven’t told anyone, and youre not exactly the best at keeping secrets.”

“Excuse me, I’m great at keeping secrets, I never told you he’s had a crush on you since third year, but apparently I should have”

“Completely forgot I ever told you that” James’ shoulders had lost their tension as he stood next to you now, slowly reaching out for your hand.

“I will go now before either of you scar my eyes any further” Sirius said as he made his way back to the dorm door.

“Oi Moony, wait till you hear- fuck I can’t tell you” He had made a complete mood shift once more as he turned fuzzy, wanting to tell someone the news immediatly.

“It’s fine, Remus knows.” You tell him, interlacing your fingers with James’ in the meantime.

This time he looked betrayed again, halfway down the stairs already as you could hear him yelling. “You knew and didnt tell me?!” and it was faint, but you could make out Remus’ voice as well. “Of course I knew, I have eyes” The two of you looked at each other as he placed a simple kiss on top of your hair, a small gesture of affection that would become increasingly more common with time. He turned around briefly to grab something from his trunk  and before you could register it he had already asked, the shirt in his hand.

“Still gotta change your top, why don’t you take my jersey” It made your heart flutter as you slipped the item of clothing over your head and you went to follow Sirius downstairs, figuring this was as good a time as any to tell everyone.

[yanderefarm]

yandere vampire's pet introduction

cw;; yandere tendencies, blood, abuse, child abuse, manipulation, orgies, pet play, hypnosis

i love this little freak. there's a lot of information here bc i had a lot to say. he's so pretty and i love him so much one of my favorites for sure. im sorry to everyone who wants to be kind to him and treat him gently. im definitely gonna write about him getting bullied.

like I said before his yandere type is self destructive not like ares who is more traditionally yandere. so his content is less about him being jealous and hurting other people or you and more about his obsession. you're the only thing that matters in his life and it drives him to insanity.

silvan was born in a territory owned by a cruel vampire who purposely mistreated the humans under his watch because of how dirty he thought they were.

because of this it was hard for his family to find food so when he was a young child he was given to some low ranking vampires in exchange for human food.

that's how he got his scars around his neck. the vampires kept him for 3 days and nearly killed him before his blood started to develop a bad taste.

when humans are malnourished their blood starts to taste more like dead man blood which can be toxic to vampires. when silvan fell at your feet he tasted horrible, it wasn't until he'd been eating regular healthy meals for a few months that you actually risked trying his blood for the first time.

he tastes sweet. he's like biting into a perfect strawberry that's juicy and sweet without any tartness.

he believes that you're just inherently superior to him because you're a vampire. he feels like he needs to serve a powerful vampire like yourself that you're the only thing that gives his life meaning.

if he had been sired by you he would have been distraught and unable to cope with the idea of it. he wouldn't theoretically mind hurting humans. the problem is his self esteem and how lowly he thinks of himself.

he makes it no secret to you how he feels about himself. it's why his guilt tripping is so effective.

it also means that when he actually does something bad that earns him punishment he takes it incredibly hard. your servants will report his screaming and wailing so loud they can hear him if they go to that part of the manor.

you had to make his punishment room essentially baren so he wouldn't try to hurt himself. even the floors and walls had to be redone to minimize risk. it's basically a padded room.

you would expect him to lay on the guilt tripping extra hard after he gets out but he doesn't. his eyes are empty and his voice is just about gone. he's like a shell of a human being.

silvan will just walk around for a while like that. he'll hesitate to even go near you because he doesn't want to disappoint you again. he doesn't start to return to normal until you bite into him.

he loves when you feed on him. he feels wanted, needed even. you're so powerful and amazing there's no reason you should need him but you do.

he loves sitting in your lap while you drink. he'll run his fingers through your hair and babble about how happy he is. he just goes on and on if you let him, until he's absolutely woozy from blood loss.

he can't die easily because of the preservation procedure. he can withstand having his blood drained past the point of a regular human, he doesn't need to eat every day, he doesn't age. the only thing that could actually kill him is a deliberate attempt on his life.

you've robbed him of part of his humanity by turning him into a pet.

it's not like silvan cares though. you could take all of his humanity if you wanted. you could force him to crawl around like a dog for eternity and he would do so happily.

and compared to his home in the human farm his life is significantly better because he belongs to you. it's not just the fact that he's a pampered pet living in a lavish manor and eating whenever he desires. it's that he's yours.

he's met plenty of vampires by now, other lords like yourself included. no one compares to you. you can show him the bare minimum of affection and that is worth more than all the adoration he gets at parties.

some parties can be a bit too much for him. he's always willing to serve so if it's your will that he be passed around he'll submit himself to any vampire you decide. but sometimes vampires are too greedy, sometimes it reminds him too much of his childhood trauma.

he finds it hard to run to you for support, not because you're some cruel owner but because he doesn't believe he's worthy of your care. if he actually comes to you with a problem you know it's serious.

if he starts to panic or get upset while he's in the middle of being fed on and used by many vampires he can't exactly get up and run into your arms. that's when he finds his ribbon.

the first gift you gave him was a ribbon to tastefully hide his scars. you wrapped it around his neck like a dog collar. since then the original had gotten torn but you bought him a new one.

every one that got torn went to a shoe box in his room. he took good care of the one he wore around the manor but at parties they often got carelessly discarded by greedy vampires. you always bought him a new one, usually to match his outfit.

it was so important to him that he would use it to soothe himself when he was upset. it's presence was like your embrace to him. he would imagine your cold fingers gently touching his skin as you tied it on him. everything was ok.

not every party was a horrible slog fest. the small parties you and the other elite would have were the most fun. you and your friends would all bring your pets and while you talked business silvan got to spend time with the other pets.

he likes other pets because they tend to be the only humans who understand him. some humans have a deep resentment for vampires and they dream of revolution. some humans simply accept their lot in life and do their best while silently cursing their vampire rulers. it seemed like only pets understood the deep admiration for vampires.

silvan and the other pets would excitedly brag about their respective owners and gush over how cool they were. at least until the party turned to other things.

if you're an incredibly affectionate owner he'll become a spoiled brat. he'll still be self loathing but being sat on your lap adorned in all the beautiful things you got him is basically therapy. he doesn't ask for material possessions usually all he really wants is your attention. he interrupts your work, he crawls into your bed, he'll even accidentally barge into meetings with other vampires. he'll pretend to be your stupid pet who doesn't know better. he didn't know you were busy he just needed to see you so bad. the other vampires just watch his shameless smirk when you let him do what he wants.

if you're more of a tortured soul type vampire he loves you but you also irritate him a little. you gave him a good life because of how pathetic and sad he looked when you first met. you give him clothes, you feed him, you gave him a warm bed. so why won't you bite him? why do you wait until you're starving to finally feed on him? he's your property it's your right to feed on him. but you don't. when you finally do you're crying and apologizing. it makes him so frustrated he doesn't understand you. there's nothing more insulting to silvan than you not wanting to eat him.

if you're a mean owner it makes him feel all the more desperate to please you. he'll gladly ask you to take your frustrations out on him. if you want to see his face twist in pain you're going to have to get creative. you punch him, strangle him, cut him, anything and he has a big dopey smile on his face. he can so easily convince himself that you hurting him is your way of showing affection. as long as you don't lock him in the punishment room it means you love him.

as long as you let him stay by your side he'll remain your devoted and loyal pet.

silvan has a vampire kink. he gets so turned on by your fangs, your cold hands, your power over him. compel him. bite him. touch him.

with this comes a pain kink, a blood kink, and a hypnosis kink.

he's already obedient but compel him to make him quiet, dumb, and pliant. he'll jack off to the memory of you doing whatever you want to him for months.

it's hard not to notice just how much you drinking his blood really turns him on. especially if you're a messy eater. he has to physically restrain himself from kissing you and licking up his own blood.

if you're covered in someone else's blood he gets strangely jealous but still undeniably turned on. let him remove your bloody clothes or touch him with your bloody hands and he'll end up humping your leg.

he likes taking care of you. he's clumsy and overexcited but let him help you get dressed or take a bath or get you off. he'll do his best to show you the love you showed him.

he will suggest crawling under your desk and cockwarming you all day. but if you give a mouse a cookie.

he likes more traditional pet play too. put him in a proper collar and make him bark. call him good dog or good boy.

he's really skilled at taking multiple people at once. it's part of why he's so popular at parties. as long as you're not participating he'll be able to focus his attention on everyone.

if you're participating everyone else is chopped liver. he wants to show you how good a pet he is but he also only wants to touch you.

the rare exception is at the small parties with all your friends. all of the pets just get passed around. the first time he got really jealous of whoever you would put your hands on but as he became friends with them all the jealousy subsided somewhat. he knows they'll never want to leave their owners so he doesn't have to worry about them wanting you.

you're vampires of course you have to have cool vampire orgies. if you can't have cool vampire orgies what's the point!

his favorite position is either on your lap or with his legs over your shoulders. he wouldn't particularly care too much what position you had him in. he just needs you.

brat taming. if you spoil him you get to brat tame him and in return he'll misbehave more just to get punished.

he's the most fun to bully or mess with when you have company. he tries to be beautiful and put together eye candy by your side, he can hide his obsession with you for a little while. until you're pulling his hair or cutting into his neck. undo all the hard work your maids went through to make him presentable.

he can't hide how hard he gets when he's looking up at you and your company with tears in his eyes and his shirt stained with his blood. he'll play pretend that he's a miserable dog who's being mistreated by his owner but you're both well aware that he loves it. any kind of attention is good attention.

[inkdrinkerworld]

Love the idea of calling dick ‘bluebird’ in front of his family when you want to see him get flustered <33

Omg omg omg!!!!

You’d had a fight before you’d went to Wayne Manor to see his brothers.

Not a big one, but one enough to the point where he was still lingering in upset even though you’d both forgiven each other.

“Leave it,” his voice is gruff as you move to open your door and you smile- at least he’s talking to you now and not simmering.

“Will you please stop being mad?” You mumble, slotting your fingers between his as you walk to the door. Dick sighs, kissing your forehead.

“I’m not mad, baby.” Except he only calls you baby when he wants to be extra sweet and he’s trying to make up for something.

You just hum, letting him open the door and lead you to the living room where all his brothers are sat.

“Oh trouble in paradise?” Damien asks when you sit beside him and Dick opts for the seat closer to Jason.

Usually you’d be cuddled up right next to each other, being as Damien would phrase it, ‘disgusting and couple-y’ in front of them.

“No,” you say quietly, allowing your mind to run wild a little as you sit beside Damien.

“For what it’s worth, he probably just doesn’t know how to move forward from it as easy as you do.”

You love all of his brothers, but you and Damien had always been the closest so you nod, taking his words for what they are- a comfort.

“Neither do I. But I don’t like fighting.” Damien shrugs and passes you the control for the tv, something that rarely happens because you like watching films in languages none of them can understand.

The first hour of the movie passes smoothly, all of you just waiting for brunch to start and when Alfred calls to you all you perk up.

You’d been plotting how to get Dick to let the argument go all the while half heartedly listening to the Swedish movie playing.

With a plan in mind, you wait for him to put his hand out to you and let him help you up.

“What do you want, sweetheart?” That melts you a little, a familiar name and his soft tone.

“Anything but the strawberries, please baby.” Dick pauses, cheeks flushed a deep red- especially when Jason snickers.

You grin a little at how flustered he gets and Damien only shakes his head. Dick sets about making your fruit bowl for you, skipping on the strawberries.

You kiss his wrist as he sets the bowl down, “Thanks, bluebird.” It’s a little evil, the kiss and the nickname, but you just want him to smile with you again.

Dick sits beside you the same flush as a beetroot and it amuses his brothers. Enough so that Damien fake gags and repeats ‘bluebird’ in a sing-songy voice and Jason mocks a make out.

“I’m trying to be cross with you,” he mutters- affection seeping into each word and you smile.

“And I don’t want you to be, kiss?” He tries to remain stoic and stony but a smile takes over his face when you pucker your lips.

“You’re insufferable.” He presses three kisses against your lips and then starts dishing his own plate.

“You suffer me pretty well, Grayson.” You chew on a cube of melon.

He cuts you a mock glare, “Oh now I’m, ‘Grayson’?”

Jason nods then, chewing on his own fruit, “I thought he was ‘bluebird’?”

Damien can’t resist, “Or even ‘baby’?”

Dick laughs when you glare at both of them, and kisses your temple. “Whatever. Pass me a scone, love?” You say sweetly and he laughs even more.

“That’s better, gorgeous.” Dick passes it to you after he’s cut it open and set some butter and jam in it.

[disasterofastory]

Yours (Brahms Heelshire x Reader)

Yours // Brahms Heelshire Masterlist Brahms Heelshire x Reader Kinktober 2023 - 8/14 Warnings: virgin!Brahms

Summary: You want a special night with Brahms.

"Can you do that, Brahms?" You ask him for the second time when, instead of answering your previous question, he pouts at you with a slight, moody wrinkle between his brows. "Can you promise you won't spy on me for a few hours?" The corners of your lips twitch as you listen to your own words. You can't even imagine what other people would think of Brahms or you if they heard you right now. Or any other time. "But why?" His voice is higher with a couple of octaves than before. His hands on your waist tighten while you keep your arms around his lean waist. "Because I want to surprise you," you tell him. "It's just a few hours, Brahms. Please." His chest stretches with a heavy sigh. "Fine." "Great!" You squeak out, reaching up for his neck to pull him down for a quick kiss. "You won't regret it." It's funny you say that; Brahms already feels the regret eating at him when you disappear upstairs.

You have been waiting for this day ever since you decided to stay with Brahms. Well, you like to think you had a choice in the matter. You had doubts when he dragged you into the shower with himself the first time, but after the first kiss you shared, you knew it for sure. He has no experience with women and intimacy. You weren't even surprised. The man lived most of his life behind the walls of Heelshire manor. In the beginning, he had barely any idea what to do or how without your guidance. It was fine, though. You love the power you had over him and his pleasure. You built him up patiently and softly. And today, if he is okay with it, you are ready to take the next step. You are surprised he hasn't initiated it yet. Brahms has no patience when it comes to what he wants, and you learned it rather quickly.

So, you take the first step.

You start with your room after making sure Brahms doesn't lurk behind the walls. You gather more pillows and blankets, adjusting them on the bed to your liking. You even go and unpack the lights you ordered since Brahms is not really comfortable around fire. You put the lanterns and fairy lights all around the room until you are satisfied with the result. By the time you are done, it's already dark outside, and your room looks like a cozy nest with dim lights and the scent of fresh strawberries because of the tray of snacks and drinks on the bedside table.

You are really satisfied when you leave your room to get Brahms, who is already in the living room with his mask on. You can't help but frown at the sight of him. "What's wrong, honey?" You ask him softly, cradling his face in your hands as he accepts you stepping between his legs. His warm palms find their way to the back of your thighs immediately. When he doesn't reply, you continue. "Do you not want to see my surprise? Do you want to do something else?" He shakes his head.

Ever since you earned Brahms's trust, the man avoids wearing his mask around you as much as he feels comfortable without it. By now, you only see it on him when something is wrong.

Biting your lip, you think through your next step. "Do you want to take a bath with me? Bubbles and everything." Finally, he nods. "Good," you smile at him, taking one of his hands in yours to link your fingers together. "Come, then." He follows you up to his room like a lost puppy, watching you prepare his bathroom without a word. "You can take off your clothes," you tell him, glancing at his towering figure over your shoulder when you check the water's temperature for the last time.

You didn't share your plans with Brahms, but maybe he can feel it in the air. He knows something is coming, and you want to give him the chance to say no. "You know," you start. "We can watch a movie, too. Or I can read." Both of you are in the bathtub, enjoying the warmth of the water. The air is heavy with steam and the scent of the bathbomb you used. The water is green and glitters a little under the light of the lamp hanging from the ceiling. "No," he says. The porcelain of his mask is cold on the side of your face as he rests his head on your shoulder. His arms are around you while your back is against his broad chest. His hands are cupping your breasts, just holding them for his comfort. "But you can change your mind at any second, okay?" You ask him. "What is our safeword?" "Doll." "Good boy," you praise him, reaching behind you to pet his hair.

You take your time in the bathroom, making sure to wash his worries away until his body is relaxed in your hands. You massage his shoulders, caress his chest, and play with his curls while he lets you pamper him until the water is almost cold and you have to get out. "Do you feel better?" You ask him, leading him out of the room with his hand in yours. "Yes," he replies. He still wears his mask, but you don't mention it. You know he will take it off when he is ready. "Did you change your mind? We can go to sleep, too, baby." "No. I want to see your surprise." "Okay, love," you smile at him soothingly.

You step into the room first so you can see Brahms's reaction. You know it's nothing fancy or grand, but you want to make him feel comfortable and cared for. Even after all the things you did together and with each other, you want to make his first time special.

Brahms doesn't even know how to feel at the sight of your room. He can see the pale face of the moon through the window above your bed, which is full of soft pillows and warm blankets. Small lights hang from here and there, mixing with the dim glow of the lanterns. He had never seen anything so inviting and comfortable.

"What do you think?" You ask him after a while. Your heart thuds against your ribcage since you can't see his expression. "I love it," Brahms answers, caging you in his arms to pull you to his body. His chest is still bare, and your fingers rake through the soft hair. "I love you." "I love you too," you grin at him, kissing the cold lips of his mask. "Do you want to lay down a little?" You ask him. "We have snacks." Brahms follows you to the bed, resting his large body among the soft fabrics while you put the tray in the middle between your bodies. He still feels amazed because of everything you did for him. "Comfortable?" You ask. He nods. "Thank you." "Anything for my baby," you grin at him cheekily just to lighten the mood. "I'm glad you like it, though. And I'm proud of you for keeping your promise." "How do you know?" He asks, pushing his mask away a little to eat some grapes. The fruit pops under his teeth, flooding his mouth with its sweet taste. You shrug, not knowing how to answer. You just know it. Brahms became such a deep part of you that you simply feel him whether he is around you or not. But you are right, though. Brahms wanted to respect your wishes even if it drove him bad most of the day while he waited for you. "Do you want me to read you?" You ask him. "Just a few pages." Even though he is much more relaxed than before, you can still notice his fidgetiness. "Please." So you read him for a while, letting the remaining tension leave his body as he almost melts on the bed. Every now and again, you have to glance at him to check if he is still awake.

"Come here," he says when you pause for a second. "I want you close." Putting away the book, you crawl up on him to straddle his hips. "Do you feel better?" You ask him, playing with the hair on his chest. Your thumbs rub over his nipples a few times. "Yes," he hums, watching you. His shirt is big on you, but he can see the soft line of your breasts and the pretty pebbles of your nipples. He is already pulling on the fabric to get rid of it, but you stop him. "No," you say, and he can't help but be surprised. You never say no when he wants your tits. "What?" "I said no," you tell him. "We will learn new things today, Brahms." He doesn't like it but keeps quiet. You already did so much for him. "I know patience is not your strong suit, but we will work on it today." Oh, no, just not on my patience, he thinks, grimacing under his mask. "And we will learn about building," you grin. You don't have to see the man's face under you to know he doesn't like what you say. "Do you trust me, Brahms?" He nods without thinking. You are the only one in the whole world he fully trusts. "Then believe me when I say you will like it." He nods again.

Brahms watches you with interest as you grab a strawberry from the tray. The fruit is red and ripe. "Do you want to take off your mask?" You ask him. When he shakes his head, you continue. "Then push it out of the way a bit." He can do that. He lets you feed him fruit after fruit while he stares up at you the whole time. He is surprised at how intimate the act is despite its innocence. "Good boy," you break the silence after a while. "Now, the next step." You can feel his body tense under you with anticipation. Putting another strawberry in your mouth, you lean on his chest to reach his lips. For a second, Brahms just stares at you, not knowing what to do before smoothing his hand on your hips and accepting the fruit from your mouth. Both of you munch on it until your lips meet in a soft kiss. The edge of his mask pokes your face, and you want to take it off and throw it as far as you can but decide against it. It has to be Brahms's choice. "Do you want another one?" You ask him. Your words brush over his lips, and he wants another kiss but nods anyway. Repeating your previous actions, you stay capturing his lips with your own. You let yourself taste the fruit on his lips, licking into his mouth with a satisfied hum. Brahms's nerves are on edge as he lies under you, holding onto your hips while you play and tease him. He barely has time to deepen the kiss when you back away to nibble on his bottom lip, biting into the soft flesh softly and soothing the slight pain with your tongue. "Y/N," Brahms says your name with a dreamy sigh as your lips trail down on his bearded jaw and hairy chest. Your tongue flicks over one of his nipples, and he gasps at the new sensation. "Oh!" "Did you like it?" You grin at him, caressing his abs. He is warm under your palm and curious fingertips. "Yes," he grunts. The curve of your lips widens when you see him reaching up to his mask to tear it away from his face and letting it drop next to the bed. "And here is my handsome boy," you croon. "Hey." His heart flutters and the shade of his cheeks darken under your appreciative gaze. "Hey." You lean up to kiss him again, letting him dominate the motion for a few seconds. Your bottom still rests over his crotch. His erection twitches and throbs every time you rub against it as you move. "How are you feeling, Brahms?" You ask him while peppering his face with small pecks. His fire-marred skin is rough under your lips. "Good." Brahms stays with the easiest answer when he can't find the right words. He is excited and hungry for you, but at the same time, he feels soft, and his heart could burst out at any moment because of all the things you make him feel. Your nails crawl over the front of his body, sending goosebumps all over his skin as you move down until you hoover above his knees, and your face is level with the obvious tent in his pants.

The world starts to spin around Brahms with you in the focus when you tug on his pants, and his cock springs free. His desperate grunt is loud in the quiet room when you hold him in your hand and stroke up on his shaft. "I want to see you," he says breathlessly. For a second, you want to deny him but decide otherwise. Quickly, you get rid of his shirt while you stay bare on top of him.

You are so beautiful, he can't even breathe. Your skin looks soft under the dim lights, and every dip and curve of your body seems to beg for his touch. His palms tingle with the need to reach out for you. And he does. A moan escapes your lips when he sits up a little to knead one of your breasts. His thumb runs across your skin, following the curve of your flesh before rubbing over your nipple. "I want it in my mouth," he breaks the silence again, hoping you will give in to his wants once again. "Not yet," you shake your head. "I want to prepare you first." He feels prepared enough, though but can't argue when he chokes on his own saliva when you focus your attention back on his cock. For a long second, he hears nothing but the ringing of his ears as you stroke up and down on his length. Your thumb follows the line of one of his bulging veins until you reach the tip. "You are so pretty," you hum under your breath, still teasing the bulbous head of his cock. You can feel him throbbing in your hold. Brahms's chuckle is breathless and hoarse. "Me or my dick?" You grin. "Both. And you taste good, too." The man saw you take him in your mouth several times already, but the sight of his cock disappearing between your lips is still mesmerizing. You are warm and wet around him. Your tongue is flat against the underside of his shaft. "Y/N!" He gasps out your name, tightening his hold on the blankets around him. Black dots dance in front of his eyes as you suckle on him, gathering his pre-cum on your tongue to gulp every now and again. You take your time, though. You don't chase him to his orgasm, and he never imagined suffering so sweet.

A desperate whimper escapes his closed lips when you move away from his cock. He wants to cum so badly. "It's okay, Brahms," you coo, smoothing your hand over his chest. "You will get your reward for being so patient." The man watches with wide eyes as you settle back above his crotch. Your pussy is nestled against his cock, soaking him with your juices. Something curls in his stomach with anticipation as he stares at the motion of your hips. You rock back and forth, letting your wet heat slide over his cock repeatedly. The tip of his cock nudges your clit every time. "How do you want me, Brahms?" You ask him, panting. The slow pace you set is hard on you, too. Your pussy aches, and your walls flutter with need. After all these months, you want him inside you. Brahms's lips open, but no word comes out. His mind does not want to work. "Do you want me to stay on top?" You ask him. "Or you want to change position?" "Top," he grunts. Your hips rock and twist the whole time. "You." "Okay, baby," you nod.

Lifting yourself from his lap, you still hover above him with your hand between your legs this time. You slide your fingers over your pussy, rubbing your clit for a few seconds before pushing into your hole. A relieved sigh leaves your lips at the familiar stretch, but it's not near enough. You finger yourself above Brahms while the man can do nothing but grip the fabrics around him to keep himself from cumming. At this point, you don't even care about the slight pain you cause yourself. You add another and then a third finger until you are sure you are prepared enough to take his cock.

"Okay," you break the silence, mostly talking to yourself. You need several deep breaths to push down the impatience crawling up your spine. You want it soft and gentle, and if you lose your head, it will be anything but. "Are you ready?" You ask Brahms, glancing at his face. His eyes are glassy, and his lips open. Sweat sticks his curls to his forehead. "Yes," he grunts. "I want you, Y/N." "Good, love." Your smile is shaky. "I want you too." You never wanted anything so much in your life.

A heavy groan is punched out of him when he feels your entrance at the tip of his cock. Your hold on his shaft is steady and firm as you press him into you. You slide down on his slick cock inch by inch, enjoying the pressure in your walls and the way he slowly fills you up. Brahms doesn't even dare to breathe. He just lies under you, watching his cock disappearing in your tight hole. The noises escaping his throat are a mix of groans and whimpers. You are warm and wet around him, squeezing his cock all the way to the base. "How do I feel?" You ask, sitting on him with his whole cock in you. Your question is shaky. At this point, Brahms can't form words anymore. His brain is a mush of pleasure and need in his head. You envelop him tightly. He can feel himself rubbing against your inner walls as you start to rock your hips. They are small movements, but fireworks spark behind his closed eyelids at the feeling. A throaty groan is the only answer you get from him. "You can cum anytime you want, baby," you tell him, watching a vein bulging on his neck as he clenches his teeth together. "No," he growls, slipping his hands to your waist for a squeeze. He wants to feel your pussy when you cum around him. "But please," he continues, gasping. "Move!" To give some weight to his words, he grinds deep inside your wet hole. He reaches every nerve and every spongy spot that steals your breath away. "Fuck!" You wheeze, pushing down against him as you begin to rock back and forth on him more rapidly while his cock twitches and throbs.

"Brahms!" You cry out his name, bracing yourself on his chest as you lift yourself a little and drop back on his cock again. "Fuck!" You both groan at the same time. The man's hands slide up to your tits, palming and kneading your soft flesh. He works on you mindlessly, rubbing and pinching your nipples in reflex. "Again!" He demands, and you repeat your movement several times until you bounce on his cock with his hips pushing up in rhythm into your pussy. You can see as his stomach tightens and your juices soak the trimmed hair at the base of his shaft.

You feel light and drunk on his cock. Your eyes are half closed, and your limbs shake as you force yourself to move. Your pussy squeezes around the grith of Brahms's cock, wanting it to stay inside you until he floods you with his seed. Brahms wants that, too. There are moments as you grind to each other that he is sure his dick will fall off because of the way you work on him. There are no thoughts behind his teary eyes as he stares at you, moaning and groaning. His hold on your breasts is painfully tight, but you have no mind or energy to stop him as he slides in and out of your drenched pussy.

Your vision blurs as you gasp for air. "I'm gonna- I'm-" Your toes curl in pleasure, and the burning coil in your stomach snaps in two. Your pussy flutters around his cock as you reach your climax, still bouncing and rocking. You cry in ecstasy as you fall into a deep spiral, twitching and jerking. Pleasure flares in your veins as you fall apart on his erection while he bucks into you deeper. You can't even tell anymore where your moans end and where his groans start. Your walls clamp around his cock while he empties himself inside of you. Hot spurts of cum fill your hole, and every shot makes you tremble and cry some more.

Brahms's cock still jerks and twitches inside you when you go limp on his body. Your mixed juices flow out of your pussy, soaking his balls and the sheets on the bed. Your muscles burn, your pussy aches from the stretch, and your limbs tingle. And while you fight with your heavy eyelids, Brahms has to learn how to breathe again. His chest heaves under you, and a low groan escapes both of your lips when you lift yourself from him and let your body fall close next to his. "How do you feel?" You pant. "Fuck," he groans, holding your thigh in his hand. You are soft and sweet against him. You grin. "I'm glad." You want to put away the tray that is still on the bed behind you, but there is no way you can move.

"Thank you, Y/N," Brahms breaks the silence after a while. "It was… I just…" "I love you, too, Brahms," you hum, cupping his cheek and raking your finger through his thick beard until both of you fall asleep in each other's arms.

[bitter-hibiscus]

what are some of your favorite robin jason headcanons

ARGH DONT GET ME STARTED---

Commissioner Gordon isn't allowed to smoke around Robin!Jason. He WILL make puppydog eyes the entire night to try and get commish to give him one

He's the only Robin who's allowed the aud in the Batmobile because he shares Bruce's music taste

Since his room in the manor is Dick's old one, he found Dick's old Flying Graysons poster and taped it above his bed. He uses it as motivation for Robin because if Dick can still be good despite the tragedy of the Graysons then he can too

Selina is his favorite "family" member because she took him to Wildcat's boxing ring the first time they went out together AND she's the only one in that buys him batburgers

He only cooks for himself, because cooking for Bruce makes him think of Catherine's last years :)

He has a huge scar from his lip to his left eye from where Willis' wedding ring caught on his skin once

His favorite book is The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe

He spends his first two months in the manor sleeping in the closet instead of the bed

His shower in the Batcave has a bird print on the curtain (when he comes back as Red Hood, it's changed to a fox print)

Jason loves anything chocolate and hates anything strawberry EXCEPT for shortcake. Alfred makes brownies very often

Jason took a knife from the kitchen the day he moved into the manor and hid it under his pillow. Bruce knows but never asked him to give it back. Jason puts it back in the kitchen on the 3 month mark

Jason never has any money despite his allowance being hundreds of dollars because he just leaves them in his childhood friends (Max, Numbers, etc) bedrooms every time

Eddie comes over once every 2-ish months and the first time he's there and Dick comes over Dick is CONVINCED Bruce got another one. Jason runs with it and almost convinces Alfred that Eddie is his new brother

Jason has a winter version of the Robin uniform and the cape has 1) a hood and 2) fur lining. He has to replace it often because he gives it to homeless kids as a blanket more often than not. Bruce is glad to buy him new ones

If he goes to Crime Alley as a civilian, every single crook will ask him if he's "Willis' boy" because when he was still alive, Willis couldn't go more than 10 minutes without telling his coworkers about his little prince

Jason uses a leave-on conditioner for his curls that Dick recommended him. It smells like oranges, and becomes the scent that Bruce associates with him

His favorite piece of clothing is a dark red sweater with two yellow stripes that Clark sent to him for his birthday

Speaking of Clark, his Superman autograph is framed on the wall in his room

He makes friendship bracelets when he's bored!! Most of them he gives to children he rescues as Robin (it becomes Gotham Culture to compare how many Robin friendship bracelets you have. The record is 23). The ones he doesn't give to victims are usually given to Rena or Eddie (and, in one rare occasion, to Bruce. it says "Spooky." Bruce still wears it after Jason comes back)

Robin Jason looks like a doll. He has an up-tipped button nose and eyes three times the size they ought to be, big eyelashes and cupids bow lips. He looks like Sheila as Robin, and like Willis as Red Hood

He has a tattoo in the shape of a batarang on his shoulder because of Willis (which I've written about here)

Okay i just realized how long this is oh my god. I didn't even make a DENT on my Robin Jason headcanons. god help me

[thisiswhatmentallyhealthyfolksdo]

tea party diet

(inspired by @honey-diet)

guidelines

drink as much tea as you would like. a hot cup should always be waiting around to sip on throughout the day.

sit up straight as much as you can. Can't be found slouching at such a formal event

eat delicately, and with small bites. it should only take a moment to go from eating to speaking without your mouth full, as that would be impolite.

peck at food throughout the day.

you should be able to eat it with just your hands, without needing sliverware, and without ruining a pair of white gloves

embrace sweets!

everything you consume should be beautiful and dainty, plated in a pretty manor

always leave some left over for the others! it's rude to take the last one on the plate!

the food should never be your main focus, as there is a party around you! play games, watch shows, talk to friends and family, all while you nibble away at tea and snacks

a day of food

first things first, set some snacks at the beginning of the party, for you to graze on throughout the day. maybe some blueberries, grapes, a handful on nuts. anything really(as long as it can be left out safely!). don't allow yourself to finish it until the end of the day, practice having food around you that you don't eat.

morning, a cup of tea, or several cups, with some milk and sugar and preferred. a breakfast blend might be good, some strawberries, along with a scone with jam. chat with friends, call your grandma, or watch a live streams and comment in the comment second in between bites.

lunch, a delicate sandwich made of the fluffiest bread, cream cheese, and cucumber with the crust cut off. pair this with some grapes. remember to cut this into tiny pieces, as tea party food should be small and adorable! green tea is ideal for this, as it matches.

dinner, a tea of your choice and 2 deviled eggs, pair this with a bit of cheese, and a few crackers.

midnight snack, a very hot herbal tea to help you sleep after a long day.

[jayybugg]

summer of strawberries

Week 1 of Jinxed July is here! I promised my loves @finalgirllx & @thatdammchickennugget that I would participate in at least one week so here we are. I used the strawberry picking and heatwave prompts for a little sunshine x grumpy headcanon action with Theo. Banner from @cafekitsune!

Warnings: GN!Reader, mentions of smoking, grumpy!Theo, sunshine!reader, sickly sweet.

Word Count: 504 (Probably the shortest thing you'll get from me.)

Boyfriend!Theo who hates the heat. He hates the summer. He hates bugs.

Boyfriend!Theo who would rather sit under the AC of his childhood manor than do ANYTHING that requires him to move in the summer heat.

Boyfriend!Theo who has a partner who loves summer and the activities that come with it.

Boyfriend!Theo whose partner always wanted to go out and explore, host a pool party, or just be outside.

Boyfriend!Theo who was beyond annoyed when they were given a summer project to write about a fun outdoor activity they did over the summer.

Boyfriend!Theo who thought “Why does it matter to the teachers if he went outside or not?”

Boyfriend!Theo whose annoyance faded away a little bit once you said that you would do the activity with him.

Boyfriend!Theo whose only intention for the summer was to take you to his manor and hold you hostage in his bed.

“Strawberry picking!” You exclaimed, bouncing on Theo’s large bed excitedly.

Boyfriend!Theo who stared at you like you had grown two heads as he blew out smoke from his cigarette. “It’s hot.” He deadpanned.

“They’re ripe!” Your rebuttal, “And it’s the perfect thing for the project!”

Boyfriend!Theo rolled his eyes but got up to go to the strawberry field with you. He would do anything you said despite his distaste for the project and the heat.

Boyfriend!Theo whose love for you is strong but his hate for the sweltering heat wave is equally as strong.

Boyfriend!Theo who walked hand-in-hand with you, listening to you ramble on about every fact that you knew about strawberries. That was how your relationship worked, you were the yapper and he was the listener.

Boyfriend!Theo who watched you run to the field of strawberries, your smile brighter than the sun as you picked the biggest and juiciest ones.

Boyfriend!Theo who had a deep scowl on his face as he sweated through his white t-shirt. The material was basically sticking to his chest like a second layer of skin.

Boyfriend!Theo who also smiled sweetly at you whenever you showed him a bigger strawberry or a ladybug.

Boyfriend!Theo who risked sunburn to come and help you untangle a squirrel from the bushes.  

Boyfriend!Theo who definitely got sunburnt.

Boyfriend!Theo who gave you a piggyback ride all the way back to the manor, despite usually hating being touched in this type of heat.

Boyfriend!Theo who washed all your strawberries for you and made you different Italian desserts out of them.

Boyfriend!Theo who smiled softly as he watched your eyes gleam with happiness every time you bit into one of the strawberries or the desserts.

Boyfriend!Theo who loves you so much that he didn’t care about the raised eyebrows when the other boys saw his sunburnt skin when they came to visit.

Boyfriend!Theo who got the highest marks on his summer project when they came back to school.

Boyfriend!Theo who made Professor McGonagall dab tears from her eyes from reading his report because she could tell how much he loved you through the words he wrote.

[magnusraydar]

Batfamily with weird allergies because I have weird allergies:

Bruce- Chocolate. He found on Valentine's Day, and now socialites at Galas won't let him forget the day he got incredibly wick from it.

Dick- Strawberries, found out after eating one of Alfreds strawberry shortcakes. Dick was upset he couldn't enjoy having it afterward.

Jason- Dogs. He doesn't care about how dogs make him extremely sneezy and itchy. He'll pet that dog and live with them. (I'm allergic and live with 2)

Tim- Eggs and shellfish. (That fic corrupted me) Tim, as a kid ate it because his parents said it was rude to make a fuss about something so little. Tim now eats it out of habit, forgetting that he's actually allowed to not eat something in the Manor.

Steph- lavender. Her mom had to get a very specific laundry detergent brand so she didn't break out in hives. No one knew it was due to lavender in the detergent. Found out about 2 years later, thanks to Alfred.

Cass- Latex. Her first doctors visit with Bruce they were running an allergy test, and she kept getting hives on her skin. Bruce was panicking thing Cass was allergic to everything before realizing it was the latex gloves.

Damian- Chocolate and the cold. Damian spent most of his time training in the hot desert, and when he was in the cold, it wasn't for very long. Gotham, however, was 100x colder than what he was used to, and his cheeks broke out into hives. He got his chocolate allergy from his dad.

Barbara- Coins. When she was younger and watched by her father, Jim thought it would be perfect to teach her about money while they wait for cases to come in. 30 minutes later, Jim rushes Barbara into Leslie's clinic hives all over her hands.

Alfred- Roses. Though he'll never admit it. Roses make Alfred considerably more sneezy and itchy. Doesn't mean he won't tend to the garden, though. He just brings an extra handkerchief.

Duke- Pollen. Fighting Ivy is the #1 thing Duke will refuse to do. Just getting close leaves him in a sneezing fit. He makes someone else do it every time.

[joanquill]

Valentine's Day Headcanons

How the Moriarty brothers and Sherlock ask their significant other to be their Valentine's and how they would spend the day with them.

Albert, William, Louis James Moriarty, and Sherlock Holmes

Albert James Moriarty

The day Albert was planning to ask you to be his Valentine, you were out on a mission.

Ever the opportunist, he took the chance to surprise you when you came home.

When you entered the manor, the entrance was lit with romantic candlelight, rose petals on the ground, and Albert holding a bouquet of roses as soft music played.

Albert happily showed you what he had prepared for your evening.

The dining room had a table decorated, sporting candles and flowers in the middle. It even had neatly folded napkins, as if you were in a high-end restaurant.

The bathroom even had a bathtub filled with bubbles and scented candles.

By the end of dinner, he asked you to be his Valentine, which you happily agreed to.

He definitely has something grand planned for the occasion.

Unfortunately, some nobles started making their move, making you and Albert work on a mission.

Nothing says romance like hunting down corrupt nobles <3

Luckily, you two finished before the end of the day and had time for Albert's plans for Valentine's.

It might be weird to see you two run towards the train station while laughing, but you both didn't care and were relieved to catch the last train.

The rest of the trip went smooth sailing... if you ignore the fact that you forgot to pack some essentials.

Nothing a shopping trip couldn't fix.

Either way, it was a Valentine's you couldn't forget.

William James Moriarty

I think William's way of asking would be either of the two, simple and sweet, or a full-on treasure hunt... or both!

He will ask you on a library date inside the manor to unwind and relax for the afternoon.

The only thing is, the book you picked had a note inside.

It was a riddle, and you could tell at first glance it was William's little game.

You looked for him and saw him acting innocent as he read his book in his nook.

You playfully rolled your eyes as you played along to his game, making William hide his smile as he tried to focus on his book.

Each clue was filled with memories and inside jokes only the two of you shared, leading you to the last clue, which only told you to turn around and answer a question.

You did as it said and saw William holding a basket of lilies and your favorite things.

He asked you to be his Valentine's, and you happily said yes.

On the day, you and William visited Durham University and enjoyed the sights and date spots his students happily suggested.

While you two enjoyed the day, you didn't expect avoiding his students to be a side quest.

You also heard some of them joking about catching their professor on a date, hoping he would heed their advice.

Good thing William came prepared with disguises.

As the sun was about to set, William led you to the university, letting you guess what his last surprise was.

While sneaking into Durham University to use the observatory for stargazing was not one of your guesses, it was definitely a delightful experience.

Louis James Moriarty

He practiced asking you in person countless times in front of the mirror.

How to approach you, making sure he was saying it right, not fumbling in his words, and asking you confidently.

In the morning, he tried to approach you, but he either backed out at the last minute, you two were busy with chores, or someone else was in the room.

He tried to ask again at lunch while you were preparing the food, but Master Jack entered the kitchen, offering a helping hand.

Night came, and Louis was practically defeated.

But he settled in leaving you an extra treat during dinner to ask you instead.

It didn't help his nerves when you sat beside him at the dinner table, though.

As Louis prepared everyone's desserts, you had an extra small plate of elegant chocolate-covered strawberries with chocolate syrup writing: "Will you be my Valentine's?"

In shock, you looked at Louis, who was facing away from you as he gave everyone their dessert.

You smiled as you waited for him to finish.

As Louis gave the last dessert, he hurriedly over to his spot, trying to avoid your gaze as he sat down.

You softly tugged his sleeve and whispered yes, making Louis freeze up as he tried to settle down his burning face.

Fortunately, everyone thought he just had too much to drink that night.

For Valentine's Day, Louis prepared a cozy date for you two to enjoy in the manor. (his brothers made sure no one would bother you two on the day)

Cooking together, making chocolate, trying new recipes, dancing while no one's looking, reading books, snuggling under the covers, and just spending the whole day together sums up your Valentine's.

Sherlock Holmes

Romance isn't exactly this man's forte.

You were walking to 221B Baker Street as Sherlock asked you, but you were surprised to see no one was there.

You carefully walked up to their flat and saw the surprise on the table.

He will most likely leave a real human heart in a glass container with a card saying: "Will you be my Valentine's?" to ask you.

How is it still beating in there? You will never know.

But hey, at least he's got the spirit!

When you check the card, you see it had instructions to open a specific drawer.

Debating whether to ignore or follow along and be greeted by a human brain, you complied and opened the drawer carefully.

Inside were paper iris flowers, a small teddy bear, chocolates, and a pen with another card written Yes and No on it.

You circled yes.

You found out he, John, and Miss Hudson were hiding nearby, unsure how to face you if you didn't agree (despite already dating)

If there isn't a case during Valentine's, he'll likely have a date all over London. He'll take you to places and spots he saw or visited during investigations and wanted to take you there.

During your date, he'll probably get you the most random stuff he wants to give you, ranging from random flowers to a peculiar antique he'd think you like or wants you to have.

When a case does come up, he'll try to put it on hold. But you could tell he really wanted to take it, so your date became an investigation.

He still tries to make it romantic and fun for both of you, thanking you for letting him work, but you reassured him it was still fun watching him deduce and work on a case.