#i feel like i was the reason they were able to find themself and their identity because when we were talking i always encouraged them

[oh-cramity-its-amity]

its so weird to read some of my old fics (do NOT do it but i'm just being hypothetical rn) and reading it. like who even was this person?? i completely was in a haze back in 2020. i literally was posting 3 chapters a day. A DAY. what in the WORLD was that shit.

anyway i remembered some STUPID sappy shit and i didnt remember if i'd put it into a fic or not BUT I FOUND IT.

She and Hope had been dating in secret for months anyway, and any attempt to go talk to Ryan only filed her disposition of displeasure upon knowing that she couldn’t tell anyone, Molly especially, it destroyed herself mentally. They couldn’t really go anywhere near the school, always having to lie to everyone about having projects together when Molly wasn’t around them. It’d consisted with 9 PM - 2 AM intervals of being able to actually see each other. Hope would sneak through her small bedroom window with a portable record player and whatever she had gotten from the vintage record store downtown, and Amy would always fall asleep around eleven because of her internal clock. She would always wake up to find a single sticky note stuck on the edge of her desk whenever she woke up to her alarm the next morning. One of them, Amy still had tucked inside of her phone case, a heavily detailed human heart, with blue and red ink sketched onto a neon pink sticky note, there was a caption that headed the small paper reading the phrase over every now and again makes her almost melt every time. “You have my heart.”

yeah idk why the fuck but i thought of this fucking idea again today and i was like "omg did i ever put that heart note thing in a fic???" yeah you fucking did.

all that to say ME AND WHO???? imagine. thats so fucking.... RAHHHH.

[arolesbianism]

Brute: ah yes I have finally gotten Softie to communicate with Queen and Alpha which has already done wonders for basically repairing the former and beginning the repairs for the latter. Maybe I can finally be free from this hell of my own creation and live with my loved ones happily -]

The evil and nefarious Beats:

[whomturgled]

yrkeby4ur8

[ihrthoney]

no grave can hold my body down

pairings: arkham knight!jason todd x f!reader

warnings: fluff, angst, a lil bit of suicidal thoughts but nothing too major

word count: 1.8k

an: this is a more detailed version of this post! please request jason todd fic ideas pls pls pls. sorry if theres any mistakes it’s almost midnight lol

Almost two years had passed since Bruce Wayne came to your door and revealed who he was. Nearly 730 days since your boyfriend "died". Gotham was a city full of awful crimes and even worse people but you've never hated anyone like you hated Batman.

You can understand that he tried, the guilt he must feel probably consumes him and a sick part of you is glad. Not only was your boyfriend killed, with video evidence might you add, but his body was never recovered.

Jason would hate it if you saw the video of the Joker killing him but you needed to know. It was all for naught though, you never buried a body so your brain fully believes he isn't dead.

Whether or not it was the grief of having the love of your life ripped away from you or the feeling in your gut, you know Jason isn't dead. Until there is a body in front of you, you will do anything that you can to find him.

-

It started with swallowing your pride and asking the person you loathed for help.

Bruce obviously refused, he wanted to avoid another young person's death. You caught him by surprise with how you begged for his help, he fully expected you to be mad at him, to threaten him for answers. But no, instead you got on your hands and knees and begged him for help, which somehow made it worse.

For weeks you kept reaching out to him, asking him for any clues or hints, anything at all! He has all the resources a person could ever need, he's known as the greatest detective in the world but he can't find his son?

"I've told you, Jason is... Jason is dead. You saw the video. Get out of Gotham and move on, there is nothing more I can do for you." You didn’t stop there though.

You knew of Nightwing, that he was the robin before Jason. So you reached out to him when he was on patrol. Unlike Bruce, you actually felt bad for asking for help, especially since he was working and was grieving himself.

Even through the domino mask, his face scrunched in sympathy, and as gently as he could he told you he couldn't consciously help you. He couldn't let a civilian rope themself into business they wouldn't be able to walk out of.

Understanding of his reasoning, you started going against the law. You started to sneak into offices at different police stations in Gotham (they were sloppier than you could've ever thought, no wonder people love Batman).

Given Jason's at the time profession, he taught you how to defend yourself. There was never a time you didn't carry a knife on you, but you always left your gun at home. Living in Gotham, it was best to take all and every necessary safety precautions.

Using the very low-level skills you had, you searched places that were abandoned and discarded, anywhere that Joker was ever near in the past few years. A part of you knew that what you were doing was dangerous, that if Batman had found anything he would've done so already.

But you couldn't just go to work and pretend your boyfriend wasn't out there somewhere, alive or not you had to be absolutely sure. If you died trying then so be it, it's better than living in the reality of Jason not coming home.

-

A year went by, 365 days of feeling your sanity drain out of your body. You've been caught a few times by the police for trespassing and once by Batman himself who scolded and lectured you about your activities. He was livid, upset at you willingly putting yourself in danger. You were at a higher risk of dying than he was and yet you go out in nothing but black clothes and a few weapons. He's genuinely shocked you're still alive.

After Bruce catches you, he makes sure to keep tabs on you which prevents you from going out. Even if he's busy, if he sees your tag too far out he will drag you back to your place.

There's a part of you that wants to give up, to actually take his advice and move away. But you know deep down inside nothing will put out the fire of finding Jason. Even if you moved to a different country, you know you would still look for his hair, to listen for his voice in the crowd.

Months of gaslighting yourself that he'll knock on your door and say it's just one big prank, that he was on a big mission far away and couldn't tell you to keep you safe.

Millions of excuses rolled around in your head day and night, work was a blur. Bruce even tried to compensate by offering to pay for your rent, to help you seek medical help like a therapist. You know it would do you good to rest but the guilt of leaving Jason behind was too strong. He's been through so much in his life, you wouldn't dare abandon him.

You still stayed in the apartment you were looking at with Jason, "a safehouse" he called it, you weren't even 18 at the time but you both allowed yourselves to think ahead.

Every piece of furniture you bought it with him in mind, "This would be convenient for him to hide his gear," "He likes this color, plus the blanket is soft so it'll help him sleep." Jason consumed you, call it unhealthy but he was your night in this dark city.

There was a spare bedroom, you were going to originally use it as an office/workspace but instead, it's covered in all the papers you've stolen to find him. The floor, walls and even the door were covered, overlapped, and written on with any possible clue you could've stumbled upon. It's been months since you've been able to add something that wasn't already on there. So instead, you sat in the room and just stared at it, cried, ripped things down, and put them back up with tears streaming down your face. It didn’t help that you would hear Jason’s voice soothing you whenever you cried, reassuring you whenever you were down. You knew it was your subconscious trying to console you but you liked to believe he was really there.

Then there were the hallucinations, they started back when you stumbled upon a hostage situation in an old arcade at the end of Gotham, you swear it was Jason but when the guy looked up at you all you saw was a stranger. You were stuck in the police station for hours, yelled at for stupidly interfering in a dangerous situation. The cops looked at you with annoyance now, you were nothing more than a crazy love-sick girl.

-

Lately, work has been exhausting, learning there was a new robin made your stomach swirl. It was like Batman just moved on, how is that fair? How could he move on while you were stuck chasing dead ends? Why couldn't you just accept his death?

Instead of eating dinner, you let yourself boil in whatever hot water Gotham could provide and scrubbed layers of guilt off of your skin. You put on an old shirt of his, which was horribly faded by how much you wore and washed it then curled up in bed; The bed was too big but you didn't want a smaller one in case he came back.

Usually, you triple check that your windows and doors are bolted shut but for tonight you just trusted your brain. Sometimes, it felt like it would be easier if you didn't wake up anymore, at least when you closed your eyes you could see the Jason you knew and loved.

Tonight was one of those nights where sleep was in and out, so when you felt a hand push back some hair behind your ear, you grabbed the knife under your pillow and lunged forward though there were no sounds of anyone in pain, in fact you heard the knife hit the floor.

"You have to be faster than that, sweetheart."

That voice. You would know that voice anywhere.

You blink your eyes open, slowly revealing the man you love in front of you. Except, he wasn't in front of you. This wasn't the first time he's appeared in front of you, it broke your heart all the same.

The exhaustion creeped up your throat and tears started to slip down your face, "No don't cry baby, it's okay." 'Jason' attempted to reach his hand toward you but you shook your head, backing into the corner of the bed,

"This isn't real. Go away, please. Not tonight."

The ache Jason felt in his chest at the sound of your distress hurt him in a way he's never yet experienced. His poor girl crying, thinking he wasn't real.

"I'm real baby, I promise." He calmly approaches you, kneeling on the bed, a hand reaches out towards you again,

Your head was buried on your knees as you hugged yourself into a ball, "You're not! I haven't found you! This can't be real!"

"Please look at me sweetheart."

You noticed his voice sounded different, deeper, more matured. It caused you to slowly look up, "There you are."

That's when you see him. The scars, the tired look in his eyes, the rage he's hiding behind it; There’s a difference in color in his eyes but they're beautiful all the same. They still look at you with love.

None of your hallucinations were this detailed, to be honest you couldn't imagine what he would look like after the years have passed. So to see this, you knew it was real. (Or some villain was damn good at illusions.)

He was caught off guard as you hugged him tight, he had to swallow down the feeling to pull you off. You were the exception to everything, so for now he could stomach the feeling of being held in place because he (is trying to convince himself) knows it's out of love.

You sobbed in his chest, apologizing over and over and over again, "It's okay baby, take deep breaths please."

Again, you started to shake your head, "It's not okay, I should have found you. I tried to find you, I'm so sorry!"

"I saw the room baby, I know you tried but that wasn't your responsibility." He tried to reason with you, doing what he could to calm you down. It's been years since he's seen you, years since he's dealt with anything normal, his mind is all over the place.

"Don't say that, I love you Jace. I would rather die than stop looking."

Jason tensed at the phrase, after everything it's hard to believe you, to believe any of this but he wanted to see you. He had to.

A hand found its way in your hair, holding you close to his chest, "You did good honey, thank you for trying."

Lifting your head from his chest, you looked into his eyes, "I would do anything for you, I need you to know that."

He can only offer a small smile, he knows you did and there's a small piece of his heart that can rest knowing you didn't forget him, that you still loved him.

He hopes he can learn to love you again, too.

part 2? lmk down below :)

© ihrthoney. reblogs & feedback are greatly appreciated𑁤

[toournextadventure]

when you love it pt.2

Summary: Learning to accept yourself again is a hard task. Thankfully, you've got two lovely Outcasts to help you

Word Count: 5.4k Warnings: swearing, talk of blood, typical vampire violence Pairing: Wenclair x Reader (part 1) A/N: Surprise, this is not the last part, there will be one more. So sorry but... it gets better

“Have you ever eaten somebody?”

Ah, there they were. The Little Bane of your existence, as you had come to endearingly call them over the last few months. A menace at best, the little wolf had, for some unknown reason, made it a point to attach themself to your hip. Even on the full moon, the pup would sniff you out and remain with you until they turned back into the headache they truly were.

Admirable.

“Why do you ask?” You asked without looking down to meet their eyes. The eyes of an Addams, you thought.

“Mother said people go insane after eating human flesh,” the child said. “I’m trying to collect evidence to prove her wrong.”

The question was pure Addams.

“I believe it’s only if they eat the brain matter of a human,” you said, finally looking down.

“So you have then?” They asked. “Eaten someone?”

“What do you think?” You asked.

Their head tilted just like Enid's as they thought of an answer. After all this time, you were still finding more and more similarities between them and their mothers. It was almost comical. The toothy grin, the troublesome look in their eyes. A perfect mix of two perfect women.

“No,” they finally said. “I don’t think you have.”

You smiled, showing your fangs. “Correct.”

You both looked back out toward the scenery in front of the cabin. Winter was always the most beautiful time, if anyone asked your opinion. The snow coated the trees in the finest powder, creating an almost constant appearance of fresh snowfall. To the back of the cabin was a lake that froze over so thoroughly, you could skate for hours and never fall through.

Though falling through was always an adventure of its own, you would admit.

Perhaps you could get Enid to skate with you again. Oh, wouldn’t that be grand? It had been ages since you had last danced together upon the shimmering ice. The amount of trust that came with such an act… would you be able to skate as before? Could she put her life in your hands once again?

You deflated; you wouldn’t blame her if she couldn’t.

“Have you ever had blood from someone you know?”

Each cell in your dead body froze.

Teeth ripping through flesh. You could hear the blood pumping from the wounds, pouring out over your hands as you tried desperately to stop the flow. Your own blood cascaded down your throat, erasing any satisfaction you had previously received.

You could still smell the blood. It made your mouth water.

You still wanted more.

“What do you think?” You asked, looking back down at them.

They didn’t look away in contemplation. No, they kept their eyes locked with yours. It was uncomfortable. They had Wednesday’s stunning brown eyes. Eyes you had stared into night after night before watching the light slowly fade from one mistake. Just one.

“Yes,” they said.

“Aunt Yoko’s here!” One of the other children yelled from the house.

You looked back out to the scenery before your Little Bane ran off to join the others.

“Correct,” you mumbled with a sigh.

No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t forget the feel of her blood falling down your throat. The heat that pooled in your chest and had your dead heart wishing to beat. Each inch of scar tissue embedded in your skin ached at the memory. She’s just inside, your Instincts whispered. Just a sip.

Your lip caught on your fang as you snarled at the thought. An animalistic sound; pathetic. But the sound made you feel as if you could quiet the Instincts. You would not drink from her again. Had it learned nothing from the last time? There was blood in the fridge, you would survive just fine.

Heavy footsteps came up behind you.

“Aunt Yoko wants to speak with you,” your Little Bane said.

You exhaled slowly and nodded to yourself. Of course she would. She had never truly been your biggest fan. Vampires don’t trust other vampires, she had said, if you remembered correctly. Which you did. Her Instincts may have dulled over the generations, but her intelligence remained as sharp as ever.

“Lead the way,” you said.

Your Little Bane’s lip caught on their canine, so reminiscent of Enid you wanted to laugh. At times, the child was pure Addams. Every cell of their being practically screamed it. Yet, at moments like this, you were reminded that Enid was also an Addams in her own right. And that child, though outwardly appearing as Wednesday, was Enid’s little copy.

In the past, Yoko Tanaka had never intimidated you. After all, why would she? Her family had gone soft, adamantly refusing to drink from a source regardless of its humanity; or lack thereof. There had been a few instances during your college years where she had debated your own family beliefs, questioning the primality of it all. And it was, you wouldn’t deny it. Drinking from the source was what your ancestors had done, and the Instinct continued to flow through your veins whether you liked it or not.

You had silently agreed with her, though you would never let her know.

Now, however? After what Enid had jokingly titled The Beatdown - which neither you nor Wednesday found very humorous, but if that was how she coped then who were you to deny her such a trivial thing - Yoko terrified you. And given how she was looking at you as you walked closer…

She was aware of it.

“Tanaka,” you said with a polite nod and smile.

Her arms crossed tighter over her chest.

“In the car, pup,” she said in a tone that contradicted her body language.

“Aunt Div is in my spot,” they said without hesitation.

The immediate change in Yoko’s body was comical. She turned to look into the car where Divina - with whom you shared no ill will, though you knew it was no mutual feeling - was sitting in the front passenger seat. Her head was facing the back of the car where she was, supposedly, talking with the other Addams children.

Yoko rapped her knuckles against the window. “You’re being displaced, babe,” she called out.

Divina’s shoulders slumped, but she promptly unbuckled her sit and got out of the car. The look she gave you was anything but polite as she slid into the middle seat, pushing one of the children into the back. They were all laughing and smiling; truly Enid’s children.

“Good luck,” your Little Bane said to you.

“Thank you,” you mumbled back as they climbed into the car and shut the door, leaving you alone with Yoko.

How enjoyably torturous.

“Hello, Tanaka-”

“-Cut the bullshit,” she interrupted. Straight to the point as always. “No one wants you around them.” Her finger jabbed into your chest. “No one trusts you around them.”

“I understand,” you said.

“No, I don’t think you do.”

A wet gasp-

-snarling-

-relief-

-pain-

“I very much do,” you mumbled.

“I should rip your heart out now and eliminate any chance of the past repeating itself,” she said. Silence hung thick between you before she pulled her arms back to her body. “But I won’t, because Enid would cry and Wednesday would bury me six feet under.”

“This is my house, Tanaka,” you said. “I am more than prepared.”

“You’d better be,” she said as she started moving at a glacial pace toward the driver’s side of the car. “Because I’ll kill you and curse your entire line if you touch a hair on either of their heads.”

The threat was enough to have you shiver. Oh, if you failed and your family was cursed? They would never forgive you. They would start hunting you for sport, and it would be no less than you deserved.

Yoko stopped before opening her door.

“Not that I’ll need to,” she said. “You’re proof Enid can do it herself.”

Her words bounced around your skull as the car finally pulled away, taking all the Addams children with it. A part of you was almost… disappointed. You had grown to tolerate them over the past few months. They were rather enjoyable at times even, constantly inviting you for games. Or movies, once games had quickly become outlawed due to the… unruliness.

“I wish I had gotten another goodbye hug,” Enid said, appearing beside you seemingly out of nowhere.

You should have been able to smell her approach. Wolves were… not the most pleasant. Not horrific, simply not as appealing as humans. She had asked you to describe it once, what the difference was between her and Wednesday. Like a Christmas candle during the heat of summer, you had explained. So not like in Twilight? She had teased.

She’s my Christmas candle, you thought with a smile.

“It’s only for a weekend,” you told her. Her eyes sparkled. “Then you can have hello hugs instead.”

Her smile could have illuminated the world. “I do like hello hugs.”

“Come inside,” you said with a gesture toward the cabin, “I believe it’s going to snow.”

Enid’s joyful disposition had never waned over time. If anything, she almost seemed more joyous and carefree. Something lightened its load on your chest at the observation. You hadn’t ruined her outlook on life. She was, for all intents and purposes, outwardly okay.

A werewolf was across the room, hovering over Wednesday even as it transformed back into a person. Back into Enid. Her bare skin was shredded.

Wednesday was precisely where you had left her earlier; sitting in your small library, a book in hand and a cup of tea on the table. It was one of your more obscure books, having come from your long line of ancestors. In other words, from some murderous Frenchman’s basement. The pages were probably stained with blood.

“I had almost forgotten the joy of silence,” she said as Enid practically fell into her lap. With practised ease, she made way for her wolf without taking her eyes away from the book.

“It’s too quiet,” Enid said with a sigh.

You walked over to the record player you kept in the corner of the room as your married women talked silently amongst themselves. It was endearing to hear them talk of their young. To talk as if they truly loved them. What was that like, you wondered? To care for your young in such a deep, conditionless way?

Cold fingers ran against the thin spines of records in their cases, unsure of where to stop. Would they have ever had children if you had stayed with them? Younglings had never been in your future; you wouldn’t dare bring a child into your bloodline. But they seemed so very happy and content with their choices in life. Perhaps it was going to happen for them regardless.

Without looking, you picked a record out of its case and gently placed it on the player. Could you be trusted around their whelps? The children themselves seemed unconcerned, but what about Enid and Wednesday? Would they trust you? You weren’t even sure if you wanted them to trust you. Children were creatures you had yet to conquer.

You had attacked them. Both of them. The women you loved. They were bleeding out. Because of you.

The beautiful sounds of jazz fell from the record playing, encasing the room in a warmth that had previously been absent. Deep down you knew it wasn’t the music that made the house feel correct. But things were still new - again. You weren’t ready to make that admittance just yet.

“What are the plans for this weekend?” Enid asked when you sat in the second chair in the room. Only a small round end table was situated between you and your girls. Could… you still call them that?

“We should enjoy the silence while we can,” Wednesday said.

Enid huffed. “You know they aren’t that bad, Willa.”

They continued to bicker - lovingly, of course - while you just sat and watched. Unlike the soiree those few months ago, they were far more relaxed. Casual even, if you had to put a word on it.  Enid was bundled in warm clothes - funny, considering she ran hot - and Wednesday was in a simple black sweater and leggings.

Everything about them in that moment reminded you of college. When you would all relax in the evenings. You were usually stuck with your nose in a book, terrified you wouldn’t manage to pass your classes, let alone the bar exam. But you could never properly focus because Enid and Wednesday were always around, bickering like an old married couple even from the very beginning.

Would you ever have that relationship with them again? Simply existing with them without fear of injury or betrayal. Whether it was just you or all of you, there was tension so thick in the air it was suffocating. You didn’t want to keep a tense, cordial relationship with them. Though, it did no good to dwell on the fact. You would respect their wishes until your dying breath.

Something warm grabbed your hand. Something with claws that pressed deep into the palm of your hand. There would be indentations left behind. If she didn’t ease up, perhaps a spot or two of blood. With you, she had never learned to manage her strength; there was no real need.

You never minded.

“What do you normally do?” Enid asked.

You exhaled slowly. “I sit here, listen to jazz, and work.”

“Both of you are so boring,” Enid groaned. “It’s our one full weekend without the kids,” she continued. “We can’t waste it by working.”

“I’m not working,” Wednesday said as she placed the book down on the table and looked at her wife with the softest of smiles. “I’m reading.”

The way they looked at each other was mesmerising. It was pure, unadulterated love. You hadn’t known either of them back when Wednesday was - as Enid so endearingly described - emotionally stunted. You two hadn’t been as outwardly romantic as Enid - she set the bar rather high - but you would’ve never considered her stunted. Especially now, watching the way she looked at her wife.

“We should do something,” Enid said. Her hand squeezed yours; her nails pricked your skin. “All of us.”

“All of us, you say?” You inquired. She glared at you.

“What a scandal,” Wednesday chimed in.

“I forgot how annoying you both are,” Enid mumbled to herself with no attempt to hide her little smile.

Her smile. The thing you had looked forward to seeing every morning before everything had crashed down around you. Even on the worst of days, you knew her smile would be enough to fix everything. Just the same as you hoped you could have fixed everything for her.

Until you couldn’t.

Outside, you could hear the snow starting to fall.

“What is there to do around the cabin?” Wednesday asked; her eyes never left Enid’s. “So our winter wolf doesn’t get too antsy?”

Another squeeze of your hand, digging the sharp, colourful nails deeper.

“Well,” you drew out the word as you thought. “There’s a frozen lake down the path.” Enid’s ears perked up slightly. “Or the town over usually has a winter market around this time.”

That was what did it. At the mention of a market, Enid practically jumped up from Wednesday’s lap. You kept your eyes on her even as you saw Wednesday smile out of your periphery. Her hands clasped together and she looked between the both of you with an excitement you hadn’t seen from her since before that night.

“Grab your winter coats, we’re going to the market!” She proclaimed excitedly.

You looked over at Wednesday with a raised brow but didn’t bother stopping your smile. She smiled back; anything for your wolf.

—---

It had only been a year or two since you had last attended the market and, as such, everyone still remembered you. As such, it was a little more complicated to get through everything than you had initially thought. With everyone stopping you to talk and catch up, you felt like you were holding Enid and Wednesday back as opposed to letting them have their fun.

The sweet older lady who ran the flower shop was still talking to you when you saw Enid walking off, leaving Wednesday to sidle up beside you. Had she done that on purpose? Clearly, she hadn’t just abandoned Wednesday, right? Not in your care, at least. None of you had trusted you two alone just yet.

Even though it hurt, it was a necessary precaution.

Finally, after what had probably been an hour of conversation with the sweet flower lady, you managed to separate with a polite goodbye and a promise to stop by next time you were in town. Whether she knew of your… infliction or not, you had no clue. It didn’t matter. At least she was kind.

“Where did our pup run off to?” You asked as Wednesday all but led you through the market.

“She saw some hot cider,” Wednesday said softly, stopping at one of the little booths. “She can never turn down a sweet treat.”

“Oh, I remember. We spent far too much money on her sweet treats,” you grumbled.

If you had kept track, you would have been horrified at how much both you and Wednesday spent on Enid. It hadn’t been with the intent to brag, or show off, you just wanted her to have everything she wished. Most of the time, that included drinks and sweet treats. And you were nothing if not eager to please.

“At least it’s not chocolate,” Wednesday said in a voice so soft, you wouldn’t have imagined it had actually come from her.

She was looking down at some of the trinkets at the table. They were brilliantly made, and you smiled politely at the woman in charge before standing behind Wednesday. Over her shoulder, you could see it wasn’t particularly anything interesting. Not to her.

Her body tensed up when you brushed against her. This close, you could hear the blood coursing through her veins. It was enticing. More than enticing. Your fingers twitched with the very thought of tasting something so delectable once again. Pain pricked at the inside of your lips as you re-positioned your fangs. It would be a simple thing.

The scars on her neck looked angry; they held shame not even thousands of years of instinct could fight. You had done that to her. You had nearly killed her. She was deathly still as you lifted a shaking hand to lift the collar of her coat, hiding the guilt you could never erase.

“You look cold,” you said softly, pulling your hands back to clasp them behind your back.

You both knew you were lying.

“I’m quite warm, actually,” she said. “I figured you could tell.”

You swallowed loudly. It didn’t ease the ache that was growing in the back of your throat. If anything, it made it worse. Each time she breathed, you could see the pulse in her veins. Enid wasn’t around. Surely you could handle it this time, you were far more mature this go around.

“I still believe I was correct,” she said.

Your head tilted to the side. Correct about what?

“Your fears of being a monster are unwarranted,” she said as she gripped the blade tighter. “You wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

Right.

“We must remember that night very differently,” you said as you looked up; there was a mirror in front of you. She couldn’t see you, but you could very well see her. “I remember proving you wrong.”

You weren’t prepared for her to lean back into you. To be touching you after so long. She was cold; not from the snow starting to fall. And as ridiculous as it sounded, she felt like she trusted you. Did she? After you had very nearly killed her, could she trust you?

“You didn’t hurt me,” she said softly as she pulled your arms to wrap around her waist.

“My dear,” you whispered into her ear, “I very much did hurt you.”

“Yet I’m still here.”

You barely held back a laugh. “All that means is Enid kicked my ass.”

“And I would do it again.”

Part of you urged you to pull apart from Wednesday, like you had just been caught doing something you shouldn’t have. There was nothing wrong with holding her again; hell, your girls had practically encouraged it. But the last time Enid had seen you both together was… not pretty.

Wednesday was bleeding out from more than one bite mark.

“What are we talking about?” Enid asked after she practically squeezed herself directly in between you and Wednesday.

“Your sweet treats,” Wednesday said effortlessly. “Is it worth it?”

She wrapped her hands around the paper cup and shrugged her shoulders high. “Always.”

“I think there’s some chocolate covered strawberries a few booths away,” you said while Enid continued to shimmy her way into more warmth. “White and dark chocolate.” Both women’s eyes lit up. “My treat.”

Wednesday looked at you with soft eyes. A look she hadn’t given you since… it was nice. Without uttering a single word, you were left with a warmth in your chest that your dead heart could never replicate.

“Lead the way,” she said softly.

—---

For reasons unknown to you or Wednesday, Enid was still freezing hours after getting back to the cabin. Hot tea had been made. And remade. And remade again. Then you had finally given in and lit the fireplace, as well as setting up a pallet on the floor in front of it so she could curl up and try to warm her fur.

And she was still shivering.

“Cara mia, please.” Wednesday’s voice carried from the living room to the kitchen. “Will nothing ease your cold?”

Enid hummed. “I know something that could warm me up.”

Her quiet giggle was all you needed to hear to know what she was implying. Your darling pup was the most insatiable creature you had ever had the pleasure of knowing. Perhaps that was why she seemed to fit so well with two other partners; it would take at least two to keep her satisfied.

Outside, the front porch creaked. If you hadn’t already been accustomed to the sound, you would have brushed it off as wind. After all, it was still snowing steadily outside. But it wasn’t the sound of snow falling onto the porch. No, it was something else. Something that wasn’t supposed to be there.

In the living room, you could still hear the soft sounds of Enid and Wednesday enjoying their time together. As you passed, you could vaguely see them on the pallet in front of the fireplace. Every aspect of it reminded you of your times in university, each living your own lives, yet doing it together. Perhaps you could get back to that again. Surely their children wouldn’t mind another… parent? Hmm, that wasn’t quite right, you could figure it out-

“-Hello, bon ami.”

If you hadn’t been frozen in place, you would have slammed the door in his face. What the hell was he doing? In your home? No, he wasn’t supposed to be there. He was supposed to be back home, hunting humans for sport like everyone else. He knew better.

“You gonna let me in?” He asked in his thick accent that charmed some and repulsed others.

“Go home, Bas,” you said quietly.

“Why? You got company?” He inhaled deeply. “Oh, I’m a’comin’ in.”

He pushed his way past you into the cabin. If your mind hadn’t felt like mush, you would have had the good sense to stop him. Or at least to have warned Enid and Wednesday. But no, you were simply stuck wondering how he had even found you in the first place.

“I smell a rougarou.” His smile was sadistic and his fangs were sharp. Lethal. “What if Daddy found out, huh?”

“How about some tea?” You asked, gesturing to the kitchen.

He tilted his head to the side and looked at you. Just looked. Was that what Wednesday had seen in you that night? No, surely you had been more vicious. Nothing curious about you, that was for sure.

“Got some of that boudin left?” He asked.

You nodded once.

“Lead the way.”

He continued to look around as you did your best to lead him as far away from your girls as possible. If he wanted to make a pop-in visit, fine. But you weren’t going to let him torment everyone else in the cabin. He could have a cup of tea, some boudin, and be on his way back home.

“Make it the good way?” He asked as he practically fell into one of the chairs at the table. “I’d hate to have to help myself in this house of yours.”

Without waiting for him to finish, you tossed a bag of blood onto the table. It slid across the smooth wood until stopping directly in front of him. He didn’t even look down, just kept his cold eyes glued to yours.

“Keep your teeth to yourself,” you said.

He laughed while you turned back to the stove. The sooner you got the tea going and could get him fed, the sooner he would leave. That was all you really wanted. Things were going well, and Enid and Wednesday were in good moods. You didn’t need him to ruin it.

The stove lit with a single spark, and you gently placed the kettle on top. It would still take a minute to boil, and you had it all planned out. You would grab the blood and boudin from the fridge. Put the food in the oven, make the tea, and get him fed and out of your house.

But you should have known better.

“I smell meat,” Enid said as she practically skipped into the kitchen.

And stopped short when she saw someone at the table.

“Oh, couyon,” he said with a smile toward you once Wednesday walked in. “You naughty thing, you.”

You sighed and crossed your arms over your chest. Wednesday was looking at you with her “explain Or Else” look. Something you hadn’t minded before, but now? Now it made your skin crawl. Like spiderwebs caught on every inch of your body, and you couldn’t get them off.

The pan slid smoothly into the oven, and you started the timer.

“This is Bastien,” you said with a lazy gesture toward the parasite at the end of the table. “My brother.”

“Baby brother,” he corrected quickly. “And you two must be the delectable little snacks.”

“Told you to keep your teeth to yourself,” you said with a raised brow. You quickly looked at Enid with far softer eyes. “Food will just be a few more minutes.” Then to Wednesday. “I’m making tea.”

Carefully, slowly, both Enid and Wednesday sat down at the table. Across from each other, but not near Bastien. The whole time, he watched them like a predator. Biding his time, the way he had been taught. You met his eyes.

His gaze towards your girls turned softer.

“So,” Bastien said as you turned back to the stove and grabbed the kettle. “Which one of you gave my sweet sibling all those scars?”

You poured some blood into the bottom of two mugs.

“I did,” Enid said. “So don’t try anything or you’ll have some to match.”

Bastien howled; a deep, obnoxious belly laugh. It… was nice to hear. As much as you didn’t want him there, he was your brother. Baby brother, as he constantly reminded you. There was comfort in the sound of his laugh; there always had been.

“That’s good, I like that,” he said, still failing to keep his laughter in check. “So that means your witch was the blood bag.”

You practically slammed the mug onto the table in front of Bastien. He looked up at you again, tilting his head to the side. It reminded you of Enid. He reminded you too much of Enid. No, you weren’t going to be phased. You knew the vampire charm; you wouldn’t fall for it.

“Serve yourself,” you demanded.

“Come on, cher,” he said as you proceeded to pour tea into Wednesday’s and Enid’s mugs. “I’m just askin’ if that’s what you almost died for.” You set the teapot on the table and walked back to the oven. “Simple curiosity.”

“Almost died?” Enid asked.

You didn’t turn around.

“The scars didn’t give it away?” Bastien asked.

You grabbed the kitchen counter.

“How did you know?” Wednesday asked.

He started talking, but you couldn’t hear him. You didn’t have to. The entire night was engraved into every fold of your brain, etched into the walls of your skull. No amount of alcohol, or nicotine, or blood, or the occasional line would erase. It stayed there, taunting you. Teasing you.

Blood pumped in your ears. It was loud, but not loud enough to ease the growls and screams that were bouncing off your skull. The trees soared past you. Each step of your foot was jarring as it practically bounced off the hard ground.

Wednesday’s blood still coated your lips.

The pain in your throat was harsh; it wouldn’t heal fast enough to ease the ache. Miles and miles flew by without you ever noticing. The sun rose, then set, then rose, and finally set again. Each new day was a blur. It didn’t matter. It couldn’t matter.

You hoped Enid was okay.

And Wednesday was alive.

Oh. The thought of Wednesday, lying there with your teeth marks in her flesh. Blood pooling around her; her life pooling around her. All because of you. Because of you. You killed her. You killed one of the loves of your life.

Panting breaths came faster. You killed her. Everything slowly came to a stop. The bark was rough under your fingers as you leaned against a tree to stay upright. Around you, the bugs from the bayou were loud in your ears. Still not louder than the fight.

You killed her.

Possibly killed Enid as well.

You killed them both.

Something scratched against the soft tissue inside your throat. It grew and grew until you couldn’t tell where your exterior wounds ended and the interior ones began. Only when you inhaled deeply did you discover the cause.

“What you screamin’ for, cher?” Daddy said, appearing out of thin air. Or directly in front of you. You didn’t know. “Thought you were up at that fancy university of yours.”

“Looks like you brawled with a hunter, little monster,” Bastien said. “Did you at least get a snack out of it?”

A snack.

Wednesday.

You leaned over and expelled every bit of blood you had gotten into your body. It didn’t make you feel any better. If anything, it only exacerbated the sharp pain in your chest to see just how much you had taken from her. From your girl. Your Wednesday.

A chunk of the countertop broke off in your hand. The kitchen went silent. You blinked slowly before looking down. It wouldn’t be an easy fix. But you could do it, it would just take a weekend or two. Hopefully you wouldn’t have to replace the entire counter.

“Boudin’s burnin’, cher,” Bastien said softly from beside you. When had he gotten there? “Go sit down, I got it.”

Niceties would get him nowhere. And yet, you still went and sat at the table between Enid and Wednesday. They were looking at you, you could feel it. But you couldn’t take your eyes away from the scar on Wednesday’s hand.

The scars you had caused.

You killed her.

“I know I asked for dinner,” Bastien said, “but I think I should head out for the night.” His hand rested on your shoulder; it was cold and soft. “It was nice meeting you both.”

He leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss to your cheek. His lips - much like you believed of your own - were cold. It wasn’t long before he pulled away. His footsteps were loud against the wooden floor, slowly getting softer and softer until the door opened and clicked shut.

Leaving you alone with your two girls.

Your two girls you nearly killed.

A monster.

[uvobreakmylegs]

Just finished binging your Chrollo works and I just can't get enough. I was so entranced with your work and I physically/mentally/emotionally felt the hopelessness the reader felt being trapped to be with Chrollo. This is a bit of a morbid ask, so please feel free to ignore it if it makes you uncomfortable, but how do you think Chrollo would react if the reader turned to hurting themself when escaping failed? Your work made it so easy for me to slip into the mindset of the reader and, as much as I love Chrollo, I feel like the reader would reach a point of no return when they realize there is no escaping him. Do you think, if the self inflicted injury is severe enough, he would let the reader go? Or would he keep the reader closer and just hope he is there to stop them before they succeed?

aaaahhh thank you!! I'm happy you've enjoyed my Chrollo works!!

and to answer your question

Warnings: self-harm, suicide

I tend to write my yanderes as being very possessive, and Chrollo is no exception to that. since his pattern for the treasures he steals from heists is hold onto an object for a time to admire it's beauty before he ultimately sells it after, it's significant when he finds someone that he wants to keep indefinitely

I think if his darling was committing acts of self harm, it probably wouldn't remain a secret for very long since Chrollo is inclined to be all up in his darling's business. so when it is inevitably discovered, he'd probably stay pretty quiet before going about patching them up. he'll ask why they would hurt themselves even though he's well aware that it's the emotional stress he's put them under that drove them to that point. it doesn't really matter if darling tells him the truth that he's the reason why they're hurting themselves or if they offer up some excuse

either way Chrollo is very upset that his most prized possession is hurting themselves, and he doesn't intend for it to happen again

which could go one of two ways: Chrollo baby proofs wherever it is he's holding his darling captive and keeps them under constant watch with the belief that, while darling might be resistant for now, he can make them find happiness being with him if he warps and breaks their mind enough

or

Chrollo uses a manipulation ability to force reader to forget all of the negatives and be happy with him

but I think it'd be even worse for darling if the injuries were severe enough that he was able to tell that it was a suicide attempt

because in doing that, darling is essentially telling Chrollo "I'd rather be dead than be with you"

and that's not acceptable in his mind

if it was a genuine suicide attempt, I could see Chrollo being more inclined to go with the second option above since he wouldn't want to risk reader trying again and actually succeeding, but if he's more inclined to punish darling for daring to defy him in such a way, then he would go with a more intense variation of the first option

so if darling is trying to kill themselves to get away from him, they'd better make sure that attempt is successful

because Chrollo never makes the same mistake twice

[madwomansapologist]

Hello!!! I was wondering if you could write headcannons of the BG3 companions and a dragon bloodline sorcerer tav? Especially their reactions to their more dragon like tendencies like hoarding things or their wings when they level up (draconic sorcerers get wings at lvl 14 table top and 11 in bg3 ) that would be great ❤️

bg3 companions with a draconic sorcerer!tav

Navigation | More Weirdos | AO3

synopsis: How would they react to their leader as a draconic sorcerer?

warnings: austim be danmed my girl can study about dragons (lae'zel).

note: that made me want to play as a draconic in the future. thanks for your request, i hope you like it!

Lae'zel

You got her attention immediately. All other races are as alien to a githyanki as themselfs are for those across Faêrun, but she knew a lot about draconics still. A interest of hers that she wasn't able of shutting down, don't matter how efficient and practical she achieved to be.

She always had a soft spot for dragons. A gith can't waste its time dreaming, but who can control it? She wanted so bad to be a dragon rider. When she learned there were races of people who descended from dragons, it was only natural she would want to learn about them.

Upon meeting you, part of her brain was just trying to analize. To learn from what type of dragon you descended. Her interest on you was purely academic.

She wondered if you had noticed how possessive you are. Lae'zel knows you're one of the most selfless people she ever met, the amount of times you lose something so someone could be safe... and still, you are so possessive.

You would kill Cazador with your bare hands and bring Astarion his head, but would never let him use one of your necklaces. Once she heard you hissing because he touched your things.

Exploring Baldur's Gate, everyone got stronger. When your wings evolved, Lae'zel seemed allured by them. So intricate and strong. Beautiful. A sign of your effort and talent. You deserved them.

"Just another proof of your strenght, zhak vo'n'ash duj. Our enemies will tremble before you. I already do."

Shadowheart

Something about you felt... familiar. Like she already knew you. Maybe she did. Or perhaps it was someone familiar. Maybe it was just the highs from being saved from a nautiloid. Still, Shadowheart couldn't help but to take a liking to you.

She never had a draconid friend, not that she remember at least, so it took her a bit to get used to the differences. It's impossible not to bring attention upon your group with your height and wide body. The teeth were certainly something she was highly aware.

Shadowheart thought it was enduring how you would always ended with the party's gold on your pockets. You say you will deal with the finances, and you really do that and do it well, but she knows mostly it's because you need to have it near you.

When your wings were strong enough, she would always find an excuse to hug you. It was so warm to feel your wings around her body. Shadowheart feels so save between your arms. So at peace.

"Before you I thought I knew what true embrace felt like. I was wrong. Thank you, my sweetest lover. For opening my eyes."

Astarion

Your size was intimidating. You could be an awful obstacle for his safety, but gladly you were kinder than Astarion could expect. You were way more than Astarion could ever expect.

After a while, it was interesting to learn more about you. So wide, and still so delicate. So scary, and yet so good. So moral, and yet so capable of violence.

For a draconic, it was a bit cliche that your go-to spells were fire ones. And he made sure to tell you that.

Once Astarion saw your wings, for some reason Astarion felt... proud. It just felt right for you to be rewarded after everything you did to them. To him. And it also made you look even more alluring.

"Another fireball, darling? Really? In this tiny room? Alright. Whatever feels right to you."

Gale

It was incrible to have another magic bender in the party! There are a few differences in styles and in the path you both want to go down, but at the end you both share the same goal.

Either as a student or as a natural vessel, the weave conects you both. It feels lovely to have someone who can see how the entire world moves because of it. To have someone to go for when doubts about new spells pop up, or that understands that he can't spend a long time in the battle field. Someone that just understands.

Gale was so curious about the limits of your body. Merely academic curiosity! He meet a few draconics before, but never he spend such a long time beside one.

It was mesmerizing to see you sleep in a nest. Not really one, but basically a nest. Everything looks so comfortable. So you. The best blankets, your favorite jewels, some gold.

Gale Dekarios is a student before all. And you quickly became his favorite subject.

"Don't they make you trip, my love? Ah, I see, your body was made for those, dare I say, beautiful pair of wings. If you ever feel the need to rest while you get used to them, just say the word."

Wyll

You weren't the first draconic Wyll befriended. Your race may be not so common in some parts of Faêrun, but he is not one to be surprised by your needs and habilities. Wyll is always ready to help you, don't matter what.

You need more space at camp, every armor needs to be wide enough to fit your wings, swords can't be tiny so your handle turns weak. Wyll is just waiting for you to need him so he may act.

The hoarding turned into a problem so quickly. Every damn thing "could be necessary". Forks? Rotten watermelons? Half-eaten apples??? And don't you try to say those are culture differences. Those are problems.

Once someone aimed at your wings during a fight. You barely were able to see the energy rays before their body burned to ashes.

"The Blade stands at your side, dear one. My duty is with your safety."

Karlach

Our girl on fire saw more dangerous things than a dragon's bloodline. Still, it was good to see a good fighter. She has the muscles, and you the brains. A perfect duo, one could say.

She thought was sweet your tendencies. How you wrap your tail around your companions that are being threatened. Or how the glow of jewels can make you break your neck just for a glance.

Karlach loves the fact you are also build bigher, just like her. It's good to not have to look down at someone, or to not break her back in a attempt to be at the same high as you.

She got so scared when your wings evolved. She didn't knew it was something that could happen to draconics that turned really strong. For a whole minute, she thought you went through some sort of body horror kinda of shit. She knows a lot about it, so it was really good to hear your explanation.

"Fucking gods, soldier! You almost lost me there. Thought my heart would fucking explode."

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

GENERAL TAGLIST: @lovelyy-moonlight

BALDUR’S GATE 3 TAGLIST: @citrusbunnies

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[fire-lizard-ro]

Ratio as a dad (kinda). Written for my dear @pix3lplays (they already saw this when I initially wrote it).

CW: none it’s all fluff (kinda)

Reader gender: no use of pronouns (as far as I remember) but AFAB

Writing under the cut (SFW):

So when you tell him, he doesn't know how the hell to feel. You guys never really had the children talk, but you could tell that he wasn't really ready for that because of a mix of being too busy, not really understanding children, and never really thinking about it.

To him, children are snot-nosed, loud, emotional little gremlins.

But he never thought about children in the context of you and him. A child born of your flesh and blood. Something you have made together through the miracle (or simple science, as Veritas would say) of procreation.

It would take him a while to think of it that way.

Initially, since this is in the scenario where you're already married, I think that he would be fine with it so long as you're happy with it. He does his logical reasoning and thinks, "Oh. I have the means to raise a child and she wants it." So he doesn't really see a problem with it besides perhaps the stress it will inevitably put on you and having to deal with the messy and emotional rollercoaster ride that is children.

At some point while laying in bed with you after weeks of reading prenatal care and child rearing books, he begins to get curious. Curious about what it would really be like to father a child that the both of you made. That's how things start. Curiosity.

Would the child look like you? He would like that if they could resemble his lovely spouse.

Would they look like him? He would also like this as there would be no doubting who the father of your child was. A reminder of how the two of you were undeniably together.

Would they look like the both of you? He would enjoy this outcome the most as it would be the best of both options.

Would they have his intelligence that he prides himself on? Your smile that he loves, even if quietly?

Because of this process of beginning to be curios and thinking about the child yet to be born, it's not hard for him to subconsciously relate good feelings (and chemicals like dopamine and serotonin, he'd think) to the child themself.

You're happy when you talk about the child and what you'll do for them and how you'll care for them. He's happy when you're happy. He's pleased when thinking about how people will be able to see a physical manifestation of your love and belonging with each other. You're happy to be having his child. He's happy about that, too.

While your feelings regarding the child is like a warm spring day or a cup of hot tea just boiled, his are more mild, still. Like your tea, already cooled, or a warm blanket. There are positive feelings involved now, and even he cannot deny it (at least to himself).

He takes care of you well, following the advice of the books and experts to the T. Perhaps a little too closely because it's a bit overprotective. You're his. Which also means it's in his obligation to take care of you well.

But when the child is born... I think there's at least a spark there. I'm not sure it's enough to light that flame quite yet, but now... He realizes that this really is his child. His and yours. He has your pretty eyes but with his color. The curl of your hair and the slope of his nose. Oh. Oh...

This child...

As the years go on and he spends time caring for the child and spending time with them, he begins to find all these little endearing things about them. How they'll seek him out even in sleep. How they'll smile at him happily, the slant of it so much like yours. How they'll crawl and eventually waddle their way to him when they begin to cry... Even just the fact that he spends time with them is enough to grow this bond. And at some point, they're off to school and it's clear they did, indeed, have his intelligent mind. But they're far more soft around the edges. Much more susceptible to the inherent loneliness, boredom, and ridicule, even, that comes with such intelligence.

But... he gets it. He never really thought anyone understood him at that age and for him? It was lonely but he was irritated by it more than anything. He had thicker skin than his child at that age.

So when they come to him about it all, he can only try his best to let them know he gets it even if he doesn't know how to express such a thing.

Ever heard the saying, "Even a beast will love its child?"

He’s not a nice person. His personality is rough and no one would ever think he could be suited to something as delicate as fatherhood.

And yet…

While he's not one for grand gestures, I think the kid would be able to see he cares.

It's in the little things for him.

Talking about the things they're interested in at school.

Telling them about his work and the things he researches. Being patient with them unlike how he is with his students. ("They are grown. But you are not," he would say with a short pat to the head before going back to checking over their homework with care.)

Rewarding them for their achievements, even if it's with something small.

All sorts of small things.

(He'll never admit it, but you have a picture of the two napping while the kid was sprawled against his side, head tucked into his neck.)

Anyways ofisjgeo yeah-

Hopefully this isn’t too delusional goodbye- I was trying to make him a Relatively Good Dad for Pix while also making sure he was still mostly in-character. OTL

[cepheustarot]

What does fate have in store for you in the near future?

Attention! This reading is for entertainment purposes only. This tarot reading does not give a 100% guarantee that all the described situations will occur or being ultimate truth. You build your own life and destiny and only you know yourself best.

Paid readings

Pick a pile. Choose one or more pictures. Trust your intuition.

Pile 1: Here fate will arrange for you to meet a person. It will be an unexpected meeting for you, since a person will literally appear suddenly out of nowhere but from the first days you will feel a strong connection with them, you will get very close to this person, you will open your soul to them, as they will open theirs to you, in general, emotional and personal conversations will be involved here. By themself the person is calm, perhaps they are not very emotional and in some places can behave as if they do not care but in fact it is not so! Person is very sensitive, prone to empathy, they are a good listener and you can say they generally like to listen more than talk. They may also be well versed in psychology or something similar, may have a lot of experience in terms of relationships between people. And although a person is very sensitive, still relies on logic and common sense, not allowing emotions to take over. In general fate organized this meeting for you to help you succeed in some area (mostly in terms of studies, finances, work) or if you had problems then they will help you solve them. It is also necessary for you to find support in it since now you may be in limbo and feel unstable or you constantly have situations that unsettle you.

Pile 2: As I see it this option could be chosen by those who do not feel very well morally, you feel exhausted or you have been depressed lately, you may feel very tired, burnout, stress and all that sort of thing. You may also miss a lot of privacy, being alone and you may feel a lot of pressure from your family or people around you. Here you might not find the opportunity to relax or generally forget to rest because you were immersed in some kind of activity. So here fate, roughly speaking, will "force you" to take a break, perhaps your plans will be interrupted and you will be forced to spend time with yourself. Perhaps your loved ones will leave for other cities, places or will be too busy to meet you or vice versa you will have to leave for some reason.

Pile 3: Here fate will give you a choice that cannot be abandoned, where there will be no third option and you will have to choose from what you have. In particular this choice is associated with some person dear to you, with whom you have known for a long time, communicate closely and in general you can have a very strong connection. It can be your close friend, your lover, your colleague, your partner with whom you work, etc. In particular here you will have to make a choice to continue communicating with this person or not, since your relationship has reached some kind of dead end and is not developing in any way, you may not feel the same warmth on his part, the same interest and it may seem to you that this person has changed. This choice is a turning point in your life or on your life path but in any case, thanks to this situation, you will be able to gain wisdom, become stronger, more experienced — in any case, all this will only be a plus for you even if it is hard or painful at the beginning, then everything will bear fruit in the end.

Thank you for reading! I will be glad of any feedback 🖤

[agathasfamiliar]

you better make me better (pt. 1)

agatha harkness x fem!reader

it's 1780, your coven has been chosen by agatha harkness herself to walk the witches' road with her. but you've caught her eye and when things don't go exactly as planned, agatha might just make an exception to her rules.

other parts: 1 2 3

word count: ~1400

warnings: brief mention of blood

author's note: i've been reading so much agatha x reader that i needed to give it a shot. i intend for this to eventually be smut, hense the need for this secret blog. let me know your thoughts and send any requests pls i need ideas for practice.

This is our only chance.

The words of your fellow coven members echo in your head as you navigate clumsily through the punishing brush of the wood east of town. Each slap of a branch feels like a blade and you’re unsure if the wetness you feel on your face is from the slowly mounting storm trickling through the canopy or bloody evidence of the sharper foliage.

Your coven told you they need you for this ritual, and though it sounds far too good to be true, you trust them. For some reason. Your leader, ever the ambitious witch, spoke of a mysterious and palpably powerful woman she’d stumbled upon that told her of a place called The Witches’ Road. A place you could all finally reach your full potential as witches, something you’ve been longing for for longer than you can remember. 

You’ve always been the least naturally gifted of the group when it came to the arcane, picked on by the others for always having your nose in a book memorizing the rules of the craft rather than “letting the magic flow through you.” But you know all too well the dangers of allowing your emotions to rule your power. That’s the true reason you’d agreed to humor this meeting at the witching hour, because of the certain way your leader had phrased the proposition. 

“At the end of the road, you will find what is missing.”

There wasn’t a long enough parchment in the world to contain the list of what you were missing. What you had lost. Maybe walking this road could bring what you really need into focus. Give you some sort of much needed direction.

It’s as you continue to ponder what this missing piece may be that you reach out to steady yourself on a branch and it gives way with a noise that is more alarmed in offense and irritation than true fear. You, on the other hand, expel a gasp of true fear and stumble forward having expected to put your weight on the “branch”. 

The branch that is actually a woman’s arm, whom you failed to see, leant up against a tree in the lightless and rain-obscure space.

Before you can even register the fact that you’re falling head first into thorny undergrowth, you feel hands around your middle. They pull you back upwards and against a warm body, the owner of which lets out the slightest grunt of effort. Your back rests against the figure's front as you briefly catch your breath, your heart beat attempting to return to normal from the jolt. 

Once you’re able to consider your surroundings and settle on which way is up, you stiffen, bracing for a chiding from one of the other coven members about being more careful. You’re unsure which of your sisters it is, still unable to see even a foot in front of your face. You’re more so surprised that any one of them would deny themself the opportunity to see you fall rather than help you up.

Instead, a wry feminine cackle, foreign to your ears, breaks the silence. Whoever this is, it is not one of your coven members. And somehow that settles your nerves rather than increasing them. 

It’s as if she, this woman, leans impossibly closer to ensure her breath ghosts over your right ear and down the back of your neck in a way that sends chills down your spine. It feels so familiar that for a moment you distantly wonder if you’re in the midst of a terribly vivid dream. 

Even more confused now, and with her hands showing no sign of loosening on your waist, you turn in the arms of the strange woman that’s now holding you. You decide you ought to actually see this person before you speak.

She allows you to turn, but her grip only laxes enough for the small movement, reclining once again against the trunk of the tree. This serves to further steady you but also forces you to allow her to support your full weight.

“Careful, dear. You don’t know who could be out here in these woods.” She says mockingly, fingers digging into your corseted frame in a way that simultaneously tickles and pinches. You think from the slight smile you can see in the shadowy swirling of her expression that this is intentional. 

The way she speaks makes you feel like you’ve met before. There’s a familiarity to her banter that one might call rude if it wasn’t so enthralling. The voice, you also note, matches the cackle if any voice ever could, and the hushed melodic tone coupled with the indistinguishable features in the darkness only add to the doubts you have in regards to your own consciousness.

“Thank you for your help, I’m sorry to have-” Your sentence trails off as clouds ahead must part to allow moonlight to cast over the face of the woman, instantly wiping your memory of any intended end to your sentence.

You’re met with piercing blue eyes that you think are icy enough to freeze over hell, but instead burn into you with a fire that might rival it. Her eyes make quick work of your face and shamelessly trail down the rest of you as you realize she is also seeing you for the first time in the newly illuminated space. The pale skin of her face almost seems to glitter silver under the moonbeam and the way her wild mane of dark hair falls around her makes her one with the surrounding gnarled trees. You’re unsure where the tendrils end and the stray branches framing her visage begin. 

You suddenly think about the branches that cut your face as you made your way to this place and wonder if the locks of her hair may do the same if they were to brush over your skin. You oddly find yourself hoping they will.

Shaking yourself from the odd thought, your tongue darts out almost involuntarily to taste iron as you wet your lips. You realize the woman is no longer holding you to her, rather you’re leaning into her on your own accord, transfixed. 

You step away quickly, as if burned, almost stumbling once again into the brush but catching yourself. This earns another short laugh from her. 

“You must be Y/N.” She finally says when you stare at her dumbfounded. You half think to ask if she’s some sort of nymph or other preternatural beauty you’ve heard tales of in your books, unable to reason at the moment why anyone else would be out here at this hour. 

Luckily, something about hearing her actually say your name sobers you from the odd dream-like state this encounter has had so far. 

“How do you know that?” You ask, slightly defensive but with a softness that comes from the fact that you definitely want to hear her say your name again.

“We’ve been waiting for you.” She ignores your question playfully, stepping past you and further into the clearing behind. When you don’t immediately make a move to follow she pauses, walking back over to where you stand and looping a long fingered hand around one bicep. She pulls until you start to step, leading you forward with a theatrical amount of effort to emphasize her point. 

“Your coven sisters are a hoot.” She raises her eyebrows and rolls her eyes with an air of sarcasm that only makes you like her more. You smile apologetically, thinking about what embarrassing things they must’ve said about you to this woman.

“Come on, pretty girl. I don’t bite…” She says, though her nails do bite into your arm pointedly at the statement as you round the bend in the clearing to reveal your fellow coven members standing in a lowly torchlit circle. You try not to acknowledge the slightest disappointment you feel at the statement.

“Usually.” She adds with a wink, as if reading your mind, before reaching the circle and throwing her hands out to the group in a very performative show of arrival that brings a genuine smile to your face.

Of course this is the woman that charmed your leader into gathering you all here. You just started following her deeper into an unfamiliar forest alone after less than a “hello”, so you really can’t place blame. 

You’ve known her for less than five minutes and haven’t even gotten to ask her name yet, partially because once you finally looked into her eyes you’re pretty sure your tongue stopped working all together. However, you are unwaveringly sure you have never met anyone like her before and probably never will again.

[deaddovedecadence]

Hello, how do you think the batfam will react to a reader with bad habits? And the reader is underage. Like at one time the reader got into not the best company or just wanted to seem cool, and now she smokes, maybe reader abuses alcohol. I'm just wondering how the batfamcan handle this.

And I apologize for the English, I am writing with a translator

❤

Alfred

disapproving english eyebrow™️

no but seriously he’s have you detoxing the minute he finds out about it. Having a nice drink at dinner with the family is fine but only if he’s able to supervise what you are drinking and how much. He’s be damned if he has to deal with another bruce

Bruce Wayne

doesn’t panic, even if his brain is screaming at him to trap you away forever and keep you from everything that could hurt you.

Calls in Dinah to talk to you about what is and isn’t safe for you because he will fuck it up and if he fucks you up after all of this progress that you guys have been making, duke will be the cause of his murder

Dick Grayson

oldest daughter exhaustion because he does NOT want to deal with another jason-smoking-to-fuck-with-bruce-and-becoming-addicted situation.

Tells you that if you don’t knock it off he will make you and is smiling while promising that you will not enjoy his methods

Jason Todd

panics his ass off

He yells at you for being stupid because he’s trying to quit and how did you get into that and why did you ever think it’s a smart idea and just panics in general

Cassandra Cain

thinks that it’s easily solvable, most reasonable

She starts you excerising with her every single time you get the urge so that you literally can’t move your arms anymore. Duke often joins in and eventually it becomes a form of bonding for the three of you

Duke Thomas

he gets you patches or helps wean you off of it because they’re a good sibling like that.

honestly to themself, takes the time to think about whether they want to keep you addicted and act like the good sibling by keeping you supplied increasing your dependence on them but then realizes that his brain is getting a little too demony for their taste and stops

Tim Drake

makes you listen as he lists every side effect of every substance that you are taking

threatens the crowd that you were with if you don’t start quitting immediately. Feels a cold quit is good punishment for being on substances in the first place

Damian Wayne

thinks it’s stupid and yells at you, considers violence but is restrained by duke and dick

[banj0possum]

I need more of Baron and gn!reader- Ong Baron is giving secret fanboy when they see reader working and looking scary and mean

But now hear me out- someone tries to hurt Reader and before Baron can even get a finger in reader already has the person pinned?????? And baron is like- ⊙⁠.⁠☉

Reader: "...?"

Baron:＼⁠(⁠◎⁠o⁠◎⁠)⁠／

Reader: "what?"

Baron: ヽ⁠(⁠(⁠◎⁠д⁠◎⁠)⁠)⁠ゝ

Like he knows reader is prolly strong but like seeing reader restrain someone has just got him stunned (man's defo even more fan-crazy about them now tho)

Now I know this totally goes against the fact that reader hired Baron to keep them safe, but like, they've gotta know basic self-defense ur honor🖐️

im literally starving for baron requests so here it is !! :))) also apologies if the fic is kinda short qwq

Yandere! Bodyguard x Gn Reader Part 2

CW: Violence, an atom of mentioned blood, Baron is a bit of a creep

♠️ Considering the fact you dealt with weapons on a daily basis, it's no wonder you were able to defend yourself.

♠️ But hggghghgghgh Baron can't help himself you're so..amazing!!!

♠️ There were times when your dealers would be a little too touchy for your liking and you have to teach them a lesson by gripping their arm painfully tight or kicking them

♠️ He can't help but smile like an idiot seeing his darling boss being capable of defending themself

♠️ Once you turn back to look at him, he already looked away pretending to be looking at the guy and not you.

♠️ And those were only the minor incidents

♠️ There was one time where you two went to the convenience store because you ran out of instant noodles.

♠️ He stayed outside waiting for you while you browsed the shelves for your favorite flavour

♠️ Baron was busy thinking about how cute you look walking with him at 10pm in fluffy pajamas and one of his shirts that were way too big for you that it drooped from your shoulders

♠️ It was cold and you found one of his shirts that were freshly cleaned, he nearly went into cardiac arrest when he saw you smelling how fresh it was.

♠️ He was fantasizing so much he didn't notice a fight breaking out in the store

♠️ A loud crash caught his attention, and he rushed in only to find that you got it all under control

♠️ There were two men with pocket knives that were going to jump you, but you fought back hard.

♠️ He just watched as you beat up these two hoodlums all on your own, he can't help but gulp as you wiped your mouth after a punch or slicked back your sweat covered hair.

♠️ After one last kick to one of them, you pay for your things and leave, curling your arm around Baron's, making him tense up trying not to squeak giddily

♠️ You lean your head on him as you try to slow your breathing. "I uh...got you that coffee you like.."

♠️ PLEASE PLEASE MARRY HIM PLEA- "Thanks.."

♠️ He's much more protective of you, and much more obsessed~

♠️ As much as you look hot defending yourself, he doesn't want you to hurt yourself ;-; please let him take care of you babagurl !!

♠️ If you ever get hurt, even just a bruise or a nosebleed, Baron's taking you home immediately!!! preferably with you in his arms bridal style as you hold him close~

♠️ He's treating your wounds and scolding you about always leaving the dirty work to him! He doesn't want your pretty face ruined by such bastards

♠️ "You hired me for a reason, you can rely on me to deal with those punks ok? So please take better care of yourself.." His tone teetered on the edge of strict and caring

♠️ You sigh in defeat "Alright alright, thank you Baron~" you caress his head and cheek in gratitidute

♠️ Poor guy nearly got a heart attack from the contact OH MY GOD OH MY GOD YOUR HANDS ARE SO SOFT AND SILKY!!!!!

♠️ "N-no problem Boss.."

♠️ If you ever get blood on your shirt, here! take his coat! totally not because you look adorable in it!

♠️ If you feel sore afterwards, he'll run you a nice warm bath to ease your muscles, he may or may not take a whiff of your dirty clothes while you're busy in the bathroom...

♠️ But most of all, if he ever runs into the assholes who hurt you..lets just say fighting you was more merciful than what he's about to do to them..

♠️ He checks up on you while you sleep and smiles, "Don't worry Boss, no one will ever hurt you again, I'll make sure of it.."

♠️ He tucks a hair behind your ear and pulls your blanket up before giving you a soft but heartfelt kiss on your head before leaving.

[arolesbianism]

Some Brute doodles plus a bonus Button

[opiopal]

You guys wanna know a silly silly idea of Luci and mc talking I think abt often? Ofc you do,

(THIS IS A PLATONIC READ!!) (mc uses the word “love” though not in a romantic sense, also GN mc as always, any “she” and “he” used is in relation to luci and Lilith, NOT mc,)

I can’t help but imagine mc struggling with being related to Lilith, they can’t really help it. After belphie had… you know. And the truth came out, it just felt like everyone cared so much more all of a sudden. sure they all cared about mc before, but they feel like being related to her is the only reason they were missed so much..

so here they are, standing Infront of a portrait of her. she seemed so.. familiar. Maybe it was something about her jaw- or maybe her nose? Or the way her eyes seemed to be rested shut in a calm wise smile.. in their chest they know it’s probably because they see themselves in her. Or.. see her in themself. It’s odd to see her with similar features as mc’s own mother/father, sure liliths genes most likely had been watered down over all the years, but a small part of her seemed to still stand out. mc tugs at the bottom of their night shirt. They couldn’t sleep and didn’t want to bother anyone. So they found themself here, staring and wondering. They’ve come here more often as of late, and it’s really not doing well for their self imagine. Would things have been different if they weren’t related to her? Would the brothers have even given a second thought to mc after they left? Even though they know these thoughts are ridiculous, they can’t help but think about it.

eventually the sound of footsteps ring through their ears, a familiar heel clicking as the eldest approaches. They hear his footsteps pause as he notices them, they don’t bother turning their head to address him, secretly hoping he’ll just continue walking. though of course, he doesn’t. his footsteps grow louder and closer until he is standing right next to them, staring at their face for a moment before looking at the portrait as well. and it stays like that for a while, the two just silently standing together and staring at the painting. Eventually mc just can’t bite their tongue, and speaks up a bit involuntarily.

“would you have still loved me if you never knew?”

they bite their bottom lip almost the moment it leaves their mouth, regret and anxiety immediately makes their chest feel heavy and cold. They hardly even have to glance over to see his shocked expression, before it softens slightly.

“what?”

“I-i mean….”

they take a deep breath. Might as well get it over now..

“… would you guys have still cared if I wasn’t related to Lilith?”

they stare at the painting, waiting for him to speak, though the shock from mc asking such a thing is shutting him up. So they continue,

“sometimes.. when you look at me, it feels like you aren’t look at me like I’m.. well me… it feels like you’re looking at someone else. whenever I hear anything about her, it’s always so much good, about how amazing and kind and sweet she was. But I don’t know her. I’ve only ever seen her once and that was when I died. And then everyone including myself learned I was related to her, and it suddenly felt like everyone immediately cared a lot more about me.”

without thinking much of it they just keep talking, part of them wants to shut up but they just can’t.

“I’m my own person, I know I am. I’ve spent my whole life figuring myself out, struggling and fighting to be a good person, going through school, going through my life. But, now it feels like every move I make is being silently compared. I just…”

they finally shut up before they find themselves going around in circles, though they feel a heavy tinge of regret.

“…I’m sorry..”

their voice comes out small and ashamed. finally the eldest is able to regain his words and inhales,

“yes.”

“what?”

“Of course we would still love you Mc, I would still love you. Even before we discovered it, I could tell my brothers began to care deeply about you, and part of myself felt frustrated that I could understand why. you are smart, and determined, and kind, and extremely lovable. And quite frankly, I couldn’t imagine what life would be like if you hadn’t wormed your way into our hearts. i miss my sister, we all miss her. But we accepted her death a long time ago. Though the grief still hangs heavy on us, we know that you aren’t her. That would be cruel to not just us, but you.”

he reaches an arm out, mc stares silently, finally turning their head to look at him as tears start to well up in their eyes. They lunge forwards and wraps their arms around him in a tight hug in which he reciprocates.

“You have nothing to be sorry about Mc, myself on the other hand..”

he inhales,

“I am sorry.”

[bubblergoespop]

redacted headcanons wooo

some angsty, some cutesy, some whatever idk

elliott makes sunshine sleepy when they’re around him. not because of his powers but just because he makes them feel comfortable and safe. and being around him relieves them of the fear of having any nightmares again, because he won’t let it happen.

as the rest of the damn crew ages, gavin mimics the way they all age. wrinkling his skin, fading the colour from his hair, etc.

i don’t know much about plants but they can get sick right? like viral infections or something? anyway, one day, the plant that anton's love gave him was looking extremely wilted and anton sobbed practically everyday and poured his heart and soul into helping it until he was able to get it to recover again.

vincent was secretly envious of how well lovely seemed to be coping with their turning. not anymore though.

lasko's partner sleeptalks. lasko was shocked the first time they did it around him because it’s such a contrast to how quiet they are when awake.

sweetheart was in a rush to get to work one day and accidentally grabbed one of milo's shirts instead of their own. when they came home later on, milo realised they were wearing his top. ofc that awoke something in him and, since then, he’s had sweetheart put on multiple fashion shows in which they try on his clothes.

lasko's partner is the type of teacher who gives their students stickers and sweets, and they also doodle on any written exams when they mark them.

porter wasn’t alone when he was turned. he was with someone he cared about. and they cared for him. but they didn’t get turned. his maker murdered them and that’s why porter says “historically” it doesn’t turn out well for those who care for him.

the asset helps take care of anton's plant. they find actual biological life fascinating, and they can stare at a plant for as long as they like since it won’t get annoyed or uncomfortable like a human does.

gav stayed at the damn campus for longer than usual once and freelancer was left home alone with the time to over think and they ended up crying themself to sleep over their mortality and gavin’s immortality. gavin had no idea until they woke up the next morning. when they looked at him, he felt their core ache.

ever since angel tried on davey's clothes for the first time, david’s gone out of his way to hide angel’s clothes at times and/or “forget” to wash them with the rest of the laundry. and then he goes “oops guess you’ll just wear one of my shirts in the meantime…” with the stupidest smirk on his face ever

porter gets regular nightmares. from the trauma of his human life, the time with his maker and/or from the things he’s done for william. it’s the reason he says sleep won’t bring him peace, even though for most people, it would.

[hana-no-seiiki]

Hello again! I hope you're having a wonderful day! I was just wondering if you could write a platonic yandere batfam? Where one of their Darling is like Tony Stark from Marvel. A super smart genius billionaire who just gets kidnapped by the batfam. Darling knows that they can't beat them all at once or one on one fights so they go with pitting them all against each other. I could think that they could rival Bruce or Tim in intellect and resourcefulness. Darling knows for a fact that they are being watched and learns where all of the cameras are placed. Trying to find any blind spots for said cameras, but is likely won't find any. Mostly because of paranoia and clingy behavior of the family. Yet they still manages to stay one step ahead of the Batfam and just leaves after 4 months or so. Maybe have them be resourceful like Tony when he was kidnapped. Using small scraps of metal and basic trash to help in their escape. With the Darling being absolutely disgusted of the entire ordeal. Maybe even have them start a career and becomes a superhero/antihero (Iron Man type of suit? Maybe?) because of the family's actions. P.S. So sorry it got so long, I couldn't really help myself. Hope you enjoy my request/prompt.

Hello Hello! Sorry for the late response but here ya go!

YANDERE BATFAM x TONY STARK! READER

summary: long story short, tony stark! reader has no chance if they don’t have their knowledge of nanotech. many nicknames are created.

status: unedited

I feel like the scenario you’ve given can go two ways depending on how far the reader has gone through their personality development (keep in mind most of my marvel knowledge comes from the MCU)

If you’re still that ‘arrogant, sexually active, ignorant of the consequences your company’s weapons have’ phase then it’d definitely be much harder for you to escape.

Then again, I find it really hard for the guys to be attracted to someone like you at that point. M a y b e Dick, but he wouldn’t see the relationship too seriously.

And frankly speaking, even if they were attracted to the reader at that phase; you would just never be able to escape. The only reason why Tony was able to in his first movie was because he wasn’t fighting against armed and experienced vigilantes that happen to have a shit ton of money. Especially with Tim and Bruce on board. You will not find any blindspots. Not the bathroom (they’ve kidnapped you and restricted your freedom, why would they respect your privacy at this point + they know of your experience with robotics), not in any corner of your room, or any point in time either because at least one of the batfam will be watching you.

Now, let’s say you were a vigilante before everything went to shit.

[Y/N] [L/N]. Billionaire, philanthropist, genius reveals that they are in fact Iron Man.

Now that is where I can see both you having a chance and the men taking notice.

You reminded Bruce a lot about himself. He has met you already in a bunch of Galas, used to writing you off as a spoiled brat that would definitely get themself killed. But your turn to vigilantism certainly intrigued him.

Intrigue quickly turned to an obsession. Learning about your past, the way your parents died. It was as if you two were the same person, just with drastically different suits.

He wanted you for himself, a partner in crime if you would, but you see there was one problem. You were engaged. Soon to be married to the love of your life and previous secretary Pepper Potts. Meaning that you would most likely retire your heroism and that you’ll dedicate your time to someone unworthy of your affection. Like seriously [Y/N], relationships borne out of power imbalances are doomed to fail can’t you see? Not to mention the dangerous act you’ve made of sharing your identity as Iron Man. What were you thinking?

So what better way to teach you that you belonged to him than kidnap you and keep you to himself?

His obsession with you wasn’t subtle. To you and the other members of the family.

Dick had already been attracted to you (mostly sexually) since the day he met you. Your identity as Iron Man, and just the sheer boldness you have exposing yourself, made him realized that he admired you rather than saw you as object of his sexual desires.

I could also imagine you being the one to save Jason. Perhaps not being able to completely stop his turn into Red Hood but you at least put in the effort unlike some people. That likely jumpstarted a partnership/friendship between you too.

Thus, Bruce chooses him as the ticket to getting you all safe and sound in the safety of his manor.

Now you already knew Bruce is Batman and the identities of the Robins. Through your investigation towards Jason and whatnot. Similar to your anti-Hulk suit and Batman’s anti-Superman one, you were also prepared to go toe to toe with the Dark Knight.

What you didn’t expect was that Jason of all people would be the one working with him to get you.

That certainly put a damper on your plans, but oh well.

That’s where you’re formally introduce to Tim and Damian. You’ve known them. Worked with them as well. Not to the extent of how much you’ve been with Red Hood but enough to at least be acquaintances.

Tim adored the banter and intellectual debates you two had. You took your time earning his trust, and taught him about the A.I. you usually had in your suits (slowly hacking into the surveillance systems making sure that you’ll have at least a couple minutes of time of privacy for your plans).

You even named one A.I. after him. T.I.M. ‘The Impervious Man’ it stood for you said. It actually meant ‘The Introverted Mess’

Have I mentioned you give every one of them horrid nicknames?

Dick was just various ways to say penis.

Bruce was Gatsby (if you weren’t picking at his age, or his deep ass voice, or his dark ass aesthetic, or bat theme) if not Vladimir. Or The Puny(er) Bruce. Oh god, Emo Bruce- My Lovechild with Banner??

Jason was muscle-man, titan, half-a-hulk, or [insert bulky hero] wannabe. (Sometimes when you’re feeling extra sadistic you’d throw in a Joker related one there too)

Tim was the introverted mess, chair guy, wheels, lanky boy, flashy traffic light guy, guy who definitely dreams of getting pegged, Budget Falcon. Baby Falcon.

Damian was The Diva, The Boy with a Baton up his Ass, Junior, Kid (Basically any nickname that highlights his youth), Kid with long knife, Katana Kid. Green-eyed Meanie.

Collectively they were just “The Super Secret Emo / Goth Boy Band.”

Anyways when it comes to Damian, the boy, as usually towards the people he meets, acts like a total tsundere. He just tries so hard to act mean as if he hadn’t spent the last night reading about your achievements and inventions for the nth time. You used him as a benchmark to see when the whole family has fully trusted you.

It takes you a few months (mostly due to you hacking into their systems and trying to learn their weaknesses) but after slowly gaining their trust cozing up to them you escape.

You could have since the beginning, nanotech and all that, but you were feeling kind of bored and gave them a chance to convince you to stay. Unfortunately, your future wife was still better in comparison these 5 goth men.

You’re definitely upping your anti-kidnapping measures after that.

Also you definitely hold that incident as a way to blackmail them. A system is prepared to share everything about them everywhere if they attempt to take you on again.

That’s one thing you have over Batman, sure you didn’t have a bunch of ingenious children under you to use at your disposal. But you also didn’t have an identity to keep safe.

You’re almost looking forward to their next move.