ametrictonofaudacity

[ametrictonofaudacity]

Yay matchups! So hello I hope you’re doing alright and feel free to take your time on this one :)

So my name is Lune, and please make sure it’s platonic. I’m aroace and agender, I’m 17 turning 18 (in a few weeks actually I’m pretty excited), I enjoy skating gaming drawing and playing piano (I’m trying to learn guitar). I should definitely mention that I’m autistic and have adhd, although you aren’t expected to do too much research for me, just keep in mind when going out or when I’m with too many people I end up being difficult, this also means I’m a little picky with the clothes I buy as the food I eat. As for my personality it really depends on the atmosphere and how long I’ve known someone but naturally when we just meet I’m extremely awkward, I don’t go out of my way to greet or talk to people, I usually hide or talk to anyone else in the room, plus I might find an excuse to leave early because of how low my social battery is. When I’m a little closer I’ll start being physically affectionate, of course if the friend allows it, not too much though, but it’ll still be noticeable. Speaking about physical affection that’s one of my main love languages, I am the type of friend to hug or kiss my friends on the forehead, if they’re comfortable of course! Additionally I tend to stim too much, I have a hard time controlling my vocal chords so I might appear like I’m yelling, and sometimes, if I’m in an extremely good mood, I’ll feel like I’m high off of happiness. I know I’m not high but it’s the best way to put it,y cheeks turn red I get all giddy and giggly, I run around the room, I like touching stuff with textures rub my face on it and spin around, it’s just pure hyperactivity. I already mentioned this but since I have a small social battery I might need a lot of space? Like me time. Otherwise things get too overwhelming and I shut down, I might cry even. Me time can vary depending on how long I’ve spent outside the house, like if I spent a few days with someone 3-4. I probably wouldn’t make any plans for another week and a few days. The last thing I feel like I should mention is im a little sensitive, I might not exactly cry but I’ll get hurt by a lot of things.

If this is important at all, which I doubt, but I’m raised in the Middle East, I speak Arabic and I did immigrate to North America.

Anyway that’s it thank you for your time

Hi!! Sorry this took me so long, I may or may not have gone into a depressive episode lmfao. Also I really like your name! Without further ado, here ya go! I am also autistic and ADHD, so we're twinning lmao

I match you with Clark Kent!

When the two of you meet, admittedly, it's a little awkward. Clark was used to being quiet, unassuming Clark Kent, and as you mentioned, you don't go out of your way to engage with new people. And Clark wouldn't want to pressure you, he can see how uncomfortable you are, and he understands that some people just didn't like strangers, simply because they were strangers.

But then the two of you keep meeting, and gradually, you start growing more comfortable around him. Part of this is due to Bruce, who he had gotten used to stealing away when the other hero got too uncomfortable in a situation, and had unintentionally taught him how to spot when someone's social battery was getting low, even if they were forcing themselves not to show it in any obvious ways. So he would guide you away with a comforting hand on your shoulder, and make quiet excuses for you, saying how he needed you to help him with this or that thing, how he was very sorry but it just couldn't wait. If you needed to be alone, in order to recharge your social battery before the next bit of interaction, he would run interference, making sure you had time to recuperate. Half the time he just sicced Jon on them, because his son would also be very fond of you and look up to you as an older sibling, even if he realizes he's your sibling before Clark realizes he's your Dad.

As for sensory issues and being a picky eater or being picky in regards to clothes, Clark has so much experience in this you have no idea. Even if his own children didn't struggle with textures, which they do with both Conner and Jon being ADHD which they inherited from him, he struggled a lot with textures as a kid himself. Granted, part of it was due to super senses overwhelming him before he had gotten his invulnerability, but still. Sensory overload is hell, and he is aware of it. He goes out of his way to try and memorize what textures you enjoy, and which ones you don't like.

I think the first time he realizes how fond he is of you, and that you are absolutely his kid, is the first time you openly show excitement and enthusiasm in front of him. I could see Conner teaching you guitar, or maybe the two of you playing together with you playing the piano while Conner plays the guitar and this man is just- big feelings. Big feelings he has no idea what to do with because those are his kids and he loves them so much he thinks he might die from how strong it is.

He absolutely gets you blankets with texture you like too, and various stim toys. He may accidentally steal one, though, be warned.

I honestly see him as being the sort of person to try and learn more about where you were raised. Does this mean he will be trying to learn Arabic? Yes. Is he very good at it at first? No. Does he have a best friend who's son is more than willing to insult him if it meant he got better at speaking Arabic? Yes, even if Damian could afford to be a little less mean about it.

Another good thing is that Clark is pretty much the ideal for if you feel you cry or get upset easy. He's able to actually communicate his emotions, unlike some (*cough* Batman *cough*) and he knows how to make himself seem less intimidating.

All in all, cool dad. Even as a platonic yandere, he would be pretty chill, although there's more kidnapping involved

#yandere platonic matchups #matchups #I wasnt sure if u wanted yandere or not but tbh the only thing that would change is the kidnapping #yandere platonic superman #platonic superman

[ametrictonofaudacity]

I'm gonna be honest, the fact you have and help take care of horses is really cool

I honestly did not expect people to be so interested in the horses, tbh.

And they are cool!! I love riding and taking care of them, and we all have some really fun stories! Some of which we were doing things that were Dumb and Stupid, but fun stories nonetheless!

Like one time, our cousins came over wanting to ride. Jedha is perfect for new riders, but mom didn’t want her being ridden alone, so she all but bullied my sister into getting onto Phoenix while BAREFOOT and in pajama pants. Then, because our cousins hadn’t arrived yet, they had me hop up on Jedha. I was wearing sweatpants and slides.

These are not things to wear while riding.

So the ride goes relatively well! I hop off, my cousin gets on, things are going good! I’m having our with my older cousin, who is batshit insane and may or may not be a convicted (?) murderer but would also make and bury a body for his little cuz, and eventually our cousin hops off and I get back on!

And I can admit I was a little tipsy getting on the horse! But we ran them for a bit, which was honestly a good thing, Jedha was acting dumb, and we hoped off.

My sister still was not wearing shoes. This is important.

My mom hops on, and they run the horses again.

And my sisters reins snap. While her horses is in a dead run. Who is also the fast horse in the herd and has sharp ass turns.

He took a sharp ass turn. My sister, shoeless and in pajama pants, her foot goes forward in the stirrups, and she is falls. She gets dragged for like.. a millisecond, and falls to the ground.

Mind you, I see none of this. What I do see, however, is Phoenix hauling ass to the barn, and my cousin goes ‘rider down’ and we all pile into the buggy.

And there, looking like she’s praying to a pissed off horse god, is my sister. Who, immediately when seeing us, pops up and goes “Did anyone get that on video!?”

[ametrictonofaudacity]

[ametrictonofaudacity]

...You have a horse? You work with a horse? Why am I just now knowing this? (Though possibly you mentioned this before and/or you're talking about q fictional one and I am just a moron)

Agahshs yes!!

We actually have quite a few horses!! My mom owns them, and when she adopted me, I started working with them!! I’m not super experienced yet, but I love working with horses even if it makes me anxious sometimes!!

We have four total. Jedha, Phoenix, Granata (or Granny for short), and Fanta! My mom’s worked with horses for a super long time so she has a habit of getting ‘problem’ horses and keeping them, and by fucking god do these guys have personality.

Jedha is our lead mare, and despite being in her like 20’s (ish) that is an Old Lady. She’s been used for barrel racing, and god help you if your on her and your mom decides to set up barrels while your ON her. That horse may not move for much but she will move for barrels. And treats. She will bully the other horses out of their treats. She’s an amazing horse, and honestly so desensitized to shit that you could stick a small child on her and if the kid were to try and fall off, she’d adjust her weight to keep them on.

Next up is Phoenix! He’s my sisters horse, an Arabian! We got him from an abusive/neglectful home, and when he first arrived he was scared of everything. Giving him a bath was a nightmare but he needed one. He’s been with us about a year and a half or so now, he’s 5 I think, and now he’s a big dumb idiot. He wants to know EVERYTHING you’re doing. He also gets jealous if me or my sister pet the other gelding, Granata. We have to use the buckstrap for him a lot, and recently we’ve had issues with him being buddy sour, unfortunately. (See my previous post about Granata’s dumb ass)

We move on to the dumbass in question, Granata! Previously he was our neighbors horse, who got them from another person. He’s a retired racehorse but good luck telling him that. If you so much as nudge this fucker he will go. He’s also honestly the best behaved out of the herd tbh, he stands perfectly for haltering, walks good, you don’t have to chase him, etc. He acts more like a big dumb dog than anything else, he’ll even come to his name.

Finally we have Fanta! It’s technically short for Phantom, which she got from her previous home, because she refused to let anyone touch her. She’s mine (technically a foster but my Dad doesn’t know my Mom plans on keeping her for me lmfao) and she’s a chestnut mare! She’s got two very pretty white socks on her front legs, as well as some Arabian in her. Which.. not the best idea to stick a new rider on an Arabian and a red mare, I’m aware, but she’s also super young and needs a gentler hand because she’s super young and has only been ridden a total of two times, both times by me.

I had another horse, Eloise, who was also a red mare, and I loved her to pieces before she got adopted out. She was super smart, although tbh Fanta is smarter and she’s super curious, and super sweet. To me at least. She did try to bite my Mom.

I may or may not have a weakness for red mares. They’ve just got so much personality! Granted the personality can sometimes be bitch, but it’s still personality!

[ametrictonofaudacity]

Me, attempting to bring our horse in to the ferrier: okay bud let’s go this way

Granata, for some fucking reason: I AM BEING TAKEN FROM THE HERD I AM IN MORTAL PERIL

Me: You’re fine

Granata: MORTAL PERIL!!!

Me: Dude chill. Here’s some food. Calm down

Granny’s dramatic ass: I AM NOW GOING TO YELL AS LOUD AS POSSIBLE AND KICK OVER THE FEED BUCKET TO EMPHASIZE I AM IN DANGER

Me: DUDE :(

Granny, a dumbass: FREE ME

Me: no

Granny: I WILL NOW ATTEMPT TO STOMP THE FERRIER WITH MY HOOVES

#Jesus fuck this horse #he’s so DUMB #like dude I know you have separation anxiety but CHILL #maybe if you stopped throwing your shoes we wouldn’t be in this situation

[ametrictonofaudacity]

A Wild Battinson (Social Media AU)

Part 11 (Masterlist)

(Part 12)

@bruciemilf This one’s just really chaotic

[ametrictonofaudacity]

Hi! First time asker on your blog, I was wondering if it’s too late to get a platonic letter from someone in the batfam, particularly Bruce? I was wondering if it could be a yandere purge letter, if you know that that is? Basically a letter sent from a yandere to their person of interest 24 hours before the yandere purge, in which they’re legally allowed to kidnap their darling. I was wondering if you could write one for Bruce, explaining to his darling that he sees her as his child, and can’t wait to have them in their family, and he is sorry for the fear they’re going to experience during this process. Thank you so much for your blog, you’re awesome!

I’m familiar with the AU! Also I’m so glad you like my works!

Warning: manipulation, infantilization, (planned) kidnapping, Bruce being both delusional and VERY aware of what he’s doing.

Yandere Letter

(Y/N),

I’m sure that when you got your letter today, you started to panic. I don’t blame you, but I want to assure you, I only mean the best for you, and have no intention of hurting you. Ever.

I don’t know if you remember when we first met. I do. You ran into me in the elevator on Wayne Enterprises. Apologized profusely, and we talked. You were brilliant. Insightful, and kind, and every word out of your mouth reminded me so much of my own children that it ached. All I could think about was how lucky your parents were, to have raised such a kind person, to have someone like you as their kid.

I’ll admit that I got curious. That I dug into your past, when it was, by most definitions, a violation of your privacy.

And (Y/N).

I know what you went through. I know how much you needed support, needed a parent, and didn’t have one. How you needed help, and no one came.

I’m going to make sure you aren’t alone like that again. And while I am sorry that you’re going to be so scared at first, I promise, we will do everything in our power to make sure you are happy and healthy. Me, and your siblings, only want the best for you, only want to give you all the things you should have been given in the first place.

I’ll be seeing you soon, (Y/N).

#yandere dc #yandere platonic x reader #yandere platonic batfam #yandere bruce wayne

[ametrictonofaudacity]

Okay so consider!!!

Yandere platonic Geralt!! Generally very cool!! Very nice!! But if you fuck up you have to deal with (what you have dubbed) the get along cuff. Which is literally him just making you sleep next to him and tying your leg to his with a bit of leather cord. It’s thin so he can easily snap it if there’s a danger, but he’ll wake up if you move it.

Also Jaskier being completely fine and okay with this would be hilarious, I would love to see you write a scenerio!! (Idk why but I picture a modern reader, like one who got dropped in the Witcher from the modern world)

I love this ask!! I also love the trope of a modern character in a medieval setting, I think it was all the ‘Modern Girl IN Middle Earth’ fanfics I read (an actual tag on ao3) so I have a weakness for it!! Also Jaskier just going ‘eh’ is so funny to me.

Warnings: forced proximity, captivity, kidnapping, some level of being infantalized, being tied to another person as a form of being restrained, future Stockholm syndrome. Jaskier is complicit, up to you whether he is also a yandere or not. Also the fact Geralt can smell emotions

“You know this could be like, an actual danger?”

You try and reason your way out of your situation, like reason has ever worked on Geralt before. He ignores you, mostly, concentrating on tying the knot around your wrist in a manner that you cannot undo the knot but it also didn’t cut off your circulation. He slips a finger under the cord, testing the knot and the cords strength, and you hear him make a satisfied rumble. You were still getting used to that, to the various sounds the Witcher made to express emotion.

“No it’s not. The cord’s thin, and if I have to fight I can snap it easily. Plus this area doesn’t normally have monsters, not this time of year.”

He stands, towering over you from you spot on the ground, near the fire, and you tilt your face up. The yellow light throws his features into a harsh countenance, makes his face all angles and scars, golden eyes reflecting the light the way a predators would as he glared down at you, scowling. You tighten your fingers in the wool cloak he had given you, so long ago, the fibers catching in your nails.

He must see something in your gaze, or maybe it’s the way you know you probably reek of anxiety right now, but his stance softens, the scowl melting away into something softer, not a smile because you knew he was still very, very upset with you, but not a harsh frown that made you feel small and stupid and like all the things he thought about you were true.

He crouches, making himself smaller next to you, and you feel your shoulders start to unwind. It was strange, being around someone who was so perceptive to your emotions, but seemingly had no clue how to address or handle them, beyond his own instincts as a Witcher and his limited interpersonal skills. His very limited interpersonal skills.

Seriously. You were pretty sure the guy only had two friends.

“You’re going to try and run again. Maybe not tonight, but I clearly can’t trust you to behave without me keeping my eye on you at all times. Since I can’t do that while I’m asleep, this is the solution.”

He motions to the thin leather cord, and you scowl, face twisting into something you know is ugly but doing it anyways. He wouldn’t be intimidated, you knew, he seemed to view you as some helpless kid, even though you were a fully grown adult who had been attending college.

“You wouldn’t have to watch me if you just let me go, Geralt. You can’t… you can’t just not let someone go home, that’s not right.”

You snap, fingers burying further into the cloak to stave off the chill that was only getting colder, creeping up your arms and legs to your torso and making you shiver. It had just gotten dark, the little fire Geralt built crackling away and too small to provide much warmth but rapidly gaining strength, and you shiver, leaning toward the fire and away from the Witcher.

“We’re not having this conversation again. You can’t survive out there on your own.”

Your face flushes, angry, and you bury your face further into the cloak. He had a point, to some extent. You weren’t used to the world of the Witcher, with its monsters and it’s hardships, weren’t used to the roughness of medieval life and all of its struggles. You were used to the modern world, where distances could be travelled by car, not horse, and you didn’t have to endure biting cold in the winter and blazing heat in the summer.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t at least try, Geralt. What kinda person would I be if I didn’t at least try to get home?” You protest, and there’s the sound of rustling, a muttered curse. Looks like Jaskier was back with wood.

“Ah. Seems I walked into a horribly tense situation.”

Jaskier remarks, but his voice is light, not taking your predicament seriously, even as his eyes land on the tether around your wrist and Geralt’s as he feeds wood into the fire, which licks up the logs and sticks eagerly, hungry for fuel. You scowl, face buried in the cloak to hide your sour mood as much as possible. Geralt didn’t care if you were pisses off or not, he cared when you were afraid not when you were mad, but Jaskier would do everything in his power to pull you out of your bad mood. From telling stories to playing little tavern songs, he would be relentless in making sure you cracked a smile at least once, and you didn’t feel like having to endure the bards attempts to cheer you up right now.

“Is tying them to you really necessary though, Geralt? They look like a kicked pup, can’t you be a bit more lenient?”

Jaskier wheedles, and wow, he might actually be your favorite person right now. You peek up from the fold of the cloak, and he’s got a hand on a hip, shifting his weight with a concerned frown. He looks entirely disapproving of the whole thing, which makes your heart soar. Maybe he would actually be able to get Geralt to listen to him.

“They’re lucky I don’t tie them on Roach all day.” Geralt grumbles, setting up the bed rolls. You could feel every small movement he made, the motion tugging gently on the thin tether.

“Oh you grump. Stop being so rude.” Jaskier huffs, sitting next to you, and you quietly despair how easily he gave in, how quickly he yielded to what Geralt wanted to do. You tuck your face back into the cloak, dejected.

“Hey now, it isn’t all bad. There are worse places to sleep. I can recall a few of them myself.”

Jaskier’s hand lands on your shoulder, and you glare, annoyed. You didn’t want company, or comfort, or any of it. You wanted one thing, and it was something that the both of them were denying you.

Jaskier, because he was Jaskier, seemingly didn’t notice. Which wasn’t the greatest.

“Yeah, sure, I guess. Never slept tied to somebody, though.” You say pointedly, and the annoyed rumble Geralt gives is almost worth it. Sharp gold eyes narrow at you slightly, before Geralt huffs, turning back to his task.

“I have! Well, it was more I had been knocked unconscious, but it still applies, I think! And those ropes were rather coarse, my wrists were aching for days!” Jaskier recalls. “Geralt had to rescue me, it was quite the adventure. I wrote a song about it, at some point, although I never published it. I really should rework that song, actually, come to think of it.”

He rambles, his voice filling the tense silence between you and Geralt, and you feel your shoulders start to relax. He was good at that, chattering to fill the silence that would drag on for hours between the two of you if it wasn’t for him. You sigh quietly, leaning into the warm hand clasped on your shoulders as the fire grows in strength, the bedrolls almost fully prepared.

“Alright. Jaskier, you take first watch, and I’ll take over in an hour or so.” There must not be many monsters around, you think, for Geralt to be so comfortable letting Jaskier take watch. Jaskier nods, slipping away your side as Geralt approaches.

“Not a problem! I was feeling wired tonight anyways, a few more hours though and I should be able to sleep well enough.” Jaskier agrees amicably. “Although I am a bit surprised, you normally insist on first watch.”

“Wanna get (Y/N) down.” Geralt huffs, and Jaskier nods.

“Fair enough, I suppose. They are criminally lacking in the sleep department, they’re beginning to get bags, poor thing.”

You scowl at Jaskier, annoyed.

“I’ve had these since middle school, first of all, not my fault I have insomnia.” You scowl, and jerk when Geralt all but drags you to the bed roll, barely waiting for you to finish talking.

“Hey!” You protests, annoyed, but he’s too busy ‘getting you settled’ as he liked to call it. Fussing over the blankets and the best roll, making sure your body was protected from the harsh winds that even the fire couldn’t stave off.

“Jaskier, stop keeping them up.” Geralt grumbles, sounding more tired than annoyed. He drags you closer, and it must be a Witcher thing to radiate heat like a furnace, because he was chasing off the cold without even trying, the same arm that you were tied to securing you against his chest.

“Pretty sure I can sleep on my own.”

You snark, and Geralt rolls his eyes.

“Not for the next week you aren’t, if that. Now go to bed.”

You scowl, glaring up at him. With the blanket over you, the fire, and the heat radiating off his body, you were tired, sure. But not tired enough not to say something, not when you were being treated like an idiot who couldn’t do anything for themselves.

“You can’t just- Geralt this isn’t right, and you know it. You can’t just- keep me here!”

You protest. Arguing with Geralt was much like arguing with a wall, honestly. Stubborn and just as likely to listen to you as the bricks that made up the walls of your old college.

But walls could come down. You just had to get through to him, make him realize that what was doing wasn’t going to work. You weren’t strong enough or fast enough to escape him, not without some clever plan or tricks up your sleeve, and you were pretty sure that an Olympic level athlete would still have issues trying to outpace him. So your only hope was getting him to listen.

It was a fragile hope, but it was the only hope you had.

“We’re not talking about this right now. Go to sleep.”

Geralt grumbles, and you open your mouth again. The warning rumble in his chest cuts you off, and you swallow.

The sound was exactly that. A warning. Geralt had never hurt you before, not really, but whenever he got mad things were miserable. Jaskier would be irritated with you for ‘putting Geralt in a mood’ as he put it, and you would be without the bard’s chattering to fill the heavy silent between you and Geralt. Not to mention the awkwardness of being forced to ride atop Roach with Geralt, the silence thick with tension between the two of you, or the way you would hope desperately for the day to end so you could go to sleep.

No, it was better to keep the Witcher happy. For all parties.

“Alright. Good night.” You finally mutter, and he sighs, the tension leaving his body. You feel his torso loosen, relaxing behind you, and you feel your hand shaking, just slightly. Or a little more than slightly. Your stomach twists, and Geralt sighs.

“I know you don’t understand. But you’ll realize this is what’s best for you.” He says it like it’s supposed to be an assurance, smoothing a hand over your hair like you’re a particularly fussy child, and you consider, for a second, twisting and biting that hand. Driving your teeth deep enough to draw blood and make him listen to you, for once.

You don’t, mainly because you know he would just move it fast enough your teeth would just snap at empty air.

You close your eyes. With the almost stifling heat behind you, and the too-heavy weight of the cord on your wrist that logically shouldn’t feel as heavy as it did, sleep does not come easy. Eventually, though, you feel your consciousness slip away into oblivion.

#yandere platonic Geralt of Rivia #yandere witcher #yandere platonic Geralt #platonic yandere x reader

[ametrictonofaudacity]

Match Ups and Letters!

Decided to try some new stuff! Now gonna do match ups (romantic and platonic) and letters to the reader!

For matchups, including whether you want it as romantic or platonic (if it’s not included I will default to platonic), your interests, personality, likes/dislikes, good and bad habits. Go into as much detail as you want and have fun with it!

For letters, providing a scenario would be great so I know what the letters contents are!

#yandere matchups #yandere letters

[ametrictonofaudacity]

Had an entire ask that I answered and Tumblr ATE it

[ametrictonofaudacity]

how to trick writers into giving you more fanfic to read

[ametrictonofaudacity]

Bonds 2

Yandere Platonic Batfam x Trans!Masc Reader

Warnings: mentions of kidnapping/captivity, manipulation, non-consensual touching (cuddles), general yandere themes. Reader has been pretty thoroughly conditioned in this, posted non-chronologically.

There is the soft sound of cracking flames and breathing filling the room, a thick, almost heavy heat that sinks into your bones and makes it hard to think. The logs had long since almost burned themselves out, casting a low, red light over the entire room, a far cry from the cheery yellow it had been not three hours before. Everything is dim and soft, the shadows jumping and dancing when the flames sputter and lick up the logs, refusing to die out.

You hum, sleepy and tired, and turn your head. It’s late, late enough that you wonder when the grandfather clock was going to swing open and let your siblings back into the Manor. Soon, you think. You hoped. It was exhausting, waiting up for them when you didn’t operate on the same schedule they did, unused to pulling long nights without rest and the intense exhaustion that came with what they did.

You huff, pushing the blanket off yourself. The heat was almost stifling, almost uncomfortable, and you lament the fact that you were allowed to open the windows. One gust of Gotham’s wind, biting and chilling and so very dangerous to those who either didn’t know to get out of it in the winter months or couldn’t, would bring relief right away, cool the room down instantly. It used to do the same to your old apartment, even if you hadn’t wanted it to. Wormed it’s way into the cracks and crevices around the windows, whistled loudly as it battered against the door.

Wayne Manor didn’t have that issue. You’re still adjusting to it.

The clock dongs, and you groan, turning your head over to look at it. Fuck, it was late. Late enough you should have gone to bed hours ago, but the silent Manor was almost eerie, the lack of your siblings or Father almost disturbing. Alfred was in the Cave, where you weren’t allowed anyways, monitoring the comms. And you, most likely, now that you thought about it.

The grandfather clock swings open.

You push yourself up, and there’s a strange mix of relief and anxiety in your chest. While you hadn’t, technically, been breaking any rules, you weren’t supposed to be up this late.

It’s Bruce who comes through the entrance first. There’s a heavy exhaustion written all over him, a tiredness that makes your chest twist with something that feels like worry and just might be. Your eyes skim him for injury, for blood, whether it was his or someone else’s.

“You’re not supposed to be up this late.” He frowns, all severe lines and frowns.

“It’s too quite. I couldn’t sleep.” You say, and that makes his shoulders soften, the sternness melting away into something softer, more sympathetic. He sighs, then pulls back his cowl.

“Right. I’m sorry we had to leave you home alone, it was all hands on deck tonight.” He apologizes, like leaving you home alone in the Manor is some great sin he had committed. It was fine. You just weren’t used to the quiet.

“It’s fine, Dad.”

You assure, and he hums. He doesn’t believe you, you know, but he doesn’t press.

The shadows in entrance to the cave shift, just slightly, and Cass melts into your view. You had never figured out how your older sister did that, melted in and out shadow like she belonged in them, but she had startled you more times than you could count doing that. Part of you thought she found it funny.

“Why don’t you let me put a movie on?” You offer, tilting your head. They were always exhausted after patrol, nearly always put on some nostalgic, gentle movie after a long night. You were pretty sure it helped them unwind after a harsh night. It would help you. It had helped you, after fights with them over things that weren’t important and nights when you hadn’t been able to think about anything other than freedom.

“Did you stay up for us? You know you have a bed time, yeah, baby bat?” Dick teases, and you hadn’t even seen him come up, too focused on Cass and Bruce.

“I do not, actually. Y’all just worry I don’t sleep enough.” You huff, batting his hand away gently. He grins, dragging you towards him. It’s not careful, there’s strength behind it, but not enough to hurt.

“That’s because you take after the old man and don’t sleep damn near enough.” Jason scoffs, coming up the stairs and into the room. Tim follows, then Steph and Damian. The only person missing was Duke, but Duke was at his uncles, out of state.

“Okay, well, do you want this stupid movie on or not?” You huff, annoyed. Dick still had you trapped against him, and you knew that wasn’t changing any time soon, so you resign yourself to another night of being forcibly cuddled until you fell asleep. If you were particularly unlucky Tim would manage to cling to you like an octopus and fall asleep, in which case you wouldn’t be able to move for the next day without fear of disclosing him, because any time Tim fell asleep he suddenly developed a death grip and a complete inability to wake up unless a bomb goes off.

“I’ll put it on! It was my turn to pick anyway, no matter what Jason says.” Steph volunteers, flicking the tv on and scrolling through the movies so quickly you barely even have time to look at the titles.

“Slow down, Blondie, fuck.” Jason grumbles, squinting at the screen in annoyance. “My concussion may be gone but that shits annoying.”

“You got a concussion?” You can’t help the barely hidden alarm in your voice. You can’t help it. It wasn’t like Jason had any brain cells he could risk losing, for one, with all the extensive head trauma he had already gotten, and for two, you were ninety percent sure he wasn’t supposed to be looking at a screen after getting one.

“Minor concussion. Practically babies first concussion. ‘Sides, Alfie already checked me out and deemed me a-okay.”

“He’s also benched for the next two days.” Bruce tells you dryly, and you snort.

“You’re as bad as Tim.” The puffed up offense is entirely warranted, and you laugh as he drags you against him, tugging you out of Dick’s grip. Dick pouts, predictably, and you snort, amused. Sometimes your older brother was just a little pathetic.

“Oh, bullshit.”

He snorts, settling into the couch. You end up curled between him and Bruce, and Dick pouts again, before he crawls across the top of the couch, splaying himself out to be in contact with all three of you. It’s borderline uncomfortable to look at, a delicate balancing act that came so naturally to him.

“We’re watching The Devil Wears Prada.” Steph announces. “Because we haven’t seen it in forever.”

“We watched it just the other night!” Jason argues, even as the movie starts to play. You settle further into Bruce’s side, who curls an arm around you lightly as he watches your siblings bicker.

“Fuck you, you don’t hear me complaining everytime you want to watch Little Women!” Steph shoots back, and you laugh.

“That is a goddamn masterpiece, you shut the fuck up. It’s way better than fucking- this shit!” Jason argues, almost genuinely offended.

“Shouldn’t you be intervening?” You stage whisper to Bruce, who shoots you an almost conspiratorial look.

“They don’t listen to me anyways.” You laugh, and it’s nice. Happy.

The sound of the movie and bickering and bodies shifting around each other is calming. Familiar. At some point you drift off, and you wake up to the familiar sensation of being carried in warm arms, safe and secure.

You hum, letting them tuck you in carefully, press a kiss to your forehead. You wouldn’t have, months ago, but now it was something long familiar. Welcomed, even.

You can’t remember what changed. You think you were glad it did.

#yandere batman #yandere dc #yandere platonic x reader #yandere platonic batfam #yandere dick grayson #yandere platonic batfam x reader

[ametrictonofaudacity]

You know about Gotham! You know about Metropolis! But do you know about these lesser-known DCU cities???

Civic City - home to the first headquarters of the JSA; this is a smaller city outside Philadelphia and at this point has probably gotten absorbed into that metro area.

Empire City - home of the first and second Manhunters in the 1940s. This is making the list mostly because I can't believe DC made yet another fake New York City. Free us.

Gateway City - a San Francisco analogue, this California harbor city is home to Helena and Cassandra Sandsmark, as well as the largest collection of classical antiquities this side of Greece. Diana worked at the museum here for a time.

Harbor City - in Oregon. The Doom Patrol had a real bad time here once.

Hub City - an Illinois town overrun with mobs and corruption, and the home base of Vic Sage, the Question.

Ivy Town - a college town nebulously in New England, and home to Ray Palmer and Ryan Choi (both the Atom).

Mammoth City - the hometown of Eel O'Brian, otherwise known as Plastic Man. Apparently Mammoth City is in New Jersey! How dense is New Jersey in this universe? I'm not sure I want to know.

Mesa City - an old-fashioned cowboy town in Arizona. Mostly featured in comics set in the 19th century, but we know it still exists because one Impulse annual was set here.

Midway City - an industrial city in Michigan that's fallen on some harder times (likely a Detroit analogue). Home to at least some iterations of the Doom Patrol, as well as Hawkman and Hawkwoman. This place was also absolutely trashed during Final Crisis.

Opal City - home of various Starmen, and also Ralph and Sue Dibny (at least, before, you know.) In Maryland.

Palmera City - Texan hub of technological innovation, home to Victoria Kord and Kord Industries. Apparently this was created for the movie, but made its way into Graduation Day and the current Blue Beetle ongoing.

Portsmouth City - Pieter Cross (Doctor Mid-Nite) lives here! Or he did, when he existed. Also in Oregon.

Quad Cities - four cities in Iowa and Illinois, along the Mississippi River. Home of Wild Dog, a vigilante I genuinely did not know existed before this.

Rain City - appears in one issue of Anima (1994), described as a city whose time has come, like Paris in the 20s or San Francisco in the 60s. They never explain what this means, but it appears to involve a lot of raves, punk bands, and intravenous drugs.

Superior City - the Oregon home of the original Red Bee (Rick Raleigh). I'm including this one because, one, Rick has a retconned-in sidekick who's now part of the Lost Children, and two, what is with all these Oregon cities?

[ametrictonofaudacity]

Tim baby I can't keep on defending you if you keep this uP WHAT THE HELL-

Also yn calling Wayne's family of snakes felt good ngl, Tim being jealous of duke is deserved I may love Tim but damn I even I have a limit and he's so delusional 🤡

And we absolutely love duke here but I feel like that was just an act to make us slowly trust him. Y'all better remember that duke is smart and sneaky too

Oh yeah no do not trust ANY of these motherfuckers.

Because even if it isn’t an act to make the reader trust him, which it is honestly like… 50% he does want reader to trust him and he is playing it up but he is also being like genuinely nice, the fact remains that he is complicit in what the Wayne’s are doing over all.

Also yeah, Tim deserves a little bit of jealousy. I attempted to write him to be as condescending as possible, because even as not being a yandere, he’s a condescending motherfucker sometimes.

I felt like Duke needed a bit more screen time, you know? And Tim needs to give reader some damn space 💀.

[ametrictonofaudacity]

Gaps 5

Yandere! Platonic! Batfam x Mentally il/Forgetful Reader

Warnings: exploitation of mental illness, depression and self-neglect, forcing the use of medication, manipulation,arguing, implied threats of violence against an animal (DW MOMO IS IN NO DANGER), and captivity and general yandere themes.

Despite what you thought, they don’t hound you twenty-four seven. They are not constantly at your side, are not as close as they normally are. Dick comes around, because it’s Dick and you were normally attached to the hip. Or you had been. Things were different now.

And of course the peace wouldn’t last. Of course the Wayne’s wouldn’t be content to allow you some much needed time to adjust, of course things went wrong. When there’s a quiet knock at the door of your room, you’d stiffened, Momo in your arms.

Tim pushes the door open. It was always Tim, or Damian, or Jason. Dick didn’t really come to see you in the mornings. Not after you’d refused to even touch the food he’s laid out, not after you had ignored his existence the entire time he’d been in your room. As far as you were concerned, Dick was to blame for all of this. He’d had the initial idea to kidnap you, he’d introduced you to his family, he’d been the one to cause your pain.

You shift, fingers clenching your blanket tightly, letting Momo slip out of your arms. She prances up to Tim, rubbing her face against his pant leg, and it makes your heart race in your chest. None of the Wayne’s had hurt her, sure, but she was so little and friendly that it worried you that they would. Tim, thankfully, barely even acknowledges her. He gently nudged her out of the way with his foot, setting down the tray he had been carrying on the bedside table.

“Alfred mentioned that you hadn’t touched your plate. Is the new medication interfering with your appetite?” He asks, and you swallow. You really didn’t want to have your meds changed again. They had just put you back on the prazosin for fucks sake, and you would prefer if you didn’t go back to those stupid drugs.

“Did Alfred mention it or were you just stalking me again?” You mutter, drawing your knees up to your chest. Tim frowns.

“It’s not my fault you keep trying to do something stupid!” He snaps, and it’s defensive. Angry. Maybe it’s because he knows he shouldn’t be doing this. Maybe it’s because he knows he’s in the wrong.

“You barely take care of yourself, (Y/N).” He starts, and he angrily sorts your meds as he does so, fingers flicking through the pills to lay them out. You noticed he did that. Compulsively sorted or organized thing when he was thinking, lips pulled into an angry frown.He continues, ruthless.

“We’ve tried doing it your way. We gave you space, like you asked, and you haven’t eaten. You barely interact with anyone, you haven’t brushed your hair since after dinner three nights ago, and not only that, you’ve barely gotten out of bed. You only get up if one of us make you or if it’s to feed Momo or use the restroom.”

His voice starts to rise in anger, getting loudly and louder as he yells in your face.

Your ears ring. You can’t tell the cotton in your mouth is from disassociation, anger, or sheer, unadulterated indignation. How dare he.

“And who’s fault is that?!” You snarl, pushing yourself up. Tim wouldn’t hit you, you knew. He argued with you, and he was clingy as fuck during the rare occasions you let him touch you or got caught off guard enough to not protest when he initiated it, but never did he hit you.

“You all- I can’t even leave the HOUSE! I can’t do anything without a fucking escort! You watch me through the fuckin cameras, you creeper, don’t think I haven’t heard Jason fucking teasing you for it! You all might not be at my hip all the time, but I’m not stupid enough to let myself even THINK for a second that you aren’t aware of everything in my life!”

You scream.

“You’re so fucking convinced that I am incompetent and stupid, you’re so fucking convinced I can’t take care of myself, that you ruined my life for it! That- I can’t even leave the house, I can’t do anything by myself, don’t think I didn’t notice how literally anytime I walk past the kitchen, someone’s always watching me, this isn’t fucking fair or right, and fuck you for doing it!”

You snarl, and Tim just… stands there. Takes it. He doesn’t argue, which you expect, but he doesn’t apologize, either. You hate that you used to trust him. You hate that you used to look up to him, admiring his wits and intelligence when he had been using those very same attributes to rip apart your life so he and his family of snakes could pick up the pieces and put them back together again.

“I trusted you and all you did was throw my trust in my fucking face!” You snarl. “I told you, how I struggled to remember things! How I felt like I was going insane because my stuff kept vanishing! You offered- you offered to help me search my apartment! Was that just- just another opportunity to stalk me?! To manipulate me?”

Your voice cracks. You weren’t even screaming anymore, no matter how much the anger burns.

“You were right to trust us.” Tim finally says. “I know you don’t like it, I really do, and that it’s not fair, but we’re doing this to help you. You-“

He sighs, running his hand through his hair.

“You haven’t eaten. Haven’t brushed your hair, or your teeth. You’re lethargic. You fight us every step of the way on taking your meds. What if we weren’t around taking care of you? What if-“

He wrings his hands slightly, and you feel a trickle of doubt seep in. He seems to genuinely believe what he was saying. That you needed him, needed them, to keep yourself alive. To keep yourself sane. You don’t know if it’s delusion or paranoia or some other, crippling thing, but it makes your stomach twist with guilt and what might be sorrow.

“Tim.” You cut in, grabbing his hands in your own. His eyes widen, and you worry your grip is too tight from your anger and your desperation to be heard, so you loosen it, slightly. He tightens his grip.

“Tim, I took care of myself for years. And I-“ You swallow, there’s this faint pressure in your eyes that might be the beginnings of tears, but it was something. “- I get I didn’t always do the best job, okay? I get that. But you need to just- you need to trust me. Please.”

You plead, and his face softens, cracks. The anger drains and you feel guilt. What you’re doing, it feels like manipulation even though you know it’s not, and you wonder how the Wayne’s have gotten you so twisted up into knots that even asking for your autonomy as an adult and a person felt like some forbidden thing. You hadn’t even been with them that long. Certainly not long enough for Stockholm Syndrome to occur, and the conditions for Stockholm weren’t even really being met, you were pretty sure.

“I do trust you.” He insists. “We all trust you. But- you need help. Help that you won’t get for yourself and won’t let others get for you. Can’t you just trust us back?” He asks like it’s simple. Like you would want to trust the people who hurt you so totally, so completely, you thought you would never recover. The Wayne’s had been the few people in your life you had sought out, the few people who had been a part of your life, who hadn’t minded your quirks and oddities. They had fit into your life so seamlessly you had nearly forgotten a time they weren’t there, and it had scared you, so you’d pushed them away.

You should have pushed them away sooner.

Your hands go lax, and you slide them from Tim’s grip. There’s a moment where he seems reluctant to let go, before he releases his grip, and you place your hands in your lap.

You were already tired of arguing. The righteous anger had burnt itself out in the face of how sincere he was being.

“Why don’t we get you ready for the day and you’ll feel better?” Tim offers suddenly, like you hadn’t just nearly broken down in front him about being treated as incapable, being treated like a child.

You hold out your hand. He places the pills in them, and you glance down. You consider throwing them across the room again, but last time you had, you had simply gotten the same medication forced down your throat. You take the pills with a grimace, and Tim passes you a glass of water. This, you also resist throwing.

You eat mechanically, the food tasting like ash in your mouth even though you know it probably tasted delicious. Alfred’s cooking always did. When you’re done, you set the plate to the side, and Tim takes it.

“Why don’t you get dressed, yeah?” He asks softly, like you have a choice, and you narrow your eyes at him, silently communicating you wanted him out of the room. He doesn’t budge.

“Hey, Tim, where’s the-“ You jump slightly when Duke pokes his head in the empty doorframe, surprised.

“Oh! Hey, you’re up! Tim said you were having trouble with your hair, yeah? Want some help?” He lifts the comb and strangling brush, a myriad of other things in his arms.

You pause, considering. Part of it was spite, part of it was the fact Duke was asking, and not telling, but you nod, and he beams. He looks absolutely delighted, and he steps into the room after a moment.

“Awesome! Grab a pillow to sit on and let’s get started, yeah?” He beams, setting down his supplies on your bedside table. He doesn’t mention your meds, or the food, or anything else. It’s refreshing.

“Sure.”

Momo hops into your lap, the little opportunist, and you stroke her fur softly as Duke gets everything situated. Tim looks horribly jealous, and the thought makes you a little smug. It didn’t even feel all that petty, given how he had just been practically demanding you listen to him, and Duke had come in, offering you help but not demanding you take it.

Duke’s hands are gentle as he does your hair, carefully working out the tangles, and you hum, leaning back into it. You were still.. wary, you’d be an idiot not to be, but it was a little better with his fingers in your hair and you wanting them to be there.

“Duke?” You say slowly, Momo in your lap.

“Yeah?”

“Why’re you okay with.. all of this?” You start, fingers tapping on your thigh as he works out the knots.

“What do you mean?” He asks, and you wonder if he’s going to play stupid.

“All of it. The kidnapping, the tampering with my medication, the…” You trail off.

Duke sighs. He sounds so much older than he is, and it makes your heart ache.

“I’m not.” He says lowly, glancing at the now closed door Tim had left through. “I understand where they’re coming from, don’t get me wrong but.. it’s not fair to you.” He finished. “Figured I may as well give you some normally.”

You nod, and sigh, leaning against him.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

#yandere dc #yandere platonic x reader #yandere platonic batfam #yandere platonic Duke Thomas #yandere platonic Tim’s Drake

[ametrictonofaudacity]

[ametrictonofaudacity]

Listen up!

You see a post like this? Where OP might hurt/kill themselves? You hit that button that I circled

Hit that.

Click Suicide or Self-harm Concern

Yes.

Fill in the rest of it, and hit submit. The "content you reported" will fill itself in

Tumblr will follow up and help them.

Warning: this is only for mobile. If anyone knows how to do this for desktop, please add it!

This could SAVE SOMEONE'S LIFE.

YOU HAVE NO EXCUSE NOT TO REBLOG THIS.

I DON'T GIVE A FUCK IF IT DOESN'T GO WITH YOUR BLOG'S THEME.

And yes, REBLOG. Liking does no shit at all. This isn't ig.

You reblog, people see it. You don't, people don't see it. This shit's that simple.

This could save someone's life. It's not a joke.

#tw suicide #tw threats of suicide #tw suicide ideation