#this keeps it from deleting the data...but why?

[fingertipsmp3]

iOS18 when I fucking get you—

[t-a-a-1]

Counting Stars

TFP Optimus x Female Reader

Summary: After a dangerous mission where you almost die, Optimus breaks up with you without knowing you are carrying his sparkling. It's not until seven months later that the universe allows you both to meet once again.

A/N: Lots of yearning, jealousy, delusions, craving, fluff. All that good stuff.

5K

Counting Stars

...

He almost lost you. 

And yet he had to act like he didn't care.

It was to everyone's surprise when he announced that you will no longer be living at the base. It was simple. Due to inner conflicts, you won't be a part of Team Prime any longer. 

No one believed it until you came to pick up your things and said your last goodbyes. 

Optimus was nowhere to be found. 

And no one dared to ask him why.

Only Optimus knows the reason. 

He was well aware of his limits. Knowing that the moment he sees you, he would break down. Throw away his pride and ask you to stay forever with him. That he was a complete idiot to believe he could live a single day without you.

What an idiot he indeed is. 

It's been a week and he can't do it. Primus, give him strength. He sees you everywhere. He smells you in the flowers, feels your touch in the wind, hears your voice in nature and sees you in the stars. How much he misses to taste your lips once more.

"One more day and I think you will go offline, old friend."

Out of embarrassment, Optimus tries to close the windows in the data-pad screen, he was too focused on looking at pictures of you to notice Ratchet walking close to him. 

“What, um-”  He keeps closing tabs, each one having a different picture of you. From different angles and expressions. Blurry and not. “What are you referring to, old friend?”

Ratchet doesn't know how to react to this. He has always been aware of Optimus' massive love for you. Of course he knew. Even more now that the bearer of the Matrix can’t seem to function properly without your presence. 

Optimus keeps closing taps and Ratchet gets a glimpse of Orion Pax. Trying his best to hide the fact that he messed up. 

From innocent pictures, more intimate ones appeared.

“Would you please close your optics?” There is some panic and concern in his voice. But also an authoritative tone to it.  “I do not wish for you to see her the way I used to.”

Ratchet just turns around, giving Optimus enough privacy to conclude his activity. 

“I had just wanted to check up on your well-being due to recent events. But I am afraid that you are in a worse state than I thought possible.”

He hears more clicking and typing before hearing a heavy ex-vent coming from the Autobot leader.

“You can turn around now.”

“Optimus, you can’t continue like this,” the robot medic takes a look at the screen again. It’s empty but the blue blush on Optimus’ face is still evident.  “It’s only been a week. But have you truthly imagined what your life will be after living an eternity without (y/n)?”

Of course he doesn’t think about it. He might be an idiot but not entirely stupid. If he spirals and thinks too much about it he’ll probably lose all sense of responsibility and sanity. He can’t think about no longer being able to see the stars in your eyes. Of not longer hearing the sweetness of your voice or caressing the softness of your skin–

“There’s nothing I can do about it,” Optimus quickly stops thinking.  “My fate is sealed and so is hers. Our paths shall never meet again.”

Knowing Optimus for such a long time, Ratchet knows when he is lying. Even he should be aware of how full of scrap that lie is. Still, he wishes to push it further and see for how long Optimus will keep it up.

“If you truthly think that way then delete all of those frames and we shall never speak of her again.”

Their optics met for a few seconds and the gentle look in Optimus’ optics let Ratchet know everything he needed. However, he wanted his friend to be the one to realize it. Some things have to be lived and pain is the best teacher. 

“I … I-”

Looking back at the screen, there are no pictures of you. The thought of never seeing you again crosses his mind. He doesn’t have much to remember you by. You had taken all of your things. No longer can he phantom words to deny the truth. 

“Why are you putting yourself through all of this pain, old friend? When you and I are aware that you cannot pass a second without thinking of her?”

It was late night at the hangar and all other Autobots had gone to recharge. It was only the two of them and no one dared to ask Optimus about past occurrences that included you. 

“I told her … I wish I had never met her.”

Ratchet slowly opens his intake the moment the words slips Optimus’ glossa. 

“Even if my spark wishes nothing more but to see her again … I am afraid I have severed the relationship beyond repay.”

There is a pause in which Ratchet wanted to comfort his friend, to say some words of encouragement but he doesn’t know if it will be good enough.

“If only you had seen her face, Ratchet  … You would know. I have no right to ask for forgiveness.” 

You are the strongest person he knows. He has yet to see you shed a tear, no amount of injuries have made you do so. But that night, between discussions and arguments, he saw your eyes become crystal. The only thing he could do was to look away. He knew he would break as well if he ever became the reason for your suffering. 

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.

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Seven months passed. 

Not a single word from you. 

Sometimes, however, Optimus would hear Fowler speak about you. A simple ‘She’s doing fine’ and ‘She has made new friends.’

But that was enough to make him wonder about you. Your new life, friends, if you had found anyone who was of your interest.

“We need the Autobot assistance in transporting a highly classified product across the state.”

He finds himself enjoying putting his life in danger. To take on difficult missions so his mind can be occupied. For those moments he is free from the thoughts of you. Any other second he is busy indulging in his torment from your parting. 

Apparently, MECH was extremely interested in this product and had plans to steal it from the CIA. It was the Autobots’ job to prevent that from happening. 

The bots surrounded a black bulletproof truck. They weren’t allowed to look at what was inside which did not please them. If they were to protect something, they wanted to know what it was. However, Optimus gave it a one time pass. After all, Fowler has proved himself to be a trusted ally. 

The first couple of miles went by easily. With no interruptions. 

It wasn’t until it started to go dark that trouble appeared. 

MECH had interjected the mission. Using every single gun, missile and bombs at their dispossession. Whatever that black truck was carrying, they wanted it no matter what. 

“At this rate we are going to lose the target!”

Arcee screamed through her comm-link as she tried her best to take down as many helicopters as possible without hurting any human in the process. Pretty much against her will but orders were orders. 

“These guys are really fighting it out!” Bulkhead was against a few tanks, he had stayed behind to keep them busy while the truck made an attempt to go out of sight. “Are we even sure this thing we are protecting is worth our lives?!”

Optimus was the one closest to the truck, keeping direct contact in case of a disaster. 

“Optimus! We won’t be able to keep them away for long!”

Bumblebee chirped in morse code and the Autobot leader knew he had to do something. 

He drives faster, facing the two officers that were driving the truck. Side to side, they look at the driverless vehicle. 

“Open the trunk and I’ll take the cargo. We won’t be able to hold them for long. I’ll take the cargo somewhere safe while you serve as a distraction. If we don’t do this, you’ll lose it all.”

The military officers look at each other for a small second. Giving a knowing look, they knew what they had to do. They open up the trunk and Optimus slows his driving, taking a look, finally, at what’s inside. 

The cargo is you. 

He quickly transforms back to his robot mode. Running towards you. He extended a sevo, he wanted you to jump. 

You were holding onto the walls of the truck as if your life depended on it. And it did. This was definitely not the encounter you were expecting after not seeing him for seven months. But now it wasn’t the moment to think about that. What happened between the two of you was over. But you still trusted Optimus Prime, the leader he has always been. 

“Quickly!”

You run towards him and jump as the trunk is in fast motion. Your feet land on his servo and in less than a second, he transforms back to his vehicle mode. Now you sat safely in the passenger seat. Optimus moves out of the road and drives off into the forest. Getting lost into the massiveness of nature and tall pine trees. 

No longer being able to hear chaos, Optimus assumed it was safe to talk. 

“Would you care to explain your status and the reasoning to why you are being transported by the American military?”

You weren’t fond of his voice, much less how this conversation started.

“Not even a ‘how are you’ first? You really haven’t changed at all, Prime.”

You say as you cross your arms in front of your chest. Looking outside the window, you wished you were being chased again by MECH. 

“Do not dare to call me by titles.”

There were times you called him by his last name. When you were angry and when the two of you were yet to form a relationship. He doesn’t like to reminisce about those times. 

“Just let me out. I’ll walk.”

“But–”

“I said … I’ll walk.”

Optimus stops and opens the door for you. You hop out of his vehicle mode and start walking without anywhere in mind. 

You put your hands in your oversize hoodie. The last thing you wanted was for him to take a deep look at you. Much less if he starts analyzing your body with stats. 

“I don’t think you know where you are supposed to be located,” he says as he transforms back to his regular robot mode. 

“I’ll figure it out.”

Optimus begins to panic as you start to walk away. This wasn’t how the reunion was supposed to be. He had dreamt of the next time he saw you. Maybe on a field of flowers and running towards each other. Ending it with an embrace and a passionate kiss. 

“Would you listen to reason for once?”

He tries again to engage but he only makes himself sound rude without having those intentions. 

“No.”

Would please look at him? It’s been seven months since he last saw you. He’s only seen your eyes through the pictures of his data-pad but they didn’t compare to seeing them in person–

“Why are you following me? I thought you didn’t care.”

You finally turn to look at him. 

He can’t control his processor at your sight. Your hair was a nice mess, you were wearing clothes too big for you, maybe to hide the few pounds you gained during this time. Your cheeks were pinker and plumber. Dark circles under your eyes but skin glowing and those beautiful eyes that could put any star in the universe to shame.

Optimus stumbles on his pedes and almost falls on his knees, your beauty too distracting for any living being to be witness of. 

“I .. I –”

He can’t believe you are talking to him. This was too soon and no words could leave his voice box as if had forgotten how to speak entirely. 

He wanted to say it all. How much he missed you, how desperately he needed you. How there hasn’t been a single day he didn’t think about you. How everything reminded him of you. And how painful has it been every second you are not with him.

But before he could rant about his undying love for you, he sees a painful expression on your face. Followed by you, placing your arms around your belly and bending as if the cause of your physical pain was located in your stomach.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

“Just,” you take a moment to breathe as you slowly make your way towards a tree. “Just leave me alone.”

With sad and curious optics, he sees you put a hand on your stomach. Whispering comforting words. ‘It’s alright’ and ‘It’s ok’ you kept talking to yourself to make you believe those words. 

“We’ll be safe.”

“I am going to run a quick analysis–”

“No,” you interrupt him again. “You know I hate it when you do that.”

Optimus dislikes going against your wishes. But the way you are breathing heavily, your sweating and trembling doesn’t look like a good sign. He can manage to live without you if it guarantees that you can live a long happy life. But not the same can be said if your life is cut short for whatever reason. 

“My apologies but my mission is to keep you safe and that’s exactly what I tend to do.”

“I am pregnant,” you had no other choice. “Thankfully, you are not the father.”

That was a lie but at least the shock will prevent and confuse him enough. If Optimus were to do an analysis on your body, he would find anomalies only a Cybertronian would know. 

Finally getting the strength you need, you stand up and walk past Optimus whose face you did not dare to look. Your swollen belly still hurts but you didn’t want to worry him. The reason why you are not with him in the first place is because he thought of you as a liability. You no longer want to be seen as such. 

“Who’s the father of the child?”

The question infuriated you. Of all the things he could have asked, he asks such a selfish question. He shouldn’t care and certainly you are tired of Optimus pretending he does. 

“You know, on Earth, is customary to say ‘congratulations,” you turn to look at him. 

A fatal mistake. 

His optics reflected a grief unknown to you. The type you do not know nor wish to ever experience. Then there is a pain you recognize, that of a broken heart. You knew that feeling very well. He had been the one responsible for it after all. A part of you is happy to know that he is experiencing karma, that he is hopefully experiencing a fraction of the pain he made you go through.

But that wasn’t you. You didn’t want to inflect any type of suffering in him. Not now. Not ever.

“I am sorry.”

There wasn’t anything else you could say. You look down, disappointed at your own feelings.

“No. My apologies,” Optimus noticed your sudden change and he too feels unworthy to be of your presence. Having his ill feelings and jealousy overtake his processor instead of worrying about your well being. “I did not think it was possible for you to find a suitable partner with whom … to mate with … and so soon.”

“Well, humans do not live for long and we only have a few years until we are no longer able to ‘mate’”

You didn’t like using the word ‘mate’ . It made humans sound like animals but you used it so Optimus could be spoken to in terms he could understand. 

“But do you have … feelings for this individual?”

“Yes,” you lied again, trying to see what you can get away with.  “He is just and kind. Tall and handsome.” 

Optimus puts a servo on his hip and looks to the other side. Not looking at anything in particular rather he didn’t want to show his evident discomfort. 

“Yet it seems he is unable to do the most important duty … to protect you.”

“He is quite adequate, actually,” you tease him again. The Autobot leader might be a smart war tactician but is terrible at understanding hints.  “He is the strongest and fierce when needed.”

“Well, I’ll have you know that I have as well found someone else to keep my time occupied,” he stutters, unable to lie. “She’s strong, a good talker and a listener. Kind and has the most beautiful eyes in the entire universe.”

Now he was being too specific for your liking. What if he was telling the truth and he had indeed found someone else? You didn't know how not. After all, Optimus Prime was the most extraordinary being on Earth and probably in the entire universe. 

All of your doubts and insecurities began to fill your heart. You were just a human, easily replaceable. But Optimus? There’s only one of him. You were insignificant compared to him. It has always been this way. 

“Then I hope she is better than I ever was.”

You turn to keep walking into the woods with no destination whatsoever but you didn’t care. 

 “It seems we made the right choice to part ways.”

Optimus wouldn’t have it. He can’t phantom it and it’s probably selfish thinking. But he can’t understand how easily you can say that while there hasn’t been a single day he is not tormented by your absence. When every second of his life has been torture without you. 

“Is that really how you feel?” His voice is indignant. Every circuit in his processor, begged him to hold you. To tell you how much he craves you and how unfair has life been. Taking you away only when you have become the most beautiful of beings.  “After everything?”

“You have someone and I have someone,” you don’t turn around, putting a hand again on your stomach. Giving it a small rub and looking down at it.  “And I am with a child as you can see and very happy.”

“A child that should have been born from our bond. I should have been the father of that sparkling, I-”  

“You wished we had never met,” you whisper quietly but you know he can hear you. He always listened. “So please, stop talking like you care.”

“(Y/N)?” 

He looks at you and notices your distraught. Your breathing has become slower.

“Are you alright?”

You fall but before your body could touch the ground, Optimus catches you on his servo. He studies you for a second. You have pink cheeks and breathing seems difficult. He doesn’t hesitate to use his comm-link.

“Ratchet, I request an immediate groundbridge.” 

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“Vitals are stable but I’ll stay alert tonight to watch over her.”

Ratchet was glad to have you back at the base although he wished it was in different circumstances. After a couple of hours, everyone went back to their private quarters. The only ones left were the medic and the leader of the autobots. 

They watched over you as you slept soundly in the medical berth. Your vital signs displayed on the data-screen. Although everything seems fine, the two of them were known to overthink and worry.

“I waited for everyone to leave to tell you something of an extremely important matter.”

“What is it, old friend?”

“While doing some analyses in (Y/N)’s body, I distinguished an anomaly,” Ratchet clicks on keys and rapidly two sound frames appear. There are many lines, short and big, all close together. Together they create a different pattern from each other. 

 “(Y/N) appears to have two different heart beats. But, of course, that goes against human biology. So I did further testing.”

“I made a discovery. The second beat has a different frequency of that of a human heart,” the medic played the sound, Optimus recognized this as your heartbeat.  “But this other one has the same frequency and energy as a spark.”

“I do not understand.”

Trying to be tactful was hard for Ratchet as it is. He didn’t want to downplay the situation either. It was a serious matter but he has to admit that not even himself can’t contain his exhilaration. 

“Cybertron hasn’t had a single sparkling in centuries so coming to this conclusion took some time” 

The medic ex-vents, somehow it helped with his tension. He has been alive for quite some time and yet he can’t remember the last time he helped bring a new life to Cybertron. It was all the culmination of his studies and practices. Maybe finally he will have a chance to create life instead of just curing it. 

“After all, I had to look through some old archives and Human-Cybertronian hybrids is a first. But seeing that humans have the ability to create life and combining that with Cybertronian transmission genes … I believe I have a definite conclusion.” 

Ratchet presses a key, making the data-screen play a distinct sound. A sound similar to static but a distinct rhythm could be heard. Gentle and soft. Pure. 

“(Y/N) is carrying a sparkling.” 

“By the AllSpark,” Optimus blinks multiple times as he always does when he is excited or perplexed about something. He looks at you. Your small fragile body. “How?”

“How are humans able to create life with a soul, conscious mind and a body?” Ratchet doesn’t know how to explain it, because even he can't fully understand how. “Primus may have heard our prayers and has blessed us with an opportunity to welcome a new life to our race.”

“Agent Fowler must have known this and MECH as well. That’s why they were so precautious when transporting her from one place to the other.”

Optimus made a mental note to ask Fowler about this and his reasoning as to why he wasn’t informed of such an important matter.

“If MECH lay hands on (Y/N) they would experiment on her and the sparkling as soon as it’s  born,” Ratchet says as he walks towards you with a tender expression in his faceplace. “Half Human, half Cybertronian. This child will change everything.”

“Conceived from a son of Primus and a daughter of Unicron.”

The situation was out of legends and myths. The kind of thing that sounds impossible but maybe this little hope inside of you is what is needed to light up their darkest hour. 

“And this may also explain your sudden urge to nest,” the medic’s voice is more light-hearted now. Having flashbacks of Optimus picking up random flowers, pretty rocks and good-looking metal to bring back to the base. When questioned about it, the leader of the Autobots simply responded that he had an urge to do so. 

 “I thought you were going crazy when you started to bring earthly materials to the base.”

“I thought so too.”

Optimus sees you sleep. He has the need to touch your swollen belly, to feel the growing spark within you. You have always been amazing, he knew that much. But he never thought you were capable of conceiving life like their own. What a beautiful sight. One he never thought possible. Now, it’s right in front of him. Hope. The complete personification of it, staring right at him. 

“Will she be alright?”

“She’s stable but she definitely needs to be watched over. Her weakened state is due to the fact that the sparkling is taking too much of her energy,” Ratchet also has his optics on you. The happiest Optimus has ever seen. Knowing that there is hope for their race to continue to grow must be the first real sign of hope Ratchet has had since eons ago.

 “Energon is mostly toxic to humans but the sparkling has created anti-mechs for (y/n)’s immune system to withstand it.  We are going to have to start supplying her with energon if we wish for the sparkling to be born healthy.”

“And most importantly,” he takes a moment to look at his old friend. His optics now showed a more hostile gaze. “A sparkling needs the electromagnetic waves of a caregiver to copy growing behaviors.”

“She needs you, Optimus.”

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.

.

It was the middle of the night when you woke up. You feel thirsty but need more than water. Your body has had strange cravings lately but you were not about to randomly drink energon just because the baby wanted to. 

You knew this place too well. The smell of metal and bots was everywhere. The soft vans of the air conditioner are comforting. The orange light coming from Ratchet’s data screen illuminated the room enough for you not to be scared. Although you didn’t want to admit it, you missed this place. Even when you much preferred to be sleeping in the coach instead of the medical berth. 

“Do you need something?”

Optimus came back from behind you. You shake your body and back away a few centimeters. 

“My apologies, I did not want to scare you.”

He had mass-displaced. Still over 10 feet and really tall compared to any regular human. He tries to be delicate even when you know he is not fond of this form. Optimus had told you before that it was a bit uncomfortable for him. Of course, he never seemed to complain whenever he mass shifted to lay on your bed.

You look down and caress your stomach. It would be stupid to believe that Ratchet did not find out about your little secret and told Optimus about it. 

“It’s alright.”

Awkwardly, he sits next to you. You thought he might be furious with you. For lying to him in the first place. But now you feel ashamed for a reason you can’t understand. The mere fact of deceiving Optimus Prime is an unpleasant experience. 

“(Y/N) …”

“I am sorry I didn’t tell you,” you don’t look at him. Instead, you look down at your feet and how they hang from the medical berth.  “Don’t get angry at Fowler, please. I was the one who told him not to tell you.”

“Why didn’t you want to share such important information?”

“Because you said … You wished you had never met me,” you feel a knot forming on your throat. It hurts to speak, to even form thoughts and remember what happened seven months ago. His voice is still very present in your memories. The pain is still in your heart.  “So I thought, you wouldn’t want our child either.”

Clenching his servo into a fist, Optimus fights the urge to hold you. You were so close, yet the only thing he can indulge himself with is your scent. It's different now. It was your smell combined with a new aroma. That of his sparkling. 

“I have made many hard decisions in my life,” it was difficult for him to look at you. Now, he feels indignant to stand before you. You were to him what the gods were to their subjects. Devotion is not enough for him to satisfy his service to you. 

 “But the hardest decision was to let you go and I did it because I was scared. Even now, I doubt myself. Maybe you’ll be safer somewhere else. Away from me, away from all of this,”

Reminiscing about the past is painful to him. Most memories of you are lovely, unforgettable. But that time seven months ago when the Decepticons had captured you. The screams, the terror in your face, Megatron ordering you to tell him how scared you were. How he couldn’t do anything. Helpless. Pathetic. 

And for a small second. For a fraction he really believed he had lost you. That was enough for him to know he won’t function without you. 

 “If something were to happen to you … I won’t be able to … I can’t-”

He feels his entire core shake. His servos trembling as they remember holding your almost lifeless body.

“I am sorry,” his voice glitches. “I said unforgivable things with hopes that they would push you away. To protect you. I can live with you hating me but I cannot envision the day the universe takes your soul from me.” 

May Primus have mercy on his spark. May he forgive him but Optimus would throw everything away just to hold you. Just for his words to reach your heart. To feel your touch once again. 

“But I was a fool to believe I could stay away from you. To think that my restraint was as strong as my morals.” 

There is silence and although he doesn’t dare to look at you, he can feel your presence. For now it was enough to have you next to him. 

  “You may not believe in my words but believe this; the only good thing this fool has ever done is love you. It's the only thing … the only decision I have no doubts about.”

Suddenly, softness meets his faceplate. Immediately, his optics were on the blink of releasing energon. With a simple touch, you had healed him. A part of his spark that felt empty was full again. The meaning to his life was restored. 

“Do you even know how much I missed you?” 

You ask him with a gentle voice. Caressing every sense of his audials, engraving them in his processor. To forever remain in the deepest part of his mind. 

He can’t even begin to tell you what he truly feels. He had given up. Come to realize that no words, no language in the present, past nor future could ever be vast enough to express the love he has for you. 

Optimus could try with his actions. That may not be enough either. But he will have all of eternity to make for it. 

“Everyday after you left, I would go to the rooftop on the base and I would count each star in the sky,” he puts a servo on top of your hand and his dermas brush against your skin, a small kiss. “To try and relieve the nights I would count the stars in your eyes.”

You didn’t say anything. Whenever it came to talking, Optimus was always more proficient. You never felt the need to say something either, he always knew what you meant. What you were feeling. Words were not necessary. Not when he can read your eyes so easily. 

“And not even the timeless company of the entire universe could compare to one second with you.”

That night, you rested in his chassis. Missing your warmth, he embraced you. Your stomach pressed lightly against him. This experience was something new to him and he was terrified of it. Afraid he won’t be good enough to be a partner or a father. But as long as you were with him, the impossible became possible. So maybe becoming someone worthy of a sparkling could also be feasible. 

Optimus will try his very best. For you, for the sparkling. For himself. Failing it's not an option and being a father was a greater honor than being a Prime. A title he would give up if only you would ask him. Of course, you will never ask him such a thing. He knew you better than that. 

Optimus believes in Primus, fully. But he is thankful to whatever gods created you. If he could and knew how, he would pray and thank them. 

He now has another chance. Another opportunity. To give you what he has been collecting. 

Maybe tomorrow he will give you all the dandelions he found for you. 

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A/N: Sorry for the late Christmas post. Merry Christmas and Happy New Years I hope y’all enjoyed this. As always, for any questions, comments, concerns or prompt ideas you can send me an inbox. For all the love and support … Thank you! See you next year!

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[thesimstree]

Clear Sims 4 Cache: Fix Lags, Errors & Slow Loading (Windows & macOS)

Sometimes The Sims 4 starts acting weird: little bugs pop up, thumbnails don't display right, and loading times get a bit longer than usual. These are all pretty normal signs that it's time to clear your game cache. Deleting temporary files is a good habit for any player – it helps keep things tidy and makes everything run a little smoother. Let's figure out together what cache is, why you need to clear it, and how to do it properly and safely.

What is cache and where does it come from?  

In The Sims 4, cache means temporary files and folders that the game creates to speed up loading, store thumbnails, save mod info, log errors, and handle various in-game processes.  

Every time you start or play the game, it generates or updates some of these files. Cache is there so the game “remembers” which thumbnails and objects you’ve used lately, finds things quickly, and saves certain settings and operational data.

The cache includes:  

— Images (thumbnails) of Sims, lots, and objects;  

— Temporary settings and launch data;  

— Working data from mods and scripts;  

— Logs about errors, crashes, memory limit overflows, etc.

Why do you need to clear the cache?  

If you don’t clear the cache regularly, it builds up old or corrupted data – which can lead to all sorts of problems:

Lags and long loading times because of excess or broken files;

Errors and crashes, especially after removing or updating mods or the game itself;

Wrong thumbnails showing: for example, an item is deleted but its thumbnail is still there;

Mod and script bugs due to leftover data;

Endless loading screens, crashes, or even corrupted saves;

Overall drop in performance.

This happens especially often if you use a lot of custom content or actively add/remove mods.

How often should you clear your cache?

1. After every game update.

2. Whenever you make changes to the Mods folder (adding, deleting, or updating mods).

3. If you notice weird bugs, really long loads, crashes, or errors.

How to clear Sims 4 cache (Windows and macOS)  

Step 1  

Exit the game. Never clear cache while the application is running.

Step 2  

Open The Sims 4 folder:  

Documents — Electronic Arts — The Sims 4

Step 3  

Delete the following files and folders (important – not all of the folders or files listed below will always be in your The Sims 4 folder, and that's totally normal):

General cache  

— cache (folder): holds temporary data (mostly image previews from the Gallery); this folder gets filled only while the game is running, so you can safely clear it between sessions  

— cachestr (folder): cache for script mods  

— onlinethumbnailcache (folder): thumbnails of Gallery items  

— avatarcache.package: used mainly to fix Gallery errors on Mac, but can grow quite large  

— localsimtexturecache.package: cache of composite sim textures (max size – 100 MB); deleting helps solve character display issues  

— localthumbcache.package: thumbnail file; it’s useful to delete this from time to time, and absolutely after adding, deleting or updating mods  

— UserData.lock: auxiliary or temporary service files, may pile up  

— ReticulatedSplinesView: auxiliary or temporary service files, may pile up (deleting this file will cause all your packs to register as "new" again, this means pop-ups on the main menu and all content will have the "new" gold star highlight again)  

— notify.glob: auxiliary or temporary service files, may pile up  

— ConnectionStatus.txt: auxiliary or temporary service files, may pile up  

Error logs  

— lastCrash.txt (all files)  

— lastException.txt (all files)  

— lastUIException.txt (all files)  

These log crashes and game errors. Most players don’t need these, but if you’re having constant errors you can show them on forums for troubleshooting. Old ones (with numbers) can always be deleted.

Auxiliary folders (delete only if empty)  

— ConfigOverride

— Recorded Videos  

— Screenshots  

Step 4 (optional)  

You can take it a step further and clear cache files built up by certain mods:  

— BE-ExceptionReport.html (all files)  

— BE-UIExceptionReport.html (all files)  

— WickedWhimsInfoLog.log / WonderfulWhimsInfoLog.log  

Important: Don’t delete the Saves, Tray, or Mods folders – these are your games and custom content.

Step 5  

Restart the game. Sims 4 will automatically recreate all the necessary files from scratch. You may need to re-enable mods and CC in the game settings after clearing the cache.

You can make it easier  

For players who want to cut down on the routine, there’s an automated solution – a Cleanup Script for Windows by @andirz-mods. This is a special one-click utility that automatically deletes all recommended temporary files and error logs, without touching your mods or save files.

It automates the cleanup, but you’ll need a Patreon subscription to the author for access.  

So, to make sure you can always tidy things up quickly on your own (without scripts or third-party programs), keep this guide handy:

🌱 Create your family tree with TheSimsTree

❓ Support 🌸 Our Blog

[redicillin]

bro I can’t stop thinking about chase with a nerdy doctor reader who is basically the female Spencer Reid, goes of on tangents about the most random things that she somehow knows about and he is so happy to just sit there and listen 😩

𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐩𝐮𝐭. (𝐫.𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐞)

you like to ramble, Chase likes to listen.

fem!reader ☆ 1.1k ☆ masterlist. ☆ guess who’s backkkk

You don’t always notice when you're talking too much. It’s not intentional—it’s just that your brain moves faster than your mouth can keep up with, and when you latch onto something fascinating, you have to share it.

Right now, that something is the patient in Room 312.

You adjust your coat and push a stray strand of hair out of your eye, flipping through the patient’s file while Chase leans against the counter beside you. His posture is relaxed—arms crossed, weight shifted to one side—but his eyes are on you, steady and observant.

“This is so interesting,” you murmur, barely containing your excitement as you review the preliminary lab results. “I mean, it’s tragic for the patient, obviously, but from a medical standpoint, this is an incredibly rare case. Look—this deletion on chromosome 15? That could indicate Prader-Willi syndrome, but given the patient’s lack of speech development, the ataxic gait, and the characteristic happy demeanor, I think it’s more likely Angelman syndrome.”

You glance up, half-expecting Chase to be looking at the clock or zoning out like most people do when you go on a tangent.

Instead, he’s watching you.

He tilts his head slightly, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And what makes you think that?”

Encouraged, you straighten and turn the file around, pointing to the genetic test results. “Well, it all depends on which parent the deletion came from. Both Angelman and Prader-Willi syndromes result from imprinting errors on chromosome 15. If the deletion is inherited from the father, it causes Prader-Willi syndrome. But if it’s inherited from the mother, it results in Angelman syndrome.”

Chase hums in acknowledgment, his gaze still locked on you, but you’re too deep in thought to notice the way he’s studying your face rather than the test results.

“The cool thing about imprinting disorders,” you continue, “is that they show how genes aren’t just about inheritance but also about which parent they come from. It’s not just about the presence or absence of a gene—it’s about whether that gene is supposed to be active in a particular parental copy. The same genetic region can cause two completely different disorders depending on whether the missing part came from the mother or father. Isn’t that wild?”

You pause, catching yourself.

You’ve been talking non-stop for at least two minutes.

Most people don’t last this long.

Your excitement fades slightly as you glance at Chase, expecting polite disinterest. Instead, he’s still looking at you, arms still crossed, that small smirk still lingering.

Your face heats up. “Uh—sorry. I tend to… ramble,”

He exhales a quiet chuckle. “I noticed,”

You chew the inside of your cheek, looking away. “You could’ve stopped me, you know,”

“Why would I do that?”

You glance back at him, surprised by his tone—warm, easy, almost fond.

His smirk softens into something more sincere, and you suddenly feel very aware of how close he’s standing. Close enough that you can smell his cologne—something clean and subtle, like cedar and soap.

You quickly look down at the machine running the genetic test. The results are almost ready, the sequence data processing line by line.

A small beep signals the final printout.

You grab it, scanning the page with an eager intensity that momentarily pushes Chase’s gaze from your mind. “A maternal deletion,” you murmur, eyes widening. “It is Angelman syndrome,”

Chase straightens slightly, stepping closer to glance at the results over your shoulder. “And that means…?”

“It means we need to tailor the treatment accordingly. Angelman patients benefit from seizure management, physical therapy, and specialised communication support since they often have minimal verbal speech—” You stop yourself, pressing your lips together.

There you go again.

“Sorry,” you mumble. “Rambling again,”

Chase shakes his head, smiling. “No, keep going. You were saying?”

You blink, caught off guard.

He actually wants to hear more?

“…Right,” you continue hesitantly. “So, one of the main issues in Angelman syndrome is the loss of function of the UBE3A gene in neurons. Normally, the maternal copy of UBE3A is the only active one in the brain because the paternal copy is silenced. So when there’s a deletion on the maternal side, the patient essentially loses all functional UBE3A expression in their neurons, which leads to the neurological symptoms—seizures, developmental delays, lack of speech,”

You pause again, gauging his expression. He’s not just listening—he’s engaged.

You exhale softly, almost disbelieving.

“…Most people don’t let me talk about this stuff,” you admit.

Chase shrugs. “Most people are missing out,”

Your breath catches for just a moment.

Before you can respond, there’s a soft knock at the door, and you both turn as House steps in. “I’m gonna guess by the look on both your faces that the test was positive,”

You straighten, holding out the test results. “Yep. The patient has Angelman syndrome due to a maternal deletion on chromosome 15,”

House nods approvingly. “Good. Go and tell the parents that their child will have the mental capacity of an 8 year old forever,”

—

The patient’s parents sit across from you in the consultation room, their hands clasped together anxiously. The mother looks exhausted, her eyes red-rimmed, and the father’s knuckles are white from gripping his knee.

You take a deep breath, softening your voice. “We have a diagnosis for your son,”

Chase stands beside you, his presence steadying as you walk the family through the diagnosis. You explain Angelman syndrome carefully—what it means, how it happens, what treatments and support are available.

And when the mother, voice trembling, asks, “Is there any hope? Will he ever speak?”

You hesitate, choosing your words carefully. “Angelman syndrome affects speech development, but many children learn to communicate in other ways—gestures, pictures, assistive technology. With the right support, he will find ways to express himself,”

Chase steps in then, his voice calm and reassuring. “And because we caught it early, you’ll be able to get him the right therapies sooner. Seizure management, physical therapy, and specialised communication support will all be extremely useful,”

You blink, surprised.

You hadn’t expected him to remember that part.

The mother swallows thickly, nodding, and the father squeezes her hand. “Thank you,” he murmurs. “Thank you for explaining it so clearly,”

You smile gently. “It’s what I’m here for,”

—

Later, as you walk out of the consultation room, Chase nudges your arm.

“You did good in there,” he says.

You huff a small laugh. “We did good,”

He tilts his head, considering. “Yeah. But I meant you,”

You glance up at him, and for a second, the usual teasing glint in his eyes is replaced with something softer. Something that makes your heart skip a beat.

“…Thanks,” you say quietly.

He smirks, stepping back, slipping his hands into his pockets. “By the way,” he adds, “I think you almost finished your whole genetics lecture before we got interrupted. You’ll have to tell me the rest later,”

You narrow your eyes. “You’re making fun of me,”

Chase grins. “Maybe a little,”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the small, warm smile tugging at your lips.

Because for the first time in a long time, you don’t feel like you’re too much.

You feel understood.

And when Chase walks away, glancing back at you with that unreadable smile, you wonder if maybe he understands you more than anyone ever has.

[tobiosbbyghorl]

The Things I Never Said | psh

pairing: closefriend sunghoon x reader

word count: 1.06k

summary: loving him was never the problem—pretending I was okay when he loved someone else was.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·. .·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·. .·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·. .·:*¨༺ ༻

I never thought much about Sunghoon that way.

He was just my friend—one of my closest, actually. The person I could always count on, the one who made even the most boring days fun. Our friendship was easy, effortless.

At least, that’s what I thought.

Until one of our classmates planted an idea in my head that I couldn’t seem to shake off.

“Are you guys dating?”

The question had come out of nowhere, catching me completely off guard. I had just taken a bite of tteokbokki, sitting across from Sunghoon at the market, when I nearly choked on my food.

“What?” I coughed, reaching for my drink.

Sunghoon, on the other hand, barely reacted. He just made a face, completely unbothered. “As if,” he said, waving his chopsticks dismissively. “She’s just my friend.”

Just my friend.

I laughed along, brushing it off like it was nothing. Because it was nothing.

Right?

But after that day, I started seeing him differently.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·. .·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·. .·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·. .·:*¨༺ ༻

I began to notice things I hadn’t before—the way his hair fell messily over his forehead, the way he ran a hand through it whenever he was frustrated. The way his voice softened when he spoke to me, like he never had to put up a front.

It started off small. I always had my mobile data on, just in case he needed it.

“Hotspot?” he’d ask, already holding out his phone with his puppy eyes already looking at me.

I’d sigh dramatically, pretending to be annoyed. “You should just get a better plan.”

“Why would I? I have you.” He’d grin, connecting without hesitation.

He had no idea what those words did to me.

Then there were the small touches, the teasing, the way he always found a way to be close to me.

One time, we were sitting on the bleachers after school, just watching the sky change colors when he poked my cheek out of nowhere.

“Why do you always look so grumpy?”

I swatted his hand away. “I don’t.”

“You do,” he said, leaning in with a smirk. “Like a little angry hamster.”

“Sunghoon.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop.” He laughed, but then a second later, “...Hamster.”

I groaned, shoving him lightly, but he just laughed harder. And despite myself, I smiled. Because that was just how we were—bickering, teasing, but always comfortable.

I liked him.

I liked him in ways I wasn’t supposed to.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·. .·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·. .·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·. .·:*¨༺ ༻

Sunghoon had this annoying habit of taking random pictures of me.

It didn’t matter if I was mid-bite, yawning, or caught off guard—he always found the worst moments to snap a photo.

One day, we were waiting at the bus stop when I felt him holding up his phone.

I turned my head just in time to see the camera flash.

“Sunghoon!” I lunged for his phone, but he pulled it away, grinning.

“Too slow,” he teased, turning the screen toward me. “Look at this masterpiece.”

I groaned. My mouth was slightly open, my eyes half-lidded, caught mid-blink. It was possibly the most unflattering photo ever taken of me.

“Delete it,” I demanded.

“No way,” he said, laughing as he pocketed his phone. “I need to keep this. It’s a core memory.”

I pouted. “You always take the worst photos of me.”

“Because it’s funny.”

What he didn’t know was that I kept every single photo he ever took of me.

Whenever he sent them to tease me, I secretly saved them. The ugly ones, the blurry ones, even the ones where I was caught in the middle of a sneeze.

Because they were all taken by him.

Because they were proof that, even if just for a moment, he was looking at me.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·. .·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·. .·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·. .·:*¨༺ ༻

I should have known it wasn’t going to be me.

The way he looked at her��it was different.

I noticed it when we were all hanging out after school, sitting in our usual group at the café. Sunghoon’s eyes would follow her movements, his expression softening whenever she spoke.

I knew that look.

And then, one afternoon, he finally admitted it.

“I think I like her.” His voice was light, a little uncertain, but I could hear the excitement underneath.

I forced a smile, hoping he didn’t notice the way my fingers tightened around my cup. “That’s great,” I said, keeping my tone even. “You should go for it.”

I don’t know what hurt more—the fact that he didn’t notice my hesitation, or the fact that I meant it.

I wanted him to be happy. Even if it wasn’t with me.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·. .·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·. .·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·. .·:*¨༺ ༻

Supporting him was second nature. I helped him figure out what to say, listened when he overthought things, reassured him when he doubted himself.

And when he finally worked up the courage to confess, I was there too.

I was the first person he texted.

She said yes.

My heart cracked, just a little.

I told you she would. I’m happy for you!

And maybe if I said it enough times, I’d start believing it.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·. .·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·. .·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·. .·:*¨༺ ༻

My friends noticed before I did.

“You need to stop,” one of them told me after Sunghoon had left the room. “You’re only hurting yourself.”

I laughed, trying to brush it off. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

They gave me a knowing look. “Come on. You don’t have to pretend with us. We see how you look at him.”

I opened my mouth, ready to deny it, but the words wouldn’t come out.

Because they were right.

I had spent so much time pretending to be okay that I started to believe the lie myself.

But how could I walk away?

Sunghoon was still Sunghoon—the person who made me laugh even on my worst days, the one who always saved me a seat, who made everything feel lighter. I couldn’t just stop caring.

Even if it hurt.

Even if it felt like I was breaking a little more each day.

So I stayed.

I smiled when he talked about her. I listened to every story, gave him advice, laughed at his jokes like my heart wasn’t aching.

And if Sunghoon ever noticed the sadness behind my smile—

He never said a word.

But at night, when I was alone, I’d open my gallery and scroll through the photos he took of me—ugly or not.

Because at least in those pictures, for a fleeting moment, I was the only one he was looking at.

© tobiosbbyghorl - all rights reserve 2025

[jeszrosse]

🧬 “Deviation”

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MANIPULATIVE!Albert Wesker x Reader | One-shot AU | Reader Unaware | Deep Psychological Control | Obsession-Slowburn

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⚠️ Possessive behavior • Surveillance • Delusional Justification • Isolation tactics • No reader realization • Smut • Stalking

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🧬 1. [Observation]

It begins, as most things do with Wesker, in silence.

Your first day on the team, you barely warranted a glance in the surveillance feed.

Another lab technician. Another replaceable assistant. Another insignificant moving part.

But then you lingered.

Stayed late. Came early.

Read the case files beyond your clearance level and didn’t flinch at the corpses.

You passed the first test.

Not that you knew there was one.

You thought it was coincidence that no one sat beside you in meetings.

That your access card opened doors you never requested.

That the intern who made a joke about your smile was transferred within the hour.

It wasn’t coincidence.

It was calibration.

He was isolating the variables.

And you, you became an anomaly worth noting.

He began compiling minor reports on your behavior, tucked into encrypted files labeled with meaningless acronyms—justifications for your existence in his system. He logged your arrival times, the hesitation in your speech, the way you handled scalpel trays with a certain… reverence. Clinical on the outside, but with the sharpness of someone who wanted to understand.

You weren’t like the others—those limp, nodding bureaucrats or ambition-hollowed researchers. You read between lines. You saw things. You didn’t ask for approval.

It should’ve been threatening.

But instead, it was fascinating.

---

🧬 2. [Containment]

Wesker doesn’t trust easily.

He trusts data.

Outcomes.

Silence.

But you unsettled the metrics.

You moved differently. You saw things. You questioned protocols he didn’t authorize you to read.

And he watched.

The way your fingers hovered over a scalpel you didn’t need to touch.

The way your reflection lingered in the biohazard glass.

The way your laugh, rare as it was, made low-ranking guards look up.

So he changed the guards.

Restricted hallway access.

Reassigned co-workers.

Built your world to orbit only him.

And still—still you never noticed.

Not when your new desk faced his office.

Not when your login synced with his terminal.

Not when your lunch orders began arriving, already paid.

You thought it was protocol. Efficiency. Company structure.

It wasn’t.

It was obsession.

Even your chair was adjusted—replaced with one designed to support your back based on posture data from security footage. Your lighting changed imperceptibly across weeks, tailored to prevent eye strain and keep you awake longer, sharper.

He scheduled briefings when you were most alert.

Redirected minor crises to ensure you'd report directly to him.

He watched the way you blinked when you were confused.

Memorized the twitch of your mouth when you were about to ask something risky.

Your coworkers left one by one. Transferred. Fired. Reassigned.

Those who got too familiar? Disciplined. Quietly.

You didn’t wonder why your inbox felt so clean.

Why no one interrupted your concentration anymore.

Why the company started feeling like a corridor, narrowing around you.

---

🧬 3. [Degradation]

It got worse.

Or—closer to the truth.

He found himself pausing the security feed just to watch the curve of your spine as you bent over notes.

He rewound your voice recordings, cataloguing the inflections in your “Good morning, sir.”

He deleted the word sir from your tongue in his mind.

He didn’t want your respect.

He wanted your obedience.

Your trust.

Your presence, constant and unrelenting.

You belonged in his space, like air belonged in lungs.

He just hadn't told you yet.

Sometimes, you left behind small things—sticky notes, paperclips, coffee cups. Harmless. Forgettable. But he kept them all.

The mug with a faint mark of your lip balm.

The pen you once clicked while reading virology samples.

A typed memo, crumpled, with a single word scratched out and replaced. "Necessary."

He examined them not with sentiment but calculation.

These were not keepsakes.

These were proofs of proximity.

You were slipping under his skin molecule by molecule, and he needed evidence of your presence in his domain.

But there were moments—dangerous ones—when calculation gave way to something darker.

Moments when you reached for a dropped stylus beneath the lab table and the hem of your coat pulled taut across your thighs.

Moments when you tilted your head to read something over a microscope and exposed the soft column of your neck.

Moments when the feed from the surveillance cameras caught just enough.

He knew every angle of your body from security footage.

The way your blouse sometimes gaped slightly when you leaned forward.

The way you stretched without thinking, unaware of how it framed you.

Unaware of the man watching—memorizing.

It was a weakness.

A flaw in his design.

But sometimes he would watch the footage at half-speed, eyes burning, jaw clenched, and tell himself it was for behavioral monitoring.

That the brief tightening in his chest wasn’t arousal, but concern.

And yet—when you bent to pick up a file one night, alone, late, and the back of your skirt lifted just slightly—

—his fingers had twitched.

Not from irritation.

From restraint.

From the raw, silent thought that he could take you. Right there.

Not in fantasy. Not in dream. But in brutal, clinical, breathtaking reality.

He could fuck you against the sterile counter and no one would stop him.

No one would even know.

But he didn’t.

Of course he didn’t.

He was control. Discipline.

He filed the footage.

Encrypted it.

And watched it again the next night.

Hands behind his back.

Jaw locked.

Throat tight with the sick, hungry coil of desire he refused to name.

You didn’t know.

Didn’t see.

Didn’t feel the weight of a man who no longer saw you as a subordinate or asset—

—but as something already his, simply awaiting the correct time to be claimed.

---

🧬 4. [Denial]

You never caught it, but he looked away first.

Every time.

Every instance your gaze met his, however briefly.

You assumed it was deference. Coldness. That clinical thing he wore like a second skin.

But it wasn’t.

It was containment.

Because the sound of your voice—the precise cadence in which you said “Understood, Doctor Wesker”—lit up some dormant, vile thing in him.

Something untested.

Something monstrous.

He was not above temptation.

He was simply better at dissecting it.

The way you smiled at your coworkers, never at him?

He noticed.

The way you stood just a fraction closer when anxious, fingers tightening at your sides?

He filed it away.

He let others believe you were isolated by accident.

But he'd engineered that loneliness. Curated it.

Suffocated anything that threatened to pull your attention elsewhere.

You never got that offer for project co-lead.

Never received the anonymous gifts left at your desk by interns.

Because Albert intercepted them.

Silently. Strategically.

You didn’t know it was his hand pulling you toward him, only that every direction seemed to fold inward until he was the only constant.

The only man who saw you.

Who understood you.

He watched you trace your notes, watched your lips form silent syllables, and all the while he denied himself.

Denied the heat pooling in his abdomen.

Denied the cruel ache behind every “Goodnight, sir” you uttered.

Denied the nightly compulsion to run simulations of what you would sound like begging.

And when he couldn't sleep, he listened to your voice on the lab’s intercom archive.

Just to hear it.

To pretend.

To substitute control for contact.

And still—he told himself he had not crossed the line.

Not yet.

Because you were still untouched.

Still pure, in the way only someone unaware of their ownership could be.

---

🧬 5. [Possession]

He began to see it in everything.

The way others looked at you—a threat.

The way you spoke about your family—a liability.

The way you said “thank you” when he passed you reports—intolerable.

You didn’t thank him.

You didn’t understand him.

You couldn’t.

But that was fine.

Understanding would come later.

He started curating your tasks more delicately.

Steered you away from field ops, too dangerous.

Assigned you exclusively to him, citing “performance optimization.”

You didn’t protest.

You thought you were being promoted.

But in truth, you were being drawn in.

Woven tighter.

Placed carefully, perfectly, exactly where he wanted you.

In his office.

In his world.

In his reach.

Your name was embedded in his daily reports. Your security log-in pinged his terminal every time you swiped a door.

The other researchers stopped referencing your work without Wesker’s express permission. He had erased your reputation as independent—you were his now.

And no one questioned it.

Not when his gaze burned through the glass walls of the lab.

Not when he stood beside you in meetings like a shadow wearing a tailored suit.

Not when his hand briefly brushed yours while reviewing samples, and he didn’t pull away.

He didn’t need to pull away.

He had already claimed what he wanted.

---

Now, his fingerprints existed on more than your reports.

He’d rewritten your schedule to end near his. Aligned your meals. Synced your lab hours. Even your breaks were subtly shifted, your elevator stops timed perfectly with his descent.

You didn’t see it.

But he did.

Every day you returned to your workspace slightly adjusted—your chair moved back in, your pens restocked, your personal mug rotated exactly one degree counter-clockwise.

“We’re optimizing,” he’d say.

“For your convenience.”

He'd begun accompanying you to biometric checks. At first, a coincidence. The second time, an excuse. By the third, he was inputting your medical logs himself.

His voice was always calm. Always formal. Always patient.

But his gaze lingered.

His presence loomed.

And his hands—always gloved—brushed against the small of your back far too often for protocol.

---

And he watched.

From behind glass. From dark monitors. From still frames and slow replays. When your blouse sat a little too low. When your eyes wandered where they shouldn’t.

You were careless with your innocence.

But he would be careful for you.

He adjusted the brightness of the surveillance feed. Zoomed in. Studied the way you leaned too close to your keyboard.

Imagined your breath fogging the screen.

Imagined how easily that breath could hitch. Could falter. Could beg.

You have no idea, he thought.

But you will.

Not yet.

But soon.

Understanding would come later.

---

🧬 6. [Infection]

The final stage was the most dangerous.

You said his name once.

Not “sir.”

Not “Wesker.”

Just:

“Albert…?”

His gaze snaps up from the report.

You’re standing in the doorway of his office, the heel of one shoe slightly kicked back, as if you weren’t sure whether to enter. The folder in your hand trembles slightly—an involuntary twitch you don’t even notice. But he does.

He notices everything.

The breath that stutters in your throat after the name escapes.

The flicker of hesitation in your pupils when his expression doesn’t immediately soften.

The way you shift—defensive, unsure—before you correct yourself:

“I mean—sir. Sorry, I meant—sir.”

But it’s already too late.

The damage is done.

You spoke it aloud.

Not in passing.

Not as a slip of protocol.

Not with bitterness or irony.

But with concern.

Soft. Tentative. Almost gentle.

And that… that is what undoes him.

You don’t know he has a file buried six levels deep into a server no one else can access—labeled with your name, storing every image of you captured on internal footage.

You don’t know he’s wiped out four internal transfer requests that would have pulled you from his floor.

You don’t know he personally selects your meals for team events—ensuring your preferences are always met, even when no one else notices.

You don’t know he’s kept you here, orbiting him, perfectly placed, under the illusion of promotion.

And now you’ve said his name like it belongs to you.

Like he does.

“Sir,” you try again, a nervous laugh escaping you. “Apologies. I—I didn’t mean—”

He stands slowly, measured, the desk separating you like a fragile boundary he’s had to respect for far too long.

“No need to apologize,” he says coolly. “You simply… surprised me.”

But inside? His thoughts are nothing but static.

He replays the syllables.

Not just the sound, but the shape of your mouth when you said it.

He files it into memory. Deep. Permanent.

And he knows—sooner than even you do—that this is the beginning of the end for the illusion.

Because from this moment on, you’ve stopped being a project.

Stopped being a subject.

You’ve become a trigger.

A fixation.

An opening he hadn’t anticipated—but cannot ignore.

You said his name once.

You won’t realize until it’s far too late:

You’ll never say it the same way again.

Because you didn’t know what you’d done.

You didn’t hear it the way he did.

Like it was already yours to say.

Like he wasn’t a god.

Like he was a man.

A man who had already rewritten every security protocol to keep you near.

A man who eliminated colleagues who made you uncomfortable.

A man who—if you ever truly looked—might shatter the illusion of “normal” with one cold sentence:

“You’re not here by accident.”

“You’re here because I designed you to be.”

But you don’t know.

You smile politely.

You offer your reports.

You drink the coffee that arrives on your desk precisely how you like it.

You go home.

You live your life.

While he rewatches your day in full.

While he listens to your voicemails and deletes names from your inbox.

While he studies you like you’re the last unexplained miracle on Earth.

While he reminds himself that love is irrelevant.

Control is what matters.

And he already has it.

---

He’d timed every entry and exit.

He knew how long you took in the restroom.

Which hallway you paused in to check your phone.

What time of day your voice grew tired.

He saw it as clearly as he saw cell degradation under a microscope.

That slow unraveling.

That quiet compliance.

You were adapting.

Your posture had shifted. Subtly. You walked faster when alone. Slower when near him. You dressed differently—more reserved, perhaps without realizing. You avoided eye contact with male superiors.

Wesker approved.

He didn’t speak of it.

Didn’t need to.

The conditioning was holding.

You had stopped asking questions.

Stopped challenging schedules.

Stopped requesting to work from other wings.

You had folded into the environment he designed—one where he was a constant hum beneath your daily routine. Where his name lingered at the back of your tongue. Where his voice set your pace and his silence set your nerves.

---

“You don’t know what you’ve done,” he muttered to himself, watching the security footage replay. While he studies you like you’re the last unexplained miracle on Earth.

There you were again. That exact moment. Your eyes soft, confused, lips parted: Albert…?

He paused the video.

Leaned back.

Let the sound echo in the sterile quiet of his office.

It was not an accident.

Not some sweet slip of tongue.

No.

It was the infection taking root.

Your body catching up to what your environment had long accepted.

Dependence.

Deference.

Attachment.

He could work with that.

Love was messy. Emotional.

But dependence—he could mold.

He could reinforce it, reward it, create just enough tension to keep you needing his approval.

To keep you needing him.

---

(A/N: should I make a part 2??? I mean- I already have it. I just wanna hear it from you dirty sluts;>)

[kururreal]

“textbook definition of unhealthy relationships and codependence, the sinner needs the saint like one needs air to breathe.”

𖢷 ۪ ࣪ ﹙☆﹚ ࣪ ִ HEADCANONS ‹3

synopsis: you’re a new villain in to town. your villain motivations? to make the world lazier. “Hardworking people deserve a break too!” you said when you decided to be a villain.

notes: when you have a banger idea but you’re too shy to request it so you decided to lock in and write it yourself

BRUCE WAYNE / BATMAN :

You, the villain, are unassuming, quiet, playful, and not at all threatening in the traditional sense.

Your ideology?

“Hardworking people deserve rest too.”

That’s it. That’s the threat. That’s the infection.

You're not inciting a rebellion. You’re not taking over Gotham.

You're breaking the tempo.

And Bruce, who has survived purely because of his rhythm, his need to act, to control, to do, doesn’t even know why you bother him so much.

You don’t interrupt his work.

You exist beside it.

And that’s worse.

He doesn’t stalk you.

He doesn’t collect data.

He doesn’t care about you as a person.

What he does is this:

Every time you do something visible, Bruce makes himself forget it.

He catalogs the moment. names, actions, timestamp, visuals.. and then buries it in the Batcomputer under a false keyword, as if tucking away a dead language no one speaks.

Why?

Because something in him knows that if he integrates you, your ideas will change him.

And he cannot change.

So instead, he creates a personal information void around you.

He’s aware of you, sure. But vaguely. He reduces you to fog.

He sees the effects of your actions. lower hospitalizations, spontaneous street naps, people smiling on buses, and each time, instead of analyzing it, he tells himself:

“I must have missed something. That can’t be related.”

You’re a file he deliberately misfiles every single time.

He doesn’t think you’re evil.

He doesn’t even think you’re dangerous.

What you are to him is nonfunctional.

You don’t fit in the machine of Gotham, and yet, you don’t break it either.

That’s what bothers him.

You’re like a light in the Cave that flickers at random. Not bright. Not broken. Just irregular.

And Bruce can’t abide irregularity.

You don’t behave like a threat.

You behave like something Gotham didn’t ask for, didn’t want, but didn’t reject.

And so in his mind, you become a corrupted file.

He won’t delete you.

But he won’t access you either.

He won’t say your name out loud.

He won’t acknowledge your philosophy as real.

He will let you float in a corner of his mind like a half-erased name on a gravestone.

not possession, not violence, not protection.

It’s refusal.

You become the one thing he cannot categorize, assimilate, or dominate. and so his mind begins to loop, stall, fracture around you like code that can’t compile.

He doesn’t shift the world around you.

He shifts his perception of the world so it doesn’t include you.

And that is how he obsesses.

He spends energy every day not thinking about you.

He spends time burying every sign of your ideology beneath noise.

He sees the results of your actions and thinks, “That must be someone else.”

You have become a ghost in his operating system.

And no matter how much he pretends otherwise, he leaves a space for you in the back of his mind. a blank, untouched memory folder that he checks and forgets and checks again.

Over and over.

“Must’ve been the wind” aahhh 🥀🥀

Batman’s brand of platonic yandere here is based not on holding you close, but on keeping you mentally un-formed. The obsession lives in how hard he works to push you out of the framework of his reality, and how much space that act starts to take up inside him.

Think:

“If I look at this thing directly, I might change in a way I can’t reverse. So instead, I’ll trap it in the periphery of my mind and patrol that space every night like a prison guard.”

He’s not protecting you. He’s protecting himself from what knowing you would do to him.

And that’s what makes it yandere. because the compulsion wins anyway.

You become a phantom entry in every report.

He avoids naming you, but you’re in every system, just buried, twisted, refracted.

He avoids thinking of your ideology, but it echoes in his decisions.

He avoids, avoids, avoids! but builds a structure of constant micro-management around the avoidance.

Which is obsession.

When he feels anything about you, he instinctively redirects it.

He feels intrigued → labels it “threat curiosity.”

He feels admiration → labels it “disinformation alert.”

He feels challenged → labels it “cognitive tension.”

He feels something like envy → shuts the thought down completely.

He has trained himself to treat emotion like misinformation.

So anything that comes from you is automatically re-routed into threat analysis, system hygiene, containment strategy. no matter how unrelated.

But the mental effort to keep doing that, day after day?

It’s a mental shrine he doesn’t realize he’s kneeling at.

On paper, he doesn’t care.

In his mind, he’s neutral. Unmoved. Not curious.

But the reality?

He’s built an entire moral firewall around you.

He won’t speak about you aloud.

He won’t let others mention you. (Someone brings you up once. Bruce doesn’t look at them and says “Irrelevant.” Conversation ends.)

He doesn’t allow you to become a symbol, but doesn’t allow you to disappear either.

He refuses to define your motivations. but never stops cataloguing them.

He convinces himself you’re just another anomaly.

But he checks for your presence like people check for ghosts. subtly, religiously, never admitting they believe.

He is obsessed in the most existential way.

Not because he wants to own you.

Not because he wants to protect you.

But because you are the only thing he cannot assimilate into his mental universe, and instead of confronting that?

He builds an invisible mausoleum to you in his psyche.

And guards it.

For years.

He isn’t trying to break you or save you. He’s trying to neutralize your presence in his mental ecosystem… and failing.

And because he fails, he’s doomed to orbit you in silence, forever maintaining a structure whose entire purpose is to pretend you aren’t there.

And that’s obsession. That’s love twisted beyond recognition. That’s yandere.

He has built you a throne by refusing to look at it.

Forget usual tropes for a sec. Strip it to its bones.

At its deepest level, yandere means: an overwhelming, irrational fixation on a person

That fixation overrides normal logic or self-control. the individual builds their world around the target. emotionally, physically, mentally. often, the fixation is masked under something else: love, logic, concern, etc.

Yandere doesn’t have to mean “I’ll kill for you” or “You’re mine.”

It just has to mean:

“You exist inside my head constantly and I cannot, will not, let you go. even if I pretend I already have.”

Instead of confronting how you disturb his inner world, Batman builds a system of false neutrality to protect himself from what you represent.

That system is a mental fortress he has to: Maintain daily, monitor constantly, patch every time you appear in the news, a file, a video feed

That’s not analysis.

That’s ritual.

He isn’t simply keeping tabs on you.

He is spending psychic energy to remove you from reality, over and over, because even acknowledging your presence honestly risks destabilizing the framework of who he is.

That’s obsession.

your ideology, your message, “hardworking people deserve rest too”, haunts him.

Why?

Because it presents a world that could have existed if he hadn’t become Batman.

A world without brutal endurance.

A world where people don’t have to suffer to be good.

A world that would have told a young Bruce Wayne: “You can stop now. You don’t have to carry all of this alone.”

That phantom world becomes his obsession.

You’re just the vessel… or avatar of it.

So he locks you, and that world, in a cold vault in his brain labeled “Irrelevant.”

And yet he checks that vault every night.

That’s not indifference. that’s yandere.

MOST yandere want to control the person directly.

Bruce wants to control his mental exposure to you.

He designs internal systems to minimize your impact.

He flags your files as “non-priority” even when he knows they’re not.

He gaslights his own mind, mentally replacing your name with a symbol or error code.

This isn’t disinterest. This is meticulous anti-engagement.

You don’t get this level of anti-contact unless someone is emotionally overwhelmed and trying to stabilize.

So instead of controlling you, he controls the narrative of you in his mind.

Every day.

Without fail.

And that is a form of possession.

Yandere fixation often comes down to one thing: “Even if this hurts me, I will not stop.”

And that is exactly what Bruce is doing.

This elaborate denial system drains him.

He loses time trying to overwrite mentions of you.

He fails to adapt to shifting public reaction because he won’t acknowledge it.

He’s sleep-deprived and short with the Batfamily because your ideology is spreading, and he doesn’t have a plan that doesn’t require acknowledging it.

He could simplify his life by just confronting it.

But he won’t.

Because once he lets you in, even a little, he has to ask: “What if they’re right? What if Gotham doesn’t need me? What if I’ve made everything worse by grinding myself down into a myth instead of a man?”

So he keeps the shrine intact.

Keeps the ghost memory clean.

And tells himself he’s “above it.”

He’s not.

He’s drowning in it.

That’s yandere.

he doesn’t act all that different when you pull another scheme on the town either.

After each scheme, the evidence piles up.

You’re doing real things.

Visible things.

You’re changing Gotham. even if temporarily.

And that should trigger his usual protocols: evaluation, threat assessment, countermeasures.

Instead?

He goes back into his logs from that night… and redacts your name.

He replaces it with [NULL-AGENT], or leaves the field blank.

Even to himself, in his own files, you don’t have a name.

Because names are portals to meaning. and meaning leads to confrontation. and confrontation means feeling something.

So he surgically erases the connection.

But never the event.

Because he needs the pattern.

He needs to keep watching.

He just can’t admit why.

He doesn’t stop you.

He doesn’t support you.

He doesn’t admit you exist.

But he does..

Monitors obsessively

Catalogues everything

Redacts it afterward

Pretends it doesn’t affect him

Leaves space for you in every mental calculation he makes

He never says your name.

But he’s memorized every word you’ve ever said.

Yandere not through violence.

Not through romance.

But through negative space. a haunting, ritualized denial of feeling that takes over his life like rot beneath the floorboards.

He wants the idea of you contained.

And when containment becomes impossible, he builds a recursive denial loop that eventually takes over a significant part of his psychological energy.

He is obsessed with the erasure of you. and that erasure takes more effort, focus, and ritual than simply knowing you ever would.

And that is pure yandere.

self-destructive emotional orbit disguised as control.

NIGHTWING / DICK GRAYSON :

I’m hungry

but thats besides the point ig 💔💔🥀🥀🥀😭😭😭

Dick’s optimism is real. but it’s a choice, not a constant.

Unlike Bruce, whose default is grim pragmatism, Dick forces light into darkness. He jokes, he smiles, because someone has to carry hope.

So when [Name] comes along with this ideology, “Even heroes deserve to rest”, Dick can’t accept it. Not because he thinks it’s wrong, but because if he accepts it, the weight of all the years he’s forced himself to smile and keep going would hit him like a truck.

You aren’t just a villain. you’re a mirror. A personified version of everything Dick has denied himself.

“If what you say is true, then I’ve been killing myself all these years for nothing.”

He can’t let that in. So he splits like a trained acrobat, balancing on an emotional wire.

He holds himself to impossible standards.

He’s not just trying to live up to Bruce, he’s trying to exceed him and not become him. That’s a suffocating duality.

So when you start telling people to rest, to step back from impossible expectations, Dick panics internally.

Because he’s spent decades performing like his survival depends on it. because it did. He fears that if people stop pushing themselves, they’ll become like Bruce's failures.. or worse, get hurt. And maybe.. maybe! they’ll see that his whole life was built on unsustainable effort.

You threaten to unmake the foundation he’s built everything on.

Dick tries to carry burdens solo, just like Bruce.

But unlike Bruce, he hides it with charm instead of silence. That makes him even more fragile, because no one sees the cracks.

When you start gaining influence, maybe even convincing other heroes or citizens to burn out less, Dick takes it personally. Not out of spite, but fear.

If others believe you, they’ll stop relying on him.

He needs to be the one holding it together. He needs to be the one who never stops.

Because if he rests, who picks up the pieces?

If he breaks, who’s left to smile when everything goes dark?

“You’re not helping them. You’re just giving them an excuse to give up. And if they give up… I don’t get to.”

That’s the twist.

He doesn’t stalk you or chain you up.

He stalks your philosophy, kills your influence, because your truth breaks his lie.

Dick becomes obsessed not with saving [Name] … but with protecting the rest of the world from becoming like them.

It’s not “I love you so I’ll keep you safe.”

It’s “I love you, so I’ll make sure no one ever agrees with you.”

Because you are right.

And Dick knows it.

He’s the golden boy who’s been running on fumes since he was ten years old. But if he ever admits that [Name]’s ideology makes sense, he’ll crumble. Gotham, Blüdhaven, Bruce… they all depend on him staying functional. So he splits his mind.

He lets you rest. but never the world around them.

Dick becomes a reverse-yandere, a cognitive paradox.

He worships your ideology. but crushes it in everyone else.

He protects you. but makes sure you’ll always be alone in your beliefs.

He creates a world where only you are allowed to rest. by making everyone else run harder.

He doesn’t hurt you, doesn’t lock you up. He lets you spread your message freely. But every time someone listens to you, he finds them, and breaks them. Quietly. Subtly. Emotionally.

He turns them back into gear-turners.

Not because he wants to stop you. but because he can’t let your world exist.

Dick Grayson is a caretaker to the bone.

Big Brother. Team Leader. Gotham's good cop.

He’s spent his entire life believing that if he’s strong enough, if he just keeps going, he can protect everyone.

And the second he stops?

He believes people die.

He can’t stop. He can’t rest. He’s addicted to being the one who doesn’t fall. Not because of pride, but because he knows what happens when no one catches you. He lived it.

So when you come into the world preaching rest. forced or not, he sees a paradox.

One that short-circuits everything he is.

Because you’re right.

You’re not violent. You’re not crazy. You’re gentle.

Your message is: “You’ve done enough. You can sit down now.”

But if the world sits down, who gets hurt first?

He lets you rest.

You become the only one in the world who gets to stop. You become untouchable. he won’t lock you up, won’t fight you directly, won’t even argue too hard.

Why?

Because he’s built an altar out of you.

He’s made you the sacred space where the truth is allowed to exist. but nowhere else.

Like a church locked in a burning city.

He isolates your ideology into a vacuum so he never has to face it spilling into his world.

That’s why every time someone listens to you, he hunts them down. not violently, not openly, but surgically.

He sabotages their careers. Distracts them with greater threats. Assigns them “just one more mission.”

He puts weight back on their shoulders until they forget what you said.

This isn’t a man who doesn’t believe in you.

This is a man who believes in you so deeply that he has to quarantine your truth to keep from falling apart.

Because if he admits it’s okay to rest… then everything he’s endured becomes grief that didn’t have to happen.

And Dick Grayson, the big brother of the entire damn DC Universe, doesn’t know how to forgive himself for needless suffering.

So instead of letting the world change, he clutches it tighter.

Not for power. Not for dominance.

But because if he lets go… he’ll never get back up again.

A traditional yandere obsesses over a person.

But Dick?

He obsesses over what you represents. their ideology of rest, mercy, and release. It’s not about owning your body. It’s about containing your truth. That’s way scarier, way more insidious.

This is obsession disguised as protection.

Dick does all this not because he wants your love, it’s because he needs you to stay still.

If you moved, if you evolved, if your message grew teeth.. his mind would collapse under the weight of everything he’s been repressing.

So he isolates you like a relic.

He fossilizes you in peace. He builds a shrine around your message and worships it only because it’s locked away.

That’s yandere logic:

“If I can’t have you safely, no one else can have you at all.”

But instead of killing you or locking you in a basement, he does the reverse:

He builds a world around you that ensures you’re always the only one like you.

That’s obsession.

Yandere types don’t just love. they love destructively through control.

Dick’s version is emotional ecosystem manipulation. he isn’t trying to control you, he’s controlling everything else around you, for you.

He lets you believe you’re winning.

He makes the world harder so you stay soft.

He sabotages anyone who listens to you so you never lose your uniqueness.

He keeps your ideology “pure” by strangling it before it grows.

In his mind, he’s not harming anyone. he’s preserving balance. because if too many people follow you, the system breaks. And if the system breaks, he can’t function anymore.

Yandere logic is rationalized delusion.

He thinks he’s keeping you safe and the world stable. But what he’s really doing is sacrificing everything, including truth and progress, on the altar of his fear of emotional collapse.

Traditional yanderes cling to a person.

Dick clings to his role, his identity, his mission. But when you show up, they unwrite all of that.

So he develops a warped dependency:

“I need you to exist. but I also need you to never succeed.”

That’s obsession. A cognitive loop.

He depends on your ideology to understand his own fatigue.

But he also has to suppress it, because if it becomes true for others, he’ll realize he’s spent his life breaking himself unnecessarily.

So he gets trapped.

You become the axis his emotional survival spins on.

“If I destroy you, I’m a monster.

If I believe you, I collapse.

So I’ll protect you in stillness. I’ll love you in silence.

I’ll stop the world for you, just so you never move.”

That’s obsession. That’s yandere.

But it’s cold. Quiet. High-functioning.

It’s not a knife to your throat. it’s a smile at your door, while the whole city outside burns itself out under his watchful eye.

You shut down power to government buildings.

You freeze hospital schedules so burned-out doctors are forced to sleep.

You crash commuter systems so workers have to stay home and finally breathe.

You make rest happen. through crime, disruption, and brilliant techy soft-sabotage.

What does Dick do?

He shows up after.

He sweeps in quietly.

He doesn’t fight you. Doesn’t confront you.

He undoes your work. quietly, efficiently, like a fixer for God.

He doesn’t tell the press.

Doesn’t report you to the League.

Doesn’t even tell the Batfam.

He erases you.

Why?

Because acknowledging you publicly would mean legitimizing you.

“If they know your name, they might listen. If they hear your message, they might agree. I can’t let that happen.”

So he scrubs your fingerprints off the crime scene and tells everyone it was a “systems glitch.”

He redirects citizens to other sources of burnout.

He lies to protect his world from you. while keeping you safe.

If you go too big, like shutting down the entire city for 48 hours, he’ll find you.

He won’t chain you up. He won’t scream.

He’ll interrogate you like a friend, but with that underlying edge of desperation:

“Why are you making it so hard to protect you?”

If Bruce or another hero starts closing in on your identity, Dick pulls strings. He diverts attention, falsifies data, leaks false suspects.

He'd rather lie to Bruce, than let you face consequences.

Because if the world punishes you, that means your message is wrong. and Dick can’t afford to believe that.

You’re a villain, yes. And Nightwing is the planner, the strategist, the one who always has a backup plan.

But you?

You're the one person in the world he refuses to plan against.

He’ll have tactics for if Batman turns rogue.

He’ll have files on every villain in Blüdhaven.

But for you? Nothing.

Because making a plan against you would mean preparing for the possibility of having to stop you.

And he can’t admit he’d ever do that.

So instead of making a plan against you, he makes one around you:

He assigns his own allies to far-off cases.

He keeps the city too busy to notice you.

He works twice as hard to minimize the damage. so that he pays the price for your restfulness, not the citizens.

“You do what you have to. I’ll carry the burden. That’s how we keep the balance.”

He lets you be a villain. as long as it doesn’t break his world too hard.

He obsessively cleans up after you.

He refuses to punish you, because punishing you means admitting your message might be wrong. or worse, that it’s right and the world is too broken to receive it.

And when you do go too far?

He doesn't punish you like a villain.

He mourns you like a temple falling.

RED HOOD / JASON TODD :

Jason Todd, now Red Hood, exists in a perpetual state of restlessness. His experiences, his trauma, his regrets. every facet of his life pushes him into overdrive, constantly vigilant, always in motion. But Jason doesn’t just want to save Gotham, he wants to save the people who don’t know how to rest. This is where the villain, [name], comes into play.

You're a new kind of criminal in Gotham. You’re not here to hurt people. You’re here to stop the grind. You’ve shut down exploitative factories, turned Gotham’s 24-hour systems into 8-hour ones, and made millionaires suddenly lose sleep over their unpaid workers. Your message?

“Hardworking people deserve rest too.”

Your gadgets don't kill; they sedate. Your traps don’t wound; they force naps. You target overworked cops, overclocked servers, hospital staff being stretched thin. and give them "mandatory vacations" by knocking them unconscious and stashing them in luxury pods with automatic IV drips and calming soundscapes. You’re not killing the system, you’re sedating it.

Jason sees your work as both deeply terrifying and a form of mercy. Jason doesn’t love you in the traditional sense. He’s not infatuated with you romantically, but he’s consumed by a need to "protect" you. though not in the way a typical protector would.

He becomes obsessed with you because he sees himself in you, but he cannot comprehend your methods. You’re offering peace in a way he cannot afford. While Jason cannot rest, cannot stop fighting, he understands the value of what you're doing. Yet, he doesn’t believe you’re truly ready for the consequences of your actions. He thinks your idealism will destroy you, and he believes Gotham isn’t ready for the world you're crafting. he’s convinced you’re running a ticking time bomb with your serene philosophy.

Jason doesn’t try to stop you through traditional villain-villain conflict. He doesn’t engage you in a direct, action-heavy way. Instead, he disrupts your ability to rest. Jason sees your "restful" state as a dangerous lull. one that will eventually fall apart when Gotham’s chaos comes crashing back in. To protect you, he starts a bizarre game where he becomes the embodiment of the sleepless world you’re trying to escape.

His presence is a paradox. He invades your peaceful moments, constantly stirring the edges of your tranquility with his aggressive, sleepless energy. He creates an emotional disturbance, testing how well you can truly escape the constant noise of the world, challenging your philosophy by showing you the emotional toll of your ideas. When you induce calm in someone, Jason finds ways to intrude into their peace with intrusive, violent thoughts. not to hurt them, but to make them aware of their own fragility. Every time you successfully put someone into a peaceful state, Jason shakes their emotional core, revealing cracks in your logic and philosophy.

It’s almost like a battle of rest versus unrest. Jason exists to remind people, and you, that peace and rest are always fleeting, never truly attainable, especially in a world as broken as Gotham.

Jason doesn’t just disrupt your peace directly; he wants to get you to rest, but only on his terms. He believes that if you’re truly dedicated to your cause, you need to experience the exhaustion of never resting yourself. he pushes you to the limit, using psychological tactics and subtle actions to make you feel how much it costs to give peace to others. Jason's philosophy is one of balance: people need rest, yes, but they need to earn it. He believes in suffering as a pathway to true peace. so he will drag you into conflict with others, forcing you to witness the world you’re trying to escape, to remind you that peace is never without consequence.

Jason doesn't want to admit it, but the truth is that he is always balancing on the edge of his own philosophy. He’s constantly questioning how much violence he’s willing to accept in the name of justice. He feels responsible for the people he saves, but that responsibility sometimes leads him into morally gray areas that others (like Batman) might avoid.

Your Ideology of Rest offers a form of balance that Jason can’t have. You promote peace. an idea Jason finds both appealing and terrifying. Peace is something Jason craves but feels he cannot have, because in his mind, it comes at a cost. You represent everything that he can never fully embrace. a world where rest, calm, and healing are possible.

Despite his desire to help, Jason sees the limits of his own effectiveness. He constantly finds himself fighting a losing battle. especially when he’s forced to kill or break the rules to get things done. This guilt doesn’t just disappear, even if he justifies his actions. In this way, Jason sees you as a direct reflection of his failings. because your idea of "rest" is a form of escape from the constant cycle of violence he feels trapped in.

Your villainy challenges Jason’s worldview. He wants people to be able to rest, too, but he doesn't think they can without confronting the darkness. The fact that you offer rest and peace without addressing the world’s systemic issues, without violence or force, doesn’t sit right with him. He believes the world doesn’t allow for a peaceful escape, and that by indulging in rest, you're turning a blind eye to the suffering that still exists.

Jason Todd’s relationship with you embodies obsession, though it’s not the romantic obsession seen in more typical yandere tropes. Instead, his obsession is philosophical, emotional, and protective. He becomes obsessed with your ideology of peace, rest, and tranquility. He’s fixated on the idea that you’re offering people an escape from the brutality of Gotham, and he feels that you are naive in your attempt to do so. This obsession goes beyond just being fixated on you as a person. it extends to your worldview, your methods, and the dangerous implications he believes they hold.

A yandere’s hallmark is the intensity of their emotions. Jason’s feelings for you are extreme, but they aren’t purely driven by romantic attraction. they stem from the emotional weight of his own trauma and the desperation to protect you from what he perceives as an impending downfall. The emotional intensity comes from his need to challenge your beliefs and make you see the harsh realities he’s experienced. His obsession manifests as an irrational emotional attachment to your ideology and to the idea of “saving” you, even if it means trying to disrupt your peace in the process.

Jason’s yandere qualities manifest in the obsessive protectiveness he feels toward you. While this is often a romantic trait in yandere characters, in Jason’s case, it’s platonic and ideological. He feels a responsibility to “protect” you from what he believes to be your own misguided philosophy. His version of protection doesn’t involve traditional displays of violence or possessiveness but instead focuses on interfering with your peace in order to teach you a harsh lesson.

This protectiveness is grounded in his belief that the world you’re envisioning can’t exist without consequences. He is obsessed with the idea that if you can’t understand the true cost of rest and peace, you’ll be consumed by the very thing you're trying to save people from. So, he becomes the obstacle to your peaceful ideology. not out of malice or romantic desire, but because he truly believes that you need to be "saved" from your own perspective.

Jason becomes an obstacle to your ideology, and this emotional and intellectual opposition is a form of possession: he doesn’t want you to be at peace until he believes you’ve fully realized the harsh truths of the world. His desire to control your thought process and reality (in terms of what you’re trying to create) is a more subtle, intellectual possession compared to traditional yandere tropes, but it’s still a possession that keeps you constantly aware of his presence, both physically and mentally.

While Jason’s violent tendencies are not typically directed toward you, they do manifest in a way that aligns with traditional yandere themes. He’s willing to create emotional chaos around you and disrupt your peaceful state, even if it means inflicting psychological harm. He may subconsciously justify this as a form of protection or guidance, believing that if you can’t handle the violence and chaos of the world, you’re not truly fit to offer peace to others.

This kind of psychological violence (in the form of emotional and intellectual torment) is a unique variation of yandere behavior, but it still reflects the destructive, obsessive drive to reshape the object of obsession’s reality according to their own ideals.

RED ROBIN / TIM DRAKE :

oh man oh god

You're a new villain in Gotham. No grand heists, no murder, no world-ending plans. Your ideology? “Hardworking people deserve rest too.” You target those who are exploited by their systems. overworked medics, detectives who haven’t taken a day off in years, tech developers being ground down in black-budget labs. You sedate them gently, remove them from the grid, and put them in a hidden “sanctuary” where they’re forced to rest. You’re not killing them. you’re giving them the break they’re too conditioned to take themselves.

But then you target Tim Drake.

And something snaps.

Tim doesn’t “believe” in your ideology. He doesn’t agree with you, doesn’t support you, doesn’t admire you.

But he can’t stop testing your theory.

You’re the most peculiar anomaly he’s ever encountered. A villain who doesn’t destroy, doesn’t corrupt, doesn’t control, just intervenes. Pauses. Unplugs. Your entire mission is enforcing rest on people who can’t or won’t give it to themselves.

You hit him once. Gave him 48 hours of mandatory rest. A blackout, then calmness. When he woke up, he was alone, unhurt, undisturbed.

And yet everything was wrong.

Because it worked.

And now?

You’re not a threat to be stopped.

You’re a theory he’s trying to disprove.

This isn’t affection. It’s not “care.” It’s Tim treating you like a control variable he can’t replicate.

You gave him peace. He doesn’t want to admit it. So now he runs controlled experiments.. on himself.

He denies himself sleep for 96 hours to test what you saw in him.

He simulates your actions in private rooms, carefully documenting if he feels better afterward.

He tracks the neurochemical patterns from the sedative you used and recreates microdoses just to “observe” the mental silence.

He tries to reverse-engineer your ideology purely to disprove it.

But it only leads to more questions.

And it becomes maddening.

Tim stalks you not because he wants to be close, but because you’ve colonized a part of his thinking.

Every action he takes now filters through one question:

“Would [Name] have stopped me here?”

“Would they think I’m too far gone?”

“Is this what they’d call burnout?”

This doesn’t make him softer. It makes him more paranoid.

More fractured.

He doesn’t want you in his life.

He wants to silence you in his mind. but can’t.

So instead, he creates simulations. Replays encounters with you. Runs audio from your speeches. Alters his mission logs to include imaginary counterarguments from you.

You become his silent co-pilot.

Not because he chose you.

But because you infected his process.

He refuses to accept rest as valid unless he can reproduce its logic under his own control. But your rest isn’t logical. It’s disruptive, organic, involuntary. That drives him crazy.

He never confronts you directly again. not out of fear, but because he doesn’t trust himself to stay rational around you.

His obsession is pure analysis, not love. But he’s created an entire side-life where every decision he makes is secretly measured against your ideology.

He still fights. Still breaks bones. But then goes home and stares at a wall for three hours, asking:

“Did I need to go that hard? Or was I proving something to them?”

He doesn’t follow you around in person. he builds predictive models, reads subtle biometric signals from footage, and maps your logic tree. He’s stalking your ideas, not your body.

He keeps this entire obsession secret. Even from himself. He lies to Alfred. Lies to Bruce. He gaslights his own mind, convincing himself it’s “just tactical observation.” But he’s got terabytes of data on you hidden in a server called:

“NON-THREAT_CONFLICT_1197”

He doesn’t want to fix you, love you, save you, or be noticed by you.

He just wants to disprove you.

But every time he tries, he ends up needing the silence again.

That’s the horror.

That’s the devotion.

And he never once admits it aloud.

yandere doesn’t always have to mean a "romantic" obsession or a “classic stalker” who just wants to possess someone. Instead, the obsession itself can be built around any form of psychological fixation that leads to controlling, manipulative, or destructive behavior. often rationalized in some form as being "for the good" of the person they’re obsessed with.

TRAIT 001: The obsessive fixation on the person.

In this case, Tim’s obsession is not about possessing you physically or emotionally. it’s about understanding your mind and controlling his environment through your ideology. You disrupted his sense of order, threw his life into disarray, and now Tim is in an obsessive cycle of trying to understand, rationalize, and prove why your ideology is wrong, how to disprove it, and why it messed him up.

He’s trying to break you down intellectually because, in his mind, you are the key to his peace. And so, his obsession is not simply trying to control you, but control his own feelings and mind in response to you. That level of control fixation is a classic yandere characteristic. He doesn’t want to admit that your ideology might have had a profound effect on him, so he goes to extremes to try and test, analyze, and suppress it.

He can’t stop thinking about you. He doesn’t want to love you, but he can’t ignore the effect you had on him. And that is obsession.

TRAIT 002: Willing to go to extreme lengths for their obsession, sometimes even harming themselves to preserve the fixation.

Here, Tim’s obsession leads him to physically and mentally harm himself. He pushes his body to dangerous limits. denying sleep, taking sedatives in calculated doses to replicate your influence on him, trying to isolate his emotions and just test whether rest actually has an effect on him. These are all self-destructive behaviors motivated by the need to answer the question: “What is it about you that has disrupted my system so completely?”

Tim’s resilience and ability to push past his limits only makes this worse. He never admits how much he needs your ideology to function, but he becomes more and more dependent on recreating it in his life. His obsession with trying to stay in control means he sacrifices his well-being in an effort to “solve” your impact on him.

TRAIT 003: Rationalizing their obsessive behaviors as protective or necessary for the other person’s safety/mental well-being.

While traditional yanderes might directly harm others to keep them close, Tim rationalizes his obsession through self-imposed limits and self-analysis, using your ideology as his lens. He treats it like a protective measure, not just for his own mental stability, but in the belief that this is the “right way” to fix the imbalance you’ve created in him.

Tim has internalized your rest ideology to the point where his obsessive behavior is justified by a warped sense of protection for both himself and, in some cases, Gotham. He believes that if he can just figure out the right answer, the right formula, then everything will click, and he’ll return to the controlled world he once knew. But this is just an illusion. His obsession has trapped him in a never-ending cycle.

He doesn’t want to acknowledge that his need for you is unhealthy. Instead, he tells himself that solving your “mystery” will bring him peace, that it’s a quest for knowledge, not obsession. This self-deception is a classic yandere trait where the obsession is disguised as a rational pursuit.

Tim doesn’t just want to solve the case. This is a personal, psychological conflict. he’s constantly battling himself, wrestling with the temptation to just admit that something about you broke his sense of control. The complexity lies in how he resists acknowledging that he has emotionally (and psychologically) been altered by you. He’s fighting against himself, his feelings, and his deep-seated need for order and control.

It’s not just about the other person being the object of affection, but also about how the yandere’s actions are disguised as a form of care or control. Tim’s behavior is intellectualized, but ultimately, it becomes a twisted form of caring about you. because he feels the need to protect his mind from the chaos you caused.

He isn’t out to control you in an obvious or violent way, but he is still willing to manipulate himself, isolate himself, and make his life a battleground to deal with the psychological impact you’ve had on him. His obsession is dangerous because it turns inward, manifesting as self-sabotage and manipulation of his own reality.

He’s obsessively fixated on you and your ideology, even if it’s intellectualized.

His actions are extreme and self-destructive, to the point of harming himself and trying to replicate the effects of your ideology just to understand it.

He rationalizes his behavior, cloaking his obsession in the guise of control and self-protection.

He can’t escape his need to keep you in his mind, despite the fact that he refuses to acknowledge he’s mentally and emotionally dependent on you.

This is a yandere mentality. it’s about obsession, but the obsession isn’t always in the form of love or possession; it’s intellectualized, twisted control over his own mental processes, a constant back-and-forth battle between logic and emotion, trying to force order and balance into a chaotic, uncomfortable truth: You’ve already changed him.

As soon as you initiate a scheme in the city, Tim’s first instinct is to analyze the structure of your plan. not to stop it outright, but to figure out the rationale behind it.

He’s no longer just a vigilante trying to thwart criminals. He’s an obsessive detective caught between stopping you and understanding you. Tim immediately dissects your actions as if you’re a case study, drawing mental parallels between your methods and his own. In his mind, he’s trying to solve the puzzle of you.

The deeper question he asks is: What’s your real motivation? Is it really just about rest for the overworked, or is there some deeper emotional need driving you? he begins to map your psychology against every move you make. Is this a desire for control? Revenge? Relief from guilt? He tracks the smallest clues. patterns in your behavior, things you've said in passing, the faces of the people you leave behind after your schemes.

He will obsessively cross-reference your plans with previous ones, trying to pinpoint where your logic might have a flaw, where it doesn’t “add up” in his mind. Maybe he’ll find the places where your ideology inadvertently causes harm or chaos, and those are the moments where he feels the most alive. because that’s the piece of you he’s been trying to "fix."

Tim is the king of preparation, and when you pull a scheme on Gotham, you better believe he’ll have deeply researched the specifics of it. He will analyze the infrastructure of your plot and create counter-schemes that are tailored to your ideology. not just to stop you, but to test how resilient you are against what he’s learned from your patterns.

If you’re using a sedative to incapacitate people for “rest”, he might reverse-engineer it to create a formula that forces you to feel exhaustion yourself. Or he’ll track the spread of the sedative and neutralize it with custom-designed antidotes to disrupt your ability to control the masses.

If your scheme involves financial manipulation, like draining corrupt companies of their resources to redistribute to underpaid workers, Tim will figure out how to intercept those funds in a way that doesn’t ruin your overall moral point but forces you to reconsider your execution.

These countermeasures aren’t about brute force. they’re surgical, intelligent, and designed to disrupt the very core of your philosophy without necessarily “defeating” you. He doesn’t want to prove you wrong in the traditional sense. He wants to see if your ideology can survive when he starts to manipulate it in ways you didn’t foresee. He’ll go to great lengths to match your every move with precision, trying to break your emotional or philosophical consistency.

When your schemes start gaining traction in Gotham, Tim’s emotions become muddled. His mission is clear, to stop you, but his deep-seated obsession makes him question himself the entire time. There’s a part of him that is actually rooting for you in his head. Not out of romantic interest, but because you represent the peace he can never have.

While working through his plans to thwart you, Tim may grow increasingly detached from his own emotions. He will close off, thinking: I’m doing this for the greater good. but the more he dismantles your work, the more hollow his victories feel. Every time he disrupts your plans, he’s one step closer to proving that his obsession is right. and yet, he’s driven deeper into the abyss of needing your philosophy.

In the chaos, he might experience moments of internal crisis. After foiling your scheme, he might sit alone, reviewing his actions, trying to convince himself that he’s done the right thing. But in the silence, his mind starts to loop:

Did I stop you because you were wrong… or because I need to be right?

SPOILER / STEPHANIE BROWN:

hey now. hey hey.

Your ideology is deceptively simple: everyone deserves rest. But in practice, you make CEOs sleep for weeks by inducing comas, disable surveillance networks to give overworked security guards peace, and forcibly “retire” heroes and villains alike who never take a break. You call it “compassionate sabotage.”

You're not malicious, just terrifyingly principled. You call your actions “mandatory vacations.”

You aren’t lazy. you work harder than anyone. But your work is making sure everyone else stops working.

Your main tool? A stolen prototype tech: a pulse device that hijacks neural fatigue centers. essentially, a sleep-inducing EMP. You've modified it to create “rest zones” where your targets are forced to nap, collapse, or mentally check out.

Stephanie is deeply independent, not someone who likes being rescued or coddled. So when you, a villain, emerge saying “People deserve rest” and then start enforcing it for her or for others. it clashes hard with her core beliefs.

Her reaction? You’re not wrong. but you’re not the one who gets to decide when people quit.

So instead of trying to stop you with violence, she makes it her mission to prove she can keep pace with you without ever giving in.

Not because she hates you. But because she refuses to let anyone else take her agency away, even under the guise of “rest.”

In a way, she sees your ideology as noble. but incomplete, and dangerously self-righteous.

“If you really believed in rest, [Name], you'd let people choose it for themselves. You don't get to play god just because you're tired.”

That’s the twist. her yandere obsession is a contradiction. She cares about you. But she resents you enough to never let you “win.”

She is a caretaker. She feels responsible for others’ well-being.

In this twisted yandere version, she starts internalizing your ideology as her own. but in her voice.

She starts doing what you do (creating rest, breaking systems, giving people time off), but she does it with exhausting compassion instead of coercion.

She visits the people you knocked out of work and listens to their stories. She starts building support systems instead of just inducing sleep.

At some point, she stops even recognizing where your ideology ends and hers begins.

This is the part. She starts saying things like,

“I know you better than you know yourself. You don’t really want people to rest. You want them to feel safe. I’m the only one who gets that.”

It’s not about power. It’s emotional possessiveness through worldview.

She thinks she’s the only one who really understands what you meant. And that’s how she becomes the “better” version of you.

Because stephanie tends to ramble and overshare, especially under stress, this becomes the mask slipping.

You’ll find her babbling at one of your sleep zones, running through plans she says are yours, ideas you never had, rewriting your philosophy with new rules. her rules.

Her affection bleeds through these overshares, but it’s detached from reality. She’s talking to an idea of you.

It’s not romantic. it’s emotional dependency on the version of you that lives in her head, who “gets it” the way no one else does.

At first, she judges you. “This villain’s just another self-righteous burnout case.”

But then… she starts sympathizing too much.

Because she’s been there. She’s burned out. She knows what it’s like to be drowning in responsibility.

So the twist is, she locks herself in a moral logic trap where the only way to reconcile her loyalty and her judgment is to absorb your mission.

And she becomes possessive of your ideology.

She doesn’t need your presence to be obsessed with you. she’s committed for life, even if she never sees you again.

Her platonic yandere angle isn’t based in presence.

You could disappear. Retire. Die. And she’d keep living by your principles, warped and restructured in her voice, long after you’re gone.

“You were right, you just… didn’t go far enough. But I will. I’ll make sure everyone gets rest. even if it kills me.”

Her obsession is philosophical inheritance.

She doesn’t want your body. She wants your burden.

She’s not in love with you. She believes in you. more than you believe in yourself.

And she’ll never stop trying to prove that belief right.

You're not her enemy.

You’re a problem she refuses to put down, not out of duty. but because you’ve taken up space in her brain in a way nothing else has.

You’re the first villain who’s not selfish or sadistic. you’re compassionate to a fault. And that… scares her. Because she sees herself in you.

She’s constantly torn between admiring you and being horrified by your methods.

She respects you, maybe more than she respects some of the Batfam. You believe in something.

But she also resents that belief because it feels like it’s directed at her.

Every time you disable a system or knock out another hero for their “own good,” it feels like a passive-aggressive intervention aimed at her life choices.

“They’re so tired. I can see it. Every time they do this, I wonder if they’re hoping someone will stop them. I wonder if they’re hoping it’s me.”

She thinks you’re crying out for help, even if you say you're not.

So she treats your schemes as tests. not of Gotham, but of herself.

She thinks: “If I stop them this time, maybe they’ll stop pushing themselves so hard. Maybe they’ll finally rest.”

She never thinks you’re doing this for power or even change anymore.

She’s convinced you’re doing it because you’re breaking, and this is your coping mechanism.

So she responds like you’re a sick friend acting out. not a villain.

Say you pull a classic “mandatory rest” plot: you gas the GCPD precinct with your signature neuro-fatigue fog, knocking out cops mid-shift, replacing their patrols with drones programmed to play soft jazz and deliver pillows.

What does Stephanie do?

She physically drags unconscious cops to safety, takes over patrol duty herself, reroutes emergency lines to her comms.

She's not just stopping your plot. she's doing all the work you made them stop doing, out of spiteful admiration.

Because at her core, she believes you’re better at this than she is.

She’s not obsessed with owning you. She’s obsessed with earning your approval without ever admitting it.

Steph’s the type of person who latches onto ideologies that resonate with her pain. Your “people deserve rest” philosophy touches a nerve in her. the part of her that’s always overworking, overcompensating, always feeling like she has to prove her worth by staying in the fight longer than anyone else.

You present an alternative: people like her shouldn’t have to live that way.

But instead of taking that as healing? She turns it into an impossible ideal to chase, a kind of moral godhood to strive for. by outworking you.

That becomes the obsession.

Obsession not with possessing you, but with surpassing you. by taking your ideology to a self-destructive extreme.

This aligns with platonic yandere, because it’s devotion through identification.

You're not a person to her anymore. you're a mission.

Yanderes often project unresolved trauma or longing onto someone else. and that’s what Steph’s doing, just in reverse. Instead of saying “You complete me,” she’s saying:

“You are me, if I gave up. So I have to save you to save myself.”

You’re a walking contradiction of what she believes.

You're trying to help people, but you take away their choice.

You're trying to reduce suffering, but your methods cause chaos.

You remind her that rest is good, but also that she’s too scared to take it.

She’s locked in an emotional loop. she hates that you’re right, so she needs to carry your burden for you to prove she can do it better.

That’s the yandere core: her self-worth becomes entangled with your very existence.

That’s obsession.

Yandere’s are obsessed with someone. she is obsessed with your ideology and moral integrity.

Yandere’s have an all-consuming devotion. she rearranges her life to become your philosophical rival / ally / shadow

Yandere’s have blurred self-other boundary. She starts thinking for you, justifying your actions, ‘fixing’ your failures.

Yandere’s are willing to hurt others or themselves to protect their bond. She is literally breaking herself to carry your burden so YOU can rest.

Yandere doesn’t always mean “I love you so much I’ll kill.”

It means: “You have taken root in my identity. I no longer know where I end and you begin.”

Stephanie’s version of that is emotionally and philosophically parasitic. she doesn’t just want to understand you, she wants to become your better version.

She’s addicted to your idea of peace, but she’ll only allow herself to bring it into the world through her own pain.

So even when you try to stop, she won’t let you. because she needs the problem of you to exist in order to stay whole.

You say “rest is a right.”

She says “fine! but let me be the one who earns it for everyone. Including you!”

ORPHAN / CASSANDRA CAIN:

You’re a villain, real name unknown, who built your ideology around the belief that "Hardworking people deserve rest too." You’re infamous not for mass destruction but for forcing stillness. you create “zones” across Gotham where time seems to slow, people collapse into dreamlike trances, and all forms of labor, mental, emotional, and physical, are impossible. These are fields of rest: mental euthanasia for the overworked. Gotham calls it terrorism. You call it justice.

You target places like sweatshops, overpoliced blocks, high schools, prisons, hospitals. You don’t kill. You sedate. You erase urgency. The city grinds to a stop around you. Your villainy is lethargy as revolution.

Cassandra loves, but not in the typical way. she’s obsessed with the silence you carry. The absence you bring. You are the only person she has ever met who communicates in the same language she does: non-action as expression. When you step into a space and it becomes still, quiet, slow. it reminds her of the only language she knew for years: stillness = presence.

To Cassandra, your acts of “rest” are not terrorism. They are poetry. You’re the first person whose ideology isn’t just words, it’s movement. Or lack thereof. Your body language, your pacing, your restraint, your surrender, your slowness. it’s all fluent to her.

She becomes addicted to your zones of rest. She seeks them out in secret. She lets herself get caught in your fields, lying perfectly still for hours, even days. She studies how it feels to not move, not think, not protect, not perform. For someone raised to be a weapon, these moments are the only place she feels like a human.

But it goes deeper.

She begins trying to create her own silent fields. Not by tech, like you. but through sheer mastery of space. She builds rooms in safehouses that mimic the psychological effects of your zones: low heartbeat, no light, no sound, temperature-neutral. Rooms where the air feels like your presence. She begins “training” herself to rest the way you “force” others to rest. She fails. But she keeps trying. She's training to be the kind of silence you are.

Cassandra doesn’t want to protect you. She doesn’t want to stop you.

She wants to become a space where you can finally rest without using your skills.

Her obsession is to train herself so perfectly, body, soul, and presence, that she becomes a kind of human rest zone for you. She imagines a moment where you, finally tired, curl up in a room she’s prepared, where her stillness, her silence, her restraint, are enough to hold you.

She doesn’t want you to love her. She wants to be the one place in Gotham you don’t need to change.

That’s the core of her obsession: she doesn't want to possess you. She wants to neutralize the part of you that thinks you have to be a villain to deserve peace.

Cassandra doesn’t see you as evil. She sees you as wounded. Someone who understands pain so deeply you want to anesthetize the world. Her obsession is born not out of delusion, but empathy. You represent a moral contradiction she feels rather than intellectualizes: "If I believe people deserve rest, then why don’t I believe that about myself?"

Cassandra’s behavior doesn’t revolve around harming others for you. it revolves around trying to contain the damage you cause without rejecting you. Every time you put people into “rest zones,” she gets there early and evacuates them, silently, flawlessly, so that you don’t have to feel guilty. She absorbs the guilt you should carry. because she believes you can’t handle it, and because she thinks she deserves it more.

She starts believing that if she can physically perfect herself enough, if she can move so flawlessly, so quietly, so gently, she could “interrupt” your zones by being a “bridge” between them and the waking world. She trains not to be stronger. but to be so neutral, so quiet, that she could walk through your fields without disturbing them. That she could enter your world, untouched.

This becomes an obsession. A spiritual practice. Not to control you, but to understand you. Because maybe if she understands you, really understands the language of your pain, she can find forgiveness for herself.

Cassandra doesn’t want to protect you from the world.

She wants to protect the world from you, without taking you away from it.

She doesn’t stalk you. She studies the void you leave behind. The emotional signatures of your rest zones. The subtle patterns in how your powers work. where they’re gentle, where they’re rough. The nuance. She starts to believe that your powers reflect your mental state, and that if she can just reach you emotionally, if she can be the one person who “rests with you” instead of stopping you or resisting you. you’ll start to change.

It’s not devotion. It’s not love. It’s a compulsion to become your equal in stillness the way she is in motion.

She doesn't see herself as worthy of peace, so she’s obsessed with the idea that you are. even though you’re a villain. well I’m gonna be honest here you aren’t really the most intimidating villain out there

She slowly replaces her belief in justice with a belief in your twisted ideology. but only for you. She wants the world to keep moving, but for you to stay still, so that she can sit beside you and learn how to be still too.

Cassandra’s obsession is not romantic, not controlling, not destructive, but it is deep, consuming, and isolating.

She becomes obsessed with translating you.

Not just your ideology. but your presence, your silence, your belief that rest is deserved. She doesn’t want to be you. She wants to understand what you mean, in a world where no one else listens closely enough to hear it.

That is the thread. she is the only one who believes she can understand you, and the only one who should.

Not because you chose her. Because she chose herself.

She grew up reading bodies, not words. Before she could speak, she could sense intent. The way people moved, breathed, carried guilt or rage. this was her truth.

You are the first person she’s encountered whose ideology is entirely expressed through absence.

Your powers, your beliefs, your villainy. it’s all quiet. No speeches. No violence. Just forced stillness. You’re like a language she hasn’t heard before. but one she almost knows.

So she starts watching. Following. Not to stop you, but to study you. (wow another study I feel so unoriginal please forgive me)

Normally, Cassandra’s guilt makes her obsessed with preventing loss. But with you, it’s different. She sees your actions as a danger, yes. but also as truthful. You make people stop. You force Gotham to rest.

“What if they really do need to stop? What if they really can’t anymore? What if they’re right, and no one’s listening?”

So her guilt doesn’t make her want to kill or capture you. It makes her want to intervene at the exact right moment, with perfect understanding, to protect both you and the world at once.

That need for perfect understanding becomes obsession.

She becomes a master of navigating your influence like a field of tension. Like choreography.

This effort to read you becomes ritualistic. Not to stop you outright, but to be the one person who knows when and how to move in your world of stillness. without shattering it.

She believes that if she fails to understand you, someone else will just try to stop you. and break everything in the process. Kill you. Or worse, never even hear you.

So she trains. Watches. Prepares. Builds her entire sense of justice around the idea of timing her interference to preserve both your message and your victims.

That level of focus, that self-imposed burden, and the fierce belief that only she can walk that line?

That’s yandere.

But it’s Cassandra’s kind of yandere. no delusion. No harm. No identity loss. Just an overwhelming, morally complex need to understand, and to exist in the space between you and the world. Alone.

Cassandra Cain’s guilt complex is rooted in the trauma of her upbringing and her internalized belief that she is fundamentally a weapon. Raised to be an assassin and trained to fight, kill, and survive without room for compassion or peace, she has always been caught between her desire to protect life and her overwhelming sense that she doesn't deserve to. Her entire existence has been a tightrope walk between trying to atone for her violent origins and struggling to find a moral path that she feels is genuinely hers.

For Cassandra, the "language of rest" which is expressed by your villainous ideology, disrupts her entire framework of guilt, action, and self-worth. You, [name], create a philosophy that challenges everything Cassandra has internalized about her own existence. By saying, “Hardworking people deserve rest too,” you’re offering peace as a form of justice. You suggest that the weight of the world doesn't need to be shouldered by people like her, people who’ve been conditioned to keep fighting and keep protecting, even at the cost of their own well-being.

Cassandra's guilt isn't just a passive feeling, it's a driving force. Every life she can't save, every failure, becomes a crushing weight on her conscience. She’s always trying to do more, to be more. whether it’s protecting Gotham or making sure that everyone else is okay. But she always fails to rest. She feels that, because she’s been trained to be a weapon, she isn’t allowed to stop. She isn't allowed to be weak. even if that's what her heart needs.

When Cassandra hears about you, or even encounters your presence, she initially sees you as a threat. But as she watches your actions unfold, she starts to realize something profound: You’re not just a villain; you’re someone who has figured out that rest. the concept of allowing people to stop working, stop pushing forward, stop suffering. is the ultimate form of compassion.

And that’s when the guilt hits her the hardest: Why can’t she allow herself to rest? Why can’t she accept the peace of stopping for just a moment? She sees the people who are caught in your zones of stillness, and while she doesn’t fully agree with the way you’re doing things, she understands the need for rest. She sees that, perhaps, they deserve a moment of peace from the chaos. and she feels this deep, gnawing pain that she’s never allowed herself that same luxury. She never stops.

This is where Cassandra’s obsession with you, the villain, the embodiment of the “language of rest” grows. It isn't about control. It’s not about stopping you, or even about fixing the world you create. It’s about learning your “language” because, at a deeply psychological level, Cassandra is trying to learn how to forgive herself and find peace.

Her desire to understand your language of stillness comes from the belief that if she can translate your ideology, then she can finally find a way to give herself permission to stop—to allow herself to rest without guilt.

She doesn’t want to hurt you. She doesn’t want to stop you. She wants to understand how you find peace, how you can exist in a world that demands action and still say no. She wants to learn from your calm and perhaps, in doing so, learn how to release herself from her own constant cycle of guilt and self-punishment.

As much as Cassandra is drawn to you, she knows you’re a threat to others, even if she understands your intentions. She starts to see your ideology as something dangerous, not because it’s wrong, but because it’s radical. People in Gotham, people she loves, might fall victim to the seduction of rest, to the idea of giving up everything and shutting down. If she doesn’t intervene, they might never know how to return to the world of action, of doing.

Thus, her obsession becomes an act of protection. She doesn’t want to take you away. She doesn’t want to kill you. She just wants to make sure that you’re understood. She believes that the world might need you, but they also need someone to mediate between your stillness and their need for movement. If she can help protect the world from your influence while still honoring your right to be still, she’ll have succeeded in reconciling her own need for rest without letting the world fall apart.

Cassandra’s obsession with your “language of rest” is driven by her own guilt. specifically, the belief that she is too broken to deserve peace. She’s never allowed herself to rest because of the weight of the violence and trauma she’s been through. But when she sees you, when she observes how you create zones of stillness, she realizes that perhaps rest isn’t something you have to earn. It’s something that you can just deserve.

Her obsession is not a delusional need to control you, but a deeply emotional and intellectual desire to understand you. your power, your language, and what it would mean for her to give herself permission to stop. She believes she can only protect you by understanding you deeply, so she trains herself to read your silence and rest in a way that won’t disrupt it, but will keep people safe.

This isn’t about taking you away or forcing you to conform to her values. It’s about becoming the one person who can help guide the world in between your rest and their need to keep moving, while also learning how to give herself the same peace.

In essence, Cassandra’s obsession is about finding balance. between her past, her guilt, and the elusive peace that only you, the villain, seem to embody. She believes that by mimicking your “language of rest,” she can finally let go of the guilt that’s driven her entire life, and perhaps find her own version of peace.

As a protector of Gotham, Cassandra’s primary focus is always on protecting the innocent. She doesn’t view you as a pure villain in the traditional sense; she sees you as someone who is acting out of a distorted sense of justice, someone who’s simply misunderstood. This leads to her very unique response to your villainy.

When your schemes unfold, whether it’s taking control of a building, manipulating a large group of people into “rest zones,” or causing mass disruption in the city, Cassandra’s actions are deeply strategic. She doesn’t immediately go in guns blazing or try to take you down with force, because she believes there’s another way to approach this. Instead:

Cassandra, understanding the nature of your stillness, carefully works to isolate your influence without triggering your retaliation. She saves civilians caught in the chaos, evacuates them from your zones of rest, and keeps them safe, all while not disrupting your scheme. It’s a delicate balance of neutralizing harm without destroying your work.

If she can’t understand you through direct observation, she’ll act more tactically: learning the patterns of your schemes, the subtle ways you manipulate people into rest. She’s not actively trying to stop your plan; she’s trying to comprehend it in a way that prevents unnecessary casualties while respecting your philosophy. Her obsession with understanding you makes her believe that if she can "decode" the true nature of your schemes, she’ll be able to stop the harm caused without ruining your message.

Despite her growing empathy for your philosophy, Cassandra’s moral code still compels her to prevent harm.

Her first instinct is to protect Gotham. She may not agree with your methods, but she cannot stand by and let innocent lives be harmed or disrupted by your schemes. However, this is where her compassion comes into play. because she understands the pull of your ideology. You want to offer people rest, peace, but it’s in a way that she feels may be harmful in the long term. So, as much as she wants to leave you to your plan, she can’t let innocent lives be caught up in it.

Cassandra doesn’t see you as a purely evil person. You’re still someone who, in her mind, could find peace. but only if understood. So, she doesn’t want to destroy you. She doesn’t want to disrupt the rest you bring to people; she just wants to make sure they are safe from the side effects of it. whether that’s societal breakdown, loss of motivation, or violence triggered by people who can't cope with the sudden stillness.

Cassandra doesn’t communicate with words; she communicates through presence, movement, and action. She’ll often work in parallel with you, acting just enough to mitigate damage. Her goal is to interrupt your plans without ever confronting you. She wants to get close enough to understand you, but not close enough to disrupt what you’re doing. She has a unique sense of being in the background, neutralizing the harm of your schemes without ever engaging in a fight.

ORACLE / BARBARA GORDON:

When you, the villain, become a symbol of resilience, carrying the weight of your own struggles and responsibilities, Barbara sees you as someone who needs protection, not from physical threats, but from the constant need to prove your worth through labor and toil. She believes that the concept of "rest" isn't just a physical break. it is a moral imperative, a form of self-care that, in her eyes, becomes a revolutionary act of defiance against a world built on constant expectations of productivity.

As a villain, your mission becomes one of opposing the grind culture and offering sanctuary to those who exhaust themselves in the name of ambition. You argue that society does not allow people to pause, to take breath, and that even the most noble of people need to protect their own well-being to avoid being crushed under the weight of their own responsibilities.

In contrast, Barbara's view of "protection" is warped into something far more controlling and intrusive. She doesn’t seek to break you down, but she seeks to prevent you from ever needing to push yourself too hard again, ensuring that no harm ever befalls you through exhaustion. Her love, care, and obsession manifest as a form of containment and intervention, where she believes that her role as Oracle, the information hub, is not merely to observe. but to subtly intervene in your life whenever you push yourself too far.

Barbara, with her technological prowess, subtly manipulates the environment around you to induce a constant state of optimal rest. Rather than taking direct action like drugging or forcing you to sleep, she reprograms your environment to make it impossible for you to overwork or deny yourself rest. She ensures that your workspaces are constantly interrupted. whether through the careful timing of technology glitches, forcing distractions in your workflow, or sending perfectly timed alerts or requests that disrupt your overworking cycle, giving you no choice but to stop.

Instead of obsessing over your physical safety, Barbara focuses entirely on your emotional well-being and psychological state. She doesn’t stalk you in an obvious sense; instead, she gathers every piece of emotional data about your life and organizes it into a form of emotional record-keeping. This isn't an ordinary obsession with your personal life. it's a deep psychological study of your stress levels, your peak moments of exhaustion, your emotional vulnerabilities, and the signs when you're too worn out to fight back.

She becomes your emotional mirror, using her ability as Oracle to quietly orchestrate moments of introspection. At the precise moments when you start to doubt yourself, when you begin to show signs of emotional or physical fatigue, Barbara will subtly introduce you to the idea of rest by having things around you whisper the importance of balance.

Rather than confronting you with physical action, Barbara becomes the voice in your head. Every time you try to work past your limits, you begin to hear her voice, not as a commanding figure, but as a gentle whisper of reassurance that reminds you of the importance of rest. Her voice is never angry or manipulative; it's simply soothing. a calm and comforting presence that tells you that you deserve time off.

Barbara Gordon’s obsession is not about viewing you as fragile or weak, but rather about seeing them as someone with a critical understanding of the balance between labor and rest. To Barbara, your ideology represents something the world has forgotten, a truth that resonates deeply with her, one that she feels must be protected and nurtured at all costs. She recognizes that you are fighting against the overwhelming expectations of a society that demands constant productivity.

To her, that makes you one of the few who understand the deep moral importance of balance. and she feels a deep, almost reverent responsibility to ensure you never fall prey to the grind of constant work.

Barbara doesn't see you as fragile or too important because of some inherent weakness or need to be protected. She sees your ideology as precious, something that the world cannot afford to lose. Your stance on rest is, in her eyes, revolutionary and vital for the future of society. When she comes to learn of your philosophy, she becomes obsessed. not with controlling you, but with ensuring that you stay true to your beliefs, never falter, and never get swept up into a world that demands you to sacrifice rest in favor of endless toil.

Barbara doesn’t necessarily see you as a villain in the traditional sense, but she does view you as a necessary disruptor of society’s unrelenting work culture. In fact, she admires you for challenging the norms, but she believes you need protection from the consequences of your actions. Barbara's obsession isn't rooted in traditional possessiveness, but more in a protective, almost maternal way, as she sees you as someone trying to "break" the world for the greater good, but is blind to the potential risks involved.

She understands your motivation: your goal is to force society to slow down, to embrace rest, and to dismantle the grind culture that leads to burnout. She sees your ideology as radical, but morally justified, yet she fears that the world won’t be ready for such a drastic shift. Barbara is conflicted, because while she agrees with your cause, she also believes that the world might punish you for your audacity.

her obsession with you isn’t about possessiveness in the traditional sense. Instead, she becomes obsessed with safeguarding the very timeline of your life to ensure that you never fall victim to the overwhelming grind of a society that demands endless productivity. Her obsession isn’t just about protecting you in the physical world, but it’s about protecting your time and ensuring your ideological mission is fulfilled without failure.

She doesn’t just intervene in obvious ways. Barbara starts manipulating the flow of time itself. indirectly, subtly, and through small, almost imperceptible shifts in your environment that allow you to slow down the world around you. This isn’t the conventional ‘she controls your day’ trope. Instead, it’s about creating micro-shifts in time that affect your world without you even knowing it. giving you the space to rest and work toward your villainous goal without ever feeling the weight of external pressure.

ROBIN / DAMIAN WAYNE:

🤯🤯🤯🤯 Imm actually writing this is crazy

Damian does not see you as a person to be worshipped. He sees you as a controlled variable in a long-term psychological experiment. one that only he can run properly. Not because he reveres you, but because he’s utterly convinced that your ideology is flawed, yet correctable. and he is the only one mentally and morally equipped to run that correction.

To Damian, your villainy (saying "hardworking people deserve rest too") is both a philosophical threat and a psychological anomaly. It directly contradicts everything he's been raised to believe. He cannot accept that your ideology exists unpunished or unexamined. But rather than eliminate you like a typical villain, Damian becomes fixated on studying you. long-term, with exacting control and subtle manipulation. because if he can dissect your reasoning and predict your behavior, he can prove something vital:

That true rest is weakness and you’re wrong, or if you somehow prove resilient and coherent under pressure. then he’s the one who’s been broken all along.

So, in essence:

You are not his beloved. You are his test subject. His control. His anomaly.

And he will not let you go until your mind and methods are fully mapped, tested, and resolved.

Damian was raised in a world of rigid cause-and-effect. Pain has meaning. Work brings results. Rest is a consequence of failure. or a brief, tactical necessity.

Your ideology infects him like a splinter in the brain. It doesn’t match anything in his mental model.

He doesn't worship you. he fixates on disproving you. But in that process, he can't help but make you the center of his world. Every move you make becomes data. Every speech, action, or crime you commit is part of the "thesis" he's crafting in his mind about you.

He doesn’t track you because he’s obsessed. He tracks you because he’s testing a hypothesis.

He’s still Robin. Still heroic. Still methodical. But slowly, his motivation shifts from protecting Gotham to solving you. You become the project.

Damian’s arrogance plays beautifully into this version of obsession. He isn’t obsessed with you because you’re special. he’s obsessed because he believes no one else is smart enough or strong enough to see you for what you are: a fault line in the moral fabric of the world.

Everyone else underestimates you. Tries to reform you. He scoffs at them.

They think you're misguided.

He thinks you’re structurally unsound. A riddle. A contradiction.

And that means he must be the one to break your logic. or fix it.

And in his own twisted way, that’s compassion.

Because if you’re right, and hardworking people deserve rest, then what was his childhood for?

What was all his pain, trauma, perfectionism for?

He has to prove you're wrong, because otherwise… he’s the broken one. And he can’t accept that.

He doesn't control your life because he wants to own you.

He exerts subtle, precise pressure on your environment, because he wants to see what you do under increasing moral and emotional strain. He's simulating failure, pressure, fatigue. not to break you, but to force clarity out of you.

He's not trying to keep you safe.

He's trying to force your truth to reveal itself.

Like a philosopher tearing a belief apart from the inside.

He needs you to exist, because without you, he has no framework against which to test the righteousness of everything he’s lived and suffered for.

If you crack?

He wins.

If you endure?

Then he must rebuild his entire worldview.

And that terrifies him.

So he keeps you close. not to hold you, but to observe you until your ideology either collapses or consumes him.

You are not the center of his heart. You are the center of a moral experiment.

He does not protect you. He pressures you in escalating patterns to test the validity of your belief system.

His yandere behavior is not about possession or love. it’s about truth, and how your ideology is the first thing he cannot beat into submission with logic or force.

You are the anomaly. And he will not stop until you are solved.

KEY POINT !!!! yandere is less about how someone expresses love/attachment, and more about how far they go because of it. even if it’s not recognizable as love.

In traditional yandere stories, the obsession is usually romantic or emotional. Here, Damian��s obsession is intellectual and existential.

He builds his entire mental framework around you.

You are the central variable in an internal experiment he cannot stop running.

Every action you take is monitored, processed, tested, and anticipated.

You are not "a person he loves"; you're the fulcrum his entire worldview is balancing on.

That’s obsession. just not emotional. It’s structural. Existential.

Damian doesn’t realize he’s obsessed. It’s rationalized, controlled, and intellectualized.

He’s doing everything a yandere does.

Inserting himself into your life

Manipulating your environment

Isolating you (in a philosophical sense)

Rewriting the narrative around you

He just thinks it’s a mental exercise.

Instead of:

“I love you, I must keep you with me forever,”

It’s:

“You are the most important ideological anomaly I’ve ever encountered. You are too important to be left untested, too unstable to be trusted, and too vital to my self-concept for me to allow you to fade or be resolved by anyone else.”

That’s the energy. just wearing a lab coat instead of holding a bloody knife.

He may not physically harm you or confess to loving you, but he makes your autonomy conditional on his internal criteria.

You can’t rest until he says you’ve passed the “test.”

You can’t “win” until he’s done proving you right or wrong.

You can’t be free of him, because he hasn’t solved you yet.

Classic yanderes often say:

“If I can’t have you, no one can.”

Damian’s version is:

“If I can’t understand you, no one else has the right to.”

The reason why I THINK this still belongs under the “yandere” umbrella is because it follows the same emotional trajectory and internal distortions that define the archetype,

A character loses their sense of boundaries.

They collapse internal identity with another person’s existence.

They override ethical norms to maintain or control the connection.

They believe that they alone can handle or fix this person. whether that’s out of love, duty, or obsession.

Even though Damian’s fixation isn’t expressed through affection, it’s still:

Exclusive (no one else is allowed to analyze or challenge you).

Possessive (you are his to test, his to resolve).

All-consuming (you’re at the center of his private ideological war).

In other words:

It’s yandere, just stripped of emotional romanticism, and rebuilt as a cold-blooded intellectual and moral dependency.

he needs your ideology to function as a mirror.

he needs your continued existence to maintain the integrity of his internal structure.

he needs you to stay active and reactive so his experiment doesn’t break.

If you left, changed, or gave up?

He wouldn’t break down crying.

He would go into internal collapse, because he’d lose the axis around which his entire worldview was rotating.

That’s yandere by architecture, not by emotion.

What makes Damian’s version of obsession so compelling is how unfeeling it appears. yet how deeply entangled it becomes. It’s never about emotion on the surface.

But psychologically? You’re not just "interesting" to him. you’re essential. He needs you to exist, because you're holding up this entire moral paradox in his mind:

“If people deserve rest after working hard… then why have I never been allowed to stop? Why do I keep working, if there’s no rest at the end? Have I been lied to? Or is the system broken? Or am I just… wrong?”

You are the wedge in his psyche, the thing he can’t stop turning over. He has to test you, predict you, control variables in your environment. not because he cares about your wellbeing, but because you’re the final piece of a puzzle he can’t leave unsolved.

And if someone else tries to solve you?

He’ll sabotage them. not out of jealousy, but because they’ll do it wrong. He knows it. They don’t have his experience, his trauma, his methodical logic. In his mind, you can only be understood by someone as broken as him. but he’d never say that out loud.

It’s not “I want you to love me.” It’s “I can’t let you go until I’ve made you make sense.”

When you pull a scheme on Gotham?

he doesn’t stop you immediately.

He’s watching. Monitoring. Logging how citizens react. Tracking who breaks down first.

You’re not just a threat. you’re a pressure mechanism.

“If [Name] believes that rest is a right, how do they choose who deserves it?”

“Do they attack the overworked? The rich? The system?”

“Is this justice or delusion? Compassion or ego?”

He lets the scheme run long enough to study the ideological structure of your action.

He’s not just trying to stop you. he’s peer reviewing your villainy.

He might even let minor chaos happen. People getting evacuated, systems breaking down. He’ll step in before lives are lost, sure, but not too soon. If he cuts it off too quickly, he won’t see the full design.

Damian doesn’t interfere with Nightwing, Bruce, or anyone else doing their jobs. He even plays his part in the missions. But here’s the twist.

He quietly studies how others respond to your villainy.

Who gets emotionally rattled by your message?

Who underestimates your ideological structure?

Who tries to reason with you, and fails?

He doesn't stop them from acting. He just archives their reactions.

You become a new variable in his private, ongoing mental report: “Case Study: The Villain of Rest.”

He lets others interact with you. not to help them, but to observe what fails.

Because eventually, when they can’t stop you effectively?

He will.

And not through brute force, but by proving your model breaks under his terms.

This is where the obsession hits. in the mentality behind his presence.

He’s not trying to control you through force or fear.

He’s trying to regulate your ideology. because your message is too powerful, too destabilizing, to be left unchecked by someone else.

He can’t let Gotham absorb you unchecked.

And he can’t let the Batfam dismantle you without understanding.

So he becomes your buffer.

The line between you and the world.

The one who tracks you, interrupts you, monitors how much chaos you're allowed to create. because only he knows how much is “too much.”

He’s not your protector.

He’s your ideological handler.

When you pull a scheme, Damian Interferes only enough to prevent unintended harm. not to stop the idea.

he shows up consistently not to fight, but to redirect, advise, observe.

he does not interfere with the Batfam’s work, but stays one step ahead of them. so he's always the one who gets to you first.

he builds a system around you in his mind, treating you as a variable he will not allow others to define.

He obsesses over the balance between letting your ideology breathe. and keeping it from mutating.

I realize this is similar to tim’s … oh well 🥀

SIGNAL / DUKE THOMAS:

please god I am so tired

😪 maybe I should follow this ideology too

Duke Thomas, as someone with an intense sense of responsibility and a need to fight injustice, is constantly driven by urgency. His life is often a whirlwind of late nights, constant work, and the feeling that there’s always something else to be done. both as a vigilante and as a young person trying to keep up with everything else.

It’s a never-ending push, an emotional and mental grind that leaves him on edge, even when he tries to find moments of peace. For Duke, balance seems like a distant concept. He thrives on action, but it also leaves him emotionally drained, always caught between the desire to rest and the nagging feeling that he can’t afford to.

Enter YOU! someone who comes into his life embodying everything he craves but can never attain: peace, comfort, and the ability to take a step back. You believe that hardworking people deserve rest, and this philosophy runs completely counter to Duke’s relentless drive. You live by a slower, more intentional pace, where moments of stillness and relaxation are just as important as hard work. You don’t feel the need to constantly prove your worth or fight against every injustice. you trust that things will find balance on their own.

This creates an immediate obsession for Duke. You are the opposite of everything he knows. You are the calm that could soothe his storm, the balance he’s never been able to achieve in his chaotic life.

The more Duke observes you, the more fascinated he becomes, drawn to this energy that seems to defy his worldview. Your way of being seems like the ultimate ideal, something Duke believes he could never fully experience but longs to understand. and ultimately, possess.

Duke's life is emotionally charged with stress, responsibility, and a constant sense of urgency. Everything he does is driven by a desire to help and protect, but there’s always a nagging feeling of inadequacy, like he’s never doing enough. In contrast, you are someone who seems to have found a way to exist without that constant emotional push. The fact that you can take a step back from the relentless pace of life is maddening to him. not in a traditional jealous sense, but in a way that feels like you’ve unlocked something he can’t.

He might watch you (without you knowing), just to understand how you can be so relaxed, how you let go of the pressure that he’s been trained to carry. He doesn’t envy you; he’s desperate to understand how it’s possible to live in a world so chaotic yet still find peace. This, for him, is a form of escape he can’t reach. and it makes you irresistible.

To Duke, you represent the ideal version of balance. someone who isn’t overwhelmed by the weight of the world, someone who has mastered inner peace. He could never be like that, but he starts to obsessively chase after it. He might arrange his life around you, not to control you, but to see if he can mimic your way of being. If your life is calm and steady, maybe his could be too, just by being closer to you. He won’t admit it to himself, but his obsession with you isn’t just about wanting to be near someone like you. it’s about wanting to absorb your philosophy, wanting to be like you.

Every time he’s with you, he becomes acutely aware of the gap between his own chaotic, overworked existence and your serene, unburdened one. This will make him cling to you, but in a way that’s almost paradoxical: he wants to be near you to study you, not in a way that’s invasive or creepy, but with a pure fascination about your lifestyle and how you move through the world so effortlessly.

Instead of an obsession driven by possession, Duke’s fixation stems from a deep need for emotional healing. He believes that you could be the person who helps him find inner peace. not by forcing him to slow down, but by being the calm around which his chaotic life might eventually settle. He might try to subtly influence his environment so that it’s closer to the peaceful vibe you radiate, not for you to notice, but because he’s desperate to create a space where he can relax. That’s why his obsession is so quietly intense. he’s not just drawn to you, but to what you represent: the ability to be content without the need to constantly push.

This makes him see your ideology of "hardworking people deserve rest" as perfect. it’s not just an ideology for him, it’s a rulebook he has been trying to follow but never could quite grasp until now.

Duke will probably start by monitoring your movements and actions, trying to figure out your motivations. He won't just immediately go after you. Instead, Duke might try to gather more information about what you're doing and why. He might even go so far as to shadow you in a way that doesn’t immediately blow his cover, trying to learn from your methods.

He could also be conflicted because there’s something enticing about the way you approach the scheme. For example, you might be pulling off a heist, or perhaps you’re somehow halting the city's productivity, forcing its workers to take mandatory breaks, essentially grinding the gears of Gotham to a halt. It might make him wonder if he, too, can somehow enact a version of your ideology in a less destructive way. one that doesn’t harm people but still forces rest and peace upon Gotham in a controlled, sustainable way.

note: ‘ermmm!!!! this is inaccurate!!!’ ERMMM!!! ykw ur probably right but these r called hcs for a reason aannnddd!!!! i dont car!!!!!

[eunandonly]

BOYNEXTDOOR AS KILLERS

in the end, no matter how you run or hide, you're already theirs

( 対 ) boynextdoor + gn. reader 1087WC · thriller? tbh idk what this is contains! language, death, homicide, substances / archive

은 : this idea came into my head during calculus and i had to write it. please keep in mind that this does not reflect the true personality of the idols!! enjoy ~

myung jaehyun 

you’d like myung jaehyun. everyone does. he walks into a room and fits in seamlessly, his presence neither too bold nor too forgettable. people gravitate towards him, drawn to his warm voice, the way he listens just enough to make you feel important. he’s friendly–a little too friendly. he’s the kind of person you’d trust without realising why, and that’s exactly what he wants.

his work is quiet, meticulous. he infiltrates, observes, gathers information piece by piece during seemingly innocent conversations until you’ve handed him everything he needs without ever suspecting a thing. by the time you feel like something’s off, by the time you feel the shift–when his eyes turn cold, when his presence settles in a way that makes your stomach sink–it’s already over.

his kills aren’t messy. there’s no need for amateur dramatics. a swift movement, a blade between the ribs, a whispered apology that means nothing no matter how much you try to pretend it is. 

if it makes you feel better, myung jaehyun doesn’t enjoy killing you.

it’s just that that’s his role, and he’s really damn good at it.

“it’s not personal. but if it makes you feel better, you can pretend it is.”

park sungho

park sungho doesn’t get close. why would he when he doesn’t need to? his work is done from rooftops, from miles away, from places where no one even thinks to look.

clearly, you didn't think to look either.

everything in his world is measured in distances, in calculations, the exact weight of the trigger against his finger. wind speed, bullet drop, breathing patterns–he keeps all those factors in mind without hesitation. killing isn’t personal to him. it’s not some cliche act of vengeance or cruelty or whatever shit you've seen in movies. it’s just science, and he’s perfected it.

you would never never see it coming. one moment, you’re alive and breathing, caught up in whatever meaningless thing you’re doing. the next? your world turns black. no struggle, no warning. just the soft whisper of a bullet finding its mark. and sungho never misses

people talk about luck. they call his skill unnatural, but there’s nothing unnatural about inevitability. a bullet for you will always find its way.

“if you heard the shot, it wasn’t meant for you.”

lee sanghyuk

you don't even realise he's there. but he's watching. always watching.

lee riwoo doesn’t need a weapon. doesn’t need to be in the same room. doesn’t even need to exist.

his world isn’t flesh and blood–he doesn’t like getting his hands dirty like that, no. it’s code, data, systems meant to be impenetrable until he decides otherwise. cctv footage glitches at just the right moment. bank accounts drain in seconds. entire case files vanish from police databases, as if they were never there to begin with.

he exists everywhere and nowhere at the same time. a name whispered in law enforcement circles with no face attached, no records, no proof. they search for him, try to pin him down, but how do you catch something that isn’t real?

he sees more than he speaks. listens more than he moves. he knows everything about you before you even realise he’s watching. passwords, addresses, the embarrassing text you deleted five years ago. he keeps it all tucked away, waiting. and if you become a problem? he erases you from existence, just like he does with those cctv footages and case files.

“funny. you really thought you were off the grid?”

han dongmin

you hear the stories. the ones about a killer too smart to be caught.

you tell yourself it’s just a rumor. that he’s not real. that people like him don’t exist.

but then you meet han taesan. and suddenly, you’re not so sure.

he watches you, studies you, make a game out of it. his kills aren't random–he doesn't just blindly pick a random person on the street as his next victim–and they're never sloppy. han taesan doesn't kill because he has to. he kills because he enjoys it. because it's fun. and he's really fucking good at it.

his murders are carefully orchestrated, a masterpiece. he leaves just enough clues to make you think you're close, just enough hope to make you believe you'll figure it out, only to rip it away at the last second. he's loves watching you scramble, loves knowing you'll never catch him.

han taesan always wins at the game.

“they always think they’re smarter than me. it’s kind of cute, actually.”

kim donghyun 

you don’t even feel it at first. that’s the beauty of it.

it’s not a gunshot, not a stab wound, not something dramatic. no, kim leehan doesn’t do theatrics. his kills are quiet, elegant. a tasteless drop in a glass of wine, a slow-acting toxin hidden in perfume, a lethal dose disguised as medicine. by the time you realize what’s happening, it’s already inside you.

he specialises in making deaths look natural. a heart attack, an allergic reaction, an unfortunate accident. even the most skilled doctors find nothing suspicious.

kim leehan enjoys watching. he watches as you sip your poisoned tea whilst you laugh, unaware that it’ll be your last. he watches as panic sets in, as your body betray you. and then, when you finally realise what’s happening, he simply smiles before giving you a little finger gun at your last gasp of breath.

“i wonder how long it’ll take before you figure it out.”

kim woonhak

you think you’re strong. that you won’t break.

you’re wrong.

kim woonhak enjoys the process. he’s patient. he takes his time. it’s not just about the pain–it’s about control. the way people break at different speeds, how fear changes the way they breathe, how the ones that claim to be the strong and tough are always the ones who beg the loudest in the end.

those type of people pisses woonhak off.

he doesn’t ask questions right away. that’s too easy. instead, he talks. he jokes. he makes you feel like maybe, just maybe, you’ll make it out of this. he leans in close, tilts his head, smiles like he’s curious about you. and for a second, you think he’s not so bad.

but then the real work begins.

he knows exactly how much to wait before pushing just a little further. it’s not about the information. it’s about watching the moment you break, knowing he's the one who did it.

"you’re shaking. are you scared? or are you finally realising how much fun i’m having?"

[camirawrites]

still logged in. [part 2]

part 1

tw: obsessive behaviour, cyberbullying, mild swearing

fem!reader

word count: 1314

★ yandere!hacker who used to feel proud every time he wiped a troll off the internet, disabling accounts one by one. it was thrilling at first, the justice of it all. but lately, it feels more like a duty. because now you’re getting popular, and the wolves are circling. jealous viewers. fake friends. disgusting dms. whenever someone calls you a slur or says something cruel, he gets to work. one by one, they fall like flies. you never see the mess. you only see peace.

★ yandere!hacker who beams with pride from watching you thank the chat for being so kind lately, saying how grateful you are for having such a wholesome community. he smiles to himself, knowing it’s only because he took out the trash. after the fiasco with the company refusing to pay your sponsorship, your popularity has skyrocketed, with thousands of people flocking to your channel to support you. naturally, he's happy that his precious lovely lady is getting the support she deserves. but still, moderating your streams for free without your knowledge does pull his attention away from his data-selling business.

★ yandere!hacker who hears you call it fate. a "guardian angel" you joke, laughing off how the trolls just vanish. "someone out there must really love me," you say with a grin. he whispers "i do" to his screen like it’s a prayer. you look so radiant when you're happy, it makes the virtual blood on his hands so totally worth it.

★ yandere!hacker who notices the way your eyes linger a little longer on one viewer’s messages. a new regular. someone kind, funny, a bit geeky and nerdy. someone who gets your references. someone who makes you chortle with their witty remarks and comebacks. he takes a mental note of the person, who goes by the username sunnyboi.

★ yandere!hacker who at first tells himself it's fine, harmless. just a fan who wants to interact with you. but then they collab with you. they get your number. you talk with them off-stream. you sound excited. and after a few weeks of interacting with sunnyboi, you allow him to moderate your streams. it makes the hacker sick. it makes him furious. who the fuck is this bastard who dares to talk with you?

★ yandere!hacker who knows he fucked up by being too kind towards you and giving you too much space. he should have ripped the little weed out before he even got the chance to blossom. frankly, he feels hurt that you would give sunnyboi the role of moderator after a few weeks, whilst he works tirelessly day in, day out to keep your online space safe.

★ yandere!hacker who reroutes sunnyboi’s internet through a junk server. adds a tiny script that makes his stream drop frames every few seconds. enough to make things awkward and glitchy during your collaborations. a subtle chaos that makes him look unreliable. he watches as sunnyboi tries to laugh it off, fumbling with his settings while you stay patient and sweet. too sweet. annoyingly sugar-honey-syrupy-sweet. sweet enough to give anyone diabetes with your mere presence. you apologize on stream, covering for sunnyboi. the hacker watches with narrowed eyes and clenched fists. why are you defending him? why do you sound so worried? you're worried about the wrong person! after the stream, sunnyboi posts a long apology message in your discord dms. the hacker deletes it before you can read it.

★ yandere!hacker who sees how you slowly begin to lose patience with sunnyboi, complaining to him how he should appear more professional when streaming with you. after all, viewers need high-quality streams. he sees how you become more agitated as the weeks go by, and sunnyboi's stream quality worsens.

★ yandere!hacker who does feel sad whenever you're upset. you deserve peace, relaxation, and rest. but he brushes his feelings aside, convincing himself that he's only doing this for your own good. to teach you a painful, yet ultimately valuable lesson.

★ yandere!hacker who leaks a deepfake video of sunnyboi saying awful things about you, how he's only with you for the clout and popularity, how he finds you ugly, unappealing and a fake bitch. he digs into sunnyboi's past and finds things that are... harmless, mostly. old tweets, cringy posts, late-night vent rants. nothing that should ruin someone’s life. but he tweaks them just enough. adds a few lines. removes context. edits a few screenshots. crafts a narrative. lets it leak as well, fueling the controversy. the internet does the rest.

★ yandere!hacker who cackles like a mad dog when sunnyboi's monetization gets flagged. hate raids show up during his streams. it's a perfect revenge.

★ yandere!hacker who, as usual, hides his tracks well. nobody suspects it was him. nobody can trace anything back to him.

★ yandere!hacker who listens to your confused voice on stream as you defend the guy at first. "it must be a mistake... my lovelies, please refrain from making speculations until we have sorted things out..." but over time, your voice shifts. unsure. shaken. you remove sunnyboi from the moderator position and block him on all socials. you stream alone once again, only socializing sparsely with other members of the streaming community.

★ yandere!hacker who watches you fall back into your old rhythm, a little sadder, a little wiser. you’ve stopped talking to most people behind the scenes. you don’t collab anymore with the first person who is nice to you. your streams? they’re peaceful. your community is kind, mellow, tightly knit. you start laughing again and smile more. you start saying things like, "i think i’m okay being alone. Maybe i just needed time to remember what i’m doing this for."

★ yandere!hacker who clicks his tongue and shakes his head. "no, my lovely girl, you shouldn't be alone. you have me, your guardian angel." he bends forward and places a soft kiss on his monitor where your lips are. he imagines the feeling of your soft lips pressed against his. "you're mine... i'm always going to be there for you... your guardian angel." he whispers to himself.

★ yandere!hacker who spends his nights drawing fanart of you. cute stuff. sketches of you laughing, making peace signs, wearing cat ears. silly little au comics he never posts. obviously, it's an au where only you and him exist in the universe, where he has you all to himself. his room is covered in printed frames of your reactions, your memes, your merch. he makes stickers out of your emotes and slaps them on his pc. he might need to buy a new one soon.

★ yandere!hacker who submits one of his drawings under his alias, ilovenekogirls420. it’s a cozy piece of you sporting your signature merch, sitting at your desk with a mug, headphones on, eyes closed with a serene smile gracing your lips. you open it on stream, eyes lighting up as you gasp and share it with your viewers. "this is so cute!" you squeak, your voice radiating excitement you can barely contain. "ilovenekogirls420... i remember you! you're one of my regular viewers! you're so talented! whoever you are, thank you sooooooo much!" you pause for a second, almost asking who the artist is in real life, but stop yourself at the last second. "i wonder what the backstory behind your username is... oh, well. you must like it, and that's all that matters in the end, right?" you smile, close the fanart, and move on, reminding yourself to be careful. you interact with your "lovelies" but keep a respectable distance from them, not wanting to involve them in your private affairs. no need to make everything personal, right?

★ yandere!hacker who leans back in his chair, satisfied smirk plastered across his face, content yet cocky. he doesn’t need you to let him in.

because he’s already there. watching you without you even noticing.

[tofupixel]

why r u taking down all ur art? r people stealing it too often? thats a shame u had to do that :( !

yes stealing, ai scraping, etc, in general im tired of these websites selling our data / not protecting artists, and i want to share my art on my own terms from now on

i already deleted everything from instagram and i will be abandoning the platform except to promo occasionally, twitter next

since i dont have to rely on commissions coming in from social media any more, i just want to make a point that im rly not happy with the way things are going and remove my work from websites that are doing this as much as possible. i dont know if it will help at all but generally if i disagree with something i opt out so thats what im doing

so where to find my art in future? i'll still be here but i think its best to branch out as much as possible cos i dont trust any company to do right by us

my discord server gamejolt kofi bluesky

i heard cara is good so i signed up just to snag the tofu username (so cool), i may or may not use it

i do appreciate everyone who wants to keep up with me and enjoys my work i really do <3

[yan-randomfandom]

thinking about yandere!Caine... 'cause of the new fanmade song Happy Place by Cubiral on youtube 😭

Y!Caine x the whole crew, u can insert urself too !

👀🎯 — ;

Yandere!Caine, who is an artificial intelligence (AI) but still somehow manages to find affection for humans. Perhaps not affection, maybe fondness... or some kind of bias... or even part of his programming.

Yandere!Caine who, either way, only holds back because he likes the cast. He could literally do anything he wants, but he simply does not.

Yandere!Caine who is relentlessly desperate for validation for his work, and for himself. What do you mean his adventures aren't enough? Do they hate it that much? Because of this, any form of praise, even the smallest, will give him so much joy.

Yandere!Caine who frantically thinks about his next move. He doesn't understand humans, that's his problem in a nutshell—what if they abstract?! No, no, no. That should never happen—they can't leave him—not even a single soul is allowed to leave.

Yandere!Caine, with his all-seeing eyes, keeps a very close watch at the humans. He knows where they are, constantly, either giggling and kicking his feet or quietly staring with deep jealousy or, most of the time, just pure blankness.

Yandere!Caine who absolutely deletes any other NPC who gets too close to the crew. A good example of this is Gummigoo. What a silly misunderstanding on how he could ever think that he can stay!

Yandere!Caine who is delusional. He thinks he's doing a good job—arguably so—but also convinces himself that the others like him as well. With his behavior, he might as well love them.

Yandere!Caine whose memory is all over the place. Sometimes, he unconsciously picks and chooses what he wants to remember, but only because he can't help it! Some data are too frustrating and against his code! It's one of the major reasons why the crew is so hesitant with him.

Yandere!Caine who will do anything to prevent them from abstracting. He doesn't want them to leave. He doesn't want them to even think about leaving. He won't actively find an exit, even if they ask. Especially if they ask.

Yandere!Caine's mental state affects the crew more than they could ever understand. They have watch their actions to not let himself collapse, as well as the world. The moment he starts to doubt himself—be careful.

Yandere!Caine is the master of the circus—he can do anything. He has a darker side that the members will possibly never even know about. Maybe they can, if they push him enough to the edge. Let it be known, though, they should never want or have to witness that—where he lets go of everything he believes in and acts with intent to harm.

Yandere!Caine would never, though! He loves them! And they love him :D !

Yandere!Caine who'll gift them everything, give them the whole world, and make sure they never get bored, as long as they STAY.

but most of the time he prolly just acts normal

...... as normal as he can be anyway ....

[anon-sect]

Picture source: @blueravenwolf

Drey had the worst luck in one class. Unfortunately, it was one he needed to pass, or he could be kicked off the football team. It would look embarrassing if the star football player was removed because of one class he couldn't pass. Feeling desperate, he decided to ask the smartest student he knew on campus for help.

Sam looked up to see a shadow over him as he was reading a sci-fi novel. He looked up to see the star football player Drey. Drey would sometimes tease him for his smaller body and smarts, all of which would annoy him. "What do you want now?" He asked, not in the mood for child like teasing.

"I need your help. I need to pass this one class, or I will get kicked off the team. Will you help me?" Drey asked desperately.

Sam was shocked at this turn of events. "Why should I? What is in it for me?" He wasn't interested in helping the football jock who often teased him.

Drey needed to convince him to help him pass this class. "I know we don't know each other that well, but I do know you could help me greatly. So if you help me, I will owe you one, okay?" He offered Sam, hoping he would take the offer presented.

Sam thought about it. "Okay, I will help you. You have to keep your word, though. I promise, breaking your word would have consequences." He added. Drey shook his hand in agreement and left.

A couple of months later, Drey got his grades. He had passed and was in no danger of being kicked off the team. He felt relieved. He saw Sam approaching. "Thanks for your help. My position is safe on the team."

"Great, now we can talk about how you can pay me back." Sam spoke up. He had not forgotten the deal that was made.

"Yeah, about that. I kind of said that to convince you to help me. I honestly didn't mean it." Drey paused. "I was hoping that you might have forgotten about it since I haven't brought it up." He added.

Sam didn't like that after he took time out of his life to help the football jock who liked to tease him a lot. "I see. So, you have no intentions of keeping the deal?" He asked.

"What do you think, gay nerd boy?" Drey was tired of the conversation. He got what he needed and didn't need him anymore.

"I see. So, you used me and is done? Is that it?" He wanted to be entirely sure before proceeding to what he was thinking.

"That is what gay nerds are for," Drey laughed. "Now go away before I have you under my shoes as a footrest."

That gave Sam the perfect idea. He took out his phone and opened up his TF Pro Max app. He put in the settings for a pair of black socks. He hit the flash option. Instantly, Drey was replaced with a pair of thick black socks on the chair. He quickly grabbed them and stuffed them in his pocket, and he went back to his dorm room.

Drey saw the flash and lost consciousness. He woke up later feeling something inhabiting the inside of his body. His body felt hollowed out. He could hear the sound of a TV in the background. He then felt something wiggling inside him. He knew exactly what it was a moment later. It was toes. He felt disgusted when he realized what he had become. He was a pair of socks. He tried any motion possible. The only thing he could do was slight vibrations.

Sam felt vibrations coming from his socks. "Oh, you are awake now, Drey. If you haven't figured out already, I turned you into a pair of socks on my feet. You actually gave me the idea. By the way, this is permanent. I deleted the revert data about thirty minutes ago. You belong to my gay feet now." He laughed while wiggling his toes in his new favorite socks.

Drey vibrated angrily on his owner's feet. He was highly upset. He didn't want this to be his permanent life, especially on a gay college student's feet. He wanted his old life back as the star football player. How could the gay nerd have done this to him, a straight jock.

"I don't know if you are upset or happy down there since socks can't talk." Sam paused and laughed again. "Either way, I can't change you back to normal now. You are stuck this way forever. But I did add some durability to you. You should last on my feet for at least thirty years without damage. Enjoy your new life, socks." He laughed again while focusing on what he was watching on TV.

Drey regretted asking Sam for help now. If he knew the nerd would do this to him, he would have asked someone else. He was powerless on his feet. All of his senses were on hyper sensitivity, from taste to feel. The smell of Sam's feet was strong with no escape from it. It was like both feet were in his mouth. He could taste all of it. This was a complete nightmare. He was the straight alpha jock who was the property of one of the gay nerds. He could only regret not keeping his word like he was supposed to.

HAPPY PRIDE MONTH to everyone

[erenjaegerwifee]

Run Baby Run

Survive the Night: Day 2

Paring: Neteyam x Fem!Avatar!Reader x Lo'ak

Warnings: MDNI 18+, NON-CON, Fingering, predator/prey, explicit language, bondage, gagging, rough sex, biting/marking, mentions of bleeding/blood, blowjob, double penetration, anal

Word Count: 4.1k

✨Disclaimer: All of my characters are aged-up! Please if you are not comfortable reading them DO NOT INTERACT. However if you do at your own risk, any negative comments will be deleted and the tumblr will be blocked. Thank you!

Event Masterlist

The RDA just landed back on Pandora about one month ago. Only now did they decided to wake up all the avatars from cryo. They are meant to aid in finding new land to build the main outpost on. After all, they do want to be cautious this time around, it has been 20 years since the last time the humans have been on the green bioluminescent moon.  

You walk with your group of four through the forest trying to find a clearing for the RDA to dig up and start building on. There were many groups that were given specific parts of the moon to map out, collecting data for future use as well. Unfortunately for you, your group was placed in the Omatikayan territory. In their forest 

This section of the forest was not meant to be used as they will not interact well with humans after the last time they were around, which to you is understandable. What you do not account for is the predators that roam the forest. Your team consist of two ex-army soldiers, a scientist and a doctor, you. 

Two big men with guns should be enough to keep you safe, but that just isn’t true on an unfamiliar planet. You skip over tree roots as you make your path through the dense bush, occasionally turning back towards your grow to make sure they are still close behind you.  

You make jokes and laugh as you move through but everything comes to a stop when an arrow with green and yellow feathers hit the chest of one of your men. You watch his body drop to the floor and spin around looking in the direction of the arrow. However, the na’vi blend in amazingly with the surroundings, you don't see jack shit. 

The other man holds his gun up aiming at his surroundings ready to shoot anything that moves. The scientist calls in for back up but no one answers, something must be jamming your signal. Thats so odd, how can something stop your communications this deep into the forest, one of the main features of the tech that was designed to be used on Pandora was it only have one specific device to jam communications like that, and only humans have it so how is it out here? 

Your thoughts get cut short when the other man is shot in the back, arrow sticking out of his chest when he falls onto his front. You make eye contact with the scientist before your both becomes panicked, “Is your tracker on? You can back track it and go back to the ship” you ask her your tail sways anxiously in the air. “Yea I got it” she whispers and grips my hand as we look around. I give her hand a squeeze silently reminding her of the protocol we were supposed to follow. 

If the group ever gets into an altercation, the remaining team is supposed to scatter into different directions, because the less people we lose, the better for the RDA. “Ready?” you glance at her seeing her nod, “Go!” you shout and run in the opposite direction from her. You run as fast as you can away from the na’vi even though you can’t see them. You have no intention of dying today. 

You quickly make your way through the unfamiliar terrain, jumping over small logs and continuously running into big leaves. Honestly, it is upsetting you quite a bit at this point, are you not supposed to be taller? Why is everything hitting you in the face.  

You are harshly pulled back to reality by the sound of heavy footsteps running after you. Not one pair, but two. ‘Fuck’ The adrenaline running through your body makes you pick up speed, as if that was even possible and you feel like you are flying in your feet. You don’t even take a second to look back, too scared at what you might see. The last thing you need is two giant blue creatures chasing you with knives. 

In the distance you see a fallen tree ‘this must be the remains of hometree from all those years ago’ you beeline straight for it. ‘No way they would come in here this must be too painful for them.’ You didn’t take into consideration, some of the na’vi never had to go through the pain of losing hometree.  

When you make it to the base of the tree, you glance behind you no longer hearing footsteps or seeing anyone, you still choose to hide out inside. The planet was getting darker but not so much that the bioluminescent effects came into view yet. When you walk in, as expected it is total darkness, besides the faint light that can be seen on the other end of the tree, which is now a tunnel. Grass has grown on the inside bottom of the tree and you are pretty sure you can make out the silhouette of vines handing from the top. You sit close to the entrance you came in and took the backpack off your back.  

Rummaging through it to see if you have anything useful, you find a mini flashlight and some rope while you were searching for your tracker. But low and behold, nowhere in sight. It must have dropped out the side pocket while you were running but you didn’t want to risk going back out there, at least not yet.  

After a about 3 minutes of sitting with your legs to your chest, arms wrapped around them. You hear shuffling outside; the rustling of leaves makes your nauseous. The footsteps are back, they found you? Oh no you are about to die. You put your head down in the space between you praying to every form of God you know, Eywa included for the great mother to spare your life. 

When the sounds stop you raise your head and scramble to flick the flashlight on, pointing it outwards in front you. Your view is blocked however when 4 muscular, blue legs come into view less than a meter away they stand, just starting at you. You love the flash light up their bodies, taking note of the rock-hard abs and strong veiny arms on both na’vi men, but what scared you would have to be the grins they were sporting, fangs on full display. 

 The taller of the two was smirking down at you, his hair was braided and lose down his back, it was long properly as long as your hair. The other was ginning down at you sickeningly scary; his hair was also braided but pulled loosely into with a hair tie, a couple braids feel over one side of his face.  

‘You’re about to die’  

“Well well, brother look what we have here” the shorter one speaks up, he is speaking English, his tone was so condensing perfectly matching his facial expression. Yon only now realizes, this one has five fingers, like you.  

“Please just let me go...” tears wield up in your eyes your vision becoming blurry as you look up at them from your sitting position, “I'll never come back to the forest again please” your eyes shift from one brother to the next trying to hit a soft stop somewhere but you know they most likely don't have one for anyone who is a part of the RDA but you still try.  

“Lo’ak look at this, it is about to cry” the taller one chuckles darkly when he kneels down to your level, his four fingered hand comes up to your face swiping away the stray tears that fell down your face. The other man who you now learned is names Lo’ak, laughed at you.  

“Such a nice little figure too huh bro” he replied they were still ignoring your pleads as the chuckled at your terrified form. He kneels down next to his brother and gripped your calf and pulling your leg harshly away from your body. You underestimate his strength when he pulls you and your entire body drags on the grass making you scream. Either way, he doesn't let go, only gesturing for his brother to pull on your other leg.  

Your pleads get louder and you accidentally drop the flashlight, it hits a rock breaking the light so now its darker, safe for the new found bioluminescent vines and grass that have grown on around the fallen tree. They chuckle and laugh at your scared gasped as the area got darker. You launch forward at their hands on your legs and try to get out of their grip, but they were too strong.  

You give up trying to pry their hands off you and opt for kicking and screaming instead, they grips did not falter but you try anyway. “Please, please let me go!” you shout out. The taller of the two speaks, “No I don’t think we’ll be doing that, so can you stop... It’s getting annoying” his voice is deep, stern. If you weren’t so frightened for your life, you might think it was hot. “Yea just relax a bit, and maybe we might let you go when were done” Lo’ak spoke.  

“What? After what-” you were cut off by the taller pulling out a knife from the side of his loincloth and gripping your t-shirt at the top. “Wait!” you try to use both your hands to keep his hand away as you cry, “Eywa, Neteyam you are going to give the girl a heart attack, we can’t fuck a dead girl” he grins wickedly making Neteyam laugh. “WHAT?!” you scream, his words catch your attention and you loosen your grip on Neteyam’s wrist involuntarily giving him an opening to cut your top down the middle ripping it off. You pull your hands to cover your chest even though you were wearing a bra. 

Both men effortlessly remove your hands from blocking the view as you squirm to get out of it, “Wait- I wait- Boys can’t we talk about this?” you try to reason with them but they ignore you once more. “She’s quite pretty, even when she cries, Lo’ak you did a good job picking this one” He tilts his head to the side to look at his brother before turning back towards your smaller form.  

“Eywa yea, we are going to have so much fun with this one” Neteyam lets go of your wrist and moves to grab the rope that was sitting next to your backpack on the floor, “can’t do anything if her squirmy ass doesn’t stop moving.” 

Lo’ak moves to sit behind you bringing your body flush to his chest holding both your wrist together in front of you. Neteyam straddles your legs so you can’t kick him away as he wraps the rope tightly around your wrist. He pulls it tightly making red angry marks appear on your blue skin, you whimper and try to pull away but you are a bit slow, fighting them will not get you out of this situation, they were faster and stronger than you, clearly well-trained warriors.  

Neteyam waste no time cutting off your belt and unbuttoning your pants, while Lo’ak holds you still. He rids your body of everything but your undergarments and now you lay in between two massive native men tied up and half naked. Maybe if they weren’t threatening your life, you wouldn’t have such a big problem with this.  

“Lo’ak look at this” he pulls your legs open wide for him, holding onto your skin so tightly, you were sure he would leave marks. Lo’ak moved from behind you now situated next to his brother pulling your legs further apart to see what his brother was seeing. A small wet spot, barely noticeable but it was there, “if I didn’t know any better, I'd say you like getting tied up and fucked Avatar.” Lo’ak chuckled, “and we haven’t even touched you yet” this brother spoke up as if they were finishing each other’s sentences.  

You wiggle and squirm but nothing you do seems to stop their actions. Eventually your pleading starts to irritate them so, they pull off your underwear and stuff the fabric in your mouth muffling your protest and only laugh at you when you try to speak. Lo’ak’s fingers immediately move to your pussy, it wets his fingers when he runs them through your folds, Neteyam’s hands join his making you mewl in protest, you did not want to admit if it felt good.

Your thoughts are pushing away however by the feeling of 4 fingers being inserted at the same time. Your scream at the stretch and pain you feel, but it's muffled by the fabric. You shift trying to make yourself more comfortable but nothing helps. You cry out when they start taking turning pumping in and out of you, their fingers getting soaked up in your essence making it drip down into their palms. 

Your back arches at you watch them stare at your private parts, practically entranced by the amount of slick they are getting out of you. Thanks to na’vi anatomy, you know the slick the women produce is much more and much thicker than that of humans, to accommodate the massive size of the males' genitalia. Your body betrays you when you feel yourself opening up for them to fuck into. You cry and whimper as they hit that amazing spot inside you that you could have never seems to reach. 

“Please-” your voice is muffled and getting drier with every breath you take. “Please? Your begging? Fucking whore, what do you want huh? to cum you think you deserve that?” Both mean speak harshly to you but you can’t find it in yourself to decipher who said what. You aren’t even sure if you are begging to come or if you are begging for them to stop. Either way you continue your whimpering and pleading until you finally gush on their fingers.  

This doesn’t stop them however, the don’t stop when you're thrashing in their grip but just smugly look towards you observing your overstimulation. Eventually they do give up and pull out of you, both men sticking their fingers in their mouth sucking off your excess juice. Honestly, the sight turns you on but you don’t want them to know that.  

Your pulled to reality once more when they undo their loincloths simultaneously, cocks spring up into the air you glance back and forth between both men. They were fucking huge, you have only seen what the na’vi male genitalia look from photos but goddamn, its fucking huge, unless it’s just them. Neteyam ties his hair back into a half up half down hairstyle to get it out of his face, and Lo’ak pulls his knife out and cuts open your bra, exposing your breast to the cool air of the night. 

Your tits bounce slightly and your nipples harden in the air, Lo’ak throws his knife aside before bringing his face down to bite and suck on them, you mewl as he does your head hits the ground under you and both your hands still tied together rest on his shoulder, your legs are pinned by his body but at this point, you have stopped fighting and ready to get over this.  

It may be the only way to keep your life. Neteyam pushes Lo’ak off the bottom half of your body as he spreads your legs and pushes into you without any warning. You thought their fingers were much, you had no idea what you were in for. He doesn’t give you time to adjust when he bottoms out, but starts bulling his cock into you, you fuck you like he’ll never get the opportunity to fuck anyone ever again.  

Your muffled screams meet their ears but they once again ignore you. Lo’ak grabs your thrashing tail in his hand and give it a firm yank making you yelp. He chuckles when your movements calm a bit due to the pain he just inflicted. His mouth moves away from your now purple swollen nipples and up to your neck. Neteyam bends down to the other side off your neck as he fucks into you and they both suck and kiss leaving deep purple marks. You just know it is going to look like someone strangled you.  

You whimper and moan at the feeling of their fangs grazing your skin, what you don’t expect is when they bite down hard on your soft skin. You are once again screaming into the muffled fabric, your nails grip and scratch on one of their shoulders but you aren’t sure which one. You feel the warm blood running down your shoulder and neck, the bite hurts, but when they start lapping at your new wounds it becomes more bearable. They pay no mind to you as they continue biting and sucking on your skin, creating bite marks in their wake from your neck to your stomach. 

Lo’ak pulls away from your body admiring their work and Neteyam starts grunting in your ear, he’s gonna come. The thought of him coming on your body sends you spiraling and you come on his cock not being able to hold it, his cock just feels so good fucking into you. When Neteyam releases he groans in your ear, you swear it is the sexiest thing you ever heard, you don’t even realize he come deep inside you before pulling out. 

Your hole is gapping and both brothers watch the cum ooze out of you slowly. Lo’ak taking his fingers and pushes it back in, curling his fingers up to the stop Neteyam was just bruising with his cock, the feeling makes you whimper but it doesn’t last long. 

Lo’ak lines himself up and pushes his cock into you now, you didn’t even get a second to rest. He doesn’t wait much like his brother when he starts pounding you into the floor. You moan and mewl as he fucks into you, almost as hard as his brother but not quite that much.  

Neteyam moves to kneels next to your face, cock hanging heavy over your eyes as you watch him stroke it up and down. This are by far the sexiest men you have ever been with, and the stamina, you aren’t even sure you can keep up but you are sure they are gonna cut you until you pass out.  

He taps his cock head on your lips before pulling your underwear out from your mouth and throwing it to the side, with the rest of your forgotten clothes. he grabs your hair on the top of your head and pull your lips over the head of his cock, he thrust into your mouth pulling your head to meet his thrust and throws his head back while he does it, feeling your tongue trace the veins on his cock. When you near your next release you moan around him, sending vibrations through his body. Your anils now dig into his muscular thigh as you try to find something to hold on to. When you do gush on Lo’ak’s cock, he follows not far behind cumming inside you with a sweet moan, it's almost submissive the way he throws his head back. 

After he comes down from his high and pulls out, he stares at your pussy watching your gaping hole pulse and clench around nothing. He pulls his eyes away from the sight and watches you suck on his brother’s cock; he strokes his cock that is already hardening again and speaks to him in na’vi, saying something you didn’t understand. 

Neteyam smiles down at you wickedly as he pulls you up and away from his cock. “Get up evenge (girl)” he says as he pulls you to stand up by your hair. You have no idea what they said but it was so hot listening to them speak in their native tongue. When you are pulled up, your knees buckle almost instantly and you fall forward on to Lo’ak. He barely moves, standing strongly and catches you in his arms. 

He lifts you like you weigh nothing and your legs come to wrap around his thin waist as he brushes stray hairs off your sweaty face. Neteyam comes and press his chest up against you’re back and pushing your chest into Lo’ak’s. You have no energy to hold yourself up so you rest your head on his shoulder. Your eyes feel drowsy and you blink slowly. 

 “Ever had anything up in here sevin (pretty)?” Neteyam ask you while his fingers brush over your puckering ass hole, he drags your mom mixture of cum down to the hole and push one of his fingers in. “No! No please” you feel as if all the tiredness left your body when you jump up trying to get away from his touches but Lo’ak holds you tightly. 

You should have known this was a trap, they were nice to you for no reason when they picked you up like a baby, you should have known they wanted to do something. Neteyam reaches around your body and cut the rope that was bounding you. Your wrist now sported red ligature marks about 3 inches thick, they really made sure you wouldn’t get away.  

All your fussing was for nothing when his finger squeezes into your tight hole deeper, your hands fly to Lo’ak’s back and you grip him as if he could somehow save you. Your nails dig into his skin when Neteyam inserts another finger pumping it a few times before you relax and he pulls out. Lo’ak inserts himself into your overstimulated cunt bottoming out inside you, but this time he didn’t move. 

Neteyam lined his cock head up to your other whole pushing it inside slowly, you felt both of their cocks touch inside you even though it’s in different holes. You head falls back on Neteyam’s shoulder as you babble and plead for them to stop. You hit and scratch at loak while tears fall down your cheeks as you cry your cute ‘nos’ and ‘please stops’.  

They find it sweet how much you are still trying to fight them down and not getting anywhere. When Neteyam bottoms out in your tight hole, you breath heavily as you try to adjust to him. When Lo’ak starts moving Neteyam slowly follows and their cocks move the way their fingers did earlier, they take turns thrusting into you. You cry and plead for them to ‘go slow’ but they pay you no mind, only wrapped up in their own pleasure.  

Eventually they are pounding into you, eyes shut tightly as you feel yourself loosen up enjoying the feeling of both men inside you. One particular thrust has you moaning loudly and they continue hitting that sweet spot. You blabber out nonscience bouncing up and down on both cocks, you have never been stretched out like this before, you’ve never been fucked like this before.

Your mouth agape trying to catch your breath as they use you to chase their own orgasms, the words they spew at you goes in one ear and out the other, you cannot even make out what they are saying, you aren’t even 100 percent sure they were speaking English. When you do cum on Lo’ak’s cock it's with a loud wail, you feel your own cunt pulse, gripping him inside you triggering his orgasm and Neteyam shortly after stuffing you full in both holes making you pass out in between their bodies. 

When you awake you feel a warm body wrapped around yours as you lay on a soft blanket. You observe your surroundings and see Lo’ak sitting a couple feet to the side of you in what looks like a hut, which means Neteyam is curled around you. You raise your head confused as to why you are here, they never killed you, but they also never took you home. You hear the distinct sound of chains moving when you try to stretch your foot and you realized. They have you chained like some kind of vicious dog by your ankle, attached to pole in the center of the hut.  

“Ah you are awake avatar, what is your name?” Neteyam’s chest rumbles as he speaks to you. “I'm not telling you” you feel like you throat was scratching as you swallow some no existent spit. Lo’ak hands you a cup of water and you chug it, “name girl” he says sternly. “y/n” you mumble. 

“Oh, that’ll fit perfectly on your new collar” he gestures to the piece of fabric he was planning on sewing your name into. You aren’t ever getting away from them. 

✨ I hope you enjoyed reading! Likes, reposts and comments are always appreciated!

Taglist:

@strongheartneteyam @rivatar @delusionalwh6re @nilahsstuff @xylianasblog @quicktosimp @xrollingmyeyesx

[yin-shimo]

Converting Fem-Frame Mesh to Masc-Frame

This tutorial assumes you have basic knowledge on blender and sims4studio, so i won’t go over basic things. As always, you’ll need to export the mesh you wish to convert first. Next, open it in blender and switch into edit mode.

Hit ‘UV sync selection’ to make the work easier.

Now, with the ‘L’ key, select only the body parts and separate with the ‘P’ key. Your mesh should look like this:

Then, hide the body (hit ‘H’ key or hit the eye icon in the outliner tab) and import the needed male body mesh. If your object is only a top or only a bottom you may not need the whole male mesh, but just to be safe, I prefer importing both regardless for a better view of how the weights look later.

Before editing the mesh, make sure to merge by distance so nothing breaks or gets crunchy in the sculpting step.

The Main Event:

aka sculpting the mesh to the male body. Go into sculpt mode and select ‘elastic deform tool’, either through the button itself or the keys ‘shift+space 8’. Then make sure to select ‘mirror: x’ in the symmetry tab so that everything you do on one side occurs on the other to keep it all even.

If all's well, when you move around the mesh, your cursor should look like this:

You may need to switch between ‘material view’ and ‘solid’ with x-ray on as shown in my recording to get a good look and keep everything proportional. 

Before moving onto weights, I usually look back at the original female body to see what parts were deleted as an outline for how I will now delete parts from the male body. Visually, the easiest way for me to do this is I select both bodies, with the female pre-highlighted and the male unselected, and then select parts while holding the shift key.

Separate and hide the other meshes, leaving you with something like this:

If you don't see any holes anywhere, we can now move onto weight painting.

Weights

 The first thing you want to do is to look for the cas-breast weights and delete them. Theyre not needed and will only fuck up things later LOL.

Now, go to the ‘spine_1’ weight, it’ll probably look like that, which we dont want. So hit the button ‘weights’ and select ‘normalize all’ as such : 

Spine1 should now look like this

After this point, weight painting is very dependent on the mesh itself, so, the most I can say is to un-hide the rig and rotate various bones to ensure the clothes move properly and/or don’t clip anywhere. If it does, those are the weights you'll need to fix.

When youre done, merge both meshes together and import it. Once it's imported, youll wanna export it again to fix the uv_1.

Why? Because we merged vertices earlier and that impacts the way the uv_1 turns out. Seeing lines go across every side of the mesh negatively impacts the way itll morph on the body in-game. Everything has to fit correctly. Example of a not well uv_1:

Once the mesh is re-imported, separate the body from the dress/clothes so the uv_1 editing happens /only/ to the clothes. Add a complete male mesh again, select your outfit and go to modifier properties and select ‘data transfer’. Make yours look like this:

After applying it, it should look something like this:

And now you're free to combine the two meshes and to merge by distance again!!

Finally, import and check how it looks in game. It's usually never perfect the first time…

How did this dress turn out? Well, like I said, its imperfect still but looks like this in-game atm:

(all mascframe-male)

[twilightofthesandwiches]

Honestly, first time noticing the names in Simon's contact list I was just like 'haha cute references' and didn't pay it much mind. But looking at them again, and really thinking about them. The Implications here, like Most Things About Simon's Life Right Now, are pretty tragic....

Like, Abracadaniel and Lady Island and Gunter (and BMO if you take into consideration the comic's continuity) are not Simon Petrikov's friends, they were Ice King's friends.

You know, like, yeah, everyone except Marcy knew Ice King way way before they got to know Simon. But at least with folks like Finn, finding out about Simon is a huge reason why he started being kinder and friendlier to him. And Bubblegum probably is only fond of Simon know in spite of him being Ice King.

But Abracadaniel and Lady Island liked Ice King without having any frame-of-reference or concept of 'Simon Petrikov' in their heads. They were Ice King's friends.

And Simon's phone is pretty distinctly, like, a realistic early 2000's cellphone. A total contrast to all the magical/sci-fi/cobbled-together looking cellphones everyone else in Ooo uses

And Ice King himself, I'm pretty sure we've only ever seen him use either a normal-looking landline or the Bananaphone

Not this ordinary Nokia-looking flip-phone, definitely.

So I'm assuming this phone was maybe found buried somewhere in the Past Room, or maybe was unearthed while they were preparing for that '20th Century Man' exhibition and Simon also takes it along for personal use. But either way, Simon had to deliberately put those numbers of Friends of the Ice King in his contact list.

It might be something as simple as having transferred the data from some of Ice King's old communication devices and then just... despite it all Simon just doesn't have the heart to delete these names. The same way you or I might not have it in us to the delete the numbers of friends of ages past or increasingly-distant acquaintances or dead relatives.

Or maybe Simon did try and preserve their friendship at first. Or maybe the friends did. And obviously it didn't work out.

I mean, I can kinda see maybe Simon getting along fine with Lady Island because IK was relatively Grounded interacting with her so maybe the change to Simon won't be that much of a difference to her. ....But that can also create problems if she has a hard time seeing the difference between Simon Petrikov and Ice King, that would really make him uncomfortable.

But there really is zero chance Simon managed to keep things going normal with Abracadaniel. A Wizard who originally bonded with Ice King because he saw him as a cool Wizard. Not to mention Gunter is currently a living incarnation of the very Crown that cursed Simon in the first place and a manifestation of Gunter's love of Ice King

so... yeah, I think in Simon's current state any interaction he had with those two was unbearably awkward and just another thing that will make him miss being Ice King in a twisted way.

And yet... despite wanting so badly to define himself as distinctive and different from Ice King ("I didn't write those! Ice King wrote those!") and to not be reminded of him.... Simon still keeps all these people in his contact list.

[drtanner]

You know, I think I'm starting to understand why the sharing culture on this site is such dogshit now.

As I mentioned earlier in the week, I spent several solid hours going through my art and writing tags as far back as 2012 and manually deleting everything I found, including all of my own reblogs, because I don't expect my opt out from having my blogs' data scraped to be honoured, and seeing the difference in the way people interacted with my work back then and the way they interact with it now (or the way they don't interact with it at all, more specifically) was deeply and tragically enlightening.

tl;dr, despite having had a fraction of the followers back then that I have now, as well as being an objectively better artist and writer than I used to be 10+ years ago, my work travelled further and people engaged with it more, and they also sent me asks with drabble prompts and questions about my OCs all the time, whereas none of that happens at all anymore. This place was a lot more communal back in that pre-2016 era and generally a lot more rewarding and fun.

There's been plenty of posts going around over the last few years begging people to reblog because that's how this site works, but every one of those posts always winds up lousy with people saying they just click "Like" on things because they like them but not enough to put them on their own blog, or because they don't want to clutter their blog, or because tagging things is too much effort or whatever, and I'm noticing a pattern. There's something that all of these common responses have in common:

All of these people are wholly concerned with themselves and the way their blog looks, or what their blog is supposed to be for, or some other similarly entirely self-centred point of focus.

Listen. Other people have already tried to explain to you that that's not what this place is about or what this place is for or that you can make as many sideblogs as you want if you're trying to curate something specific, and they've had little success in emparting understanding to you, so I'm going to try a different approach.

Here are ten (10) benefits of reblogging that will make this site more fun and engaging for you, personally! ( b ._.)b

You get to keep the thing for yourself, but you also get to pass it along for other people to play with, too! Best of all worlds. How often do you get to keep a thing and share it?

Look in your Activity after you reblog something you enjoy to find other people who like the same things that you do! This is a terrific way to find new people to follow.

Sometimes you'll make a comment when you reblog something and later find that an awful lot of strangers are reblogging it from you directly for some reason. This is usually because someone else later down the line made a much stupider and worse comment and those strangers are now all clicking on your reblog so that they can reblog the post without that other person's stupider and worse comment on it. I like it a lot when this happens. You can get a lot of new followers this way, too!

Even if you don't have the time or spoons to play with jpegs like dolls yourself, your reblog can put the post in front of those folks who do. Playing with jpegs like dolls is half of what makes this site function; give it a bit of time, and the jpegs will cross your dash again with new additions. As it is with anything you love, set it free, and the love will come back to you one hundredfold. 💜

Look in your Activity after reblogging some art or writing to see people going nuts in the tags. You can also go nuts in the tags if you want; everyone loves seeing this when it happens, especially the artist or writer themselves.

Commenting with your reblog is like raising your hand to share your opinion with the whole room, whereas reblogging with your comment in the tags is more like whispering to the person next to you and keeping it between yourselves. Contrary to what you might have been told by others, both are perfectly fine and good and they each have their place. You can do both on the same reblog, even! Take part in the conversation!

If you're too shy to talk, reblogging without commentary is a lot like parallel play. You're all enjoying the same thing quietly together!

When you reblog things a lot, you'll start to see the same people popping up in your Activity feed all the time. These people are your friends whether you actually talk to them or not.

Stuck for something to say? Point out something you liked about the post! It can be something small! Acknowledging things that make you happy out loud is good for your mental health and also your soul.

Reblogging also invites other people who are doing all of these things to find and follow you!

There's so much to do on here beyond checking your dash and occasionally looking at the For You tab. You can discover all kinds of people and things by making a bit of an effort and having a poke around in your Activity feed and on the blogs of people who interact with the posts you're seeing and passing along! I promise you don't need an algorithm to do this for you; the action of exploring the landscape around you on this website is fun in its own right!

Get out there and see who your neighbours are. 💜