#protecting yourself from false information

[zentarablog]

Top 10 Realities Behind Pizzagate and QAnon (Understanding How Conspiracy Theories Evolve)

In today’s world, we get so much information from the internet, social media, and our friends. It’s awesome to learn new things, but sometimes, ideas spread online that aren’t true at all. These false ideas can be confusing, scary, and sometimes even cause real-world harm. They are often called conspiracy theories. A conspiracy theory is an idea that a secret group is planning something bad,…

[butchcockiness2]

just a reminder that calling covid cautious people "paranoid" or saying we must have "undiagnosed OCD" or "severe anxiety" for spreading truth about the dangers of covid is not only incredibly condescending and literally (i do not use this word lightly) gaslighting, it corroborates fascist and eugenicist rhetoric. covid IS NOT "just a cold." covid reinfections DO increase your likelihood of long COVID and death, including immune system deficit that is not something that can be felt, here's 85+ studies on how covid deteriorates the body. rapid tests DO often and in fact most times give false negatives (taking 3 spaced out helps bridge this gap, and NAAT tests such as the metrix and pluslife have much higher accuracy, those two over 97% each), and masks DO work, particularly well-fitted respirators (kn95/n95/ffp2/3 depending on country; two-way masking is much safer than one-way masking which is why everyone who can needs to mask to protect their community, but one-way masking is still MUCH safer than no masking). masking resources

don't panic or assume your life is over if you have an infection, get as much rest as you can for 6-8 weeks post infection to aid recovery and lower long covid risk (especially do your best to avoid raising your heart rate; this includes watching your heart rate during masturbation and sex!), and do practice harm reduction rather than demanding perfection from yourselves, absolutely.

but do not use "perfect safety is impossible" as an excuse not to care for your community and yourself by masking, do not encourage antimasking by calling covid cautious people paranoid or OCD or mentally ill for putting forth basic truths on our and your reality. there is a conversation to be had about caring for mental health of activists, but gaslighting us and denying the reality we live in is going to make it worse, not better. you are playing into eugenicist rhetoric whether you intend to or not.

this post is a fantastic guide to staying covid safer in your sex life! w more information on safety measures including NAAT tests and how to start re-incorporating exercise and heart rate raising including masturbation after covid infections

to everyone still masking, sending love ❤️ to anyone who stopped, it's never too late to start again!

[monster-effer]

Autistic reader x LaDS headcanons

Summary: My headcanons on how the LADS men would accommodate an autistic!reader. Content: autism mention, fluff, Sylus x reader, Caleb x reader, Zayne x reader, Rafayel x reader, Xavier x reader (separate), perfectionism, rigid routines, self soothing, food cycles, missing social cues, gn!reader besides gendered word mentioned in Rafayel’s part, no reader pronouns mentioned (1.3k wc) A/N: I picked these autistic traits based on my own lived experience. If you don’t see yourself represented here, I’m always open to requests. For my fellow autistic bbs <3 (Also this was my first time writing for all the LADS men, so I hope I accurately depicted everyone)

Sylus – missing social cues

Sylus first noticed that you struggle with reading between the lines during the brooch hunting debacle. You took Luke and Kieran’s teasing remarks and sarcasm as genuine advice to take him down. And this made him wonder, did you really think he could be conquered with a pair of flimsy ‘Evol sealing’ handcuffs and a ‘tranquilizer gun’?

He was initially concerned about how gullible you seemed for a hunter. Until you grew closer and shared your autism diagnosis with him, along with the many ways it affects you.

Since then, Sylus thwarts the numerous pranking attempts from Luke and Kieran. Explaining afterwards that they were either being sarcastic or purposefully feeding you false information for their own entertainment.

He has Mephisto follow you around to make sure no one tries to take advantage of you.

Sylus would thoroughly explain any social cues that happen to go over your head when you’re attending auctions and other events in the N109 Zone. He amusedly raises an eyebrow when he notices a particularly flirty auction participant trying to get your attention. As you leave the event together Sylus teasingly whispers in your ear. “Trying to replace me already sweetie? I’m hurt.”

He goes on to describe the desperate attempts the auction attendee made to get in your good graces that night. And he can’t hold in his chuckle as he watches the confused look on your face morph into embarrassment. From your perspective, you thought they were just being friendly.

Sylus never looks down on you for missing social cues. He is your number one advocate and will serve as your social cues translator anytime you need him to. Because to him, you are perfect just the way you are.

Caleb – rigid routines

Caleb and you have been around each other since childhood. You have been together through so many struggles, triumphs, and discoveries about yourselves. He is very protective of you, bordering on obsessive. But you are his pipsqueak and he will protect you at all costs.

Since you were kids, he’s noticed that you stick to a very rigid routine:

Morning Wake up around the same time everyday Get ready for 1-2 hours Start off the day with a cup of tea

Night Go to sleep around the same time every night Go through your 5-step skincare routine Relax in bed for at least an hour scrolling on your phone/reading a book

But he wasn't sure why you did this.

Caleb has learned the hard way that if either of your routines get disrupted, it can throw everything off.

During his time as a DAA fighter pilot and now as a colonel, he’s become used to following a rigid routine himself. But he does not feel the same need to stick to these routines.

Caleb was the first person you talked to about your autism diagnosis, besides granny. And since he wants to know everything about you, he made sure to research autism thoroughly after your talk. He made it his mission to find out how to accommodate you properly.

He tries his hardest to help you stick to your routines and not add anything last minute to your day.

He makes sure you are not disturbed when you get ready in the morning or settle down for the night.

He has programmed his OTTO-SHD to restock the bathrooms with your skincare products when you begin to run low.

When he has a break from his colonel duties, he makes sure to call you before you normally begin your nighttime routine. Or if he misses that time window, he’ll text you instead and await your response when you are ready.

No matter what you need from him, he will always have your back. Because you are his and he is yours.

Zayne – struggle with expressing emotions/soothing yourself

You were childhood friends with Zayne, but you lost contact for a while before you reunited as adults.

You don’t even have to mention that you’re autistic to Zayne because he can spot another autistic person from a mile away. (He also has access to all your medical records as your primary care physician.)

As your relationship grows, he notices that you struggle with expressing your emotions and knowing how to deal with them. Especially when you are feeling angry or sad.

He discreetly reaches out to a colleague who specializes in working with autistic children and adults. From their conversations Zayne acquires a handful of methods to support you and encourage self-soothing when you get into an emotional funk.

Some days engaging in parallel play helps. Which usually involves him reading while you play a video game in the same room. Or he’ll cook a meal for you both, while you rot on the couch and watch cute cat videos on your phone.

Other days you want to be alone. Zayne has no problem giving you your space. Most of the time he walks around downtown Linkon on the hunt for some sweet treat to share.

Rarely, you want to be held. At first glance, Zayne may seem like a stoic, cold person, but he is the ultimate softie for you. He will cuddle with you for hours. And once you’ve had your fill, he’ll ask if you want to take a walk outside to get your blood circulating again.

You haven’t explicitly told him about your autism diagnosis, but you don’t feel the need to. Zayne makes you feel seen, and he wholeheartedly accepts you for who you are.

Rafayel – perfectionism

Although Rafayel is an artist, he does not suffer from perfectionism when it comes to his paintings. He lets the paintbrush and whimsy guide him.

When he "accidentally" meets you again, your perfectionism sticks out to him. He recalls you almost crying during a pottery class when you notice a bump on the vase you made that was fresh out of the kiln. Or how you agonize over the most minute details when he convinces you to paint with him.

When you confide in him that you have autism, he listens intently as you explain how it influences you. After you’re done, he's already came up with a plan.

Rafayel begins by getting you to paint more with him and offering reassurance when it doesn’t turn out how you would have liked it to.

He waxes poetic about how making mistakes is just a part of the journey. He digs up recordings of Bob Ross’ Joy in Painting series for you because that painter reframes mistakes as happy accidents.

He is overly dramatic and silly with you while you create art together so he can prevent you from spiraling into perfectionist tendencies.

Once you start to worry less about messing up when you paint, it carries over into other creative activities. Rafayel hopes that this change will eventually bleed into your everyday life as well. Because you are his queen, and he would do anything to make you happy.

Xavier – food cycles/safe foods

It is no secret that Xavier enjoys eating. And luckily you two have that in common.

But the more time you spend together, the more he notices that your eating habits are cyclic.

For weeks you’ll only want chicken nuggets and broccoli, once you get tired of that you’ll switch to wanting hot pot, then you’ll transition into only wanting peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for every meal.

He’s also witnessed you burst into tears over your favorite brand of snack changing their formula or being discontinued.

At first, Xavier was confused. He settled on believing you have strong and long-lasting cravings. But when you told him that you have autism, and explained how it manifests in your life, he leaned fully into accommodating you.

When you two are paired up on a mission together, he hands over your current favorite snack when you have some downtime.

When you are both free, he comes down to your apartment to eat your current favorite meal with you.

He has a collection of stamp cards from the local restaurants you two frequent depending on the current food cycle you’re going through.

Xavier never makes you feel weird about your eating habits, because he will happily eat whatever you want. You are his partner, and he would go through great lengths to help you feel safe and happy.

[reikoknshii]

Perhaps...a Date?

Francis Mosses - Milkman

꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊

Its been weeks you've been working for the D.D.D. , you stayed in your work station and do the usual works.

However, those days passed, you got yourself a motivation whenever he check in. Who? The famous milkman of town, Francis Mosses.

What makes him special? Was it his tired eyes? His soft and deep voice whenever he greeted you for checking in? You have no idea..

All you know you were smitten for the exhausted milk delivery man, and you can tell if he is the real one or not. Though there are times you almost let in the doppelganger because on how they almost perfect their form of Francis, either way you never let it in or else you'll be in trouble for cause of death of the apartment residents.

This day he's one of the listed entry resident, perhaps you can have a longer conversation with him?

You inhaled and exhaled as you open the metal window to start your work.

Angus...

Izaack...

Elenois and her Twin Selene..

Where is Francis?

You grew impatient after checking in four people and making sure they're not a doppelganger. Atlas Francis arrived, Tired as usual as he shows his entry request.

Odd...

' Perhaps he's a doppelganger? '

You tapped on the window trying get his attention , when he noticed you questioned where is his Id.

"My Id? My apologies, i forgot to show my Id" He said softly and audible for us to hear from the other glass side of the window.

' looks like everything is in check..wait hold on a minute '

You decide to double check his appearance and his ID, soon enough checking his files and you found the false thing about him.

"I don't remember Francis having a Mole"

"FUCK!" Cursed the doppelganger as he grew angry. This isn't the first time they would be angry, they almost got it perfect but fail because of a small detail.

"I didn't take that into account.

You're not easy to fool.

That makes me want to devour you even more." You shivered as they banged on the protected glass window , you immediately closed the metal cover.

"Can I visit you at night while you sleep? " the doppelganger said from the other side as they continue to hit on the metal cover.

"Yeah no thanks pal, I'd let francis in but not you" you jokingly said and dialed the D.D.D. services.

"Oh? Looks like the stationed guard is hoping for a mutual feeling, ill get you next time.." You immediately regret saying that, especially to a doppelganger, Knowing full well they would use the information they know against you.

You heard the D.D.D. services arrived and waited for it to finish. Soon the cleaning services opened the metal door telling you the 'operation cleaning is done and you may resume your work.'

You felt like a stupid hopeless romantic, now the doppelganger knew you're into Francis and would take that into their account to try getting in.

Soon enough, the real Francis arrived.

He showed both of his ID and Entry request.

ID and expiration date? Good.

Entry Request? Seem Accurate enough.

Appearance? perfect.

Your hands shakes as you checked the list as Francis waited for you to speak.

"Is it all good?" He asked with his usual tired voice as you nodded your head and waited for you to open the door.

"I-" you stammer wanting to say something as Francis stared at you.

"Yes?."

"...i-i well..." You started as you scratch the back of your head. "P-perhaps a date ? Only if you're available" you asked as Francis tired eyes widen abit from your offer.

"..That wouldn't be bad, tomorrow sounds good?" He asked with a slight smile , making your face go red from the overwhelming joy and excitement.

"Y-yes! Please!" You blurt out and realized you look so eager in front of him.

"Alright, mind opening the door for me now?" Francis asked as he carried his ID and work bag , You covered your face embarrassed on how you react to his answer and opened the metal door for him.

"See you Y/n "

[genericpuff]

I've been griping about the normalization of identity outing via social media for a while now. To put it simply, it's become almost some weird societal requirement that if you don't have every detail listed about yourself in your Twitter/FB/etc. bio, then it means you have "something to hide" or that you're not as "verifiable" because your account looks indistinct from that of a bot.

But that societal norm has really only benefited the people who profit off of that information in some way, whether it's through selling user data or through weaponizing details about a person against them.

I know that a lot of us love to use the fun little labels and acronyms in our bio that help others like us identify us as a 'safe person' or as someone who's in the same social/racial/identity groups as them. We're humans, we love to categorize things, it's in our nature (and it's fun!)

But if there's any time to start regulating that habit and challenging the norm that you're obligated to include all your personal info online - it's now.

There was a time when sock puppet accounts were expected and typical, not "suspicious".

There was a time when even age-sex-location was considered "too much information", but once it became the norm, we only EVER gave our personal information beyond generic ASL to people who we knew both online and in real life, or at the very least, people who we had known online for a significant enough amount of time that they had proved to be trustworthy (and even then, we didn't owe that information to anyone, ever; there are forum friends who I made online 10+ years ago and still talk to who do not know my personal information beyond broad strokes).

There was a time when simply being an avatar with a funny username was enough. And it still is enough, but massive platforms like Facebook and Twitter have been brainwashing us for years to believe that's not the case, under the guise of, "You wouldn't want to be dishonest, would you?" Through these same norms, we were led to believe that anime profile pictures are cringe, that having a fake online name is stupid, that the photos of you having fun at social events have to be taken JUST right otherwise you might imply to others that you're not actually having fun.

And considering how long these platforms have been around now, we have entire generations of children now who have been born and raised on that version of the ZuckMusk web, who have been taught that it "protects them" to express to everyone publicly their age, their school, their workplace, their family members, everything about themselves, because to not do so would be disingenuous.

None of this is to imply that the Internet was "safer" back in the day. I definitely should not have been on the Internet as much as I was when I was 13 in the late 2000's, it definitely did not benefit my brain development or my social skills. But the version of the Internet we currently exist in now is one that's been predicated on the false sense of security - the belief that if you're honest, everyone else has to be, too.

We've always had ways of identifying our safe people - by participating in the communities that we know are designed around our hobbies, our interests, our people. They might be small, they might not be as "cool" as the idea of netting yourself a big following of thousands of people, but they're also a lot safer and more genuine than that idealized following ever could be.

Don't feel pressured to include every bit of information about yourself in your bio. Even on Facebook, there's no rule that says you have to list your workplace, your school, your family members. There's no rule that says you have to list your personality type, queer labels, and neurodivergent disorders in your Twitter bio. There's no rule that you have to "prove" your life is real and fulfilled through the verification of photos, location tagging, and open-book sharing. If you share those photos, it should be because you genuinely want to share them, not because you feel some societal pressure to live up to others' expectations.

And I guarantee you, even your local mutuals on Facebook - your former classmates, family friends, distant relatives, coworkers, etc. - do not actually give that much of a damn about your personal life that they should be owed that much of a look into it on a daily basis. They've got their own shit going on, they literally do not need to know every detail about you.

I know it sounds scary. It also sounds kind of boring, when we've been used to a certain "way" of browsing and participating for years, that if we don't do so, it feels like being in the "out group" and that we're "breaking the rules". But I promise you, after spending over half my life online, those rules do not exist or benefit anyone who wouldn't profit off that information.

If you're wanting to learn how to branch off from major platforms like Facebook and Twitter and/or become more self-sufficient online, here are some guides to navigating the Internet like an old schooler that may help you!

FREE SITE BUILDER:

DIGITAL PIRACY 101:

(also in addition to everything mentioned here ^^^ they neglect to also mention Tor Browser which is a light and free-to-use browser software that allows you to browse anonymously; note that it's similar to a VPN in that it helps hide your identity online, HOWEVER it won't mask you from your ISP quite as effectively as a VPN, and if you sign into personal accounts with Tor, that's still going to obviously out you online lmao but I love using Tor for the odd time when I need to make a sock puppet for something and don't want it linked to my IP! and unlike a VPN, it's free to use!)

LEARN HOW TO USE RSS FEEDS:

People still use these! They're especially helpful for getting updates from your favorite pages and sites directly to your browser WITHOUT having to worry about stupid algorithm bullshit picking and choosing what you see. And many sites DO have RSS support once you know how to find it! (like adding in /rss at the end of a URL! Like this!)

FAKE EMAIL SERVICES:

LEARN HOW TO CODE IN HTML/CSS/JAVASCRIPT (AND MORE!):

DECENTRALIZED SOCIAL MEDIA PLATFORMS:

I hope this helps arm you with some new knowledge in how to navigate the Internet like a Certified Old Person™️(like meeee!) Make your secret alt blogs for besties! Make your formal Facebook accounts that are clean of personal information and present the most neutral, safe-for-work version of yourself and keep the fun stuff to the secret profiles and chat groups that are just for you and friends/family/etc!! It might be "inconvenient" to have multiple accounts for the same purpose, but it's also INCREDIBLY freeing and can make your online experience both safer and more enjoyable.

Being "less" of yourself online does not make you any less you. It is your identity - you do not owe any amount of it to anyone beyond yourself. And in times like these, your identity is your greatest asset. Protect it.

[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!!!!!

[moonveiltarot]

What in the FUCK is their PROBLEM with you?! PT 2. quickie reading

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As usual this is for entertainment purposes only, not everything will resonate with everyone, I am not a professional, this is not advice.

Four piles to choose from again.

What is that person's actual problem with you pt 2?! This can be the same person you asked about in the previous reading or a different one.

These types of readings can make us feel seen / heard when we're dealing with a literal c**t bag. ):

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1.) songs: deserve each other - bludnymph. the cost of giving up - poppy. astrology: leo, aquarius, sagittarius, pisces

They showed their bare a$$. Or basically they showed their true colors. They liked being sneaky; scheming, plotting and executing their evil plans. This brought them joy and false sense of power.

You knowing the truth of what they did or how they move ripped that pleasure right out of their soul. You snatched that mask right off of that person's face.

You saw their behaviors and maybe even warned others of them. Regardless of whether other people knew / did anything about it or not, you distanced yourself and you cut them off (or you will, because you're smart).

Some of you drawn to this reading, you might even have evidence to drop or already have posted, shared or spread the information.

They hate that their true colors are out for all to see. You exposed or soon will expose their insecurities and make them feel put in the spotlight, but in a bad way. Like they're having everything they did wrong illuminated.

If they had help or helped someone destroy your life, relationship, friendship or anything that you cared about, out of sheer meanness, they are stuck with that group. They hate each other and are at each others' throats. They all are afraid of someone going rogue.

They may have done something so evil it had your mental health in a chokehold. You have seen some serious darkness in them. They are so deeply disturbed over the fact that you know exactly what is up.

2.) songs: zombified - falling in reverse. my demons - starset. astrology: gemini, aquarius, taurus (may specifically?), virgo

They get a front row seat to seeing you win. You're coming into a season of abundance ad blessings.

Or you just won something and it garnered attention. This could be a game, triatholon, a scratchcard, a baby shower game… anything where you won.

They have to watch you eat a feast that they wish they deserved. They could have tried to knock you off your throne. Seeing you in an abundant position makes them feel incredibly "lacking" in a particular area. Which area? It depends on your person and their insecurities. Like they might have a lack mindset or insecurities about how their percieved by the public… Hm. Pile 3 has messages about people wantingto be perceived a certain way in the public, so check it out if you're drawn to.

This is a greedy, jealous and almost delusional person. Their sense of entitlement is not right. This person may seem to have everything handed to them, but you may have noticed not very many people are around them. Like they have one simp and a cousin that is overly attached to them for some reason. Oddly specific example … anyway, this person is not adored in the same way you are. They feel like you're being given something and they think "why not MEEEE?! who does pile 2 think they are?!" I specifically heard "who does she think she is??" but place your own pronouns if this resonates.

This individual is vengeful. You ARE protected. They are about to show everyone how greedy they really are with an act of enraged entitlement. Others will not be scared or impressed, only disgusted. They will avoid this person and stop viewing them as a human. They will block this person out for good. The person you inquired about, pile 2, is sadly mentally incapable of having empathy.

Your light doesn't touch them, they cannot understand it. They only understand it is something valuable to be held and adored, to be looked upon with love and appreciation. But you know it was Hell and High water to get the privilege you have. This person is jealous and doesn't even have the capacity, mentally, to understand. Note: This person is out of touch partly because of social media. Maybe they have an addiction to it or only live online? They think real-world consequences do not exist / adhere to them. They are truly out of touch. Touching grass is not enough to fix them. They need a 5150. Stat

3.) songs: the devil is a gentleman - merci raines. fairly local - twenty one pilots. paint the town red - doja cat. astrology: cancer, libra, leo year of the dog, valentine's day?, capricorn, january 1st … so that was random and not just astrology, but i'mma leave it here.

This person sees you being percieved by the public in the same way they want to be. They like how the public responds to you and want it for themself. They want to be like you and they might even want to have your partner too. Or they want to be your partner and take your current partner's place. They see you enjoying something beautiful. A truly happy marriage or relationship. They are going to try to turn you against someone who is actually good for you.

They will try to disguise themself as a true friend. They will lie and deceive as often as they have to in order to maintain their public image. They are fake as fuuuuuuccckkkkk, pile 3. You might have even fallen for it.

They want others to think it's you or your partner / friend that is the deceptive one, but it's them. Their a liar… they plan to gossip and scheme while you aren't around.

Ugh, if they invited you into a friend group, the others are afraid to talk to you. They are afraid to talk to you because of something this person has done or said. They are afraid of hurting this person's feelings. Or afraid of this person's reaction. They are probably confused, but since it's the "clique-ish" thing to do, they decided to turn their backs on you too. They might be kind to you, but just barely acknowledge you, looking back to the person you asked about. And then back to you. Then back to the person. Just awkward vibes. Because they aren't mean by design. They just fear the social consequences of upsetting or doing wrong by your person.

This could be someone who is relatively popular who sees that you have some kind of talent of any sort. If you don't already, you possibly could. If you got a platform, this scares this person.

You know what they are really like behind closed doors too. They know you know who they are.

They are evil as Hell and they act all goody-two-shoes on the surface. They are vindictive, jealous and mean. This slips out in passive aggressive ways. They give "spoiled bitch princess who acts like they never do anything wrong and have main character syndrome and act like their bratty bullshit is actually adorable to anyone on the planet." Long winded, but true. The thing is, it's forced. You won't let them impose themselves on you or what you have going on. You won't gossip with them. You shut that shit down. You aren't evil like them, you're genuine and that's why they perceive you as a threat.

You probably noticed some passive aggressive behavior from them. Relative, co-worker, colleague, peer of some sort, ex friend, ex partner… whatever they are to you, they are jealous of you period. They know that you could dethrone them in front of god and every body, so they're doing dirty work and fast to make it look like you're way more evil than you are. They are setting up scenarios too. But people are catching on. They're in such a hurry to do this stupid shit others are able to see it. Like they won't talk? If they gossiped with your person, they will gossip with each other about your person.

Anyway, don't worry about this. Their insecurities and immaturity is so sad and pathetic. It's obvious to everyone they run to. They're destroying their own image. Their jealousy is destroying them. Because they are too motivated by it.

You're also in your own stratosphere and they can't infiltrate. Here's an example: You cosplay or are in a band or something. They are cookie cutter prep. You post a hot cosplay that gets lots of attention, maybe a week or two before Halloween. Come Halloween, this person has a shabby costume and it looks like a direct rip off of your own cosplay or it's from the same cartoon or series. Just one obvious example. It's annoying, but not dangerous. Your strength of character and actions speak for you. Your buddies or friends, or even just yourself, in this situation are like ... "bro is this person okay? Like??? Dafuq?" They think they are competing and eating you up, but they don't even understand the culture. They aren't some new person trying to gain inspo or be like you, they are trying to out do you and simply lack what it takes. They probably don't even notice this about themselves.

The icing on this shit cake is that you. do. not. even. give. a. damn. You don't even care about / aren't even affected by their bullying tactics. It's giving toddler trying to bullying a grown ass adult, but physically everyone in the situation is grown up.

4.) song: It's 3am, come ride with me.. by Ksunemoto (this is a midnight rides on a motorcycle kind of reading). astrology: gemini, pisces, sagittarius, aquarius

This person wants to skin walk you. They are scary … I mean, I can see that their mind is twisted up. This is a person who could become truly empty and unempathetic. I don't want you to be scared or think you're gonna be a true crime victim. I'm seeing it not going that far. You probably already know this person is being weird around you. They are stalking you to be like you. If you EVER feel like you're in danger from someone tell the proper authorities. This will be a guidance counselor or police. The police aren't saviors, but having this on record is a good idea. Anyway, only if they truly scare you.

I don't like to give scary messages. So, know that you are protected from this person. They are going to end up making themselves look embarrassing. The potential of them doing something crazy is there, I can see that. But I know they won't go that far. You are so protected from this. This person is a social pariah, really. They try to emulate humans and just keep failing to do so. It's kind of sad… but they are bothering you because they keep showing up. They might just stare from afar.

I see that this person has had a hard time integrating with peers and society in general. Instead of owning that, they are trying to become someone others like and admire. They think this about you. The truth, that they may not even see, is that they are the one pedestalizing you. They think you are cool and beloved and everything they think they have to be in order to be loved, adored, like, accepted etc.

They may have been shamed out of being their natural self and so they have resentment and admiration both. This makes me sad, but you cannot be their friend.

Keep your distance. They are too sick right now to understand friendship, how to hold onto it and how to appreciate it. They are vengeful and angry, not with you per se, but with society. They resent you for having what they believe they never could.

They are in this loop because they keep trying to fit into society's mold of "perfect" or "ideal." They haven't yet learned that there is so much pwoer in their authenticity. This person may have even killed that part of themself. Their inner child may be… gone. Permanently.

There is no need to try and help, just go your own way and avoid run ins with them if possible. Keep your distance and they will find someone else to latch onto. For some readers: This person could be ND (neurodivergent) and if that's the case, they are just observing you, but do not have an actual problem with you. Have compassion for them, be kind and move about your life.

Disclaimer: Hey, so … I know tarot is not a tool for diagnosing, treating or advising anyone about mental health or disorders of any sort. I'm not trying to do that. My readings are colored by the experiences I've had. I'm using the examples spirit is bringing to my mind. That's all. As always, tarot is just a tool to see where you are on your journey. Always use your best judgement, this is not advice and I am *not* a professional of any sort. You can always manifest a different circumstance and a different outcome for any situation. Simply demand your desire and proclaim it as already done. Be safe, well wishes, toodle-oo~ 💖

[delirious-donna]

I Will Possess Your Heart [Nanami Kento]

an: I started thinking about Curse User!Higuruma and naturally that led to me writing... Curse User!Nanami (why am I like this?). I haven't explored this AU for him before so please be kind <3

pairing: Nanami Kento x female reader

warnings: dub-con (reader is willing but the warning is there so take it how you wish), Curse User AU, slight yandere behaviours, toxic traits, spanking (with open palm), unprotected sex, thoughts of baby trapping, breeding kink

Masterlist

For weeks you had been on edge. Conscious of the impossible presence that seemed to lurk in every shadowy recess, the malicious whisper of laughter on every breath of wind and the scent of someone who was long gone. Were you afraid? You should be, but you weren’t. 

In the back of your mind, if the faint traces of Cursed Energy that you sensed before disappearing as quickly as they emerged were real, it meant that he wasn’t dead, that he hadn’t been captured and executed as you had been informed.

Satoru swore he was dead, that you should put him out of your mind and move on. Especially after his betrayal, after his bloody rampage that took out more sorcerers from the three big families than any Curse User in the past twenty years. Yet, you loved him. Grew up standing right beside him until… 

Kento snapped.

You shook off the feeling of unease that had followed you around all day like a personal spectre, finally kindling the sense of security that came with approaching your apartment. It was new to you, decked out in the highest-grade security equipment that money—specifically Jujutsu High’s money—could buy.

Whilst it didn’t quite feel like home, at least you were protected. You waved at the guard posted in the entrance hall, smiling when they blushed and turned their eyes from you, a scowl creasing their brow. Shaking your head in humorous exasperation, you travelled the remaining distance to your front door with the tension of the day melting from your shoulders.

Little did you realise that the precious bubble of safety you believed yourself to be protected by was about to pop like a thorn piercing an overinflated balloon. 

Kento observed from the shadows, watching, seething. They’d moved you. Lied to you. Kept his name from caressing your tongue, and he had more than had enough. He hated the games played by the higher-ups of the Jujutsu world, hated the politics and strategic alliances of the big three families which were no more than thinly veiled facades to cover the knife in the back that was around every corner. Power play far worse than the corporate drudgery he had tried to escape to, though he was ashamed to admit how long it took for him to finally open his eyes to it all.

They deserved what had transpired. He would ensure that the pain he inflicted would only be the first taste of his retribution. Hate was too emotional a word to use for those he considered to be less than human, and it was his mission to be the one to eliminate them all. Perhaps, Suguru had been right all along.

You were the exception, the one and only person he wanted to protect from the white-hot fury that poured through his veins like magma spewing from an erupting volcano, its path steady and devastating. He was still furious, and rightly so. The second you turned your face from his, he felt the last shreds of his bruised heart wither in his chest. You turned to Satoru and Shoko instead of moving towards him. You chose to remain in a world that cast him out, that actively tried to hunt and bring him down. 

He refused to believe that you had picked them over him. No. You were bewitched by the six eyes, hoodwinked by a false narrative that they were the good ones, and he was the monster. Kento couldn’t blame you, he had believed the lies for just as long and it was only now that he stood on the outside, peering in, that he could recognise the lies for what they were. 

It would be okay. He would enlighten you. After he punished you.

The front door unlocked with a quiet snick; the interior bathed in cool darkness that held no hint of the impending situation. Your fingers instinctively found the light switch, flicking it once and then twice when the bulb didn’t flare to life as it should. Click click click. Had there been a power outage? No, the neighbouring apartments were as well-lit as normal. 

Something crunched underfoot when you stepped deeper into your apartment, and that was when you realised the trap you had fallen into. Only then did your nose inhale the warm scent which had plagued you for all these long weeks, the rich aroma of expensive coffee mixed with leather and spices you couldn’t name. Only now did it intertwine with coppery, bitter notes of blood and the unforgettable reek of death. An impossibly hard body slammed into your back, sending you tumbling forward and only just catching yourself before your knees slammed into what you now knew was the broken glass of the bulb above.

The bodily contact lasted all of one second before he disappeared again. Your eyes had yet to adjust to the pure darkness that no longer felt comforting, and fear kept you from bathing yourself in the brilliance of your Cursed Energy, certain it would only help him target you all the quicker. Instead, you slapped a hand over your mouth to silence the sound of your breathing, crouching into a defensive position and fumbling forward. You weren’t as intimately familiar with the layout of this apartment as you were with the one you had lived in prior. All you could do was control the pulse of fear thrumming through your body and ignore the competing reaction that spoke of hungry anticipation. 

Kento smirked, head canting sideways whilst he watched you flail pathetically. If you wanted him dead, then he would already be a corpse on the floor, but that would never be the case, would it? His eyes had long adjusted to the absence of light, gaze following you around the room as you bumped into furniture and flinched at every touch. He could smell the terror escaping your pores. He could almost taste the frantic beat of your pulse on his tongue. Patience wasn’t a new concept to him, but right now... he found his fingers flexed deep into his thighs.

He waited until the kitchen island was at your back, stepping with silent footsteps around you and leaning back against the granite. You moved in a slow, perfect circle with your arm outstretched. Your fingertips came within an inch of grazing his abdomen, but alas, his calculations were as perfect as ever. When your back was to him once more, both arms shot out to tug you with one forceful effort into his chest. You struggled; arms pinned by your sides, but his hold was impenetrable as it always had been.

“Kento?” 

Kento laughed and even to his ear it sounded cold and devoid of emotion. “A silly question,” he answered. His voice was rough, unused for many days and the effect resulted in a ripple of something unspeakable down your spine, dripping—dripping—until you swallowed harshly and tried to twist your head around to see him.

“I think not... that luxury will be earned. I didn’t take you for such a silly girl,” Kento mocked, tightening his hold on your biceps until you squirmed in painful discomfort. “But then again, I didn’t take you for someone who would abandon me, and I was proven wrong there.”

You felt the temperature of his body skyrocket. His essence crept into you in every imaginable way, tendrils of his fiery anger licked against your bones and whilst you wanted to sob at this unexpected reunion, the rational part of your brain roared to life. He left you! He abandoned his friends and colleagues. He broke the hearts of the students who looked up to him, and yours... your heart hadn’t even begun to mend. The relief you should have felt for knowing what that poor shell of a heart had done all along, that he wasn’t dead, was a secondary reaction.

“I didn’t abandon you. How dare you say that... I thought you were dead!” 

“Did you now? I guess I should add stupid to your list of transgressions, or perhaps gullible would be more fitting. Since when did you take everything the six eyes tells you as gospel?” Kento gripped your chin with finger and thumb, the scent of his skin so close to your nose that the salty tang invaded effortlessly. With one fluid movement, he wrenched your head around and pressed a hot kiss to your lips.

The action was so unexpected that you gasped into the depths of his mouth, lips parted in surprise and Kento refused to miss the opportunity to let his tongue curl past your teeth and stroke along the pink muscle he had long admired and desired above all else. He tasted like coffee, nothing to be surprised by, given his penchant for the most expensive French roast. What did blindside you, aside from the kiss itself, was the sweet caramel that chased those bitter notes. Even now, the mellow caramel burst upon your tastebuds and brought an abundance of saliva to your mouth. The kiss was heady, all teeth and tongues, until it ended abruptly, and you were shoved forward.

It was a well-aimed push to propel you over the seat of the kitchen stool, and he smiled when he heard the air knock loose from your lungs. Before you could brace your arms onto the plush leather padding and try to stand, he moved up and let his heavy palm rest at the back of your neck, squeezing firmly. “Hold onto the legs of the stool, let’s see if you can redeem yourself.”

Did you wish to redeem yourself? Did you even believe you had anything to atone for? Shockingly, your hands trailed lower until your fingers curled around the cool brushed metal. Your heart was in your throat. Tears threatened to sting your eyes but only the desire to grit your teeth and prove that you were still the woman he had once trusted above all others outweighed your loyalty to the people trying to protect you. Keeping you in the dark was no protection, it was no life to lead when the man at your back no longer looked upon you with that crinkle of warm hazel eyes that you loved.

“There’s a good girl. I knew you’d come around to my way of thinking with the right incentive,” he cooed whilst leaning over the curve of your spine and planting one wet kiss to the juncture between your neck and shoulder. With his lips so close to your ear, a rumble of laughter was followed by words you never dreamed of hearing from him. “Imagine how receptive you’ll be when I fit my cock in your pretty little cunt.” 

Happy with your position, and certain you weren’t going to go crashing to the floor, he let his hand loosen from your neck and traversed the path of your spine. His fingertips grazed over every bump and ridge beneath the thin material of your blouse until his palm found your backside. He pawed at you once, filling his broad hand with the meat of you and imagining himself doing this to you on both sides without the barrier of clothing in his way whilst his heavy cock sawed between the cleft of your cheeks. There would be time for that, all the time in the world if he had his way.

Your eyes had finally adjusted to the lack of light, the shapes of your apartment now visible and yet you chose to squeeze your eyes shut to it all. It heightened your remaining senses, the even breathing of your captor injected with muffled little noises of satisfaction when you complied without question. His hand rounded your hip, kneading you before searching for the button and zipper of your trousers. At that, your eyes flew open, and a startled squeak escaped your tight throat. It didn’t deter him—oh no—if anything he delighted in your reaction, slowing the descent of your zipper so that every scrape of metal against metal as the teeth released tore at your nerves until they were frayed.

“Lift,” he commanded, crouched low at your feet and tapping your ankle until you did as requested and your trousers were divested of you completely. The air-conditioning was conveniently not on, leaving your bare legs to feel prickly and clammy with the warm air permeating the room and worsened by the heat of Kento’s hands as they slid from heel to backside. 

He hummed when they reached the waistband of the black thong which did so very little to cover your modesty. You wriggled, experiencing the weight of his hungry stare and clenching your thighs together in the hopes of hiding the small yet very obvious damp spot on the cotton. “If I didn’t know any better, I would have said you were expecting my visit… you wouldn’t let anyone else see these, would you?”

Rough calluses scraped your soft derriere, toying with the fabric that disappeared between your cheeks and cupped your beautiful sex. You mewled out a ‘no’, readjusting your hold on the legs given how sweaty your palms had become and basked in the answering grunt of appreciation when your backside swayed in nothing but pure temptation. Kento wanted to rip apart the threads holding him back from you, to take out his cock that had been pulsing for release since before you even entered the apartment and force your walls to accommodate him. Fuck… he would envelop you in him—only him. 

Rub his scent right into your untainted soul until it was soiled just like he wanted. 

Paint your womb with his seed with the chance of it taking. His eyes rolled over at the thought alone.

Later.

He would see you ruined beneath him soon enough, he merely needed to get your punishment over. Kento needed to hear your apology—heartfelt and sobbed through a veil of tears. Without warning his palm reared back and with the sound of a whipcrack he brought it down against your right cheek. You struggled, bucked at the impact that forced your eyes to bulge and your throat to convulse. Only his palm at the middle of your back kept you in position.

The pain was not as immediate as you assumed it would be. It was more the startle of having it happen so unexpectedly that kicked you into action, on the heels was the warm tingle of your backside. Pulses of pain moved outwardly from the impact site like a stone causing ripples on a calm lake. “Ken—"

“Uh uh. This is not time for speaking,” he chided with a click of tongue against perfectly white teeth and a tone that silenced you instantly. “This is the least you could endure after you ripped my heart out of my chest and crushed it beneath your heel. Ten. That will suffice, and then we can converse like proper adults. Until then, the only words out of those pretty lips are going to be the number we are on.”

He didn’t even wait for your reply, knowing that you would take whatever he chose to gift you like a champ. You were strong, always had been, and this was nowhere near enough to break your spirit. Kento didn’t want that, he wanted the real you that he had fallen for all those years ago as an emotionally stunted young man. You would come to understand his point of view when presented enough evidence and he had stacks of that to show you. Not now. Later, he thought again. So much had to wait but patience was his forte. 

Standing to his impressive height, he skimmed his palm over your tender backside and let out a bark of laughter when you tensed, waiting for what was to come. He waited until you relaxed, listening to your breathing mellow before delivering a short, hard smack to your left side. “Good girl,” he murmured thickly when you hissed out a ‘two’ from between clenched teeth. 

Kento was painfully hard; the length of his cock pressed stubbornly down the leg of his trousers to lay trapped against his thigh. His every inhale was like a knife to his groin, every squeeze of the muscles in your backside was a torture that he was inflicting upon himself. He twitched, precum dribbling down his thigh and turning the golden hairs of his legs sticky and wet. He would see this through. It was for the greater good, of that, he was convinced.

The repetition was agony. A vicious cycle that felt like it would never end though you had a target so close yet so far. A wealth of salty tears sprung from your eyes, falling to the floor to gather as a pitiful little puddle given the gravity of your head and body. Blood rushed through your ears; the pounding of your pulse nearly loud enough to drown out the weight of the smacks levelled against your arse. The plump tissue ached endlessly, throbbing to its own beat and it left you trapped inside your head. 

This was Kento—your Kento—delivering a punishment he deemed necessary, and you poked at his earlier words. If you were honest with yourself, you had suspected that the attraction between you was a mutual one and that the feelings ran deeper than either of you was willing to admit. You pondered how you would have felt if he had been the one to turn from you, taking the morality of who was wrong and right out of the equation, you would have been devastated.

Noiselessly, you wept for the connection you had lost all those months ago. You should be repulsed by the blood that stained his hands, but you couldn’t find it in you when all you wished to do was pull those bloodied hands to your mouth and suck the fingers between your lips. How badly you wanted to hear him groan in pleasure, to cup your face and drag his thumb over the swell of your bottom lip until it bounced back into place. 

“Ten…” 

Kento’s harsh breathing became apparent, the sound building in your ears whilst you dared not move an inch. Sweat caked your skin—hot and uncomfortable—it slid over the natural dips and curves of your frame, and you knew your face was warm enough to cook eggs. Your fingers slid against the metal legs resulting in a loud squeak and you winced… waiting, suspended in a moment that couldn’t last forever, the spell would be broken but by whom?

The rustle of clothing popped the bubble you were both suspended in, the telltale jangle of a metal belt buckle and stammered curses brought your focus behind you, your head turning to find Kento with an expression you had never seen before and undressed from the waist down. He looked like he was ready to explode. A thick vein popped from his temple, throbbing against the etched scowl and snarled mouth. You moaned and his eyes snapped to you, lips curling back from teeth to show you the ferocity firing through his veins.

Without a word, Kento moved you, so you were bent over the kitchen island, and you sighed from the reprieve of the awkward position you had been forced to hold. The buttons of your blouse skittered across the kitchen tiles when two powerful hands fisted either side of them and ripped it open. His mouth and hands were everywhere and all at once.

“You’ve no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” he admitted. Wet kisses decorated the side of your neck, lips moulding over your pulse and humming happily at the frantic rhythm that mirrored his own. The brush of his bare thighs against yours elicited a guttural groan, taking the opportunity to reach back and scratch at the rough undercut at his nape, fingers delving into his hair and pressing him deeper into the crook of your neck whilst he marked you as his.

“…’m sorry, Kento. Please forgive me,” you sobbed brokenly, completely torn between burning joy and icy regret. An urgent hand pressed between your legs, thick fingers prodding and feeling the sopping fabric slick with arousal and sculpted to the molten heat of your swollen lips.

“Fuck. Save your apologies. I’ll hear them later, preferably whilst you’re gagging around my cock.”

Your backside rippled from the impact of his pelvis slamming into you, pulling a pained hiss from your lips. Kento chuckled darkly, the heat of your abused flesh warming that part of his soul that refused comfort until this very moment. He had no time to spare to remove your underwear, having used up all his patience in the measured delivery of his hand against your perfect behind. Ignoring the sharp prickling sensation radiating in his palm, he simply shoved them aside until he could push his heavy cock through. He wanted to ask if you were this wet because of the spanking or if you were merely pleased to see him, but the beastly part of his brain was firmly in the driver’s seat.

He was merciless; kicking your feet apart to widen your stance, tapping the fat head of his cock against your swollen clit and roaring in triumph when you pushed back against him. One second, he was teasing you, the next he was notched at your cunt and shunting himself forward. Kento gripped your hip, pulling you back whilst he worked inside, and the stretch was exactly what you expected. Every inch tickled your insides, thick veins stark and massaged by gummy walls made to take him.

“That’s it… there we go. God, look at you. Your pretty pussy is sucking me in… mm, more? All yours, sweetheart.” He crooned his lust-roughened rhetoric, and all you could do was hold onto the counter so your knees wouldn’t give out entirely. They shook with the force of his thrusts whilst he held you so tightly as if he worried you would slip through his fingers again. Not a fucking chance. You were his, and he wanted you to know that.

“Mine,” he growled, spittle flecking your shoulder as he bent over your body and bit into your tender skin. You howled, a mixture of pleasure and pain lighting up your insides. Stars winked in and out of your vision and you danced on your tippy toes as an orgasm near forced him out of you. If not for his determination to remain in the heart of your body, abusing the soft tissue near your belly, you would have expelled him with the force of your release.

Kento crowed like a maniacal king. Fucking you right through your high without a care for the overstimulation that left you whimpering and drooling onto the granite countertop. Your cheek pressed against the cool surface, eyes flickering between open and shut as you fought the desire to pass out. The pressure of your pulsing walls, the suction of your cunt drawing him back inside each time he pulled back was his undoing, and although he had planned to cum down your throat so he could see your tear-stained face, he couldn’t pull out. His balls drew close to his body, the familiar drip of impending release stirring at the small of his back but so much more intense than ever before. His head was thrown back at the first spurt of seed exploding outward to knock up against your fertile womb with only thoughts of what it might be like to have your soft stomach grow with his child on his mind.

Never had he produced so much, and he wondered if he had been saving it up for you. A ridiculous thought had he been in his right mind, but you both knew that wasn’t the case. His hands gentled, bruises forming the pattern of his fingertips marked your hips and waist. He smiled, the first true smile in what felt like forever. Soon he was laughing, and the jostle made you moan out, his softening cock twitching in your cunt and tickling you.

“I think I am more than ready to hear your apology, little dove.”

And you were more than ready to give it to him, after all… Kento possessed your heart.

[ccsainzleclerc5516]

Come Home With Me (part 2)

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x reader

Warnings: fuff, smut!

part 1

You were a mess the whole week. You broke up with Andrew after the wedding not to reconcile with Carlos but because you didn't want to give him false hopes anymore. Because you knew you couldn't love him the way he deserved.

All your pain was back, pain that never really even left. All the emotions that you suppressed and pushed under the carpet, lying to yourself that you were over it, now resurfaced.

Not even a week later, the celebration of Isabella and her new husband did not stop. Only this time it was much smaller, in a small circle of close friends in their new apartment.

You were sad and listless, but since you didn't, you couldn’t, enjoy your friend's wedding celebration, you decided to respect her and come to another party she threw.

And he was there too.

It was all too much for you, you couldn't relax at all so you decided to let the alcohol do its best. And it did. Glass after glass and you soon became carefree. Your head was floating and your eyelids were getting heavy.

You never took alcohol well. When you were in good company, you always drank like everyone else, but you never knew the limit when you should stop. You would always feel too good and relaxed until it suddenly took you away. And so it often happened that you overdrink and get drunk, just like this time.

When you were together Carlos was always the one who took care of you when you drank. He was always overly protective of you, especially since you were 5 years younger than him. He never let you out of his sight and always made sure that no one approached you or looked at you in a way he didn't like.

“I think you’ve had enough.” Carlos said approaching you and taking the glass from your hand.

“I wouldn't agree with you.” You slurred reaching for it, but he took your hand turning you around and pressing your back against his chest. You leaned your head back against his chest as his arm rested around your waist. “You don’t get to hug me like this.” You mumbled drunkenly with your eyes half closed.

“Let me take you home, you’ll pass out if you keep up like this.” He said.

“I don't need you to drive me home, I can drive myself.” You stated confidently even though you probably couldn't even get to the car without someone else's help.

“There is absolutely no way I’m letting you drive like this.”

“Let me just find my keys. I’m sure they are here somewhere.”

While you searched unsuccessfully all over Isabella's apartment for your apartment keys, which were in your pants pocket, Carlos meanwhile went to inform your friend that he was driving you home and that he’s gonna take care of you.

“Vamos” He said coming back for you.

“Don’t you vamos me. I can vamos myself.” You talked nonsense trying your best to walk as straight as possible, but obviously struggling.

He couldn't help but laugh at you so as soon as you left the apartment and closed the door behind you, he lifted you up and took you in his arms which made you let out a scream and instinctively wrap your arms around his neck.

“Put me down!” You protested, but he ignored you enjoying the feeling of your skin against his. He wanted to kiss you, but he didn't want your first kiss after so long to be like this.

When he put you in the car on the passenger seat, you fell asleep as soon as your head hit the window beside you. He admired you for a minute taking your hand and intertwining your fingers together. He brought it up to his lips leaving a small soft kiss and continued to hold your hand the entire drive to your apartment.

You unconsciously squeezed his hand in your sleep, which brought a smile to his face. He knew that no matter how much you resisted, he would always have a soft spot in your heart.

After a 15 minute drive to your apartment, you finally arrived and you were still fast asleep. Only when Carlos took you in his arms again did you start to wake up.

“Carlos?” You murmured softly leaning your head more into him.

“Hm?” He asked walking with you to the door of the building.

“Please don’t leave” His heart trembled when he heard you say that. He wanted to tell you not to worry, that he will never leave you again if that's what you want, but he knew that there was no point in saying it now because you certainly wouldn't remember it in the morning.

“I won’t leave, baby, don’t worry” He soothed you.

Once you reached your apartment, he immediately took you to your bedroom and laid you down on the bed. You woke up enough to kick off your shoes and pull Carlos to sit on the bed next to you.

“Come here” You whispered putting your hands on his cheeks and pressing your lips against his. His hands found your waist pulling you closer to him. You were quick to straddle him as you sat in his lap and he hugged you tightly without breaking the kiss.

“I want you” You whined quietly into the kiss. “I want you to touch me, I want you to fuck me” He groaned at your words throwing his head back as you kissed his neck. The bulge in his pants grew uncontrollably as he felt you rub against him and roam your hands through his body.

“Baby, no..We can’t” He sighed taking your wrists into his hands and stopping you. He couldn’t believe he was rejecting you. You. He couldn’t believe it. He missed your touch immensely, and your body in every possible way, but he didn't want you to think tomorrow morning that he took advantage of you. He’d never have sex with you while he was sober and you were wasted.

“Please Carlos..It’s been so long since I came…”

“Oh fuck y/n..” Your confession knocked him off his feet. He squeezed your waist sighing. He leaned his forehead against yours stopping your movements and pressing you down on him just so he could get any kind of friction for a brief second because his cock was throbbing in his pants while he was listening to you.

“Don’t you want me?” You pout.

“Baby, I want you so much I think I would cum as soon as I put it inside you”

“Then put it inside me” He hisses and you moan kissing him again.

“No, we’re not doing it like this. Not while you’re drunk out of your mind” He stands his ground making you whine again.

“Carlos..please” You plead again, but there’s no way he would give in. You just mean too much to him.

“As soon as you sober up I’m gonna make you cum so many times you’ll forget your own name” He says turning you over and laying you down on the bed again. “Now get some sleep okay?”

You grumbled and frowned like a child. You didn't want to talk to him, and he didn't pay much attention to it because he knew that you would thank him for it tomorrow.

Not long after you fell asleep, Carlos laid down next to you and pulled you close. You leaned on his chest and he caressed you and left small kisses on your forehead until he himself fell asleep as well.

He could believe that it was happening again - you in his arms - because he always believed that the two of you would meet again, this time at the right time. He felt in his bones that you were meant for each other and there was no way he would ruin this chance with you. He was just hoping you’d feel the same way when you woke up.

When you opened your eyes in the morning, you were hungover, your head hurt and you couldn't wait to get in the shower and wash everything off. After you took a shower, you heard noises in the kitchen. By some miracle, you remembered everything from last night. You remembered that you wanted to drive alone and that Carlos stopped you and that you were forcing him to have sex with you and that he refused because you were drunk.

You knew he took care of you last night.

You wrapped a towel around your body and headed towards the kitchen where you met Carlos in an apron making breakfast. You leaned against the door frame watching him from a far and smiling at the scene before you.

“Carlos” You said after a while making him look up to the side at you.

“Mi amor..” He said quietly not sure how you would react. He stopped everything he was doing as you approached him and stood in front of him.

He was completely surprised when you wrapped your arms around his waist and rested your head on his chest. He thought he was dreaming. He hugged you tighter closing his eyes and kissing your head.

“Thank you” You whispered.

“For what, baby?”

“For staying last night” He smiled at you and leaned down to kiss you which you happily welcomed and kissed him back.

A gentle and slow kiss turned into a fast and passionate one in a matter of seconds. Before you knew it you were lying back in your bed as he was hovering over you pinning your hands above your head.

“I swear you were all I could think about all this time” He mumbled against your skin leaving a trail of kisses down your neck towards your stomach as he removed the towel off you.

Every part of your body craved him. You were dying for him to touch you and make you feel the way no one else ever could.

“Touch me, please” You whimpered and he obliged sliding his hand down to your wet crotch.

“Baby, you’re so wet already” He hissed proudly knowing that he’s the only one who can have you soaking wet within seconds.

“I missed you” You justified yourself by confirming the statement you confessed to him last night.

He slipped his fingers inside you and with the other hand he started rubbing your clit. He was pumping in and out of you teasingly slowly making you buck up your hips. “Does that feel good?” He asked.

“Yeah” You moan.

His lips quickly replace his fingers as he starts circling his tongue around your clit his hands now moved to your hips holding down to keep you from fidgeting as you cum all over his tongue.

“That’s it baby” He murmured licking off your juices that were dripping out of you. “You taste so sweet”

He hovers over you again putting his lips on yours pushing his tongue in for you to taste yourself, but you’re impatient to feel him inside you, all of him.

“You wanna take it?” He asks and you eagerly nod your head. He took his cock in his hand giving it a few strokes and grunting as he teased your clit with his tip. Feeling the warmth of your pussy he started leaking the precum before he aligned himself with your entrance.

“I’ll go slow baby, okay?” He leaned on his elbows over to you leaving a soothing kiss on your cheek. As he was trying to enter you he reminded you how big he was because you could never forget.

You winced whimpering as he pushed himself in and cooed you softly. “It’s okay, it’s okay” He was kissing you all over your face and neck staying still until you got used to the feeling of him.

Once he felt you calm down under him he asked “Can I move baby?”

“Please”

That’s all it took for him to start thrusting in you slowly at first and then faster and deeper. The way he was stretching you out hitting your deepest spot knocking the air out of your lungs it had you seeing stars.

“You’re doing so good, so so good” He praised you as you wrapped your legs around his torso and pushed him deeper inside you. You felt him getting closer as his movement started getting sloppier. “Baby I can’t hold back anymore, I’m gonna cum”

“Cum inside me” You whispered sending him over the edge. You reached your climax as well as you felt him twitch inside you and fill you in streams. Both of you rode out the waves of pleasure moaning and grasping on to each other. Once both of your breathing calmed down he pulled out of you and left little kisses all over your stomach making you blush.

“I love you Carlos” You whisper tangling your fingers in his hair.

“Mi niña” He smiled coming back up to face you. “I love you too. I’ll never let you slip out of my fingers ever again.”

“I’ll go home with you.”

[rose24207]

Together

Summary: Lando finds out that his wife is behind the mysterious protector and confronts her with a staged ambush.

Genre: Mafia!Lando, angst, fluff

TW: Mafia, Sniper, weapons

A/N: Part 2 everyone!! English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

P1

Masterlist

The night was unusually quiet in Monaco. The city lights glowed softly in the distance, casting faint shadows on the walls of the penthouse. Lando sat alone in his study, a glass of whiskey in hand, staring at a map spread across his desk.

The sniper had struck again that night—saving him from yet another ambush. But this time, they’d left something behind.

A single shell casing.

Lando turned the object over in his hand, his thumb tracing the engraved serial number. He’d seen it before—on a rifle he once caught a fleeting glimpse of when he walked into the wrong room of his own house.

His wife’s private study.

Lando didn’t want to believe it. The thought churned in his mind, clashing with every memory of you: your warm smile, your teasing remarks, the quiet evenings spent curled up together on the couch.

Could you really be the ghost who had been protecting him all this time?

The pieces were falling into place, but Lando wasn’t ready to accept them. Not yet.

Two nights later, Lando staged his own ambush.

He arranged a meeting in a secluded warehouse, deliberately leaking false information to one of his rivals. He knew they’d take the bait, and more importantly, he knew the sniper would come.

You would come.

The warehouse was dimly lit, the air thick with tension as Lando stood in the center of the room, surrounded by armed men. He wore a calm façade, but his heart was racing.

“Boss, are you sure about this?” one of his men asked nervously.

Lando nodded, his voice steady. “Just stick to the plan.”

It didn’t take long for the rival gang to show up, heavily armed and ready for a fight. The exchange of gunfire was immediate, bullets ricocheting off metal beams and crates.

Lando stayed low, waiting. Any moment now.

And then it happened.

The familiar crack of a sniper rifle echoed through the chaos, followed by a muffled scream as one of his enemies fell.

Lando’s pulse quickened. He kept his eyes on the rafters, searching the shadows.

Another shot. Then another.

The attackers were dropping like flies, and just as quickly as the ambush had begun, it was over.

Lando’s men stood in stunned silence, the tension lingering in the air.

“Boss, it’s clear,” one of them said cautiously.

Lando didn’t respond. He was already moving, heading toward the ladder that led to the upper levels of the warehouse.

You watched from your perch, your rifle still in hand, your breathing steady. The last target was down, and you were preparing to make your exit when you heard footsteps behind you.

Your heart stopped.

Spinning around, you found yourself face-to-face with Lando.

He stood there, his expression unreadable, his gun lowered but not holstered. The dim light reflected off his dark eyes, which were locked on yours.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence was deafening, the weight of your secret pressing down on you like a crushing wave.

“Why?” he finally asked, his voice low and steady.

You swallowed hard, gripping your rifle tightly. “Lando, I can explain—”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he interrupted, his tone sharper now. “All this time, it was you. You’ve been out there, risking your life to protect me, and you didn’t think I deserved to know?”

You looked away, guilt flooding your chest. “I didn’t want you to worry. You already have enough enemies, enough threats. I didn’t want to add to that.”

Lando stepped closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “You think I wouldn’t worry knowing you’ve been out here doing this? Putting yourself in danger for me?”

You met his gaze, your voice trembling. “I couldn’t just stand by and watch you get hurt, Lando. I love you. I had to protect you.”

His jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “And what about me? What happens if one day you’re not fast enough, not lucky enough? What happens if I lose you?”

Tears welled in your eyes, but you held them back. “I couldn’t lose you, either. This was the only way I could keep you safe.”

Lando stared at you, his expression softening as the anger faded, replaced by something deeper.

“I don’t know whether to be furious or grateful,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

You managed a faint smile, your voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe a little of both?”

He huffed out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“I’ve heard that before,” you said softly, lowering your rifle.

For a long moment, the two of you stood in silence, the weight of the truth settling between you.

Finally, Lando stepped closer, reaching out to cup your face in his hands. “You’re my wife. My partner. You don’t have to do this alone anymore.”

You leaned into his touch, your heart aching with a mix of relief and fear. “And what happens now?”

He smiled faintly, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “Now, we figure this out together.”

You nodded, your resolve strengthening. “Together.”

And for the first time in years, you felt a glimmer of hope.

Thank you for reading!

[imagination-mess]

A Second Chance at Life (Touya Todoroki X Fem!Reader) Chapter 4

Summary: For the past five years, you’ve been raising your son as a single mother. You’ve successfully avoided questions about his father by claiming that he died during the Paranormal Liberation War. From what you believe, this isn’t a lie. The last time you saw him was when he personally escorted you to U.A.’s shelter amidst the chaos in the streets.

Unbeknownst to you, he has been alive all this time, clinging to life in a facility working to keep him alive. His father, Enji, has been desperately searching for someone willing to heal him. After his presumed death, a single photo of you and Dabi began circulating through the underground, hinting at the nature of your relationship. To protect yourself and your child, you had to pay someone to stop the pictures from spreading further.

The photo provided answers to a long-standing question: who was the healer Dabi had been protecting? It identified you as the healer who had been deemed untouchable, but it also brought unwanted attention.

A/N: Sorry for any grammar or spelling errors. I may change the summary later on. Word Count: 1.1K+ Previously Chapter Three

"You really consider that ugly thing one of your necessities?"

The black dragon with the most awful snitches peeking out of your handbag was staring directly at him when you were walking in front of him. Its smile was crooked and lopsided. It felt like a mirror to what he looks like now in comparison to years ago. He did not always look like this. 

The plushie was never supposed to be taken seriously. It was supposed to be a joke and be something that could be thrown away later. It was supposed to mock the nickname that you gave him when he refused to tell you about his name because of his quirk and the black hair for a long time. 

“Yeah,” you replied, glancing over your shoulder at him from under your hood. “It’s one of my precious possessions.”

The soft smile is accompanied by the same gentle stare that you always give him.

The one that made his chest twist and his eyes flick away before he let it show. You always teased him, poked at his edges… but not this time.

__________________________

Enji rushed into the hospital after receiving a phone call from your assistant to come to the hospital immediately. He was immediately given a clipboard for him to sign before any of the doctors started the procedure.

Your assistant, Kou, was giving him a quick summary of what the papers are about and allowing him to have a copy so he can read it in more depth later. 

Enji knows what he is signing, granting you full permission to take over his son's health concerns and make the calls happen within the operating room. He already knows Touya's chances of living are low because of the condition of his body. 

All he can do is pray and believe in the team that you have gathered specifically for his case. 

He just hopes that his son can survive this procedure. 

Kou had let him know that you would fill him in on what the procedure that his son had gone through was in more depth, including any mishaps, when he was completely out of the woods. He does not want to give Enji any false hope. 

When he arrived earlier at the exact moment when those elevator doors opened. There was a portal opening in the middle of the hallway, transporting rolling Touya's body. He recognized the main doctor who has been looking over Touya for the past few years.

He saw all sorts of various kinds of doctors and nurses running down the hallway at top speed and entering those double doors. Those same doors that Touya got rolled in earlier.

He does not know what caused Touya's body to go into overdrive.

Whatever happened in that room had made Rei hysterical and had a mental breakdown in the facility. A nurse witnessed Touya speak and immediately informed you about it. All he knows is that Touya spoke, and it was enough for Doctor Remedy to take his case.

He had already sent a text message to inform his children that Touya is getting a procedure right now with the location of the hospital. 

As hours passed with no update, Enji watched other families coming in and out of the waiting room with either good or bad news. Shouto joined him after his patrol was over. It was already nighttime when Rei and Fuyumi had come together later that day.

 It was midnight. 

When Kou reappeared, looking disheveled, he came with a clipboard and stood in front of them.

"Sorry for taking a long time to provide an update. I was the one reporting everything along with another assistant throughout the procedure." Kou apologizes before continuing. 

"Good news, Mr. Todoroki is out of the woods. He did give us a couple of scares, but we were able to restabilize him. He’s still in surgery for about another hour." Kou says with a soft smile to the family in front of him.

The tension among the family subsides, and they can relax. 

"I know Dr. Remedy wasn’t able to fully go over the plan with you before today," Kou added. "She’ll go into more depth in a few days once she’s back from her mandatory leave. For now, I’ll give you the summarized version without the medical jargon."

"Essentially, Mr. Todoroki will have a new body. No trauma left behind. There is not even going to be a trace left. He will look the way he was genetically supposed to look, based on the lab results you gave Dr. Remedy. We were also able to access the original testing from that specific lab and cross-reference it with childhood photos and the ones you provided of his siblings".

"No scars?" Enji asked with a frown and a bit skeptically. He knows the medical field has advanced, but not this much. 

"No scars." Kou nods. "We have one of the best reconstructive plastic surgeons on the team, along with other experts of the human body. His body will be, quite literally, a clean slate. A fresh start." Kou says with a tired, proud smile before adding, looking back at his notes.

"We also ran an advanced quirk analysis from the samples that we took. If he ever decides to seek a quirk specialist from any major hospital. They will be able to help a lot more than the traditional quirk users outside of the medical field. It is more of an examination of his quirk and how his body interacts with his quirk." Kou looks back up at Enji before clarifying.

"I would recommend contacting the places that you have mentioned in your action plan for Mr. Todoroki. He will be kept in the hospital for the following month to ensure everything went smoothly before being discharged."

"Isn't that too early?" Shouto asked, knowing the procedure that Touya is going through is intensive. He was expecting Touya to be kept in the hospital much longer. He was not the only one who was thinking that. 

"It would’ve been too soon for a traditional patient, but thanks to the team that Dr. Remedy had gathered, including herself, they cut his recovery time by more than half because we couldn't afford to wait for his body to stabilize itself. 

Keep in mind, we do not know the side effects of having that many quirks being used on him. Dr. Remedy took his case as a medical case study using alternative aggressive options. He needs to get physical.

"Where's Dr. Remedy?" Shouto asks,

"Still in surgery with Mr. Todoroki." Kou replied without any hesitation. 

He softened his voice slightly. “If you would prefer to speak with her directly, you may need to wait a couple more days. She will be dealing with the aftereffects of using her quirk. But I promise you all. We will notify you as soon as Touya passes our post-op physical and lab examinations.” 

Kou’s words hang in the air, thick with relief and a quiet hope that seems to fill the sterile room.

"For now, just start the arrangements that you have mentioned in the action plan."

__________________________________________________ A/n: Best believe: Touya GOTTA WORK FOR IT. He may be blessed with a new body, but he needs to relearn how to use it since he's been confined for so long. He's going to need to regain some muscle in his limbs. Physical therapy. 

The memory sequence at the beginning shows just Touya in that state between death and life. That memory is apart of the final time he saw MC. Also, the plushie makes an appearance again in Chapter 2. I don't know if anyone will catch the reference.

Thank you for everything who has been  eading this story. I really appreciate it! I love the comments!

I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. Comments or emojis are appreciated! Next Chapter: Chapter Five

[strawberrystepmom]

touch me so i know i am still here | one

cw: description of murder. detective dante sparda x investigative journalist f!reader. | word count: 1.8k, reading time: approx. 7 min.

notes: for the purposes of this fic, dante's last name is sparda. i know this is not his canon last name. thanks for suspending disbelief for my sake <3 uh. this series is violent and dark but it's not heavy, it's actually pretty funny and cheeky considering the subject matter so i hope you like it!

this is the first part of a series. each post will contain warnings that pertain to that particular chapter. | part: two

Anxiety colors your every thought and movement, preventing your fingers from gripping the handle and opening the door to the bustling police station.  This is going to go one of two ways. You have a feeling you know which though saying it aloud feels like failure and even false confidence is better than none.

Internally bigging yourself, using every encouraging word you remember reading in a greeting card to build your defenses, you finally decide to enter the building and head straight to the desk at the front. Manned by a very serious looking woman, you immediately wonder again if you’ve made a mistake in coming at all.

No. Even if this fails, you did it for her and that’s what matters most of all.

Clearing your throat, you capture the attendant's gaze. “Can I help you?”

“I’d like to speak with Detective Sparda.”

The woman sitting at the desk, whose name tag proclaims that she is Trish, looks up from her computer with an intimidatingly perfect arched brow raised. “Do you think it’s 1975 or something? You don’t just walk into a police station and get to speak with whoever you want.”

You didn’t want it to have to come to this so you sigh, reaching into your pocket and pulling out your press credentials - a clear, protected badge with your picture and the name of the publication that currently employs you on it. Slapping the identification down, you smile at her. 

“I’m press. I have a few questions to ask him.”

She grumbles beneath her breath and leans forward in her chair, making a show of flicking her eyes between real you and photo you. Nodding, she collects your pass from you before you can protest. “I’m going to take this to make sure you stay there until I get back and don’t go nosing around like your types do.” She stands up, pushing away from the desk and rounding the corner. “Let me see if he’s around. It’s unlikely he’s even made it in today, it is Monday.”

Yeah, like 1:45 pm on a Monday, you think to yourself. Externally you chuckle quietly and shake your head, leaning against the desk in front of you gazing down at your feet.

This is a long shot and it has been since you hatched the idea a few weeks ago yet something in your gut has told you that he will be willing to listen to you. 

There have been very few moves made by the Angel Maker as the newspaper you once worked for called him in an effort to sensationalize the killings to sell copies. It has been 8 years since the last killing that was attributed to this man but every sense you have is telling you something is coming. There’s terror in the air and it sits heavily on your shoulders and settles right inside your chest every time you leave the house.

He’s still out there. He’s going to kill yet another woman if you don’t share what you’ve been working on since his last victim. 

Impatiently jiggling your foot, you shift your weight and groan under your breath. If this is a waste of time at the very least you’ll leave your number as unlikely as it is that the woman at the front desk will pass the information onto him. 

“And you’re sure you don’t remember that woman from somewhere?”

You hear the words faintly from down the hall, Trish’s poorly hushed words mingling with a deeper tone that laughs at her questioning.

“Nah, I’d remember one who looked like this,” you hear the faint jingle of what you believe is the keyring you keep your badge on when he speaks. “But thanks for being worried about me.”

Footsteps come closer and you straighten up, smoothing wrinkles out of the front of your blouse. Rounding the corner is the supermodel at the front desk and closely behind her is apparently…another supermodel?

You feel your eyes widen seeing who must be the detective and force them to return to normal, blinking tightly and encouraging a smile to cross your face. To say this man is good looking feels like an understatement. Good thing this is not the first time you’ve had very pretty men folding their arms over their chests while they strut in your direction.

“Fortunately for you, he managed to make it in today.” Trish whispers, sliding back into her chair effortlessly and tossing silken hair over her shoulder.

Did you accidentally stumble on a TV show set or something? 

“Dante Sparda, at your service,” the man offers with a grin while making it to your side. 

You look up at him and extend your hand, putting on your best and tightest business meaning smile.

“I have a tip that may interest you.”

He raises his eyebrows and tilts his head.

“And I may have one that int—” 

Trish bangs her desk phone down although it didn’t ring, interrupting whatever end was coming to Dante’s sentence. He raises his eyebrows and she shoots him a withering glance. 

This must be a common occurrence between them, a dynamic already taking shape that you make a mental note of.

You hate to be the bearer of bad news but…

“It’s about the Angel Maker.” Your voice is soft, a near whisper. 

The blonde next to you shuffles in her chair uncomfortably. The detective’s eyebrows fall, humor leaving his face like a bandit that has stolen the color in his cheeks on its way out. 

“I, uh…okay. Alright. Follow me.”

Clearing the way for you to walk the direction from which he just came, Trish raises her eyebrows behind your back, chuckling humorlessly. Either Dante just got played like an utter fool or you’re one - time will tell which. 

The walk to his office is brief and you don’t bother to make small talk, letting the heavy silence linger though you can tell it’s making the man beside you uncomfortable. There are three million questions running through his mind but the one he settles on the quickest comes out before he can stop it.

“Why’d you ask for me specifically?”

The two of you stop in your tracks in front of the office door with a plaque listing his name on it. You smile up at him, nodding your thanks when he swings the door open and let you enter first.

“Because it’s personal to you.”

Quite impolite to insinuate that he hasn’t evolved past this event. You do it anyway, reaching down for your bag and producing a large accordion folder from inside, unwinding the little tie keeping it shut without a second thought. Dante slides onto his desk and stares at you, arms folded over his chest.

“It’s personal to me too.” You slide a faded, bent newspaper in his direction. He glances down to see a grainy face smiling back at him but it’s unmistakably similar to yours. “That’s my sister. She was sixteen and brilliant and they found her with her skin ripped away from her scapula and shoulders to mimic wings with half of the hair on her head missing.”

Identical to how they found his mother fifteen years prior to the young woman that you clearly love so much.

Dante exhales sharply, impressed by how you’re keeping your composure and hoping he can borrow some of your courage while all of this is spread out in front of him. He was one of the first detectives out to the specific crime scene you mentioned but they took him off the case as soon as they realized who the killer most likely was.

“Too close to home,” Chief Morrison told him with a flap of his hand, flippant and busy as ever. He’s always been sure that the order to keep him off of all the cases having to do with the man who killed Eva came directly from the chief himself leaving it unable to be defied.

“I’m sorry.” 

You shrug at his apology.

“Isn’t everyone?” Collecting the clipping, you drag it back across the desk and clutch it in your lap. “But thank you. I know this isn’t easy for you either.” 

Taking a deep breath, you lean forward to meet the detective’s steel blue eyes. No you haven’t forgotten how beautiful he is so your face warms, cheeks flaming and stomach turning. There is still a job to be done regardless of his looks. 

“I know I’m going to sound absolutely insane but I think he’s going to move again soon.”

No doubt flashes through his eyes, only a bit of steely determination.

“Do you have any proof at all?”

You shake your head. “That’s why I need someone who has information that I can’t access. Suspects, case files, you know…the things they want the press to keep our grubby little hands off of.”

Sliding so that his legs dangle off of his desk next to you, Dante gazes down with a look you can’t quite determine even though you’ve had lots of practice in doing just that. He looks bewildered, amused, maybe even shocked about how full circle this may very well become. Unexpectedly, he chuckles. You flinch and shuffle where you sit. 

“So what you’re telling me is that I should risk my job and reputation to help you blow this case open once and for all based on a gut feeling that could be explained as lunch not settling well?”

Your face falls upon hearing your genius plan aloud and processing how harebrained the entire scheme was to begin with. There was a spark of hope in your heart that someone would understand why you want to put your grief and this fear to bed. Clearly you were mistaken.

“You can just say no if you aren’t interested, there’s no need to get personal.”

He chuckles again and leans down, arms still folded over his chest. Something about such a goofy grin at a moment like this makes you wanna say something downright venomous but staying quiet is the better option, leaving you to sniff unaffectedly.

“Oh, I’m going to help you. It takes some serious balls to come up with something like this and I’m not a complete asshole.” 

The look on your face tells him that you aren’t quite convinced yet. It doesn’t stop you from slipping a duplicate copy of the accordion folder you presented to him earlier out of your bag to point in his direction. You close your folder, unsmiling and keeping your eyes locked with him the entire time.

“All of my research and my contact information is in this folder. Read over it and get back to me.”

Turning to leave, you’re stopped when you feel the air in the room shift. The detective approaches you, holding your ID over your shoulder. 

“Don’t forget this.” 

You look up at him and offer a smile of thanks, taking it from between his fingers and ignoring the spark that rushes through you when the tips of them touch yours, slipping it back into your pocket.

“Thank you for your time, detective.”

[blanketforcas]

🚩Cult and cultlike/toxic behavior: red flags in fandom 🚩

A non-exhaustive list inspired by my 10+ years of experience in fandom, both personal and second-hand. By sharing this, I hope to make other people more aware and able to protect themselves in the future. No fandom space or friend group is worth your mental health.

They claim they have secret information and use that to lure you in

They might either lovebomb you at first or make you (feel like you have to) prove your worth

The leader(s) of the group might not feel super approachable, at least not without fear of saying the wrong thing

They seem to create or point out a divide in fandom you’d never noticed before. Likely this divide isn’t actually there in wider fandom, or the need for it is wholly unnecessary.

They create an us vs them (outsiders) situation. Their group has the most knowledge and expertise, if others critique them it’s simply cause they must’ve heard false rumors. They are always the ones who are “misunderstood”.

Questioning statements from leaders/people with high regard in the group, is not without risk. You can get dogpiled, your intelligence put into question and gaslit about your own words and feelings.

You see discussions happen and get more heated, and at the end of that discussion the person on the receiving end of the things mentioned above ^ starts apologizing profusely and/or believes they are indeed stupid. However, if this person does keep defending their stance, they might get bullied or kicked out of the server/group chat

Too much emphasis on Being Right/having the correct take or theory – it may seem it has a higher priority than empathy and tactful communication

You need to have an opinion (their opinion), because silence equals condoning or agreeing with the “other side”

Bad-faith interpretations of posts/statements from someone considered part of the "out-group". You feel in your gut that something is off and they're misrepresenting it, but you find yourself wanting to agree anyway cause it fits the narrative the group subscribes to and going against that is generally not welcomed.

Everything is a moral issue. When everything is made out to be a high-stakes issue or reflective of everyone as a person, it's easier for the leader(s) to manipulate you.

You find yourself excusing people’s behavior because you agree with their point. The way they bring their argument forward and the tone they use, become subordinate to finding out the truthTM

There is such a thing as The TruthTM in every theory, discussion or analysis

If you don't Get It, it's cause you haven't "worked on yourself enough". Or it's cause you're not trying hard enough, or you haven't done enough reading, or you have blind spots only they can see.

There is a lot of conspiratorial thinking – maybe actors are trying to send us secret messages, maybe there is a Whole Lot You Don’t Know But We Do, Trust Us, maybe this or that person in fandom has tried to attack us and are planning a bigger attack,…

You barely/don’t have fandom friends outside of this group and if you do, you tend to intentionally (whether subconsciously or not) hide your experience from them. They wouldn’t understand the way they talk, they wouldn’t understand the way it works etc

They want to know a lot of your personal information. - might only happen once you get into higher ranks

You might get (more and more) specific “tasks”, it starts becoming a part-time job instead of a hobby/fun space to hang out with friends

Of course, these red flags are not always immediately visible let alone advertised when you join a group chat/discord server/twitter or tumblr bubble. They can also be nonexistent at first and show up later. Here are some general ways to stay vigilant:

Periodically check in with your values, if they might be changing & how you feel about that.

Keep an eye on the way people (and yourself) are being treated. Is it kind? Is it fair? Do you feel on edge all the time when you’re having conversations? Is your body more tense when you’re in this online space or when certain people are around? Be honest with yourself here.

Ask yourself: Is this space becoming my only coping mechanism? Am I spending too much time here? There’s no shame in spending a lot of time on things you enjoy, but do check in with yourself sometimes whether you are actually still having fun and if you are taking things too seriously or parasocialising a lot.

There's a lot of fun to be had in fandom and a lot of good that comes out of it - don't forget that. Keep seeking that. It's why we're here!

[paige1722]

So Much for a Safe House

Summary: You go on a mission with 141 and end up taking shelter in an abandoned building. The place is haunted, and you are all trapped inside; creepy things are happening. (Ghost of War-inspired)

Callsign: Spark because it was all I could think of.

Warnings: scares(?)

masterlist

Also, this is my first fanfic since my one-direction days, so please be kind. 

Chapter One: Shelter

In the freezing weather, you and your team hiked through the thick pile of snow to make your way to the abandoned house at the top of the mountain. Soap recalled seeing it on your way to the supposed enemy weapons cache in the middle of nowhere that turned out to be a dead end. Though when you all tried to radio command about the false information that it turned out just to be an empty plot of land in the dense snow-ridden forest, was when it was discovered that all forms of communication were not working; Ghost even tried scaling a tree with impressive speed, to see if a signal could be found that way but to no luck. 

“A few miles back, there was a house that looked to be abandoned. We could make our way back to it and come up with a plan there instead of standing around waiting to get hypothermia or become somethings next meal,” said Soap, his voice mumbled through the mask he wore to protect himself from the cold, making his accent more difficult to decipher. 

 Seeing no other option and rather than freezing to death, Price agreed that the best course of action would be to rendezvous there and wait for further instruction from Laswell, whenever the radio wanted to start working properly again.  

That is how you found yourself trudging through the thick snow in below-freezing temperatures for what seemed like 20 miles, but in reality was more like two. Once the abandoned house came into view, did you try to break the silence beside the occasional curse, that had fallen over your task force. You decided to theorize about the abandoned, dilapidated house that you could see in the distance, which quite honestly looked more like an asylum than a house. 

“So, where do you think they hid the bodies? The basement or maybe inside the walls?” 

Soap let out a breathless laugh, slowing his step to fall into line beside you, “Oh, definitely in the walls. It is like a given, right, horror movie 101.” Throwing an arm around your shoulders, he pulled you into his side and lowered his voice to sound more menacing, “The real question is, Bonnie, this far out, no one would be able to hear you scream.” 

Feeling a shiver go down your spine at the creepy comment, you turned your head to face Soap, seeing the crinkle by his eyes as he was smiling like an idiot underneath his mask. 

Rolling your eyes, you pushed him away, scoffing, “You spend too much time online, go and touch some grass.”

“Alright, you two, that is enough. We won’t be there long; just need to regroup and wait for the exfil.” Huffed Price from behind you both. 

“Sorry, Captain. Just trying to lighten the mood and distract myself from the fact that my entire body is becoming a popsicle,” you muttered while rubbing your hands up and down your arms, trying to get some feeling back in them. 

Gaz nodded in agreement, “I don’t care what is in the walls or the basement. As long as I can make a fire and get out of this snow, I will be happy.” 

Walking up to the house's main doors, you could see the state of disrepair everything was in huge holes could be seen on the roof where snow was falling in, busted windows, and rotting wood on the steps and door. Price grabbed the door handle, using his body to force it open. The door swings open, nearly falling off its hinges. Quickly, Ghost and Gaz march inside to sweep the area. Standing in the main foyer of the house, you got a clear view of just how run down this place had become; gusts of wind from the busted-out windows and holes throughout the house made an unsettling groaning occur. From where you, Soap, and Price were standing, you noticed that this place was actually a lot smaller on the inside than it seemed on the outside. There were only three rooms downstairs; it looked like a kitchen, dining area, and a small living room with stairs leading up the second floor right in front of the door. The stairs looked warped, like one wrong step, and you would quickly find out if there was actually a basement here or not. All that could be heard were your teammate's heavy footsteps and the groaning of the wood. You walked over to peer into the rooms Ghost had already cleared. From what you could see, the entire place was bare, except for the dining room, that had a few old wooden chairs that would probably break if you tried sitting on them, and a small dinner table. The kitchen had cabinet drawers that were barely hanging on its hinges with spider webs and a thick coating of dust on the counters.

“All clear up here,” Yelled Gaz, as he made his way back down the stairs, carefully planning where to step next.

 “Clear, first floor. Guys, come check this out.” yelled Ghost from the living room on your left. Side-eyeing Price, you all turn to make your way to where Ghost is waiting. The first thing you noticed was a massive fireplace; running excitedly and throwing your gear down next to Ghost’s, you stuck your head into the fireplace and looked up the chimney. “Let's make a fire before I become one with the snow.” 

Grabbing your shoulder and pulling you out from the fireplace, “First, you got to get out of the fireplace, Spark. Also, we need to find something for firewood. See what you can find while I get this cleared out and ready.” Ghost ordered. 

Looking around the barren room you were all currently in and not seeing anything useful but a raggedy carpet on the floor and scraps of cardboard piled in the corner, you make your way into the dining room. Seeing the old wooden chairs that had seen better days, “This will do, but first..” you grab one of the chairs and proceed to break it into pieces to use for the fire, by throwing it to the ground with as much force as you can muster. 

“Epic,” you say as you stare at the chair which has broken into smaller pieces, which allows you to be able to stomp on it, creating small sticks of wood that would be perfect for the fireplace. Reaching down to pick up the pieces to bring back to Ghost, a small notebook catches your eye, peeking out from underneath the dining room table. Grabbing the small red notebook and running your hand over the raised symbol on the cover in the shape of what looks to be an upside-down cross with a ‘c’ shape on the bottom, turning the book over in your hands to open it when you hear Gaz yelling, “Have you found anything yet, Spark? It’s bloody freezing in here!” 

“Yeah, I’m coming!” you replied quickly, shoving the notebook in your pocket to look at later, grabbing the remains of the chair, and running back into the room with the rest of your team. Walking into the room, you see that Gaz has joined Ghost in preparing the fireplace while Soap and Price are trying to secure the window with pieces of what looked like cardboard and duct tape, probably trying to keep the cold out. Once you reach the fireplace, you place the scraps of the chair inside while Gaz gets out his case of emergency lighter, which he mainly carried around for when Price lost his and wanted a cigar. He lights the piece of fabric Ghost is holding out to him to use as a firestarter; he places the lit fabric in the base of the wood, and you hold your breath, hoping it works. Seeing the wood slowly start burning and letting off a warm glow, you release the breath and finally relax, sitting back on your knees. 

“That should about do it. It’s not perfect, but it should help with the wind and snow.” Price said while clapping Soap on the back, “Now lets see if we can figure out what to do about the radio.” 

They both made their way in front of the fire as well, where everyone was now huddled together, waiting to unthaw from the harsh weather. 

Pulling out the radio, Price tried once again to reach Laswell, “Laswell, you copy.” crackling static was the only thing that could be heard in response. He grabbed the knob and tried changing the channel to the emergency line, “Laswell, you copy.” again, nothing could be heard. Sighing, he continued messing with the radio as Gaz tried to help, trying different ideas to make it work. 

Ghost had pulled over the gear thrown down and was rummaging through it, pulling out MRE rations, emergency blankets, and first aid; he looked like he was taking inventory of all the supplies we had with us and creating plots for us to sleep. As you move to make yourself more comfortable in front of the growing flames, you feel the small red notebook in your pocket. 

Pulling it back out again, Soap looks over, “Aye, what do you got there?” 

“Hmm, some sort of diary, I guess I found it in the dining room when I was getting the wood. It has this weird symbol on it.” flipping open the book, you and Soap start going through the pages, seeing lots of frantic scribbling that neither of you could decipher and pictures of what looked like some sort of creature, who only got more gore-filled as you filled through. It was difficult to make out the writing, but on some of the pages, it seemed to be pleas for help about needing to make ‘it’ stop and go away. 

You and Soap share a nervous glance, flipping to a new page; you let out a gasp. On the page was what looked to be a warning, ‘there is no way out, it has them, I can hear their screams, I am next….. Don’t let it in.’ 

Turning to look at Soap, you could feel your blood run cold, and you knew your fear could be seen on your face. Soap laughs nervously, saying, “It’s probably just some silly story trying to scare us.” Nodding in agreement, you closed the book and placed it back in your pocket, turning back to face the now roaring fire. 

Trying to distract yourself from the creepy notes and pictures, you start listening to your team-mates talking idly amongst themselves; whether it be trying to fix the radio or the supplies, you slip into one of the spots Ghost created and close your eyes, trying to clear your mind and catch a few minutes of sleep hoping everything would be fixed when you woke up. 

Price released an exasperated sigh, throwing his hands up in the air, “I don’t know why the bloody thing isn’t working. It is like something is interfering with our signal.” He sets the radio down near the gear, Ghost had set out.

 He walked over to where Ghost, Soap, and Gaz were sitting. He looked over to where you were sleeping near the fire to keep warm; turning back to look at his teammates, he rubbed his face, saying, “It seems we will just have to wait out the weather and head to the exfil point then and hopefully will be able to radio Laswell. In the meantime, why don’t we follow in Spark’s footsteps and get some sleep.” 

Ghost grabbed his gun, placed it in his lap, and moved to sit in the corner between the window and fireplace, “I’ll take the first watch. We still don’t know what’s out there.” 

“Or what is in here,” mumbled Soap as he and the others made their way near where you were sleeping to find a spot for themselves. 

Gaz cleared his throat, turning to Ghost, “Yeah, well, anyways, I’ll take next watch. Wake me up in two hours.” he laid down, pulling his toboggan to cover his eyes. Soap and Price following in suit. 

After about an hour and a half of nothing happening except the occasional groan from the house settling, Ghost notices the radio Price had placed near the gear begin to static; thinking that it might be command trying to get into touch with them, he makes a move to go over to it, but before he could get near it. A piercing sound comes from the radio, like a shrieking noise. 

Everyone startles awake, “what the fuck is going on?” you exclaimed, all eyes turning to Ghost for an explanation. 

“Hell, if I know, it was dead silent a minute ago, and now the bloody thing won’t stop making that noise. Somebody turn it off.” 

Gaz reaches for the radio and flips the switch on it to turn it off. When the noise stopped, a thundering bang was heard from above you all. It was so loud that it shook the walls, causing dust to fall down.

 Ghost reaches for his gun, as does the rest of you. Pointing your weapons towards the door, waiting to see if you could hear anything else or if it was just a noise an old house makes in the middle of a snowstorm. From behind you all, you hear the radio, which you could have sworn Gaz just turned off begin to crackle with life. Slowly turning around to look at the noise, a voice comes from the radio: “It is here now.” A cold wind came down from the chimney, extinguishing the fire and plummeting the room into darkness. 

Chapter 2: Hunter's Moon

[melwnst]

────── ⋆⋅☆ TAYLOR SWIFT SONGS DEAN WOULD SECRETLY BE OBSESSED WITH!

first of all, his favorite albums are speak now and reputation because of the productions.

His favorite song is definitely haunted. Not in like an ironic way, but because the production, the lyrics speak to him. This is Taylor’s rockiest song in my opinion, so that would have to be his favorite.

We all know he secretly listens to shake it off. If he’s alone in the car, it’s a full on party. He shakes his ass and all. He’s pathetic I love him so much.

If he’s feeling horny… false god is definitely playing. Again- when he’s alone. Whether you like her music or not, he won’t share it with you because he’s embarrassed, although if you speak about her, he’ll seem to know a lot of information about her for someone who ‘doesn’t listen to her music’

That’s when with Keith urban. There I said it. He’s a damn country boy I won’t hear it.

So? 22? You belong with me? Love story? I knew you were trouble? We are never ever getting back together? Blank space? Basically all of Taylor’s big hits, they’re kinda on repeat..

He’s a pop girly too. I fully believe his favorite song from 1989 is New Romantics or I know places. He loves wildest dreams too.

He associates songs with you(DONT DO THAT! PROTECT YOURSELF! THATS DANGEROUS!)

He associates mine, sparks fly, change, state of grace, this love, you are in love, dress(wink wink), our song, gold rush and lavender haze with you. It’s a tumultuous relationship, so he might think of the lucky one, don’t blame me, miss americana&the heartbreak prince, the 1 and even delicate.

Unfortunately he’s NOT a folklore or evermore girly. He definitely wouldn’t be into ttpd either, he’s not a fan of slow or sad songs, so they’re not for him and that’s okay. It’s dean Winchester, what do you expect?

He’s definitely a swiftie, I think he would jam to Olivia Rodrigo too. Brutal? Ballad of a homeschooled girl???????? Deja vu? GOOD 4 U????????? He’s such a pop girly like… he’s so precious.

He’d have fomo over missing the eras tour but he WOULD NEVER GO! Even if he has the chance. You wouldn’t catch him dead there he’s so uncomfortable with being a Stan it’s almost sad.

Finally… when he finds the courage to either tell you about his little fan girling, or if you find out by accident, when Sam’s not around you might just get crazy and have dance parties to Taylor but Dean makes you swear not to tell anyone. Like legitimately threatens you.

[awionetka]

❝ 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐚𝐧…? ❞ ft. 𝐗𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐫

you've faced them all. ghosts, demons, evil spirits and overconfident men who couldn't even properly hold their guard. but being tasked with tracking down the prince who vanished off the face of the earth almost a decade earlier might have just been the first, even for you.

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫: fluff (?), suggestive. runaway heir!Xavier x bounty hunter!reader. implied romantic history. false identities. a fantasy esque setting with some elements of slavic mythology.

𝐜𝐰: foul language. mentions of alcohol. blood, injuries, weaponry. a semi-detailed fight with a demon.

𝐰𝐜: 2.5k

The last time you saw the Royal Palace, you were no more than thirteen. 

Clinging onto your father’s sleeve and somehow deadly convinced that the guards would spot you in the crowd and give an order to turn back and walk away with nothing. As still merely a child, you weren’t even supposed to be there in the first place, marching towards the open gates in search of a job. But your father insisted that this was the most adequate way for you to learn his craft – through observation – even if it meant smuggling you underneath his robe onto the castle grounds.

A lot had changed since that day, starting with the obvious – you no longer needed to watch in order to absorb your parent’s knowledge, if anything he could be the one learning from you. It took long, meticulous years of trial, error and everything in between to become one of the most skilled bounty hunters the Kingdom had to offer, but you succeeded, and no one could rip that away from you, no matter how hard they’d strain.

The white steeples of the Palace shimmered in the rising sun, sending almost magical reflections onto the town situated below. Usually you’d thrive in moments like these, when the outside world was still half-asleep and easy to fluster. But the rustle of papers tucked into your pocket successfully steered you off that, serving as a bittersweet reminder of what was to come next in your journey – what you had little to no control of.

However first things first; you needed a pint of good, moderately priced beer and something tasty to sink your teeth into.

Two mistakes were made by you that day (maybe more, but in your current state you couldn’t be bothered to count). Mistake number one: cheap alcohol first thing in the morning, followed by the most hefty breakfast plate they could offer. Mistake number two: you had, once again in your miserable lifetime, assumed that you could take on a divoženka not only purely by yourself but also without any preparation – and that included having absolutely zero St John’s wort on your person while entering the demon’s domain.

The first one was understandable to a degree, as you inherited your father’s resistance to liquor (it was merely a couple of beers, too!). The second one… not so much.

Leaning against the nearest tree with one hand wrapped tightly around your forearm, you stared back at the divoženka, as though your gaze alone could cause her to perish. 

"You bitch!" you spat, adjusting the grip on your sword in one swift move. "I just bought this fucking shirt!"

Letting our the most ear mutilating shriek, she lunged forward, forcing you to back out last second.

Your time was running out. At this rate, the demon was going to tire you out to literal death before you could manage to land a single blow, let alone a critical one. You had to think of something good and it needed to be done fast.

Ripping off a stripe from your freshly bought (and freshly ruined) shirt, you haphazardly wrapped the fabric around your forearm as a makeshift bandage. The wound stung horribly but at least that provided you with the information that it wasn’t too deep of a gash. 

You were never one to back out, even when the battle seemed unsalvageable, but that day you had someone else to protect – a young woman from the nearby village who got taken by the divoženka on her wedding night, straight from her lover’s arms. So if you wanted to escort the bride back where she belonged, she needed to become your priority this time.

Letting out one final steadying breath, you rushed straight at her, scraping the partly exposed skin of your knees as you slid next to the demon, eager to finally put your sword to good use.

But then, she grabbed onto your arm viciously, making blood trickle from in between her abnormally long fingernails. You screamed, pain so sudden and overwhelming it made you lose your footing and fall right at her feet with a thud. 

As often as you dealt with demons, malevolent spirits or just simply evil fucking humans, you were rarely one to call out to the kind and doting side of the realm, so as the divoženka raised her claw, you realised that you had no one to pray to, to make your demise quick and relatively painless. So you just shut your eyes, bracing for the impact and mentally cursing yourself out instead.

And then… nothing.

No brutal mutilation of your body, no deafening shrieks, not even a sound of your own laboured breathing. The world turned quiet, as though someone transported you back to the day it was even formed.

Just as you were starting to convince yourself you were actually already dead and this – whatever it could be – was some sort of afterlife, someone spoke, and the sheer familiarity of their voice sent a shiver through your body.

"So…" the person hummed, tone kept in sharp contrast to the situation you found yourself in. "Are you… getting up? The ground doesn’t look too comfortable."

Your eyes flew open in an instant, landing right on the one who’d just saved you from inevitable demise. And even though you didn’t need to ask the question that came next, you did it anyway, just to feel the word roll off your tongue, gentle and comforting.

"Xavier…?"

When the two of you met, Xavier was about to get decapitated and you were covered head to toe in striga guts.

He absolutely adored this story, smiling fondly each time it resurfaced and even twice as much when he had one too many beers to drink. After some time, you grew to enjoy it too, letting a fog of memory cover the "meet-ugly" and turn it into something that looked and sounded and felt like fate. And maybe, especially if you added all the other times you stumbled into Xavier on complete accident (and more often than not, also in the middle of going through a rather unfavourable situation), fate did in fact have a plan for the two of you, even if it included getting beaten to absolute mush in the middle of some dingy monster cave with nothing but a makeshift torch to protect yourself with.

Surely, it was a comforting thought, and after a few of those times you and Xavier had to fight (or run, for that matter) for your lives, you were starting to believe it too. Especially late at night, cooped up under a scratchy blanket in some seaside tavern you stopped at during your travels, eyes wide open and heart beating just slightly too fast for it to be considered regular. Wondering, worrying, when you’ll be seeing him again. If you’ll be seeing him again. Each time the two of you crossed paths, it was as though a shooting star passed you by, granting just one, tiny wish, then moving onto greater things. The two of you had never made a single promise, not even a mere mention of seeing each other again appeared in any of your numerous conversations. Besides his name, as well as a whole lot of random trivia about the man, Xavier was an enigma, in a true sense of the word.

But then, there were also the other nights. Ones you spent dancing together in taverns, bodies so close that your sweat dripped straight onto his bare skin. Leaning into each other’s presence, wary, curious. Needy. Legs brushing as he sat next to you on the bed you rented for the night, looking up at you in a silent plea.

It was then when you felt the most alive, so painfully aware of the heat radiating off him as your hands trailed down Xavier’s neck. And when he kissed you, hungrily and unapologetically, you could feel yourself unravel right there, on his lap, held together only by the gentleness of Xavier’s hands on your back. Feeling him, letting him feel you, proved to be the most ecstatic state you had ever found yourself in, so close to reaching the purest of joys, your soul began to tremble.

And yet, the two of you had never crossed the final line.

You weren’t sure why that was. Perhaps Xavier was fine with just this, being your occasional battle companion and friend, dance partner and the one you embraced as his lips dragged along the skin of your neck. You rarely stared at him outright, careful not to stir up what was already there, but when you did, he seemed... foreign. As though he wasn't exactly supposed to be there, more suited to something, or someone, greater.

Still, he was there with you, maybe for a couple of days, maybe just few hours, it mattered not. He laughed at your jokes, even when you didn't find them particularly amusing yourself. You played cards together, oftentimes teaming up against your unfortunate opponents of the night, swiftly relieving them of the heavy burden of the few additional coins in their pockets. However besides causing mischief, you helped each other too, offering words of advice or trading secrets of your joined craft in hopes of getting to see each other again, still alive and moderately well.

Or, you treated each other’s wounds, letting the gentle touches linger for just a little longer, more akin to a heartfelt promise rather than pure duty or guilt.

Just like in that moment.

"That bad?" Xavier’s brows furrowed with unshielded worry as he continued applying the ointment onto your damaged skin.

You allowed yourself just one, laboured, heavy sigh.

"It’s not good…?"

Even though your eyes were firmly shut in hopes of somehow warding off some bits of the immense pain you were experiencing, you could practically feel the way he smiled at your response.

"I’d be more concerned for you if it was good, to be truthful," he muttered instead, voice as soft and quiet as a shared secret. "Just a bit longer. I’m almost finished."

Offering a strained hum in reply, you dug your nails into the checkered blanket laid atop the bed.

The room was spacious. After barely making out alive that day, you decided to treat yourself with something a little closer to average living conditions and, hopefully, less than five odd looking bugs eager to share the bed with you that night.

You were sat on the bed, a stack of patterned pillows behind your back, and he knelt in front of you, carefully examining the fresh wound from earlier. It was a while ago when you noticed how skilled Xavier was at first aid – not like he wasn't a talented human being in general – and yet it never ceased to surprise you just a tiny bit each time he got to work.

"Is there something on my face?"

Your head snapped up. "Sorry...?"

"It's done." Xavier gave you a small smile, placing his hand on the bed to help himself up. "You were exceptionally brave this time. Stamina made of steel."

His eyes glistened when he said that, a silent invitation to a few bits of playful banter.

"Oh, fuck you. The last time I treated your wounds, you fainted before I could even do anything."

"I dare say it was your outstanding stitching skills that were the catalyst." He hummed in reply, one hand raised to his chin in exaggerated wonder. "True excellence occurs so rarely, my body found itself in a state of pure and utter shock."

Lip corners raised just slightly, face still fully towards you even though he was already next to the door. Xavier was lingering.

"I'd like to see your stitching skills someday, then."

His expression turned rigid. "I hope you will never have to. Have a good night, starlight."

As much as you wished for him to stay just a little longer, begin a new topic or maybe just exist somewhere close, within an arms reach, you knew that Xavier had to leave so you could sneak downstairs and gather some intel from the regulars at the tavern. It wasn't that you didn't trust him to keep a proper secret; you were forced to take a literal oath that successfully prevented you from sharing what you were truly after – the missing prince.

It still felt nonsensical, at least to some degree, how it was you that got chosen for this task, out of all the bounty hunters this kingdom had to offer. And while you were more than sure that you were being trailed by the royal guard (you hadn't noticed them yet, but you did have your suspicions), each assignment you accepted was treated with utmost care and consideration, as you never did anything halfway.

That was precisely why you were already reaching for the handwritten descriptions that were given to you that morning – eye colour, expected manner of speaking, things of such nature – when something unexpectedly caught your attention.

"Xavier, wait."

He froze with his hand wrapped around the doorknob, glancing at you above his shoulder. "Yeah?"

There was a patch of dirt on the back of his shirt, right above the waist, and an irregular cut right through the material. You gestured for him to come closer, knowing well that whenever Xavier got hurt, he would become absolutely hellbent on keeping it from you.

"I'm fine," he muttered then, clumsily trying to minimise your suspicions.

You grabbed Xavier by his arms and forced him to sit next to you on the bed. "Take off your shirt."

He stilled for a brief moment, body stiffening under your touch, and if you weren't already focusing all your attention on his back, you'd fail to notice the difference.

"Yes, ma'am..."

Grabbing the leftover ointment and bandages, you positioned yourself behind him, hunched at an awkward angle that made you huff. "Fine, my ass..."

You covered the cloth with remnants of some disinfectant you'd found earlier in your bag, forcing your eyes to stay focused on Xavier's wound and Xavier's wound only.

But, oh, how hard it was to prevent your gaze from wandering all over his back, shoulders, neck... It took each and every ounce of self restraint that you possessed to halt your hands before they could slide along the sides of his torso, outlining the faint scarring that covered it in some places. Your hands or your lips, for that matter, as you could already imagine yourself trailing tender, open mouthed kisses down his spine, stopping right next to the...

"Is it that horrid of a sight?" Xavier's voice brought you back to reality in an instant, although now your thoughts were already beginning to race, tumbling into each other in haste as you desperately tried to make sense of what was right in front of your eyes.

You forced yourself to respond. "I've seen worse."

Pressing the cloth right onto his skin, you exhaled shakily.

In the detailed notes, given to you back at the castle, there was a description of a rather unique, mid-sized birthmark in a shape of a dagger which was to be situated at the very bottom of the runaway prince's spine.

Precisely where you found the one belonging to Xavier.