#it’s as much a survival mechanism as it is a deep passion

[wasabi-gumdrop]

essential reading for Kabru lovers and dunmeshi world building enthusiasts

Kabru, impossible mutual understanding & unknowable objects

Despite his concerted and constant efforts to understand other people, it’s established in a few extras that Kabru believes that true mutual understanding between certain different races is impossible. Specifically, between long-lived and short-lived races, and between humans and demi-humans. Partially, we can trace this conviction back to specific hang-ups caused by his life; the trauma of the Utaya disaster, prejudices he carries from his childhood, and his experience of racism among the elves. In this “little” essay, I’m gonna discuss how I think those experiences formed this belief, how it comes out in his actions, and how some of his actions seem to contradict it. The question of whether it’s possible to reach mutual understanding with other living beings despite our differences is one of the core themes of the manga, and I’ll also touch on how this aspect of Kabru’s character links to that.

Seeking understanding

Kabru is a character who devotes a huge amount of time and effort to understanding people, and he is very good at it. In his internal monologue, we can tell how advanced and complex his skills of analysis are. He is able to read a huge amount of information just from looking at people's faces and body language.

People are, to him, what monsters are to Laios. This is something that's been expanded on at length in other, excellent meta. It's the fact that they're foils; it's the fact that Kabru is also very easy to read as autistic, with a special interest which is the opposite and parallel of Laios'. It's something that came out of trauma and alienation, as Laios' special interest in monsters also began as a coping mechanism.

The complicated origin of this "love" for monsters and for people comes through, I think, in the fact that one of the places we see both characters use their fixation is in being very, very good at killing the thing that they love. This also ties into the idea that loving something isn't even remotely mutually exclusive with using it to sustain your own survival; using it for your own purposes; hurting it or killing it. Love can be, and often is, violent, possessive and consumptive. This understanding is part of what makes Kui's depiction of interpersonal relationships so compelling to me.

While Laios fixated on monsters and animals to seek a place of escape, in both his imagination and his self-image, from the humans who he couldn't understand and who couldn't understand him, Kabru seems to have fixated on understanding people in order to navigate the complex, socially marginal places that he has been forced into throughout his life. As an illegitimate child raised by a single mother with an appearance that marked him out as different to the point his father's family wanted to kill him, and a tallman child raised among elves who didn't treat him as fully human and wanted him to perform gratefulness for that treatment ��� treatment that, after he met Rin at age 9, he certainly always understood could be a lot worse – his ability to work out what people wanted from him, whether they were friendly or hostile or had ulterior motives, wasn’t just an interest. It will have been an essential skill.  

Milsiril, I think, was a flawed parent who tried to do her best by Kabru and did a lot of harm to him despite her best intentions. She may have treated him much better than an average elf would have, but like Otta and Marcille's mother, there are other elves with different outlooks on short-lived races. How would they judge her treatment of him? We don’t have any insight on what it could be, but to be honest, the person’s whose opinion of her I’d be most interested in knowing is Rin’s.

But even if she'd been perfect, living as an trans-racial adoptee in a deeply hierarchical nation with a queen who is a 'staunch traditionalist' who wouldn't even acknowledge the existence of a half-elf like Marcille (according to Cithis) is an experience that would deeply impact anyone.

Elves & Impossible mutual understanding

While Kabru was living with Milsiril - in other words, while living in the Northern Central Continent - he came to believe that "there was no way to achieve mutual understanding with the long-lived races."

This is evident in his political project: he wants short-lived races to have ownership over the dungeon's secrets. Despite his dislike of the Lord of the Island, he's a useful bulwark to stop the elves taking over. Despite his doubts about Laios, Laios needs to be the one to defeat the dungeon, because if he doesn't the elves will take over.

Kabru still carries a deep scar from Utaya, one that was exacerbated by the fact that he never got an answer to any of his questions about what happened or why. This, despite the fact that Milsiril knows about the demon and how it works. Do you think Kabru, with his social perceptiveness that borders on the superhuman, wasn't aware that she knew more than she would tell him?

Given that, the fact that he gets to a place where he "doesn't have any particularly negative feelings about [elves/long-lived species]" .... well, to put it bluntly, I believe that he thinks that's the case, but I kind of doubt it. After all, if he did have resentment, of Milsiril (someone who was his primary provider and caretaker since age six, and who despite her flaws, loves him and who I do think he loves) or of elves (who he has had to play nice with for most of his life, in order to survive, and will still have to play nice with in order to achieve his goals, since they hold all the power) what would that do except hurt him and make his life harder? Kabru is Mr. Pragmatic, so I don't think he'd let himself acknowledge any such feelings he did have. Exactly because he can't acknowledge them, they're well placed to get internalised as beliefs about the Fundamental Unchangeable Nature of the World.

However, these stated beliefs seem to contradict his actions. Despite his belief in the impossibility of forming a mutual understanding, he certainly seems to try to understand long-lived people, just as much as he does short-lived people. There's no noticeable difference between his treatment of Daya & Holm versus Mickbell & Rin that isn't clearly down to their relationship with him. His skills of human analysis were honed and developed while living amongst elves, and as soon as he's alone with Mithrun he immediately sets to understanding him - his interests, his motivations, his needs, and his past.

He treats him considerately and without bias, and despite the fact that Mithrun conquering the dungeon for the elves is both a reenactment of a core part of his childhood trauma and a political disaster for his aims, that doesn't seem to colour his perspective on Mithrun negatively at all.

This is something I find extremely laudable about Kabru, and it's another way he parallels Laios. He seems to understand that people, as a rule, (in Laios' case, he understands this about monsters - and eventually, all living beings) will act in their own interests, and if those interests conflict with yours, might harm you. But that's just their nature, and it's not something that should be held against them; you're also doing the same thing, after all. The crux of Laios' arc is precisely that he has to accept the responsibility of hurting someone else in order to achieve what he wants.

Kabru is deeply concerned with his own morals, what he should and shouldn't do, but mostly in the context of responsibility for the consequences - a responsibility he takes onto himself. He isn't scrupulous about what he needs to do in order to create the outcome he wants, but if he fails to create that outcome, then....

He blames himself to the point of thinking he should die. He doesn't blame Laios, or seem at all angry with him, despite concluding he should have killed him to prevent this outcome. That's because in his eyes, ultimately Laios was going to act according to his own nature, and it's Kabru's fault for not understanding that nature well enough. He's extremely confident in his ability to understand and predict others, (including elves and other long-lived people). Then, where does his conviction that mutual understanding is impossible come from?

Partially, it's the "mutual" part. I'm sure Kabru, who isn't able or willing to deny Otta's insinuation that Milsiril saw him more like a pet than a son, has felt that his full interiority, the depth of his feelings and his ability to grow, act, and think as a fully equal being, was something that the elves around him just couldn't grasp. Because that was their excuse for it, he came to understand this as a gulf between short-lived and long-lived beings, an inevitable difference in outlook caused by their different lifespans.

This experience might be part of what leads to his iconic “fake” behaviour. He trusts his ability to understand others, but if they aren’t able to understand him, then there isn’t any benefit to being honest about his feelings and thoughts. If his attempts to reach mutual understanding with his caretakers were never able to be fulfilled, then it isn’t any wonder that he reacts with such surprise and horror at blurting out his desire to be Laios’ friend.

In his experience, making yourself vulnerable in that way only leads to being hurt. Soothing him, hushing him, lying to him, talking to him like a child that isn’t able to use proper judgement – that’s an inadequate and deeply hurtful way to respond to genuine distress, the desire for autonomy, or disagreement. Ultimately, I think that’s why he comes out on the side of being grateful to Milsiril; because she did equip him with the skills and knowledge he’d need to reach his goal, and let him go.

Though he could understand them, they couldn't understand him. To the extent that was true - which I'm sure it was - it wasn't due to anything about lifespan. It was due to the elves’ racism, and the solipsitic mindset & prejudiced attitude that it caused them to approach him with.

Because, if it needs to be said, the idea that there is an unbreachable gap in understanding between the long-lived and short-lived species is not true. Marcille and Laios have a much greater difference in lifespan than any full elf from any short-lived person, and they’re able to understand each other – maybe not perfectly, but better than many other people who are closer in life-span to them.

That doesn’t mean that I think Kabru is wrong about this, however. Because there’s an interpretation of his statement that is reflected in his actions and is true. When he talks about his problem with elves, it’s not just their attitudes: it’s their power, and what they use it to do. They “explain nothing and take everything”. Though it’s presented in the guise of ‘guiding and protecting’, in fact it’s a simple case of a powerful nation using their military power, wealth, access to resources, and historically stolen land – including the island itself – to protect their own interests and advance their own agenda. That’s why they’d be able to show up, seize the dungeon, and forcibly take Kabru’s party and Laios’ party to the West. If Kabru wants to stop that from happening, or change that status quo, persuasion or a bid to be understood would be completely pointless. Between the political blocs formed by long-lived species and the interests of short-lived species, “mutual understanding”, given their current, unequal terms, would be impossible. This is something that we see reflected in Kabru’s actions; before he asks his questions about the dungeon, he grabs Mithrun as leverage. He never really attempts to persuade the canaries to see his point of view, because that would be pointless: they’re agents of the Northern Central Continent’s monarchy, and will act in its interests regardless of any individual relationship with him.  

I don’t think Kabru sees the different dimensions of this belief of his in quite such clear terms, however, as is evidenced by the other group who he thinks it’s impossible to communicate with.

Demi-Humans & Unknowable Objects

The other place that we see his conviction about the impossibility of mutual understanding is in the kobold extra.

I'm including the whole thing, because I think it's an excellent and clever piece of world-building. Aside from what it says about Kabru, which I'll expand on shortly, what this extra does is deconstruct and call into question the usual "fantasy ontological biology" present in these sort of DnD-like settings. Essentially, the kind of worldbuilding where a race (such as kobolds) can be described as war-like, and that's establishing something essential about their biological nature. That's common to the point that if Kui didn't include this, some people would probably come away thinking that's the case about, e.g., the orcs.

But here, despite what Kabru is saying, the information the reader actually gets is:

the conflict between short-lived humans and demi-humans such as kobolds is mostly over access to material resources that they need to survive.

These resources are scarce because powerful nations, such as the elves, have monopolised them.

Kabru, who has grown up in a place at the centre of these conflicts, ascribes essential, negative traits to a cultural group which was in direct conflict with his own. Communication with this other group is impossible; they aren't people, they're more like objects.

oh yes! just like this conflict between groups of tall-men, a conflict which the reader will immediately interpret as more clearly analogous to real-life racism. Our other protagonists also carry prejudices from growing up in a place where a marginalised group was in conflict with the dominant group over scarce resources. It's definitely impossible to communicate with these people, and you can only kill them.

Woah, when you say it like that, it sounds pretty bad!

But also, nobody walks away having had a realisation or unlearned their prejudices - because they don't have the tools they need to do that work. Yet. I do think, to an extent, it could happen - especially with Kabru, since it's suggested in the epilogue that Melini might become a safe-haven for demi-humans.

To focus in on Kabru, the key here is his statement that you should think of demi-humans as "unknowable objects". Even his extraordinary powers of understanding have seemingly hit a limit. Part of this is just inherited prejudice, and doesn't need to have a complicated psychological explanation, any more than the elves who were prejudiced against him need one.

But also... this is probably somewhat linked to the way demi-humans seem to be considered "pseudo-monsters". They're the place that the strict delineation between the human and the monstrous is permeated. Laios, who is not interested in humans, remembers and is excited by Kuro. Chilchuck and Laios argue over whether it's OK to eat a mermaid. Kabru's prepared to (pretend to) roll with the idea that Laios ate the orcs.

But these are people, aren't they? Of course, this is a social construction, as we see from the fact that in the Eastern Archipelago, the label of "human" is reserved for tallmen, but in most of the rest of the world it depends on some obviously arbirary classification based on number of bones; "demi-humans" aren't in any essential way monstrous, except to an extent in their appearance, and physical location - due to their marginal social status, they're pushed out to live in unsafe places such as dungeons.

Therefore, Kabru's view of demi-humans as fundamentally "other", unable to be understood - monstrous - could be read as akin to abjection, the psychoanalytical concept described by Julia Kristeva. In order to create a bounded, secure superego, that thing which permeates and calls into question the border between self and other, human and animal, life and death, is rejected and pushed to the margin.

“Not me. Not that. But not nothing, either. A "something" that I do not recognize as a thing.[...] On the edge of nonexistence and hallucination, of a reality that, if I acknowledge it, annihilates me. There, abject and abjection are my safeguards. The primers of my culture.” (Kristeva et al., 1984, p. 11) “It is thus not lack of cleanliness or health that causes abjection but what disturbs identity, system, order. ” (Kristeva et al., 1984, p. 13) “The pure will be that which conforms to an established taxonomy; the impure, that which unsettles it, establishes intermixture and disorder. [...] the impure will be those that do not confine themselves to one element but point to admixture and confusion.” (Kristeva et al., 1984, p. 107) (discussing food prohibitions in Leviticus)

This is both (due to its affinity with food-loathing and disgust) a very fruitful concept to apply to dunmeshi, and a psychoanalytical theory which I wouldn't exactly cosign as True Facts About Human Psychological Development. You may also know the abject from its utilisation in the classic essay "Horror and the Monstrous-Feminine" by Barbara Creed - that's a lot more approachable than Kristeva if anyone's interested.

Key here, though, is that through the symbol of the "demi-human" is embodied a step between "human" and "monster" - and that's a prospect that puts at risk the whole notion of an absolute separation between those two categories in the first place. To Laios, that's something wonderful, and to Kabru, it's terrifying. We can see this principle further embodied in the relationship both characters have with the notion of becoming monstrous.

To Laios, this is transcendent, and represents a renunciation of everything human - in fact, if it didn't, it wouldn't "count".

To Kabru, it's a deeply-held fear, established by his childhood alienation (due to his illegitimacy, his eyes, and perhaps also his neurodivergency), deepened by monster-related trauma and the sense of responsibility and survivors guilt he feels for what happened at Utaya. His identity as a human who is not monstrous is key to his sense of stability and safety; he doesn't want to touch monsters, he doesn't even want to see them.

To acknowledge a kinship, a possibility of similarity between the things he loves (humans) and the things he hates (monsters) would be more than touching them - it would be putting them inside him. We know, quite explicitly, that this notion is triggering to Kabru. He literally has what seems to be a flashback when he's about to eat the harpy omelette.

So he abjects it, classifying the demi-human as fundamentally unlike him - an unknowable object, or an object that he refuses to know. Because in understanding it, he would interject the things he hates and fears into his self, which is already, always under threat by that hated and feared object.

Of course, again, Kabru isn't very good at enacting this refusal in practice. For one, when he chooses between his desires and ingesting the feared object, eating monsters... he eats monsters. Part of this is treating himself badly, the "ends justify the means" mentality. His goal is to destroy all monsters, so if he needs to become monster-like to do that, he will. But part of it is also the other motivation that he didn't even seem to know about until he said it: he wants to become Laios' friend, and to learn from him how a person can like monsters. He wants, at least in some part of him, to reconcile the feared and hated object into something he can understand.

For another:

Kabru can speak the kobold language. In the first place, while this may have been common in Utaya, it also could have been something he chose to learn, an early expression of his interest in understanding and talking to all sorts of people. It isn't the kind of thing you learn if you believe that communication between yourself and the group that speak it is impossible, is it?

It's possible to harbour prejudices against a group while being kind to an individual, and given Kabru has those prejudices regardless of his reasons, that is what he is doing. But also, his treatment of Kuro doesn't reflect a sincerely held belief that he's an "unknowable object" at all. His approach is exactly the same as it is to any other person: an analysis of goal and motive, and an attempt to help if he's sympathetic and their goals align - going out of his way to give language and local knowledge lessons in secret. His conviction that Mickbell and Kuro will truly become friends when they can properly communicate is completely contradictory to any sense of demi-humans as fundamentally different, or impossible to reach mutual understanding with. To me, it seems like this self-protective shield against the corruptive force demi-humans as an idea present to his identity, this abjection, when Kabru is face-to-face with one, just simply can't hold up against his finely honed skill of intellectual empathy. Perhaps because he's autistic, it seems his "empathy" is less an emotional mirror response, and more a set of cognitive skills for analysis of others. That instinctual, emotional empathy might not trigger when presented with a member of an out-group, but if it’s possible for Kabru to turn his cognitive empathy off, we don’t see him do it.

This isn't to say that this prejudice doesn't affect his behaviour. For one, it could negatively impact his judgement of politics and policy, where individual people don't enter into it. For another, I'm not convinced he'd be willing to overlook Mickbell's exploitative relationship with Kuro if Kuro wasn't a kobold. As it is, since both of them are satisfied, he doesn't feel like he needs to intervene, regardless of the fact Mickbell isn't paying Kuro. But if Daya and Holm were in a relationship, and Holm took both Daya's and his own share from their ventures, but only compensated her in living expenses and kept the rest, do you think he'd tolerate it, for example? Even if she said it was OK?

Conclusion

The kelpie chapter establishes that "people can never know what monsters are really thinking." That isn't just true of monsters, though.

True mutual understanding is impossible - between anyone. We can never truly understand another person's heart. This is touched on in, for example, the existence of shapeshifters and dopplegangers. Even a monster that seemed like a perfect copy of a person wouldn’t be that person, and wouldn’t be a satisfactory replacement.

We’re intended, I think, to understand the winged lion's repeated suggestions to just replace people who have been lost with copies as something uncanny, which demonstrates the way that the winged lion never manages to attain a complete understanding of humans. A version of a person who was created to fulfil your memories of them, to be the person who you wanted them to be, would be a terrible, miserable thing.

Disagreeing, coming into conflict, and misunderstanding each other, are essential parts of what it means to be living beings, as fundamental as the need to eat.

The only thing to do is not to take more than you need to eat to survive, and not impose your own desires onto others. To do your best to sincerely communicate your desires, even if they're embarrassing or vulnerable or strange, like Kabru eventually does with Laios; like Laios does, bit by bit, with the people around him; like Marcille does, Chilchuck does, Senshi does... to hope they will accept you, and do your best to understand them in return.

We can re-examine, in that context, Kabru's line about the elves' tendency to "explain nothing and take everything".

They have the power to impose their preferred "menu" onto less powerful groups. And in that context, mutual understanding being impossible just means that they won't give up their power because they're asked nicely. Kabru's goal is to seize the truth that they won't give to him, and to create a situation where they can't take everything. Because he's accurately surmised that nothing about the treatment of short-lived races will change so long as the power imbalance remains. Despite the way he mistakenly ascribes part of that to "long-lived vs short-lived" or "human vs demi-human", the actual gulfs in understanding he identifies are structural, are about power and about access to material resources and safety.

I think he could come to recognise this. Yaad is teaching him political science after all, and while a prince's lessons on political science won't exactly get at much that's radical or invested in the interests and perspectives of the marginalised (Capital is a critique of for a reason after all...) I believe in Kabru's ability to learn critically and get more from a lesson than it was intended to teach.

[fangdokja]

🔞“He says he’d do anything for you. But would you believe him?”

❤︎ Synopsis. Beneath his playful smile lies a predator in waiting—muscles honed for control, a filthy mind veiled by charm, and a dark obsession that festers with every glance you give him. You think he’s harmless, but when his restraint finally snaps, you’ll learn just how wrong you’ve been.

♡ Book. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Best Friend x Fem. Reader

♡ Headcanons. Unspoken Desires - Part 1

♡ Word Count. 5,580

♡ TW. dom + top + older + sadistic yandere, general non-con + manipulation, fear play, isolation, monitoring, non-con kissing and/or touching, forced relationship, BDSM, depression and mental illnesses, implied suicidal tendencies, unhealthy coping mechanisms, masturbation, hinted needle play, degradation, name calling, implied drugging

♡ Note. Due to Tumblr content guidelines involving mental illnesses, self-harm, and suicide, some plot details of the original story were purposefully made ambiguous to fit the platform.

♡ A/N. Actually I was trying to write wholesome, then it went to my usual writing style oop. Though, I wouldn't really say this is explicit. Seems lax for me, but that also has its own appeal.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who grew up with you in a tiny village nestled deep in the heart of a high fantasy world, where magic thrummed beneath the earth like a heartbeat and gods were whispered about in the rustling of leaves. A world where war and peace ebbed and flowed like the tides, and your childhood playgrounds were forests that spoke in riddles and rivers that glowed faintly under moonlight.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who first met you when you saved his life—or maybe he saved yours. You can’t even remember anymore. But you were just kids back then, barely old enough to wield a knife, much less survive a wolf attack in the woods. He’d laughed with bloodied teeth and sparkling eyes, like almost dying was the best day of his life.

"You’re an idiot," you’d muttered as you yanked him out of the beast’s jaws, dragging him behind a tree.

"Yeah, but you saved me," he grinned through bloodied teeth, his grin wide enough to split his face.

"Only so I don’t have to explain to everyone else why I let you die."

"Sure, sure. Keep telling yourself that."

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who was always a little too much—too fast, too loud, too bright. The kind of kid whose presence filled every corner of a room, whose schemes were impossible to ignore, and whose laugh could somehow make you feel both exhausted and alive.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who was the sun, burning at a temperature that should’ve incinerated him, and you? You were the moon, distant and cold, orbiting him only because you didn’t mind the warmth.

"You’re like a puppy," you said once, watching him pace excitedly as he rattled off yet another harebrained scheme.

"Like a what?" He froze mid-step, his eyes wide with mock offense.

"A puppy. Annoying, loud, and too full of energy."

"I am not annoying!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms out dramatically. "I’m charming."

"Sure you are."

"And loud? That’s just passion!"

"Passion’s another word for obnoxious, you know."

He gasped, clutching his chest like you’d stabbed him. "Take it back!"

"No."

"You’re heartless!"

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who was your partner in everything. You weren’t just two kids in a village—you were an unstoppable duo, a myth in the making. Climbing mountains to see if you could touch the clouds, sneaking into the elder’s home to steal forbidden scrolls, setting traps for monsters that only existed in bedtime stories.

"You’re going to get us caught," you whispered as he crouched beside the elder’s door, fiddling with the lock.

"Not if you keep watch," he replied, grinning like this was the most fun he’d ever had.

"Keep watch? I’m not an accomplice to your idiocy."

"Too late. You’re already here."

"By force."

"Uh-huh. And yet you’re still standing here, helping me."

You rolled your eyes, but your lips twitched into a reluctant smile. "I hate you sometimes."

"Only sometimes? I must be doing something right!"

Everyone else thought he was insane, but you always followed. Not because you believed in his harebrained schemes, but because his chaos made you feel alive in a way you didn’t understand.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who was terrifyingly smart in ways that shouldn’t have been possible. He didn’t just think outside the box; he dismantled it, set it on fire, and then asked why it existed in the first place. He could weave together plans and schemes that made grown adults stammer in awe—or fear.

"You’re going to blow us up one day," you deadpanned as he rigged a trap out of nothing but twigs and string.

"Not ‘blow up,’" he corrected, his hands moving deftly. "Just… scare off the bad guys."

"Bad guys? You mean the squirrels?"

"They’re shifty little things."

"You’re insane."

"And yet, you’re still standing here."

"To see how you plan to die this time."

But he was also the same boy who fell into rivers because he forgot they were slippery, or who got stuck in a tree because he didn’t think about how he’d climb back down.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who, even as a child, hated the idea of losing you. He didn’t show it in ways you’d notice—he wasn’t clingy or possessive yet—but he’d always insist on being there.

"You don’t have to follow me everywhere," you grumbled one day, watching him trail behind you.

"Yeah, but what if something happens to you?" he said, grinning like it was a joke.

"Like what? Tripping on a rock?"

"You joke, but rocks are deadly."

"You’re impossible."

"And you’re stuck with me."

Wherever you went, whatever you did, he was there. Even when he got mad at you, even when you got mad at him, the idea of being apart was something neither of you could bear.

────────────

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who, as you both grew older, turned your childhood games into full-fledged adventures.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who always made sure you had his back, just as he had yours. It didn’t matter if you were facing bandits, cursed creatures, or labyrinths that seemed impossible to escape—he would always find a way to pull you through.

And you’d do the same for him, even when he tried to stop you. Especially when he tried to stop you.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who hated how you always put yourself in danger for him.

Whether it was throwing yourself in front of an attack, volunteering to distract enemies so he could escape, or using the last of your strength to save him, it drove him absolutely insane.

He’d smile through gritted teeth, trying to play it off as his usual carefree self, but you could see the tightness in his jaw, the way his hands clenched into fists.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who started to argue with you more and more because of it.

At first, it was just teasing jabs—“You know, one day you’re going to get yourself killed pulling stunts like that.”

But when you kept doing it, his tone grew sharper, his words harsher. “Do you even care about your own life? Do you think I’d just let you throw yourself away like that?!”

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who, despite his frustration, couldn’t stop you.

No matter how many times he argued, begged, or outright yelled at you to stop risking yourself, you always brushed him off with that infuriatingly calm logic of yours.

“If I didn’t, you’d be dead. So what’s the problem?” And every time you said it, he felt like his chest was going to explode—partly from anger, but mostly from fear.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who would never admit it, but the thought of losing you terrified him more than anything else in the world.

He’d rather lose a limb, his powers, even his own mind, if it meant keeping you safe.

And the fact that you didn’t seem to value your life as much as he did made something dark and desperate coil in his chest.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who, during one of your worst arguments, snapped. His usual charm and humor vanished, replaced by raw, unfiltered rage.

“Do you think I need your sacrifices? That I’m some helpless idiot who can’t survive without you throwing yourself in harm’s way? I’m not weak, and I don’t want to watch you die for me, do you understand that?!”

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who stormed off after that, leaving you both in silence for hours, maybe even days.

But when he came back, he wasn’t angry anymore.

His voice was calm, his smile soft, but there was something unsettling about the way he looked at you, like he was trying to memorize every inch of you in case you disappeared.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who started to take more control over your adventures after that. He’d laugh and joke like normal, but he always seemed to steer you away from the most dangerous paths, even if it meant taking longer to reach your destination.

And if you ever tried to put yourself in harm’s way again, he’d find a way to stop you—whether it was with words, tricks, or, in the most extreme cases, outright forcing you to stay behind.

———

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who never thought he liked you as anything more than a best friend. You were his partner-in-crime, his constant, the only person who truly understood him. He couldn’t imagine his life without you, but that didn’t mean he liked you like that.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who felt something strange the first time you smiled at someone else like you smiled at him.

It was during one of your adventures—a random stranger you helped along the way. They cracked a joke, and for the first time, you laughed. Not your usual quiet, wry chuckle, but something brighter, something real. He grinned along with you, but inside, something cold and heavy settled in his chest.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who didn’t understand why it bothered him so much when others got too close to you.

You’d always been his.

Not in a romantic way—just in the way best friends were.

You were his partner, his moon, the person he trusted more than anyone.

But when someone else tried to share your attention, that bad feeling in his chest twisted into something darker.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who started noticing it more and more.

The way you’d listen to someone else’s plans without questioning them, even though you always teased his. The way you didn’t hesitate to step between someone else and danger, even though you knew it would make him furious. The way your expression softened when you thought no one was watching, as if you never looked at him like that.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who told himself it was nothing, just a weird phase.

Maybe he was overthinking it.

He had no reason to be upset.

You were his best friend—you weren’t going anywhere. But the more he thought about it, the more that thought didn’t feel like enough.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who started acting without realizing it. His smiles grew sharper when others talked to you, his words more cutting, his presence heavier. He’d laugh it off when you called him out, waving his hand like it was all a joke, but deep down, he knew it wasn’t.

He just couldn’t figure out why.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who, during one of your adventures, snapped at you for the first time in a way that wasn’t about your safety.

It was something small—someone you met on the road had complimented you, and you’d actually smiled back.

He didn’t know what came over him, but before he could stop himself, he was already muttering, “You’re just going to smile at anyone now, huh? What’s next, inviting them to join us?”

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who immediately regretted it when you frowned and looked away. You didn’t argue back, didn’t tease him like usual. You just stayed quiet, which somehow felt worse than anything you could’ve said.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who started avoiding the subject entirely after that. He went back to his usual carefree self—laughing, joking, pulling you into more wild adventures.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who didn’t know why he felt this way until one night, while camping under the stars, he caught himself staring at you. The way the firelight flickered across your face, the way your usually emotionless eyes softened when you stared into the flames, the way you always sat close enough for him to feel your warmth but never closer.

Something in his chest ached, and for the first time, he realized why.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who didn’t want to admit it. Didn’t want to ruin what you had, didn’t want to think about what it might mean.

But he couldn’t stop himself from wondering. Wondering if anyone else could make you smile the way he did.

Wondering if anyone else could be your constant.

———

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who isn’t stupid—he knows you don’t see him the way he sees you.

He can tell by the way you laugh around him, carefree and unguarded, like you’re sharing a joke with an older brother. By the way you roll your eyes at his antics, always more amused than annoyed.

By the way you lean on him, not like someone who’s in love, but like someone who trusts him to always be there, no matter what.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who knows he’s just your best friend, the person who drags you on adventures and watches your back.

Nothing more, nothing less.

But that doesn’t stop the knot in his chest from tightening every time you treat him like something so casual.

Like he’s just another part of your world, instead of your entire world, the way you are to him.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who wonders sometimes if he’s being selfish, wanting more than what you’re already giving him. You let him into your life, trusted him in a way you trusted no one else. But it wasn’t enough.

It was never enough.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who pretends it doesn’t bother him, flashing his usual grin and cracking jokes whenever you call him out for being clingy.

“Can you blame me? You’re my favorite person in the world! No one else even comes close.” But underneath the laughter, his mind is racing, twisting, plotting.

Because if you couldn’t love him the way he loved you, then he’d just have to make sure no one else could either.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who starts pushing the boundaries of your friendship without you even noticing.

Casual touches linger just a second too long, playful teasing takes on a sharper edge, and his protectiveness turns into something almost suffocating. If you notice, you don’t say anything—maybe because it’s easier to brush it off as just him being his usual self. But he knows better.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who tells himself it’s fine.

That he can wait. That you’ll realize it eventually.

That you’ll see no one else will ever understand you the way he does, no one else will ever protect you the way he does, no one else will ever love you the way he does.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who grows darker, quieter, when someone else gets too close to you. The usual charm and humor are still there, but there’s something off about the way he smiles, too sharp and too cold.

He won’t say anything at first, just watching, waiting, calculating.

But if they try to take you away, to pull you out of his orbit, that’s when things start to unravel.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who starts isolating you without you even realizing it. He’s the only one who can keep up with you, the only one who knows how to handle your quirks and your flaws.

The only one who will never leave you. He plants the idea so carefully, so subtly, that you don’t even question it.

It’s just the way things are.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who knows, deep down, that you don’t love him the way he loves you.

Not yet, at least. But that’s okay.

Because he doesn’t need your love—he just needs you.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who tells himself it doesn’t matter how long it takes. Days, months, years—it’s all the same to him.

Because in the end, you’ll cave.

You’ll see that no one else could ever love you the way he does. That no one else could ever deserve you.

———

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who didn’t even realize how far gone he was until one day, when you were bathing, he accidentally walked in.

You didn’t scream, didn’t flinch, didn’t even care.

Just stared at him with those cold, emotionless eyes of yours and calmly said, “Door’s unlocked.”

As if it was nothing.

As if the sight of your bare skin, the water sliding down your body, wouldn’t haunt him for the rest of his life.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who felt his breath catch in his throat, his usual wit failing him for once.

He laughed it off awkwardly, muttered some excuse about needing something, and stumbled out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

But the image of you was burned into his mind, refusing to fade no matter how hard he tried to shake it off.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who hated himself for it, hated how much his body reacted to you.

He wasn’t supposed to think about you like this, wasn’t supposed to feel this way.

But no matter how much he tried to fight it, the memory of you kept creeping back in, setting his skin on fire and making his heart race.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who found himself lying awake that night, your image replaying in his mind on an endless loop.

He could still see the way the water glistened on your skin, the way your hair clung to your shoulders, the way you looked at him so casually, so apathetically, as if you had no idea what you were doing to him.

———

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who you’ve always seen as a goofy, harmless puppy.

Sure, he’s tall and muscular—towering over most people effortlessly—but his easygoing attitude and boyish charm have always made him seem more like a loyal guard dog than anything remotely dangerous. You’ve never thought twice about sharing space with him, leaning on him, treating him like the oversized, overprotective best friend he appears to be.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who knows exactly what you think of him. He plays his part so well: the playful idiot, the one who makes you laugh when you’re down, the one who keeps you safe without asking for anything in return.

And while some parts of that are true, they’re far from the whole story. Because the truth is, underneath that sunshine grin and those puppy-dog eyes, he’s not your harmless protector. He’s something much darker, much more dangerous, and he hides it all so well.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who doesn’t just want you—he wants to own you.

Every glance, every laugh, every little touch you give him fuels something primal inside of him, something he keeps locked away beneath layers of charm and wit. Did you think his broad shoulders and ripped physique were just for show?

That all those hours spent training, honing his body, were just about looking good? No. It was for you. It’s always been for you. To keep you safe. To keep others away.

To ensure that when the time comes, no one—not even you—could stop him from taking what’s his.

———

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who goes home after a long day with you, his head swimming with the way your body brushed against his, the way your apathetic expression softened for just a second when you cracked one of your rare, sarcastic jokes.

It’s unbearable, the tension coiling tighter and tighter in his chest, and by the time he’s alone, he’s already burning up with the need for release.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who hates how much power you have over him. Hates how weak you make him feel when he’s wrapped around your little finger, playing the role of your goofy best friend when all he really wants is to pin you down and make you look at him differently—to see him not as your protector, but as something darker.

Someone who could ruin you in ways you’ve never even imagined.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who locks himself in his room, leaning back against the door with a sharp exhale, his muscles tight with tension.

The second his hand dips into his waistband, it’s like a dam breaking. He doesn’t even try to fight it anymore. His mind goes straight to you—how you’d feel, how you’d sound, how you’d look beneath him, your apathetic mask cracking under the weight of his touch.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who starts slow, dragging his hand lazily over his length as he pictures the way you’d squirm beneath him, trying to keep your composure. He knows you’d fight him at first—of course you would—but he also knows how easily you’d give in if he played his cards right.

How easily he could shatter your walls and make you depend on him, need him, the way he needs you.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who whispers your name under his breath, his voice rough with desperation as his strokes grow faster, harder, more erratic.

His mind races with all the things he wants to do to you, all the ways he wants to mark you, claim you, destroy you so completely that no one else could ever have you the way he does.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who bites his lip to muffle the low, guttural sounds escaping his throat, his free hand gripping the edge of his desk so tightly his knuckles turn white.

He pictures you underneath him, tears welling in your eyes as you try to push him away, only to melt under his touch. The thought makes his head spin, and his hips jerk up involuntarily as he chases his release.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who finally spills with a choked groan, your name falling from his lips like a broken prayer. The pleasure rips through him like a tidal wave, leaving him trembling and breathless, his body taut with the intensity of it.

But as the high fades, a darker satisfaction settles over him, mixed with a burning hunger that refuses to be quenched.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who leans back against the wall, wiping a hand over his face as he catches his breath.

He feels no guilt, no shame—only a gnawing desire for more.

Because this isn’t enough. It’ll never be enough.

He wants you for real, not just in the dark recesses of his mind.

———

You lay there, the soft, rhythmic sound of your breathing the only thing that pierced the quiet of the night. The warmth of the small, candlelit room was comforting, a stark contrast to the cold, dark woods outside the village walls.

You were nestled in your bed, the soft fabric of your nightgown clinging to your body as you drifted in and out of consciousness, your dreams filled with the excitement of the adventures you and your best friend had shared throughout the years.

Unbeknownst to you, his eyes were fixated on your form, his gaze hungry and possessive. He'd been watching you for hours, his thoughts growing darker with every passing minute.

He knew you didn't see him the way he saw you, but that was a problem that could be rectified.

He took a deep breath, his hand moving to the bulge in his pants, and whispered to himself, "Mine. You're always mine." His grip tightened as he began to stroke himself, his eyes never leaving your peaceful face.

The sound of his zipper was the only disturbance in the stillness, and he felt his heart pound in his chest as he grew harder at the thought of you, his untouchable moon.

"Sleep tight, fucktoy," he murmured, a twisted smile playing on his lips, "because when you wake up, you'll finally know who you truly belong to."

The tension grew palpable as his strokes grew quicker, his breathing becoming ragged and erratic. He was lost in his own twisted fantasy, imagining the way your eyes would widen in shock and fear as you awoke to find him there, invading your personal space, claiming what he believed was rightfully his.

"You think you can ignore me?" he whispered harshly, the anger and frustration in his voice barely contained.

"You think I don't notice when you laugh with others, when you let them touch you?" His hand moved faster, his teeth clenched in determination. "You're mine, and you always will be. I'll make sure of it."

His eyes roved over your body, lingering on the curve of your hip, the swell of your breasts, and the delicate line of your neck. The urge to reach out and touch you, to mark you in some way, was almost overwhelming.

But no, not yet.

The anticipation was too sweet.

He sat on the edge of the bed, the soft mattress groaning slightly under his weight. The room was suffocating in its darkness, only the flickering candle on the bedside table casting dancing shadows across your peaceful face.

He could see the gentle rise and fall of your chest, the soft sound of your breaths echoing in the quiet space. It was a sound he'd become all too familiar with, a sweet melody that lulled him into a sense of security and power.

His hand moved under the covers, the fabric of his own trousers straining against his growing arousal. He gritted his teeth, trying to keep his breaths even as he touched himself.

His eyes never left you, studying every curve and line of your body as if he could burn the image into his mind. You were so close, yet so far away. It was infuriating, a constant reminder of what wasn't his.

Yet.

He corrected the thought in his head with a smirk.

You were his, had always been his, even if you didn't know it yet.

He'd make sure of it.

His hand stroked faster, the wet sounds of his self-indulgence seeming too loud in the otherwise silent room. He couldn't help but feel a twisted sense of triumph as he watched your chest rise and fall, oblivious to the dark desires that swirled around you like a tempest.

"Bitchy cumdump," he murmured under his breath, the word a vile whisper that seemed to hang in the air like a curse.

"Rape slut." He liked those names, the way they painted a picture of you that was so much more… palatable than the cold, untouchable moon you portrayed to him.

But you could also be warm, alive, full of passion and fire, and he knew it.

He just hadn't figured out how to make you burn for him alone.

His hand stroked himself roughly, his eyes never leaving your sleeping form. You had your back to him, the soft curves of your body hidden beneath the thin fabric of your nightgown.

It was almost translucent, revealing the shadowy outline of your curves, your skin so pale it seemed to glow in the moonlight filtering through the window.

His eyes roved over you greedily, taking in every detail, his mind racing with thoughts of what lay beneath that delicate exterior.

He reached out with his other hand, the one not busy with his own desires, and traced a line down your spine.

You shifted slightly, a soft sigh escaping your lips, but you remained asleep. The sound of his own breath grew heavier, his strokes more frantic as he felt the heat of your body through the fabric.

"Mine," he whispered again, his voice low and guttural.

It was a promise, a vow that echoed in the quiet of the room, a declaration of war against anyone who dared to claim you.

His breath hitched as he reached the peak of his desire, his hand moving faster and faster as he thought of claiming you, making you his in every way possible.

With a low, primal growl, he came, his seed spilling onto the bed sheets.

The warmth and wetness of his release brought him back to reality, his hand slowing as he stared at the evidence of his obsession with you.

His heart raced in his chest, a heady mix of longing and satisfaction coursing through his veins. He had never felt so alive, so powerful, so… right.

He leaned back against the headboard, his eyes still glued to your form. You hadn't stirred, hadn't woken up.

It was like you were a doll, a perfect creation made just for his amusement.

He felt a twisted sense of pride that you hadn't noticed his depravity, that his need for you was so strong it could only be expressed in the dark when you were at your most vulnerable.

But that would change.

Oh, how it would change.

As he withdraws his hand from the warmth of his climax, he was careful not to disturb you, his eyes lingering on the soft rise and fall of your chest. He reaches for a cloth beside the bed to clean up the mess he’s made, his mind racing with thoughts of what he’ll do next to claim you fully.

He’s always been the one to watch over you, the one to save you, the one who understands you better than anyone else.

But now, it’s no longer enough to just be your best friend.

He reaches under his bed, his hand brushing against the cold, rough fabric of a hidden bag.

The zipper whispers open, revealing an assortment of morally questionable items: ropes, gags, handcuffs, and a few bottles of clear liquid with handwritten labels. The scent of leather and something else—something darker—wafts out, mingling with the stale air of the room.

His breath hitches as he runs his fingers over the contents, feeling the weight of each item. They're tools of his obsession, tokens of the future he's crafting in his twisted mind.

His eyes flicker back to you, sleeping so peacefully, so utterly unaware of what's to come.

He pulls out a syringe from the bag, the cold metal glinting in the moonlight.

With practiced hands, he fills it with a pink liquid, the viscous substance swirling within the glass tube like a trapped, desperate thing.

It's a potion of his own making, something that would ensure that when the time came, you'd be too compliant to resist him.

He's not a complete monster—he doesn't want to take you by force, not yet at least.

But he knows that the path to your heart is paved with fear and obedience.

He rolls the plunger between his thumb and forefinger, feeling the liquid warm against his skin. The anticipation of using it on you makes his breath catch.

He watches you sleep, the fabric of your nightgown clinging to your body like a second skin. His eyes trace the gentle curves of your breasts and the way your hips dip before flaring out, the shadow between your thighs taunting him with what lies beneath.

The urge to claim you fully is overwhelming, but he reminds himself that patience is key.

Instead, he allows his gaze to linger, his hands straying to the syringe filled with his homemade potion—a blend of aphrodisiac and sedative that would make you pliable in his hands. He imagines pushing it into your soft flesh, watching as the liquid fills you, turning you into a vessel of his desires.

He reaches out with trembling hands, his breath shallow and ragged with anticipation. His fingertips graze the soft fabric of your nightgown, tracing the line of your slit, feeling the heat radiating from your body. You stir slightly in your sleep, but do not wake, oblivious to the violation he's about to commit. He gently parts the fabric, exposing your bare skin to the cool air of the room.

He takes one of the syringes filled with his potion and holds it up to the moonlight, admiring the way the liquid shimmers. "Soon, you'll be mine," he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper, thick with lust and possession.

He brings the needle closer, poised at the entrance of your pussy, savoring the moment. "And no one will ever be able to take you from me."

────────────

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows. Thank you.

General TAG LIST of “Whispers In The Dark”: @keisocool , @elvabeth , @elloredef , @mjsjshhd , @lem-hhn

❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology ♡ Book 2. 🔞Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. ♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World. ♡ Book 4. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

[filthyslashertoad]

Slasher First Date Headcannons

Oh yeah guys, guess who’s adding more characters! ME!!!! So…introducing…PETER STRAHM AND… MARK HOFFMAN!!!! (air horn noises)

Also just to be clear I’m writing for lestat and Louis from the movie NOT THE TV SHOW(It’s just not that good imo)

Peter Strahm

Is a hopeless romantic that 100% believes in love at first sight.

Talks way too much and gets very passionate when sharing his own interests.

Is the type to bring you multiple different flowers because he wasn't sure what you'd like.

Prefers first dates to be at restaurants or cafes.

Mark Hoffman

Is an asshole to you the first time he meets you because he thinks that it counts as flirting?

Quickly becomes absolutely enamored by you and wants to know everything about you.

The day after he definitely finds you walking down the street and blares his sirens to get your attention and say some cheesy pickup line to ask you out on another date.

Michael Myers

The closest you're gonna get to a first date with him is him showing up at your house and eating all of your food while staring at you from a nearby hallway.

Don't expect a first date kiss, but do expect a sentimental staring contest before he leaves.

Amanda Young

Your first date was probably being in a jigsaw trap she either made for you or both of you being in the same trap. (She doesn't have much of a social life)

Quickly becomes attached to you and goes out of her way to make you survive the trap.

Bo Sinclair

Hits on you when you pass through the town and invites you to have a picnic on his lunch break(Which consists of beer, crackers, a few blueberries, beer, and hotdogs)

Tells you all about mechanic stuff and some of the prettier parts of the town.

After lunch, he invites you to go out with him if you're passing through(fixes your car for free).

Vincent Sinclair

Teaches you how to make candles and mini wax figurines. (It's harder than it looks)

Makes a tiny doll version of you and him and gives them to you.

Not much talking happens during the date(obviously) but he makes up for it with hand gestures.

Patrick Bateman

Hears one of his buddies talking about you and how beautiful you are and automatically decides he needs you to be his girlfriend.

Pulls out the nines, I'm talking Dior suit, Givenchy shoes, and he even buys new hair gel before your date so he looks as fresh as possible.

Will most likely talk almost the entire date about his accomplishments while using business jargon.

Lestat(Interview with a Vampire)

Most likely had the intention of seducing you to suck your blood but realized that you had more to you than what seemed.

Invites you to go to the opera with him and Louis but ends up taking you to a much more secluded section of the opera house.

Wants to turn you into a vampire on the first date(I don't even know what base that reaches)

Louis(Interview with a Vampire)

Isn't much of a romantic(anymore) so it's more so a deep conversation shared between the two of you in a beautiful garden.

Asks you what it's like to be human and what you admire about life.

Gives you a bouquet of his favorite roses as a surprise.

Michael Emerson

Wants to really really impress you so he takes you to a bunch of places that are "hidden" and brings a bunch of snacks. (Doesn't mind also going to see a movie)

Definitely tries to kiss you on the first date.

After your date Sam teases him all night about his crush on you.

[nesting-dreams]

This is kind of for my own notes:

How Tim Drake is usually: Calm, snarky, impulsive, smart. Pretty graceful. Overworks. Only drinks coffee and energy drinks outside of missions. Likes skateboarding. Dnd. Naps outside missions a lot. A bit of a freak. Actually does hook ups. No survival skills. A good friend who will always bail you out. Ride and die. He is very blunt and can hurt his friends feelings. Pushes his luck with his friends constantly where they wanna whack him with a pillow probably. (Steph hit him with a brick on first meeting. Like she listened to the dark thoughts in the back of her head and whacked him 😂)Gives bad people chances all the time. He loves his friends, but feels like they don’t love him sometimes. Damien’s existence makes him feel pointless to the batfam. Has done a ton of messed up stuff and not felt bad about it until someone gives him a good yank on that leash to tell him to stop who he likes. On flip side, when he’s not at his worst, he can be super sweet. Villains like him and hate the other robins and batgirls (I theorise it’s cuz they’re waiting for him to come to the dark side). (My thoughts on something canon: His feelings are valid about Damien. But he also pushes his luck with Damien, so Damien should slap him sometimes. (Same for when Damien is nasty to Tim. Tim should slap back). How Tim is when he has a crush: His silly and freak goes up. Is a mess (not in a shy UWu way. Like the internet claims). (He didn’t do this but, I mean mess as in: falls down the stairs when he’s admiring them, this is a metaphor). He’s not: 🫣. He’s 🧍kind of mess. Committed. Can’t take loss and breakup well. Keeps in contacts. Isn’t as confident as Dick, but he’s kind of a chill confident. Has that nerd, cocky, loser rizz that not many can pull off. Loves texting and phone calling them every day. Kind of stalks them on patrols. (Like at first it starts out as checking up on them, but then he’s been observing for over an hour and it’s not really checking up anymore and someone has to snap him out of it. Normally the love interest notices if they’re a villain or anti hero or hero themselves and come say hi. Civilians are clueless).

How Dick usually is: Isn’t a flirt. You People confuse being a gentleman and friendly with being flirty. Just as smart as Tim.. The bestest friend anyone can have. Can be scary sometimes. Wants to do normal people domestic things, but gets so passionate about his work. Has tons of hobbies like gym and vehicles mechanics. Does not sleep for days. Messy organised mess. Doesn’t like hookups that much. Knows people well and his words can cut deep. He has that genuine dog charm, like the dogs ripped up the pillows and shit your bed and it’s looking sad face at you, that makes you not able to stay mad at him. (Not sure if he knows he has this charm. I think he doesn’t cuz he never purposely uses it. He accidentally manipulates with it). His safe place is with his friends, but he leaves cuz he doesn’t know everybody loves him. (People use that one time he experimented in a relationship and regretted it afterwords to claim he is a player and flirt but that was over 2 decades ago). Loves bubble tea and takeout. Good at cooking.

How he is with crush: Straight up just asks the attractive person out right away. Keeps purposely bumping into them after asking like a normal person where they usually work and what time they get off. Just wants to walk them home at least In between dates (he’s a busy man). Over commits to the relationship. Gets jealous if someone flirts and his lover flirts back. (He doesn’t get jealous if the other person flirts and his lover gives them nothing). Hopeless romantic. If a breakup happens, always tries to fix the problem before he leaves so they are not making mistakes. Tends to hookup for one night cuz he’s depressed and he’s a physically expressive person, so he doesn’t know what to do with this breakup depression. He usually feels conflicted about that after cuz he doesn’t like casual sex. It seems like he’s just going through the motions and not really enjoying it (so far. No one has offered to fix things with him yet and told him to get out every time. He tries so hard).

Jason Todd: funniest batboy in my view. Sarcastic, dark and broody. Is a good friend when you nab him, he knows he’s messed up, and so he goes out of his way to make sure his friends don’t mess up like him subtly. Tries to actually be reasonable before someone who isn’t a villain starts a fight with him. Once he gets angry, yea we know what happens when that happens. Is a mobboss who has done messed up things. He doesn’t target civilians. (People like to erase the fact he does messed up things and he doesn’t apologise to anybody for it). Is an angry cryer and will put on that mask.

When he has a crush: He’s less guarded and more open about himself. The snark increases. His crush is his top priority. He cries in front of them and doesn’t put the mask on. Is that dude who is the stereotypical bad boy who you hate at first and then you see him be nice to a “stray cat” for once and people crush on him.

(If anyone else wants to add anything go ahead. I was thinking about canon stuff. No headcanon stuff please. If one of my things is headcanon. Let me know. Sometimes it seeps in. I wrote this cuz overly flirty Dick and Jealous fics is constant in fics and it gives me whiplash. He’s not Roy for crying out loud. It made me think about the other boys. ironically The bad boys stay the most in character in fics? Anybody else noticed that?).

[theresattrpgforthat]

Hey! I really love your recommendations— I’m just now getting into Ironsworn as a solo game from one of your posts. I was wondering, and I know this is a difficult and maybe weird ask, but do you know any solo rpgs that have good tactical combat? I enjoy narrative systems a lot, but my biggest passion is getting deep into tactics and strategy. I can’t even imagine how a solo game could get much more tactical than Ironsworn is, but if there are any out there I’d really love to try them out.

THEME: Solo Tactical Games

Hello, thank you so much for the lovely compliment! Let’s see if I can find anything for you.

EZCARGOT, by Garlickatsu.

"The surface has been lost. What remains is a gray, featureless and foggy wasteland. Dangerous, unidentifiable Entities roam free. Humanity lives in Rifts that keep them safe from Entites. These Rifts are kept open using a highly volatile resource called Anomaly. You pilot an EZ.CARGO.Trailer to transport one chunk of stable Anomaly between Rifts. Scan for the route ahead. Protect the Anomaly. Make it to your next destination alive."

EZCARGOT is more of an exploration game than it is a combat game, but the fact that you’re protecting an Anomaly makes combat feel necessary, even if it’s just a necessary part. That being said, the building and maintenance of your EZCARGOT vehicle is definitely at the centre of this game. This vehicle has compartments for various purposes; generating energy, firing weapons, carrying the Anomaly, and more.

On top of maintaining the EZCARGOT and protecting your precious cargo, there is the hazard of the land you must travel to get from rift to rift. If you want a game that’s weird, futuristic and dangerous, you might like EZCARGOT.

Delve to Earn Dimes, by flumpledev.

The surface world became uninhabitable for most people long ago. Not due to any cataclysm or war, but due to low wages.

In this solo journaling TTRPG you play as a crew of career dungeon delvers who are able to afford to live on the surface- as long as you spend most of your time surviving inside the dungeon. With a blackjack resolution mechanic you will need to weigh risk and reward, survival and honor in The Undercity.

A deck-of-cards dungeon delve, this game gives you a crew of characters to manage, rather than just one. Each member has different skills, attached to the four suits of your deck of cards. These cards also double as encounter generators, creating obstacles and enemies as you move down each floor of your dungeon.

Each day of in-game time, you will have an encounter. I suspect many of these encounters will be combat focused, since in most case you’ll have to decide whether you press on and deal with the encounter, or flee. You’ll also have a boss to defeat on each floor in order to keep moving onward - and a juicy reward after each boss fight that gives you the feeling of levelling up.

Hollow Hike, by RollForThings.

Hollow Hike is a short Dark Souls-inspired RPG about travelling a blighted land as a deathless Hollow, repeatedly dying and reviving against difficult foes, discovering the secrets of a lost kingdom, and slaying the Ashen Lords along the way. Hollow Hike is designed for a one-player experience, but can optionally be played with a GM for a duet game.

If you like gritty combat, you’ll probably like Hollow Hike. Similar to plenty of traditional fantasy games, you have a level and a class, and similar to Dark Souls, you need to collect souls to level up. If you die, you drop all of the souls you’ve collected up until then, and you’ll have to reach the same point in order to pick them back up - if you’ve played Bloodborne, this is probably familiar to you!

One of the ways the game is challenging is in the single-use nature of your items. You can use them to give yourself slight advantages in combat, but once you use them, they’re gone. However, I think the highlight of this game is the bosses on each level. They’re the doors to a new realm when they are defeated, and if they are an Ashen Lord, they’re extra special - they bring you one step closer to a true escape.

Factory of the Machine God, by Anthony Hobday.

A solo pen-and-paper tactical mech combat game.

An AI virus has uploaded itself to Mech Factory 12 [North Sea]. It has named itself “The Machine God.” We cannot send autonomous mechs against it. You will be airlifted to the factory. Go to the 5th floor and shut down the server. Clean-up crews will land on your all-clear.

This feels very much like an old-school rpg, with levels of the factory to work through, 6 skills, and various module spaces with which you can build your mech. Because you’re building your ideal war-machine, I think character creation alone can make this game tactical, but of course you’ll also have to battle various enemies as you try to get closer and closer to the final boss. The game also comes with an order of operations for enemies to act, which makes it easier for you to plan ahead and try and make the most of what you have.

Factory of the Machine God is rather minimalist in presentation, but I think it has a really strong concept as its base conceit, and I think it’s worth checking out all the same.

My Spoons are Stabby!, by Caramel Sugarevil.

Welcome to My Spoons are Stabby, a solo roguelike game where you’re dungeon crawling through your mind and dealing with the monsters you find there. The best weapon in the Monster Hunter’s arsenal is their mind, so we developed The Chaos Machine, the holodeck that mentally links to the Hunt Team. Through that, they can work through their issues individually or as a team. 

My Spoons are Stabby uses a deck of cards for task resolution, and your character has four stats that correspond to each card suit. You play by drawing cards from a draw pile and placing them into a daily spread of 6.

Your primary resource is called “Spoons”, which are required to do most things. If you run out of spoons too soon, you can take a wound or use up resources, but both are limited - and if you get 5 wounds, you lose the game.

The genre of the game feels a bit like urban fantasy. Each card you draw introduces various complications and monsters, many of which have special rules about how to deal with that day’s specific problem.

If you want a game that’s a strong metaphor and feels a little bit like a pick-your-own adventure with a few extra pieces to manage, you might like My Spoons are Stabby.

Welcome to the Dungeon, by wym_lawson.

You are the overseer of the realm of darkness, the supreme ruler of all monsters, known to the humans as The-Tainted-One. Despite these grand titles and immense responsibilities, you just want to live a quiet, peaceful life with your skeleton friends and pet slimes. But why do the humans find the need to invade your domain, seeking to destroy you and disrupt your peace?

Fine. If they insist on war, you will give them just that. In Welcome to the Dungeon, you play as the Dark Lord. Your goal is to build a dungeon filled with traps and monsters to thwart these pesky Heroes. Each victory against these intruders earns you resources, enabling you to enhance and expand your dungeon. Hopefully, you will be prepared to face the ultimate adventuring party led by the Chosen One.

I think Welcome to the Dungeon is kind of a tactical combat, but most of the tactics happen before any of the combat starts You create a dungeon with a certain number of points; the more points used, the higher the level of the dungeon. Apart from rooms, you’ll also need to create traps and Monsters - if you’re familiar with Boss Monster the boardgame, I think it feels slightly like that.

You’re also going to building the Heroes, which are the foes that you pit your dungeon against. These heroes have levels, just like your dungeon, but they also have classes, special reactions, and traits that will make defeating them difficult. If you defeat them, you get more points! Perhaps you can use those to make your dungeons even deadlier on your second play!

First Monarch, by Mundos Infinitos.

After THE FALL, We conceive the perfect MONARCHS And they, released their CRIMSON MIST. Many became SPECTERS, cities crumbled. Some survived, underground. The GUARDIAN has found her CHOSEN, With the duty of defeating the… FIRST MONARCH

The creator behind Mundos Infinitos is very good at packaging a whole experience in just a few pages. One page of First Monarch is full of oracles, generators that make your adventure unpredictable. Another page is dedicated to character details and special abilities; including a Bloodlust track that fills every time you turn a failure into a victory.

You play two characters in First Monarch, rather than one: a Chosen and a Guardian. The Chosen is the character with special abilities, but the Guardian has a special dice that can be used to lend you her aid in certain circumstances. She can also give you her blood to reduce your Bloodlust.

All in all, a lot of flavour in a very small package.

Other Posts To Look At

Not all of the games in these posts will be tactical, but these are the recommendation posts that I think are most likely to have tactical games.

Solo Showdowns Recommendation Post

Chrono Trigger / FFVI Solo Games

Solo Knights

Also Consider…

Godspark, by M.Allen Hall.

The Void series from ParaMyth Games.

[helluvaoutlaw]

Striker's Family

Here's my version of Striker's family, a canon-divergent one.

And yes, they're all dead.

Each character I created has their own art piece made by

GardenGoyle on Twitter.

The commission took her a long time (understandably so, since I asked her to draw five different characters), but she was extremely professional and talented, and overall did a wonderful job.

Enjoy!

Anvil, Striker's father:

Anvil was a stoic and reserved man.

Half imp and half reptile demon, he used to be a blacksmith, and he embodied hard work, dedication, and an unyielding spirit.

Anvil was a demon of few words, letting his actions speak for him. He showed his love and care not through words, but through his protective nature and small, thoughtful gestures. His strong sense of duty and responsibility made him a dependable figure, someone who was always there when needed, even if he didn't say much. Despite his tough exterior, Anvil had a good heart, and his iron will was matched by the depth of his quiet love for his family.

I took inspiration by @umnokorito works about their version of THICC!Striker, which you can find here:

(and yes, I asked them permission to use her idea of a more crocodile version of Striker, wanting to use the same concept for his father)

June, Striker's mother:

June was a lively and spirited Wrathian imp, full of energy and wit.

She was smart, sassy, and always brought a sense of cheerfulness to those around her. Before marrying and becoming a full-time housewife, she worked at a diner, but her passion for life extended beyond work; she loved dancing and singing, often filling her home with music. She taught Striker how to play guitar, passing on her love for music. June was also very protective of her family and was quick to defend them, especially when anyone criticized them. Unlike her husband, she was more expressive, both in her joy and in her anger, showing her fierce love openly.

Cole, the Mentor:

Cole was a laid-back imp, often appearing drowsy and slow, but beneath that exterior, he was an extremely skilled gunslinger with quick reflexes and incredible aim.

He possessed sharp wits and a unique sense of humor, especially fond of puns. Cole lived by his own code of honor, valuing justice above all else. When he took Striker under his wing as a child, he became both a mentor and a father figure, teaching him everything about cowboy life, gunslinging, and survival.

Cole had a strong sense of justice, particularly against the rich and powerful, whom he despised for their mistreatment of lower demons. His rebellion against oppression, along with his unmatched skills, deeply shaped Striker's worldview and abilities, making Cole an essential influence in his life.

Ember, Striker's wife:

Ember was a rowdy, passionate, and tomboyish imp woman who loved having fun and was always ready for action.

Before settling down on a small farm with Striker and having a child, she worked as a bounty hunter, thriving in the thrill of the chase. She was also an expert mechanic, proudly owning a motorcycle and a dune buggy, preferring them over horses, much to Striker's amusement. Ember's vibrant energy and adventurous spirit made her a perfect match for Striker, and she remained his great love, bringing excitement and joy into their lives together.

She's the reason why Striker has a gold capped fang: they were chasing the same criminal, and she punched Striker in the face so she could get the bounty first.

Jackson, Striker's son:

Jackson was an intelligent and curious child, far ahead of his age in terms of knowledge.

He had a deep love for reading, especially sci-fi and fantasy, and dreamed of becoming a veterinarian when he grew up. Despite his bright mind, he was very shy, often preferring the comfort of his books and the company of his pet horned lizard, Felix.

Jackson adored both his parents and shared a close bond with them. He also had a passion for collecting minerals, spending hours examining and categorizing his finds. His gentle nature and love for animals reflected the kindness and curiosity that defined him.

There we go, I'll probably add more details later, but for now this will do.

If you want to know more about my Striker's origins, follow the link.

Please let me know what y'all think!

@keenie-bopper @second-wife-playbook @grandma-susan

@umnokorito

@ultio-angelus

[thesonofthefisherman]

Bihter and Behlül

Pros: They are both in their twenties, they are presumably sexually compatible, they are attracted to each other. They at least believe that they love each other for a time. They are not too discordant in their personalities and values in daily life, they got along fine before the affair. The sex was presumably good.

Cons: Behlül doesn’t value Bihter as a person and comes to be disgusted with her for her earnestness and “easiness”, they fight during the affair, there is a general lack of genuine love, he just abandons her to her fate at the end and makes only her deal with the consequences of their affair, she kills herself partially because of him.

Nihal and Behlül

Pros: There is an actual basis of friendship and affection and witty banter. They understand each other the best out of the “pairings” in the poll. And they are attracted to each other.

Cons: She is 15 and he is 23, they are cousins and they grew up together - it is quite creepy, though it was accepted in the historical context. He is rather pushy towards her for her to accept his proposal, and she only accepts it to not be alone. He is not so much in love with her as much as with her “innocence” and her giving him a chance at “spiritual redemption” after his affair with Bihter. He runs away while she is having a health crisis.

Bihter and Adnan

Pros: They are adults who are not biologically related to each other. Bihter can wield influence over Adnan. Adnan is rather passionately infatuated with Bihter. They get along with each other fine in daily life.

Cons: There is a 28 year age gap between them. Adnan essentially “bought” her with his money. Bihter is supremely unattracted to her husband, she sees him more as a father figure. The marriage causes Adnan to neglect his emotionally vulnerable and sickly daughter, and his infatuation with Bihter causes him to essentially ignore the goings-on around him. While there is no outright implication of violent sexual assault, the descriptions of their sex life have an air of “dubious consent” to them - he deep down knows that she is not actually into it.

Nihal and Beşir

Pros: He is only two years older than her - they are both teenagers. She is the only one in the household who cares about him on some level. His love for her is the most selfless, genuine and passionate in the whole book - there is an element of “courtly love” to it. There is no element of sexual exploitation anywhere in their relationship unlike with the other three pairings on the poll. He essentially brings about her happy ending.

Cons: He is her family’s slave. She cares about him more as a pet than as a human person, and he never takes the first place in her thoughts. Their relationship has an emotionally exploitative element: She enjoys him crying over her own woes. His love for him is probably at least partially a coping mechanism he developed to survive enslavement (and this is not necessarily me reading too much into an old book, Halit Ziya cared about the subject of slavery and how it effects people, and I think this “coping mechanism” interpretation fits in with the text).

@julyzaa @winged-cries @struttingstreets @pileofsith @artemideaddams

[berniesrevolution]

Editor’s Note: This article, republished from the Daily Yonder, is part of a series of photo essays created for the American Creed ​“Citizen Power” multi-platform documentary initiative exploring American idealism and community leadership from a range of young adult perspectives.

Jonathan Blair lives, works, and studies at Alice Lloyd College, in Eastern Kentucky. He coordinates a work-study crew of about 60 people, mostly first-generation college students from rural Appalachia. Blair and two of his crew members — Jacob Frazier and Carlos Villanueva — document their connection to blue-collar work in and around the Appalachian coal industry, and they reflect on their hopes for the region.

Explore more of Jonathan Blair’s story here.

My grandfathers on both sides were coal miners. My father is a mechanic for one of the railroads that transport coal. Basically, ever since our family has been in these hills, the coal business has put food on our table, and that’s the case for most families in our region. Even if it’s not why they came here, it kind of became what they did, because that was what paid, and you’re going to do whatever it takes.

Survival is a big aspect of Appalachian culture. For a long time, coal meant survival, but there was never a sense of stability because the coal business is like a light switch: It’s either ​“on” or ​“off.” And when that switch was off, a lot of people, like my grandpa, would find manufacturing jobs elsewhere, in Ohio and other places. And whenever the coal business picked back up, they would come back, because this is home. Today, you look around and you can see the mountaintops have been removed to extract the coal from them, and much of the coal that was deep in the ground is gone. The coal business is a phantom, a shadow of what it used to be. We can’t rely on it coming back to what it once was.

(My stepdad Charles Hampton was in the Marines, but he got injured. He used to work for a drilling company but now he’s retired. He also used to be a truck driver but he got injured there too.)

For Appalachians, other than faith in God and the love of our families, coal has been what we have always leaned on. Now we are having to take a step back and look away in order to move on to the future. Like diamonds, coal takes millions of years to form, so there won’t be much forming in our lifetimes. In fact, it could be exhausted by the end of our lifetimes.

I know very few people my age who go into the industry. The generations before us have warned that no matter how good the money is right now, no matter how sweet of a deal they’ll cut you to get you to work, it’s not gonna last. It can’t last. Right now, the price of coal is up but we’ve seen what happens when the price goes down and industry packs up and leaves.

There is no plan B in places like this. A major concern for my generation is finding that plan B right here in the only place we’ve ever known, because these mountains are home. And it truly is beautiful.

(My grandfather and his co-worker, underground about two miles.)

(The culture in Appalachia is rich in faith. Ever since I can remember, I was in the House of God listening to my grandfather preach. I asked him to turn to any passage of scripture, and he turned to Luke 15:11 (the story of the Prodigal son).)

(Coal Miners go to work never knowing what the day will hold. One day my grandfather sacrificed his arm while cleaning a belt head. “I would go back in a heartbeat,” he said. Even though the work took something from him, his heart still has a passion for the industry.)

The Appalachian culture has deep roots because, much like the rest of America, this is a land of immigrants who made this their home. People of many backgrounds, colors, and creeds were brought together here to build the railroads and pull the coal out of the ground. Over time, bonds formed through our shared labor and sacrifice.

There’s a saying around these parts that goes, ​“All blood isn’t family and all family isn’t blood.” Coal workers often left their loved ones behind for the opportunities in this region, and although those opportunities have dwindled, many of them formed new families and remain committed to these mountains. That’s how we ended up with this rich culture.

(Although the family has been spread across the region because of work and other aspects of life, when we are able to gather the sense of joy never seems to falter. As I have grown older, I have witnessed these bonds grow, even as the distance between us becomes greater. It becomes more bittersweet each time.)

While Appalachians have always wanted to maintain a life and community here, the same can’t be said for the industry we’ve welcomed into this region. You can drive through these mountains and find ghost towns like after the gold rush, abandoned places that were once home to so many people.

A sense of distrust exists between the Appalachian people and outsiders — whether that’s big business or the government. This distrust is deeply rooted and generational because New England businessmen came into the area and ripped a great deal of the coal out of our mountains. When the prices were low enough for them not to bother anymore, they went back home. When it was time for war, the federal government would come into our region and recruit young men, leaving behind suspicion and fear of exploitation among locals. It’s difficult to erase those scars of generational distrust. Many Appalachians fear that solutions presented by new industries or the government will only repeat the exploitation of the past. When you can see the end of the coal industry, it’s frightening. But there are solutions. Fear has to be countered with knowledge and power.

(Continue Reading)

[mamavino]

If you're still doing the relationship ask game, can I request 2, 9, 15, 27, 31 (Fuesmeralda), 41 and 50, please?

Heeeey, sorry for the wait

2. Of the ones you've written, what's your slowest slowburn? How slow is it?

I’m currently planning a Yuno/Nyxara (OC) romance, which will be the slowest slowburn I’ve ever written. The relationship between them will evolve over the course of ten years! The pacing will allow for deep character development, building a strong emotional connection as they navigate their individual paths.

9. When you write, do you plan out the stages of a relationship, or just let it flow? Do you have any works where the characters seem to "write themselves"?

It depends on the story! Some relationships flow naturally as I write, while others need to be more carefully planned out. In my Enter the Circus fic, for instance, the dynamic between Nozel and Vanessa is more spontaneous, but for Yami and Charlotte, I’ve planned out every stage. They surprise me sometimes, though—their personalities take over, especially in those tension-filled moments!

15. Are there any relationship dynamics/tropes you would never write?

I’m not a fan of writing relationships that involve excessive jealousy or toxic dynamics (like cheating). I love exploring healthy, supportive relationships even when the circumstances around them are tough—like in war or survival settings. So, you probably won’t see me dive into tropes like love triangles or unhealthy obsessions.

27. Do you have any characters who are hopeless romantics? How do they interact with the story?

Yes, I’d say Isabella (from Whispers of the Nightingale) leans toward being a hopeless romantic. Even though she’s involved in resistance work during the war, she still clings to the idea of love and romance. Her connection with Leopold,our young Vermilion, is a good example of this—she’s always dreaming of a future with him despite the dangerous times they live in.

31. Are there any songs that remind you of [couple]? Are there any songs that remind them of each other?

For Fuegoleon and Esmeralda, their song would definitely be "I Want to Spend My Lifetime Loving You" by Tina Arena. It reflects the strength and passion of their bond, especially with the themes of love and sacrifice. They’re both fighters in their own way, but their love for each other is a grounding force in their lives.

41. Who's your most repressed/oblivious character? Who's your most aware character? What makes them different?

Most repressed would definitely be Nozel Silva—he has so much emotional baggage and feels the weight of his responsibilities, so he keeps his feelings hidden. He struggles to express love openly. On the other hand, Vanessa is one of the most aware characters—she's deeply in tune with her emotions and desires, and she's not afraid to go after what she wants, even if it means facing difficult truths. What makes them different is their coping mechanisms: Nozel represses to maintain control, while Vanessa embraces her emotions to find strength.

50. Free space! Brag on yourself! Advertise your writing! What are you most proud of recently?I’m really proud of Whispers of the Nightingale! a fanfiction set during wartime, and I’ve been diving deep into themes of survival, love, and sacrifice. The characters go through so much, and weaving their relationships into such a harsh setting has been a challenging but rewarding experience. I’m also excited about new ideas I’m exploring in my upcoming dragon story—it’s going to be a long journey, but I’m excited to see where it goes! And I still have Enter the Circus going on!

[flcmma]

Bourbon, cigars, late-night walks, tailored suits, chess, vintage watches, black coffee, rainy evenings, silent libraries, solving puzzles, driving alone, minimalist design, analog clocks, leather-bound journals, hand-stitched leather shoes, monochrome aesthetics, classical piano music, fireplaces in empty rooms, starless skies, unsent letters.

Ethan Roy grew up in the shadow of loss, never quite feeling like he belonged. When he was just eight years old, his world came crashing down. His mother, the anchor of his young life, was killed in a car accident caused by his father, who had been drinking that night. The tragedy fractured his family and left him adrift. Taken in by an affluent family, Ethan was offered a second chance at stability, but he always felt like a guest in someone else’s home, an outsider in a world of privilege. The laughter at dinner tables, the effortless way others fit in—these were things he watched from the sidelines, never quite able to join.

His father’s absence became a permanent shadow. Prison walls separated them for years, and when his father was finally released, their relationship remained cold and brittle, like glass ready to shatter. Ethan learned early on that some wounds never heal, and some people don’t come back—not really. This knowledge shaped him, hardening him in ways even he didn’t fully understand.

Ethan doesn’t strive to overcome his flaws. He’s never seen himself as someone who could, or even should, be fixed. His imperfections are woven into the fabric of who he is, and he wears them like armor. Burying emotions, chasing perfection, and gripping tightly to control—they aren’t just habits for Ethan; they’re survival mechanisms. And while they’ve kept him moving forward, they’ve also kept him at a distance from the people who’ve tried to get close.

In his career, Ethan found something he could control. Wealth management, with its numbers and strategies, felt like a world where he could create order. Rising to the top as a hedge fund manager, he built a reputation for precision and success. On paper, his life is everything he once dreamed of: a thriving career, a sterling reputation, and all the trappings of achievement. But beneath the surface, Ethan is at war with himself, wrestling with choices he doesn’t always believe in and a past he can’t quite leave behind.

His personal life is no less complicated. Ethan’s relationship with Senna is a study in contradictions—intense yet distant, passionate but laced with tension. Senna’s choice to hide her wealth adds another layer of complexity. Ethan resents her secrecy, viewing it as a reflection of the very privilege he’s always felt excluded from. Her infidelity, when it surfaces, cuts him deeply, but Ethan doesn’t leave. Ethan’s actions are driven by a mix of resentment and pragmatism.

He walks through life carrying quiet conflicts. At work, he engages in subtle power struggles, clashing with colleagues who mistake his composed demeanor for weakness. In his relationship with Senna, the cracks are ever-present. Her guilt over the infidelity and his cold, transactional approach to staying together create an undercurrent of emotional manipulation and mistrust. Ethan’s perfectionism creates barriers, setting standards so high they can’t be reached, not by others and not by himself. It’s a vicious cycle, one he’s long since stopped trying to break.

Ethan isn’t an easy man to know. He projects quiet confidence, but underneath, he’s a man haunted by the fear of becoming his father. He’s protective, sometimes to the point of suffocation, and he carries grudges like weights he can’t put down. Despite his success, there’s a self-destructive streak that runs deep. He makes risky decisions, testing how much he can endure, as though daring the universe to throw him off balance. He doesn’t question whether he can change, because he doesn’t believe he needs to. Ethan has made peace with who he is, flaws and all. He doesn’t seek acceptance or redemption from others; survival, in all its messy imperfection, is enough.

[kemendin]

🖊️ for khel, either - i‘m intrigued by that last post about him and would love to hear more about maybe his relation to the light side, or smth you love about one of your more minor oc‘s? :)

-justiceforc3po

This may end up a bit meandering, I'm trying to parse it as I write it haha.

So firstly - Khel is not particularly Force-sensitive, in comparison to most of his fellow Sith. Add to this his years of pushing back and setting aside his emotions, mostly as a defence mechanism - it's harder to exploit someone when you can't read what they're thinking or feeling. Upon arrival at the Sith Academy, he learned very quickly that the dark side was not for him - he had no desire to step on the bodies of other acolytes in order to pass his trials, and he struggled with channelling power through his emotions. It was more his lightsaber skills and, truthfully, his wits, that allowed him to survive Korriban.

I haven't gone incredibly deep with all the various philosophical angles and views people can assign to the Force and its respective sides, my brain's just not up to it haha. That said, I had a bit I wrote in a fic that's actually Scourge POV, but I think it's applicable here as well:

Where the dark side is roiling, many-layered, deep with countless warring wills - the light is singular, the light is one.

I think Khel equates light vs dark to the notion of order vs chaos, and he is very much on the side of order. And that's where it melds so well with his loyalty to the Empire, a society that is also heavily focused on structure, on order. He doesn't see his controlled and merciful tendencies as weaknesses, but genuine strengths. After all, isn't sparing someone's life and convincing them to join his side more beneficial to the Empire than a brief show of brutal power in killing them? A corpse isn't much of an asset except if it's used as fertiliser.

That said, the light is certainly not an easy path as a Sith, when he's so often surrounded by the dark:

It wasn’t something he went out of his way to emphasise, given Sith and their traditions, and his prominent place among them. And there had been challenges at the start, from those who questioned how he could truly be Sith, without the raw power and passion usually displayed by his kind. But he’d had a few tastes of the dark side, and decided it didn’t suit him; and so he’d gone the way of the light and found it served him well. 

This meant, however, that visits to prominent Imperial worlds such as Korriban and the capital were always a tad on the unsettling side. It was a curious sensation - a slight itch across his neck, a slight weight within his lungs, a feeling of fog creeping across his skin like an insect in search of a vein. The continuous sense of being watched, and measured, and judged. Had his connection with the Force been stronger, Khel theorised, the overall effect would have been much more unnerving. As it was, he’d gotten quite used to it over the years.

All in all, it's probably for the best that he's not a raw well of Force-drawn power - his alignment is much less noticeable that way.

Also, fun tidbit! I picture his presence in the Force as a calm, shallow pool of sun-dappled water - you can reach into it, trying to catch something of who he is, but mostly all you'll find is water and more water and very little of substance, because Khel is so skilled at shifting with the situation at hand and concealing his inner self.

[heath-morgan]

❛❛  since the very moment i emerged into this WRETECHED world, an insatiable hunger gnawed at my being, a VENOMOUS CRAVING that demanded to be sated. they dismissed my wrath as inconsequential, blind to the ardor of my RIGHTEOUS FURY, but i, the harbinger of destruction, reveled in their inevitable demise.

even as my physique morphed into this figure, the hunger persisted, a SERPENT of entitlement coiled deep within my being, its venom pulsating with every beat of my ROTTEN heart.

contains mentions of: death, substance abuse, psychological abuse and mental disorders

— BASICS .

Name: Heathcliff James Morgan

Nickname: Heath

Age / D.O.B.: 54 / March 22, 1970

Gender, Pronouns: Cisman. He/Him

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Hometown: Dallas, Texas

Occupation: Retired F1 driver

Affiliation/Role: The Brotherhood / Captain

Languages: English, Spanish, Italian, French, Russian, Portuguese

Relationship Status: Single

Children: Two

Residence: Manhattan

— APPEARANCE .

Hair Color: Dark brown

Eye Color: Hazel

Beard: Salt & pepper

Height: 6′2 (1.88 m)

Tattoos: 10

— STATS .

Personality Type: ENTP

Moral Alignment: Neutral Evil

Positive Traits: Indomitable, Eloquent, Assertive, Cunning, Dominant, Ambitious, Bold, Decisive, Resourceful, Self Disciplined, Confident, Perceptive

Negative Traits: Brutal, Volatile, Manipulative, Cynical, Rough, Competitive, Vengeful, Malicious

Mental Health: (Undiagnosed) NPD, BD.

Narcotics of use: Cocaine

— FAMILY .

Parents: John “Johnny” Morgan, Raelynn “Lynn” Davis

Siblings: TBD Morgan

Cousins: TBD

Children: Willa Rose Morgan ( NPC ), Matthew Jackson Hammond

— INFORMATION .

Heath was born in Dallas. His mother was a burlesque dancer and his dad a mechanic. His mother was an alcoholic and abusive, she also struggled with drug addiction and would constantly disappear from home for weeks at a time. His father got tired of this and moved with his children to a trailer park, where he raised them as a single dad.

His father was part of a motorcycle gang, mostly former by getaway drivers with criminal ties, the kids spent much of their time under their protection, they considered them family and that was where Heath developed his passion for cars.

He started driving karts, the first step in the craft of racing, learning from control to adapting to the race track for speed. He entered karting competitions, was skilled and started to attract attention from sponsors. Different local and national competitions, getting a few good wins under his belt.

His father was killed in a confrontation between the group and the police, which made Heath responsible for his younger sibling. Due to family connections, they find their way to NYC. Necessity made him join the criminal world for a quick way out, doing the unimaginable to guarantee their survival since they no longer had protection.

He built for himself a small group of criminals that he had met along the way, they lived in the shadows. Started with small thefts and riots, until they evolved into kidnapping, blackmailing, extortion - and murder. yes, they knew it would reach extreme measures as soon as attacks on government buildings and high ranking individuals started to happen. It was a common fact among the powerful, they always had the fire lit faster when someone was about to die. And he wanted that kind of attention.

As the years went by he could see the improvement, they were far from being rich but now they had their own small house and were comfortable for the first time. Decided to return to amateur kart competitions and attended different educational programs pursuing technical and mechanical backgrounds knowledge. Sponsorship and funding allowed him to get his full competition license, building a career.

After getting a FIA international grade A license, he began competing in the lower-tier series, getting the right kind of networking and catching the attention of team owners, opening doors to opportunities in high levels of F1.

Heath was superior to the majority. Amidst the clamor, the chaos, the endless hours of practice, he remained unbroken, untouched. His power hunger surpassed that of his peers, a relentless drive to go beyond, delve deeper, and endure farther. While many found themselves in a competition for attention - he simply prevailed, unequivocally. And he deserved it. He deserved to be seen and be heard, eat the rich as they devour everything around them.

Everyone who crossed his path tried brutally to tame him, breaking him into a thousand pieces, tirelessly seeking to reshape into different individuals. His essence could never be affected, you cannot corrupt something that has been rotten for a long time. He could feel all that poison in his blood, every step he took was like the tick tock of a time bomb about to burst - all those vile urges were devouring him from the inside out.

After winning F1 world championship for the eighth time ( six times consecutively) at forty, he decided to retire. He got bored. Not just of his career, but everything else. Contacts with shady sponsors allowed him to achieve even more exclusive cycles, and consequently even more skeletons in his closet.

The Brotherhood. Meticulously chosen individuals, whose every weakness could be exploited and shaped into a weapon.

The common enemy remained the same: government, with no prospect that that target would ever change. New adversaries appeared on the way, more organizations than they could count, but nothing that couldn't be turned into a vile public message of what would happen to anyone who got in their way.

— F1 TIMELINE .

1988 : got his FIA international grade A license. he was 18

1991 : started competing for ferrari. he was 21 years old

1992 - 1999 : won six world titles consecutively

2004 : signed with mclaren.

2007 : won his seventh world title

2009 : won his eighth and last world title

2010 : retired. 40 years old

— WANTED DYNAMICS . (self explanatory mostly, but always game to brainstorm !)

girltoy : they have similar personalities and knew better than to mess around each other. However, their thirst for chaos and the tendency to fall into old patterns got the best of them, and they can't get rid of each other. a true emotional power struggle.

nemesis : preferably someone from an opposing gang or a government character. they mirror many common personality traits, but differ greatly in ideals

friends

someone he's blackmailing

past lovers : in short, he has been out there. most of the time short and superficial relationships

baby mama : one night stand that resulted in their six-year-old daughter. it could be an unknown character or someone who already knew heath in the past. they get along smoothly, tried to form a family in the past, and it didn't work, but they raise their daughter on good terms

patron saint of lost causes : a good natured character who insists on trying to see any kind of goodness reflected in heath. hero complex, constantly creates excuses for why he is the way he is and tries to "save" him from his inner demons.

do you want to make a deal with the devil? : someone he is trying to corrupt. the members of the brotherhood are meticulously chosen, the criteria are high, and most importantly of all it has to be someone who shares the same ideals. heath saw potential in this character ( what caught his attention can be discussed by us ) and believes he can be useful in some way, trying to identify this character's weaknesses and what actually motivates them.

[serpntinc]

❛❛  since the very moment i emerged into this WRETECHED world, an insatiable hunger gnawed at my being, a VENOMOUS CRAVING that demanded to be sated. they dismissed my wrath as inconsequential, blind to the ardor of my RIGHTEOUS FURY, but i, the harbinger of destruction, reveled in their inevitable demise.

even as my physique morphed into this figure, the hunger persisted, a SERPENT of entitlement coiled deep within my being, its venom pulsating with every beat of my NARCISSISTIC heart.

contains mentions of: death, substance abuse, psychological abuse and mental disorders

— BASICS.

Name: Heathcliff James Morgan

Nickname: Heath

Age / D.O.B.: 53 / March 22, 1970

Gender, Pronouns: Cisman. He/Him

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Hometown: Dallas, Texas

Occupation: Retired F1 driver / Leader of The Snakes

Affiliation: Snakes

Languages: English, Spanish, Italian, French, Portuguese, Russian, German

Relationship Status: Divorced

Children: Two

— PHYSICAL.

Hair Color: Dark Brown

Eye Color: Dark Brown

Height: 6 ft

Scars: A thick scar on his neck. Courtesy of a past ally who turned against Heath and tried to kill him

Tattoos: 19 tattoos. The largest being a serpent covering his back.

— MENTAL.

Personality Type: ENTP

Moral Alignment: Chaotic Evil

Positive Traits: Indomitable, Eloquent, Assertive, Cunning, Dominant, Ambitious, Bold, Decisive, Resourceful, Self Disciplined, Confident, Perceptive

Negative Traits: Brutal, Volatile, Manipulative, Cynical, Rough, Competitive, Vengeful, Malicious

Mental Health: (Undiagnosed) NPD

Narcotics of use: Cocaine

— FAMILY .

Parents: Clark Morgan, Midge Davis

Siblings: TBD Morgan, TBD Morgan

Cousins: TBD, TBD, TBD

Ex wife: TBD

Children: Willa Morgan ( daughter, 6 years old. NPC ) . TBD Morgan ( son, 27 years old. WC ) .

— BIOGRAPHY .

Heath was born in Dallas. His mother was a burlesque dancer and his dad a mechanic. His mother was an alcoholic and abusive, she also struggled with drug addiction and would constantly disappear from home for weeks at a time. His father got tired of this and moved with his children to a trailer park, where he raised them as a single dad.

His father was part of a motorcycle gang, mostly former by getaway drivers with criminal ties, the kids spent much of their time under their protection, they considered them family and that was where Heath developed his passion for cars.

He started driving karts, the first step in the craft of racing, learning from control to adapting to the race track for speed. He entered karting competitions, was skilled and started to attract attention from sponsors. Different local and national competitions, getting a few good wins under his belt.

His father was killed in a confrontation between the group and the police, which made Heath responsible for his younger siblings. Due to family connections, they found their way to NYC. Necessity made him join the criminal world for a quick way out, doing the unimaginable to guarantee their survival since they no longer had protection.

He built for himself a small group of criminals that he had met along the way, they lived in the shadows. Started with small thefts and riots, until they evolved into kidnapping, blackmailing, extortion - and murder. yes, they knew it would reach extreme measures as soon as attacks on government buildings and high ranking individuals started to happen. It was a common fact among the powerful, they always had the fire lit faster when someone was about to die. And he wanted that kind of attention.

As the years went by he could see the improvement, they were far from being rich but now they had their own small house and were comfortable for the first time. Decided to return to amateur kart competitions and attended different educational programs pursuing technical and mechanical backgrounds knowledge. Sponsorship and funding allowed him to get his full competition license, building a career.

After getting a FIA international grade A license, he began competing in the lower-tier series, getting the right kind of networking and catching the attention of team owners, opening doors to opportunities in high levels of F1.

Heath was superior to the majority. Amidst the clamor, the chaos, the endless hours of practice, he remained unbroken, untouched. His power hunger surpassed that of his peers, a relentless drive to go beyond, delve deeper, and endure farther. While many found themselves in a competition for attention - he simply prevailed, unequivocally. And he deserved it. He deserved to be seen and be heard, eat the rich as they devour everything around them.

At twenty-six, he had his first child with his girlfriend at the time - who would become his wife in the not-so-distant future. After the birth of their son, they moved to London, where they had connections that could help his partner while Heath was away competing in Formula 1.

Seven years later, Heath formed the Snakes in the heart of London with an initial goodwill intention — shield his family from the rampant criminality engulfing the city. The gang was conceived as a protective force, standing against the shadows that threatened the well-being of those he held dear. However, as the Snakes grew in influence, Heath’s power hunger nature and the complexities of survival led them down a darker path. The once virtuous mission became entangled with corruption, and the gang found strategic advantage in expanding their business ventures. Meticulously chosen individuals, whose every weakness could be exploited and shaped into a weapon.

After winning F1 world championship for the eighth time ( six times consecutively) at forty three, he decided to retire. He got bored. Not just of his career, but everything else. Everyone who crossed his path tried brutally to tame him, breaking him into a thousand pieces, tirelessly seeking to reshape into different individuals. His essence could never be affected, you cannot corrupt something that has been rotten for a long time. He could feel all that poison in his blood, every step he took was like the tick tock of a time bomb about to burst - all those vile urges were devouring him from the inside out.

Ten years into his leadership of the Snakes, his personal life began to unravel as Heath’s emotional detachment and toxic behavior took its toll on his marriage. The once-strong bond between him and his wife gradually eroded, undermined by Heath's relentless focus on the gang's affairs and his growing disconnection from the needs of his partner, ultimately culminating in a divorce that mirrored the shattered fragments of a life once built on love and commitment.

The year is 2024, and it has been 20 years since the beginning of his empire. New adversaries appeared on the way, more organizations than they could count, but nothing that couldn't be turned into a vile public message of what would happen to anyone who got in their way.

— F1 TIMELINE .

1988 : got his FIA international grade A license. he was 18

1991 : started competing for ferrari. he was 21 years old

1992 - 1999 : won six world titles consecutively

2000 : signed with mclaren.

2007 : won his seventh world title

2009 : won his eighth and last world title

2013 : retired. 43 years old

— EXTRAS .

has a labrador retriever named Buddy

always wears leather jacket or flannel shirts. wears a black wild rag around his neck

cowboy vibes and southern charm

— WANTED DYNAMICS. (self explanatory mostly, but always game to brainstorm !)

ex fiance / have i killed you before? : ( thats actually a wanted connection, all the details can be find here )

girltoy : they have similar personalities and knew better than to mess around each other. However, their thirst for chaos and the tendency to fall into old patterns got the best of them, and they can't get rid of each other. a true emotional power struggle.

protege : heath has a over protective dynamic with this character. the reason can be discussed by us. is someone he keeps on good terms and constantly assists them in some way.

nemesis : preferably someone from an opposing gang or a government character. they mirror many common personality traits, but differ greatly in ideals

old friends / past group members

someone he's blackmailing

past lovers : in short, he has been out there. most of the time short and superficial relationships, he usually gets romantically involved with easily manipulated people.

baby mama : one night stand that resulted in their six-year-old daughter. it could be an unknown character or someone who already knew heath in the past. they get along smoothly, tried to form a family in the past, and it didn't work, but they raise their daughter on good terms

patron saint of lost causes : a good natured character who insists on trying to see any kind of goodness reflected in heath. hero complex, constantly creates excuses for why he is the way he is and tries to "save" him from his inner demons.

do you want to make a deal with the devil? : someone he is trying to corrupt. the members of the snakes are meticulously chosen, the criteria are high, and most importantly of all it has to be someone who shares the same ideals. heath saw potential in this character ( what caught his attention can be discussed by us ) and believes he can be useful in some way, trying to identify his character's weaknesses and what actually motivates them.

[spellboundspectrum]

Some Sisterly Advice My Angel of a elder sister shared with me to help me love me unapologetically and knowing that life is a fiesta it should be celebrated ❤️We should be celebrated . We are the celebration and that celebration is divinely infinite 👉 Now from us to you some love ♥️

How to heal yourself.

2016

Step 1. Admit that you’ve had enough of your current conditions, internal or external.

Step 2. Be so incredibly desperate for change that absolutely nothing, and I mean nothing, is going to stop you from changing the way your life is and how you live it.

Step 3. Start with something simple. Start moving your body and feeding it better. Right now, it’s the most immediate change that can start in your immediate environment.

Step 4. Start to research something your inner voice has been asking you to do. Simple exercises, meditation and breathing techniques to help you find calm in a crazy world, inner and outer.

Step 5. Start to integrate mindfulness into your day, starting with your thoughts, the negative ones. It’s time to build yourself back up, emotionally.

2019

Step 6. I took the spiritual/esoteric approach to self healing which introduced me to yoga, the Bahgavad Gita, The Mahabharata, healing the inner child and past traumas, channeling, tarot reading, brain and heart coherence, the human body and it’s cells, energetic healing, ufology, and psychic gifts and abilities.

Step 7. Start practicing what you’ve been taught. Now it’s time to work. Every day you will now be the loving and caring, mindful and compassionate, caring, forgiving and loving student of the Universe, for your greatest good and the greatest good of all.

Step 8. Go with the flow. Once you’ve let go of your deep hurts and restrictions there is a peace that you start to embody that starts to push you to practice giving up the need to control every aspect of your day. Learn to ride the waves of other peoples emotions, your own emotions and the things that happen during your day that you may want to “fix” or “organise”.

Step 9. Go deeper into why you feel the need to control everything and learn about the ego.

2020

Step 10. Welcome to shadow work. This is where it gets a bit rough but, with a strong inner focus on love and your intentions dead set on healing, you will be able to survive the next chapter of your life where the universe shows you how tough you really are by taking everything that once gave you pleasure, comfort and even, love. It’s time to learn to surrender to change and know that as painful as it is in the moment, it is happening because you chose to love yourself. It seems a little odd saying that but, after all that I’ve learned on my journey of healing so far, I know in my heart, the heart that is now connected to all things, the universe loves you unconditionally. The changes that you experience may feel otherwise however when you turn to your higher power, each and every time the world changes a bit more, in a bullet to the heart way, you will be caught, you will be loved through your pain, your tears will flow and your heart will open to the benevolence of the universe and just how much it loves you.

Note*

Step 1 to 10 took me 5 years to complete. Although I battled myself, slipped into depression, wouldn’t honour it and decided to self medicate through the pain. I threw myself into my creativity centre as an escape and started building miniature houses.

2021

Step 10.1. Decide that you are ready to heal, again, and start step 1. This time you sort of jump over steps 2 and 3. Step 4 hits a little harder this time around, at least it did in my case. My passions are simple, I love human beings to death, healing humans with the knowledge and abilities I have developed is my second passion, the third is cars. I love engines. I think they are fantastic works of human mechanical engineering genius. This love pushed me to follow the passion and be a mechanical engineering apprentice for a month on a macadamia and avocado farm.

The reason this step 4 hit harder than before was because doing something I was PASSIONATE about it got the universe spinning again, and with that I had to say another sad goodbye to one’s I loved as they left the planet, and others I had to let go of.

Step 10.2. Divine placement. Feeling lost will feel normal round about now. There will be an existential loneliness hanging over you like a weighted blanket and a longing for home like a hunger in your belly that you’ve never had before. You’ll look for places to call home, and might travel far and wide to try feel them out but, nothing hits the chord until you end up back at the home you left before your journey to new began a few years ago. Home doesn’t feel like home though, it’s like coming back to a memory of the past, but someone’s gone and torn all the doors off their hinges and let the land reclaim the once cared for, and tended to gardens… but it’s familiar, so it’s home anyway.

2022

Step 11. Rest, or so you may think… or wish for. You’re still healing and you’ve still got some work to do. This time the healing might become unbearable, like you’re waiting in a train station where no trains ever travel to. So what you’ve got now is time. All the time in the world to talk to yourself and work out the very last kinks in your internal dialogue, the one so deep it can only be contacted in dreams, and it only speaks to you in riddles.

2023

Step 12. Time to walk, the train isn’t coming.

A new awareness grows inside of you, one that comforts you in the knowledge that you are you own creation and your journey is one to walk with curiosity and excitement.

Step 13. To be revised when I get there. @danigthehippie

[lorenfinch]

🏵️🌵?

I'll answer for Renwick for this one! From this meme:

🏵️ [ROSETTE] What flower symbolises your OC best and why? What does the flower mean in floriography?

TBH, I really don't know much about flower symbology at all, but I find it very difficult to associate Ren with any flower other than the red rose. It's his favorite flower of all time! And according to research, the meaning fits him quite well: romance, passion, and desire. Ren is someone who feels incredibly deeply. His passion comes through his love of reading and deep fascination with vampires and the undead. He desires deeply, too, for love: not just romantic love, but for platonic, and familial love as well. And he adores romance, and tends to romanticize and turn to escapism as a coping mechanism for his terrible upbringing. Renwick is a classic romantic as well, enjoying love poetry, romance novels, and dreams of being serenaded and being taken on long strolls in the night by a lover.

Also, roses are quite pretty, but they do have thorns, just as Ren has fangs and claws.

🌵 [CACTUS] How physically resilient is your OC?

Being a vampire? VERY. He can only be killed by a fatal wound made by silver or rowan wood, and has the added fledgling vampire bonus of being able to walk in the sun unlike his older peers (though it's still an unpleasant experience for him). Renwick possesses a trait known in universe as vampiric regeneration, which means his flesh heals itself if it sustains an injury not made of rowan or silver, and thus can survive many things a mortal human can't. He also doesn't need to breathe, thus he can't drown or be killed by strangulation.

Emotionally, though? That's a whole different story :(

[etymologyofmind]

Pushing the Bounds

Previously...

And now...

Within the body of a ship, normal space was usually taken for granted. Certainly, there were occasions where anomalous this or unprocessed that made it through the shields or warp fields, but usually it was a pretty stable environment, by design. Most species who travelled through space needed such stability, integral as it was to biological function, so it was uncommon that the inside of a ship endured abnormal conditions for very long. Automation kicked over, suppression systems kicked in, and sometimes, in dire scenarios, atmosphere kicked out, with a number of safety protocols aligned to trying to keep crew in when the rest of it had to go out. MacDougal’s Gambit, however, was such an audacious plan, that much of the routine protections which had not been disrupted by the predation of the pack had needed to be put on standby, or disabled outright, to allow the effort to take place.

On the bridge, a decision had been made to press on into the unknown in a desperate bid for survival. Controls made of light and energy had received inputs calculated by a team of mad geniuses who had proposed that the best way to squeeze power out of dying engines was to literally squeeze it, and had thus fabricated a circumstance where the ship’s warp field—its tether to reality in the much more abstract stratum of subspace through which it travelled—had been compressed and focused through a lens of spacetime which would theoretically vault them across an unexpected expanse of space, while leaving behind the impression they had been destroyed by the forces they toyed with. Combining theories of transporter mechanics and warp field theory, gravitational force and spacetime lensing, the crew of the Vellouwyn had stacked edge case against edge case into a faint chance of success. As soon as the final keystroke was locked in, powerful mechanisms of science distorted the powerful forces of nature, and the battered ship leapt through the eye of the needle as if pursued by angels and demons alike, pulling their warp bubble with them in an inversion field which had the anticipated effect of destroying the warp focus gate.

The unanticipated effect was that it had pulled subspace through with it, and though the Vellouwyn’s jump was intended to be brief and stealthy, the hole it ripped in the fabric of the sector falling away behind it was anything but.

Deep in Engineering, Crewman Owouom Hotler was manning a monitoring station, a third-tier backup in case something went wrong. He was no warp expert, no engineer in fact, having a specialization in exolinguistics and exopictics which came naturally to his race of polyglots, but the Gambit was so unconventional that it was considered to be an all-hands-on-deck scenario, and no member of the crew was found resting during the jump. When the moment came, however, it was immediately apparent to Hotler that something had gone wrong, and that he was quite possibly the only crew member who would not be cripplingly affected.

The Vohn Barran people were few in number: their kind were probably an engineered species, derivative of some other which had either been made extinct or had left the Beta quadrant behind long ago, and the few colonies which persisted had been run by the Emerald Chain for centuries. Literal slaves, unable to function without the life support systems provided by their dominant owners, Hotler’s kind had been given to industrializing the least hospitable environments imaginable, working through asteroids without life support, class Y planets, and other such terrain while their populations were managed like cattle. It had been barely half a century since the Federation had liberated them, but the Vohn Barran had taken to their freedom fervently, and invested their gratitude and passion into the society which had given it to them. Regardless of the efforts of federation scientists and the persistence of the Vohn Barran people, there had yet to be developed any therapy or procedure which could fully liberate them from their life support apparatuses, as an un-augmented Vohn Barran had never been found to be compatible with any of the standard environments favoured by other species.

As such, when the Vellouwyn fell into subspace in its compressed envelope of reality, Hotler found himself suddenly buoyant, not as though gravity had failed, but as if it had thickened into a fluid state. The light of the ship took on a distinctly blue cast, dark and deep with shadow, and nearby holograms and projected controls distorted into fragmented apparitions. He felt the pressure of the environment around him pressing down dangerously on his leathery outer skin as the nictating membrane over his eyes slid into place reflexively, and the environmental collar he wore continued to provide sustenance as he flailed to get his bearings, but it was barely a heartbeat before he recognized that none of the rest of the crew would be able to endure these conditions like he could.

Point of fact, a crew member nearby—his friend, Crewman Quorrok—flailed in a look of sudden panic and agony, and started struggling to find footing in an environment which offered him little purchase. From the corner of his eye, he could see that further down the engineering section, the Saurion exobiology specialist who had taken such an interest in him, Crewman Solnus, was scrabbling at the deck plating to try and find proper purchase as he struggled to move aft. Hotler knew that if there was anything to be done—and he did not know if there was anything to be done—he would need to act fast. Glancing over his controls as he had been drilled to do, the readouts told him that something was wrong with the warp field dynamics, beyond what had been anticipated by the Gambit. It was compressed, as expected, but distorted, almost as if it had produced a twist in its projected frequency, and it rotated around the ship like a screw. He would not be able to do anything from this station, but if he could reach the emergency controls that they had set up at the injection chamber…

Hotler had aced courses in zero gravity training. Moving in low to no gravity environments had been bred into the instincts of his people. He had also mastered courses on various other special athletics, from aquatic to climbing, high gravity to low atmosphere, and the adaptable Vohn Barran was in his element here. Catching a hooked toe on the edge of the console behind him, he clamped his hind-heel onto it so that he had a solid grip, then bent powerful legs to launch himself down the channel along the bottom level of the engineering lower deck. The warp drive, in its horizontal configuration, was not a standard for Star Fleet ships of this century, but the Vellouwyn was nothing if not unique; it spanned nearly four decks in length, with scientific research stations studded along its length, and the foremost segment now missing to have formed the warp lens they’d just launched themselves through. Kicking off of bulkheads and grappling with ladders, he sailed over Solnus’ head, not pausing to give him any fruitless comfort, and made his way to the emergency control station.

Midway along the warp core, Hotler came upon the scene. There was a cross-brace here at the second segment of the core where power systems ran through from floor to ceiling, and wall to wall. If anything aboard the Vellouwyn could be considered ‘central engineering’, this was it, and for the Gambit, most of the important officers were here. Warp Systems Specialist Jan’aar was reaching for one of the consoles, his craggy Xindi Arboreal eyes bulging with effort and asphyxiation, while nearby the Denobulan-Antaran that served as Chief Engineer, Huda Vantel, floated as if transfixed by some unseen spike. Pratt Denning and Tendan Omar seemed to be struggling with one another, trying to right themselves and panicking for the resistance of the other, while the Tellarite specialist in Fundamental Forces, Fargan Dend, was swiping at something half seen, which Hotler’s broad-spectrum vision told him was probably the Holographic CTO, trying to manifest in the broken light. None of them were very lucid, nor very much in control, so he kicked off of the bulkhead, moving to the console that Jan’aar was groping for and assessing the situation.

The information on the console was not helpful; Hotler was, again, not an engineer, and it was much more complicated than he was able to interpret. However, one index along the side listed a surprisingly large number of defected safety protocols, and levels of threat and risk reaching well outside of range, next to a glyph which was flashing ominously with the words ‘Emergency Abort Sequence’. With no better option, the Vohn Barran tapped the glyph, and suddenly the world collapsed desperately back into focus. The klaxon sound of red alert howled desperately around him, nearly masking the repetitive whumph as the bodies of his fellow crew fell heavily to the deck around him. He suspected that the scene was similar throughout the ship, and hoped he’d been fast enough to have spared his ship most of the damage. An instant after the blue light swung back to a fuller spectrum, Doc snapped into existence, checking Hotler’s unresisting form aside to feverishly enter commands into the console. “See to the team!” he barked; “Get me Jan’aar, I need him to cap this reaction!” was all he said before investing his full attention into the work.

Hotler was, unfortunately, also not a medic, but the recent endeavors with the pack hunt had left him with more insight and trivia into how his more normally adjusted crew worked with injuries and trauma. He could probably stem bleeding, certainly knew what a tourniquet was, but wasn’t entirely sure how whatever had just transpired would have affected a space-normal humanoid body. He leaned down next to Jan’aar, and, mercifully, found him already trying to recover. Blood flowed from his nose, and, surprisingly, his ears, which Hotler suspected was a bad sign, but the Arboreal was resilient, and both waved the Vohn Barran’s help off, and accepted his help up, with good humour. Getting him leaned against a console near Doc’s position to recuperate, Hotler started working his way around the engineering nerve center, working to try and get the team stable.

It wasn’t long before Solnus joined him, looking little worse for wear, probably somewhat more resilient as a Saurian than some of the others: amphibious nature ran among his people, and he had redundant membranes like Hotler’s nictating eyelids and an impulse which sealed his nostrils when submerged that probably served him well. The Kiley, Pratt Denning, was snoring fitfully in an unconscious state which wasn’t something Hotler wanted to risk disrupting, and the Fargan Dend had pulled himself up beside Jan’aar to get to work on whatever it was they were doing. Hopeful for a general recovery, he allowed himself a moment to relax. A moment after his muscles untensed, he felt a hand grip him by the elbow, and, startled, turned to see Doc, the Holographic department head of the Technology division who’d pushed him aside scowling at him. If he could sweat, this would be where he would.

Doc looked him up and down, callously took a grip on the breather which was anchored into Hotler’s face, and gave it a firm, but gentle, shake. “Seventy-three seconds, Crewman. That’s worth a commendation. Go see who else you can help; I’ll be filing this in my report.” He smiled a half smile, which looked begrudging on his stern face, but there was unmistakable pride in the holographic eyes. “Check in with Sick Bay and see if they need you first.”

Then he was gone, back to the console, chattering with Jan’aar and the others to try and deal with the technology of the situation, leaving Crewman Hotler more off guard than he’d been when the world fell out of the warp bubble. Mutely, he turned and walked towards the corridor with the turbo lifts, intent on making his way to Sick Bay as ordered.

Surprises waited there, but he didn’t know that; not yet. Nor, unfortunately, did anyone else.