#but is holding the power of incredible violence in reserve

[clonerightsagenda]

I think what strikes me most about Marissa having the same talent as Lucy is how much of a betrayal it is. Because of his past, Lockwood hates ghosts and wants to destroy them. George finds them scientifically interesting but not due the same respect as a living human. And that's all a lot easier if your experience of them is 'scary apparition that hurts me'. But Lucy can empathize with them. She feels their pain and sorrow. Even when she can't speak with them directly, she still tries to communicate and find out what they need. Marissa can do that too. It's ambiguous how much she's been psychically enthralled, but she more than almost anyone can understand the dead, and she builds a whole industry on treating them like vermin while trapping them in hell as livestock.

[monstercampus]

tell us abt the cursed knight plssss….. i need it <3

Oho! You'd like to know? 💕💕 ofc!

The Cursed Knight - First Meeting

(cws: violence, unnamed character deaths, implied self-pleasure)

The forbidden section of the library holds a vast array of strange tomes, both that belong to various staff members and kept there for safekeeping, as well as a large collection that have been procured on the Dean's behalf as part of a special project. He and his patron consider themselves book rescuers.....but not in the way humans would imagine, in which the texts are simply rare or expensive or they hold some kind of nostalgic value to the Dean. What they don't know is that some books, some very special books, house what can only be described as ancient, arcane portals within them; not for the use of transportation or viewing into another area of the world, but rather they're doorways into realms that don't exist on the same plane as the world at large. The stories contained within aren't just stories, the inked words bind that other world to the artifact and allow it to exist within the pages.....so long as it isn't destroyed, which is exactly what the Dean has sought to prevent. He's built up quite the collection with his patron, each story as intriguing and unique as the last, but of his collection there's one that's quite old indeed.

The Cursed Knight.

Simple lines across a book bound in purple covering, the front offering the feel of mossy stone as a hand passes over it. It's older than the Doctor, older than the Dean--it's a text that's narrowly avoided destruction by sheer luck alone. Falling off a cart full of tomes on the way to the bonfire, found pristine and undamaged in the ashes of a grand chapel, thrown back through a portal to the Underworld to crack open the skull of the human who sought to rid the world of it. It bears the title of "cursed" and yet it lives eternally, seemingly immortal when the matter of luck is brought into the equation.

The content of the book, however, is a topic that's highly debated. While many have heard tell of it very few have laid eyes on the pages, as the book lives and breathes as many portal-books do, and as it has a beating heart it also has emotions. It shakes itself out of the hands of ones it dislikes, floats over the heads of those that wish it harm, even bites those that try to pry open its pages by force. It obeys no will but its own and has such gained a reputation for being a bit unmagnanimous, even for a book. The details are scarce, but the general consensus on the core storyline remains quite similar.

In a very old realm, within a very strange kingdom, there lived a knight in service of the ruling royal family. Whether he was human or monster is debatable, but he was most certainly a very poor squire as he had only ill-fitting armour and a rusted sword with which to defend his kingdom. Despite this he was incredibly strong, however, and completed many feats for the king and queen over his years of service, which proved his worthiness to attain knighthood and gained him renown all over the realm. Some believe he fell deeply in love with someone within the royal family and wished to impress them, while others claim he was spurned by a tavern maid and fell into a deep sadness. Either way, his successes led him to search for something more, something to ensure he wouldn't ever feel the rejection of failure...which is what led him to sneak into the royal vault in the dead of night, and don the legendary armour that had been passed down through countless generations of the royal family. It would grant him the power to accomplish nearly anything, for it possessed a strength within it reserved only for those closest to the gods--but only those with noble blood could make use of it, and as the knight had been born and bred a commoner, the armour transformed him into something most unholy.

In the dead of night, wailing screams pierced the moonlit sky as the kingdom's beloved knight slaughtered his way through the castle like a madman out for blood. Uncontrollable fury overwhelmed his sword-arm and possessed him to kill all who stood in his way, innocent or criminal, commoner or noble, human or monster. After blood had been spilled within the castle walls and he had eliminated the last of the royal line, his rage was still not satiated and he continued into the town at its doorstep, unstoppable and cavernous in his grief as it swallowed him whole and left him hollow. Friends, fellows, admirers, family, all fell to his sword without hesitation, and even once the kingdom had grown quiet the bloodlust inside him still cried out for more carnage.

With nothing more to kill, the knight vanished into the horizon as the sun threatened to spill its rays over the land....and yet it did nothing but peek out and hide, as if the light itself feared the very possibility of the monstrous knight turning his fury towards it. The world grew dark since then, and the knight supposedly wanders the realm searching for more blood to calm the raging fire within his belly, tearstains rusting down the cheeks of the helm that forever conceals his true identity.

Though tragic the tale may sound, there are some who have claimed to read much different versions of the story, however. Some scholars--primarily humans in a similar age demographic to the knight--claim to have read a version of the tale in which the knight's act of donning the armour is given much less importance. Rather than focus on his trials, heroism, and subsequent corruption, they claim the book revealed pages detailing the knight's personal life instead; how he enjoyed reading and fishing in his spare time, that he had a dog he'd befriended and rescued from a pack of wolves, and that he was quite the avid bug collector and would make notes about the butterflies he would see on his daily patrols. They would read countless journal entries about the cats in the castle whose names he had memorized, and how he would sneak fish inside and feed them from his pouch to the dismay of the maids in charge of cleaning up after them. Some even say they would divulge into speaking about the knight's private activities, and would recount with warm faces about his daily routines in shockingly explicit detail.

As most monsters know, the portal books are living beings. They feel joy, they mourn, and above all they remember, as that is what they were created to do. And although the data on some of these rare tomes is expectedly conflicting, as the books get to decide what they divulge, there is only one way to explore the story with a completely unbiased narration--one would have to enter the portal itself into the written realm, a process that's so rare it's almost unbelievable in the eyes of those that haven't witnesed it themselves. One would have to be so adored by the living soul of the tome that they would be willing to bare their entire story to them, to risk hurting their beloved reader with the ugliness of the truth, and almost no self-respecting narrator would even consider such a sacrificial risk.....almost. But if there would be anyone that would be welcomed with such terms in mind, it would most certainly be a person so unlike their peers that they'd practically be an anomaly--just like the book that so desperately wishes for you to open it up.

[extrarottengirl]

Stigmata by Takahashi Hidebu

Volumes: 2 COMPLETE

Rating: Ummm… A Lemon?

Warnings: Gore, Dubious Consent, Reference to Rape/Non-Con, Murder, References to Domestic Violence and Abuse

Additionally Tags: Police, Detectives, Investigators/Investigations, Supernatural Powers, Psychic Powers, Deeply Psychological, Criminal Investigations, Thriller, Uncertain Ending, Complex Characters

Summary: “Asako Minami has a "unique constitution." He senses the lingering thoughts of murder victims, and experiences the circumstances under which they died with his own body in a reaction similar to stigmata. This proves useful in solving difficult cases with the Metropolitan Police Department's Special Investigations Unit Six. Asako's partner is the reserved Superintendent Kuroiwa Hiroto, rising through the MPD ranks despite doubting his own abilities.”

Review: This not your typical BL plot. The major of the story surrounds the death of a Detective’s ex-wife and her unsolved murder. Asako our main character can relive the thoughts and feelings of a murder victim when he is exposed to items and people present when the individual died. This poses a problem as he is holding on to lingering feeling from a murder victim once married to his superior, Kuroiwa. Asako quickly loses track of what feelings are Kuroiwa’s ex wife and what feelings are his own in regard to Kurowia.

Incredibly suspenseful in the romantic plot and criminal investigation. If you like Law and Order and BL you will like this. The art style is highly unique and very interesting. I enjoy the complexity of the style and the extremely stylized panels.

The spicy scenes are captivating in my opinion. More so there is a lot of sensuality add to scenes that are not exactly spicy. This adds to the suspense of romantic plot line. Asako is drawn in a more gender fluid way than the Kuroiwa. In fact, he is drawn more feminine than other characters in other work by Takahashi which is interesting. However, I do feel there is a bit of inherent awkwardness as Kuroiwa is rather blunt towards the end of the second volume. All and all I love this work but it is not for everyone

[deathinfeathers]

Guidelines

Introduction

Hello and welcome to my humble RP blog! You can call me Cinna (they/them Pronouns please), your friendly neighborhood autism creature who exclusively writes fucked up pieces of flaming garbage! I am in my mid twenties with a solid fifteen-ish years of writing experience under my belt. If spending the brunt of my mortal existence on tumblr has taught me anything it is the importance of curating your online experience to the best of your ability so we are very much private and selective in this neck of the woods! Before you engage with the characters you will find lurking on this blog, please make sure that you are not a child! All children will be corralled into the pit and made to fight to the death for my own, personal amusement! Thank you!

I am exceptionally mentally ill and will run and hide for weeks on end for literally no reason whatsoever! I am sorry I am hard to get a hold of OOC! Being perceived terrifies me but I love you all the same!

Content warnings

On this blog you may find mentions/implications (but no graphic depictions) of the following:

Child exploitation and grooming, CSA, SA, r*pe, suicide

You may find graphic depictions of the following:

Religous themes, systematic religous brainwashing, child soldiers, internalized misogyny, blood, gore, violence, abuse, fetishization of death and murder, cannibalism, torture, toxic and abusive relationships (work/romantic/familial), substance abuse, sexual themes and settings, sex as a coping mechanism, mental illness, PTSD, anxiety and panic attacks, stockholm syndrome, (fictional) hate speech, death, kidnapping, stalking, body horror, religious abuse and torture, cult-ish themes and settings, hard drug use, suicidal ideation, self harm

This blog is, in a big way, dedicated to the in-depth exploration of many uncomfortable topics. Keep this in mind before you follow.

Roleplay etiquette

This should go without saying but please refrain from godmodding/taking control over my character in our interactions, this includes auto hitting in violent/confrontational situations. No info-modding or meta-gaming, your character should not be able to glean information out of any internal dialog unless they can straight up read minds (in which case I would like to be made aware of this power beforehand). Remember that the muse and her values and behaviors are not a reflection of the writer. I do not agree with or condone 90% of the things that she says and does--her actions are not to be glorified or romanticized, Lute is absolutely meant to be viewed as a villain.

Interactions

Friends/mains will always take priority when it comes to threads--some of you may find this unfair but RP is a hobby and I reserve the right to engage with it In whatever way is most fun and fulfilling for myself. Don't let this discourage you from approaching if you have a plot in mind or sending in memes/starters. I'm happy to run with all sorts of stories and scenarios granted I'm given an idea to work off of. That being said, I am incredibly disorganized so threads have a tendency to slip through the cracks, don't be afraid to (politely) remind me of our interaction when this happens. I will reblog memes somewhat regularly but OOC plotting is my personal preference. I tend to struggle scrounging up enough motivation for threads with no clear direction. Lute is a character who shines the most when she is acting as an obstacle or an uplifting force to the people around her. She thrives poorly in slice-of-life type of scenarios, please keep this in mind.

Fight scenes

As a general rule, I won't write figh scenes with sinner muses. Lute isn't somebody that mortal souls are meant to be able to fight off—as the first lieutenant of the heavenly host she wouldn't be much of a threat if she sat around their power level. This isn't something I see myself budging on unless you have very solid reasoning for why you think your sinner could take her on. Same goes for the hellborn, lower class angels and humans. That being said, if your muse (sinner/human/anyone weaker than Lute) goes out of their way to taunt or harass her she will respond with violence. Keep this in mind before you go pushing her buttons.

Shipping

Ah, shipping, the magical thing which makes the rpc go 'round! Lute is not easy to ship with, like, at all! I wouldn't call her unshippable necessarily but you must be aware that she is an incredibly twisted and broken individual, ergo, any relationship she finds herself being a part of is at major risk of becoming unbalanced and/or toxic. I am very, very, veryveryvery picky with her romantic candidates as a result. Do not try to force ship with her, that is a surefire to be irrevocably crossed off as a potential partner. Lute has a tendency to develop crushes on a very specific type of people--do not take this as a sign that I'm trying to push a ship on you--it's just a character quirk that she has. Shipping will never take priority over the overarching plot of this blog. Again, Lute isn't a character who does well in domestic situations, tension, action and conflict is where it's at for her.

Smut

I will write smut on rare occasions, mostly on sindays. I exclusively write this type of content with longtime mutuals. Feel free to ask me for a link to my NSFW blog.

Drama

As a rule of thumb: don't. If there's a problematic individual you feel I should be made aware of, address the issue with me OOC. That's all I have to say on the matter. I like to keep my space as drama/discourse free as possible.

Blocking

Please hardblock me when you unfollow! I have a very poor memory so it's not unlikely that I might refollow if you fail to do this. If you happen to find yourself blocked by me, rest assured that it is very rarely a personal matter. Chances are I just don't see us vibing or you're somebody that i decided to unfollow for one reason or another. All the same, block evading is not cool if there's a legit reason behind it (and you will be made aware if there is). Please don't do that!

Thank you for reading my guidelines. This list will be expanded upon as I see fit!

[songoftrillium]

The Wild Frontier of Gorechord narratives

by Mundus

“For each of us as a woman, there is a dark place within, where hidden and growing our true spirit rises, “beautiful/and tough as chestnut/stanchions against (Y)our nightmare of weakness/” – and of impotence. Within these deep places, each one of us holds an incredible reserve of creativity and power, of unexamined and unrecorded emotion and feeling”  — Lorde, Audre. (1984). Poetry is not a luxury. Sister outsider (pp. 25-27)

In James Moore’s essay, Understanding Villainy: Splatterpunk Villains and More Subtle Antagonists, he highlights the importance of understanding the various levels of fear and horror that can be evoked in horror storytelling. Moore argues that horror, terror, and splatterpunk each have their place in creating memorable moments for players in horror games, and that villains play a crucial role in evoking these emotions. In the context of affect theory, Moore’s concepts of terror, horror, and the gross-out can be understood as different affective states that can be used to evoke emotional responses from players.

Affect theory suggests that emotions are not simply internal states that we experience, but rather they are socially constructed and shaped by our environment and experiences. In the case of horror storytelling, the goal is to create an environment that evokes fear, disgust, and other negative emotions to motivate a greater narrative. This can be achieved through the use of well-crafted villains, such as those described by Moore, who are not simply mindless monsters, but have their own motivations and goals. By understanding the different affective states that can be evoked through horror storytelling, and by carefully crafting villains that tap into these emotions, storytellers can create truly immersive and memorable horror experiences for their players.

Gorechord Storytelling is a term that takes it’s origins from the word gore, and three of it’s meanings:

Verb, to pierce or stab with a horn or tusk. Noun, blood that has been shed, especially as a result of violence. Etym., germanic gor, muck/filth

This word is combined with chord, to represent the harmony of all three aspects represented in Storytelling.Gorechord Storytelling takes the “dark path” of consciousness to convey the story through revelation. In short, speaking directly from the perspective of the limbic cortex to inform the players of what’s going on at your tabletop. Whether conscious of this relationship or otherwise, we are very much passengers in our own bodies, living a life of receiving information, and then sending instructions to parts of our body to respond to the world around us. Consciousness in many ways relies on this bilateral relationship in order to really form ‘the person’. When the body needs to respond to the world around it faster than the mind can, it has a way of overriding our instructions and responding for us. It’s the reflex to shield one’s eyes from a blinding light, to dive for cover in an explosion, and to yank one’s feet out of the way of a falling knife. In a more scholarly sense, an exploration of this system of response is called Affect Theory, and Gorechord Storytelling would be considered an application of this theory in the way Storytellers interact with their players in the World of Darkness.

Disclaimer: This article contains themes that include implications of gore, violence, and other narratives of horror that others may find offensive.

A narrative application of affect theory is the way one can’t help rolling their eyes at things that annoy them, or the way their heart races when they feel fear, or the sense of dread that fills them when they sense danger. These are all examples of negative affects, or emotional states that are experienced as unpleasant or uncomfortable. Negative affects can be powerful tools for storytellers, allowing them to create a sense of urgency and danger in their narratives. By tapping into these emotions, storytellers can create a visceral, immersive experience for their players, drawing them into the world of the story. In order to convey affect in their narrative voice, storytellers can use a variety of techniques. They can describe the physical sensations that characters are feeling, such as the pounding of their heart or the sweat on their brow. They can also use vivid, descriptive language to create a sense of atmosphere and mood, such as describing the sound of a distant storm or the smell of burning embers. They can also use pacing and structure to create a sense of tension and urgency, such as by gradually building up to a climactic moment or by using abrupt cuts and changes in perspective to disorient the players.

The function of a Gorechord is to create a sense of dread and unease in the audience, while also delivering moments of shock and awe through building scenes that encapsulate Moore’s depictions. Gorechords are structured according to a trilithon framework, which consists of three distinct parts.

The first part sets up the scene, introducing the characters and the situation. This is where the audience becomes emotionally invested in the story, and where the atmosphere and tone are established. The second part is the turning point, where the story takes a dramatic shift. It is where the horror, terror, or splatterpunk elements come into play, and where the characters are put to the test. This is often the most intense and memorable part of the story, as it can make or break the characters’ fates. The third and final part is the resolution, where the story comes to a close. This is where the consequences of the turning point are realized, and where the characters reflect on their experiences. The resolution often leaves a lasting impression on the audience, as it ties up loose ends and provides closure to the story.

Gorechords follow this structure in a unique way, incorporating affect theory and Gorechord storytelling to create a visceral and immersive experience for your players. The arcs are interconnected, with each chapter building upon the previous one to tell a greater tale of horror and intrigue.

By carefully crafting each part of their trilithons, Storytellers can create a story that is both emotionally engaging, narratively compelling, and terrifyingly immersive, but understanding how to apply these in each scene, and when, we have to look inward, into ourselves.

Silvan Tomkins was an American psychologist who developed the theory of affect, which is the study of emotions and their expression. Tomkins proposed that there are nine primary affects, which are universal and innate to all humans. These affects are the building blocks of our emotional experiences and include joy, interest, surprise, anger, contempt, disgust, distress, shame, and fear. Tomkins’ work has had a significant impact on the study of emotions and has influenced fields such as psychology, sociology, and anthropology. In the context of horror storytelling, Tomkins’ affect theory provides a framework for understanding the emotional impact of different storytelling techniques and can help creators craft more immersive and impactful stories.

In the World of Darkness, horror, terror, and splatterpunk methods of storytelling are used to create a sense of fear and unease in players. These methods can be used to evoke Silvan Tomkins’s nine affects, which are innate emotional responses that are triggered by certain stimuli. In this section, we will examine each of Tomkins’s nine affects and how they can be used in horror, terror, and splatterpunk storytelling.

Interest/Excitement: Novelty and the anticipation of an outcome

Horror: A suspension of disbelief, like a moment of bonding with a protagonist on a roadtrip

Terror: A false sense of security before the terror sets in, like heading to bed

Splatterpunk: Suspense and anticipation, two men arguing over a spilled drink at the roadhouse

Enjoyment/Joy: Achieving a desired goal

Horror: The characters wax nostalgic and start laughing at the shared story.

Terror: You fall asleep and have a dream that’s really slow and peaceful.

Splatterpunk: One man offers to buy a new drink and reaches for his wallet.

Surprise/Startle: Unexpected stimuli

Horror: Wiping tears of laughter from your eyes, you look in the rearview mirror and see someone sitting in the back seat.

Terror: Something interrupts your dream and you wake up.

Splatterpunk: One instant the characters see this unfolding, and then there’s a shattering of glasses and everyone flinching away from the condiments and bits of gunk that was everyone’s food.

Distress/Anguish: Loss or unfulfilled desire

Horror: Looking, you realize it’s your friend you were just talking to, in the backseat. He’s wearing the same shirt you remember from this morning.

Terror: With the dawning realization that something woke you up, you’re still there with your eyes closed. You feel a sinking twisting in your stomach as you realize you’re leaning to the side slightly. Something is sitting on the bed beside you.

Splatterpunk: While clearing condiments from your eyes, you hear gasps and sounds of disgust. You think you hear someone scream, but you can’t see them, because you can’t seem to be able to take your eyes off the head that landed in the middle of the table, and the blankness of its eyes.

Anger/Rage: Frustration or thwarted goals

Horror: You turn around, ready for a fight.

Terror: You open your eyes only to be greeted by your dark room.

Splatterpunk: You realize in a flash of recognition, that head belongs to the Brujah you’ve been stalking all night that offered to buy the offended stranger a drink.

Fear/Terror: Perception of danger or threat

Horror: You don’t see anybody in the backseat.

Terror: You feel the thing beside you move, and you cannot see it.

Splatterpunk: Whatever did this to this kindred, can do this to you.

Shame/Humiliation: Social disapproval or failure

Horror: Your friend driving doesn’t seem to notice.

Terror: You put your hand where you feel it’s weight and find nothing.

Splatterpunk: You hear a voice from among the crowd speak with a growl, “Oops. Looks like he lost his head.” in Garou Tongue, and a scream erupts in the crowd.

Disgust/Contempt: Repulsive or offensive stimuli

Horror: You turn around, and a hand suddenly thrusts out of the mirror and grabs you.

Terror: With a sudden sick feeling of panic welling your gut, you feel yourself start to sink into the mattress.

Splatterpunk: Feeling a growl of your own rising in your throat, you recognize the voice of that Black Spiral Dancer

Do the following to incorporate the Gorechord:

Determine the overall narrative arc of the chronicle.

What is the main story you want to tell?

What are the major events and conflicts that will drive the story forward?

Divide the story into chapters, each of which should tell a complete story while also advancing the overall narrative arc.

Each chapter should have its own trilithon and should be a self-contained story that contributes to the larger narrative.

Identify the horror, terror, and splatterpunk elements that you want to include in each scene.

Determine how you want to deliver sensory information to emphasize these elements and create an immersive experience for your players.

Use trilithons to structure each scene.

Start with a promise to your players about what they will experience in the scene.

Then, create a turning point that subverts that promise and introduces a new element of horror, terror, or splatterpunk.

Finally, deliver on the promise of something extraordinary that resolves the scene and leaves the players wanting more.

Connect each scene to the larger narrative arc by introducing new characters, conflicts, and plot twists.

Each scene should contribute to the larger story while also being a self-contained horror story in its own right.

Use All Senses in Your Descriptions.

Players often receive nothing more than a visual description of the room they’re in, leaving a lot to the imagination.. Simply using adjectives to describe the indescribable won’t convey the intended emotion. Instead, try to immerse the players in the character’s perspective. For instance, a character may be unable to comprehend a creature’s physical form or may be affected by its presence. Describing the sounds, smells, and physical sensations that the creature evokes can create a more immersive experience for players, making even mundane encounters more memorable. By activating the senses, players can feel like they’re experiencing events in person, allowing for deeper immersion within the session.

Creating an immersive experience for players in a game involves activating all their senses. The following paragraphs detail how the six senses can be utilized to enhance the players’ experience.

Sight: Visual descriptions are crucial in creating a mental image for the players. Adding details about the lighting, colors, and textures in the environment can make the players feel like they are truly there. For example, describing the flickering shadows created by a nearby torch, the vibrant red color of a bloody blade, or the ethereal glow of a magical artifact can create a lasting impact on the players’ minds.

Sound: The things one hears can add depth to the environment, providing clues about what’s happening around the players. Whether it’s the clinking of chains, the screeching of bats, or the distant sounds of battle, each sound can help to paint a vivid picture of the scene. Playing sound effects or music can further enhance the players’ experience, creating a truly immersive atmosphere.

Smell: From the metallic scent of blood, the musty odor of old books, or the pungent stench of decay, each scent can evoke a visceral reaction in the players. Using scented candles or essential oils can further enhance the players’ experience, allowing them to fully engage their sense of smell.

Touch: Describing the texture of rough stone walls, the chill of a frigid wind, or the warmth of a comforting fire can transport the players into the scene. You can also use props or textures to add a physical element to the game, such as handing players a cold, metal key or a soft, furry animal pelt.

Taste: While taste may not come up as frequently as other senses in a game, it can still add a layer of immersion to the experience. Describing the metallic taste of fear, the salty taste of sweat, or the sweetness of a delicious meal can help players feel more connected to their characters. You can also use food and drink as props, such as providing the players with a feast that matches the one their characters are eating in-game.

Affect: Finally, it’s important to consider how the environment affects the players on an instinctual level. Describing how the hair on the back of the players’ necks stand up, their hearts race, or they get a sick feeling in their stomach can create a visceral response in the players. If you’ve ever been in an accident or other disaster, your body will respond faster than you can comprehend what’s going on. This form of narrative is a perspective from the players’ own body. By tapping into their instinctive reactions, you can create a truly immersive experience that they’ll never forget.

Don’t Lose Sight of the Story

Create a rough, bulleted outline of what kind of story you’re telling, the scope of the story, and the storytelling mechanisms you hope to employ. List who the main actors are, and if needed, create a brief note on how they relate to each other. Reference this list often, especially every time you’re working on your campaign. It helps you keep your sights set on an ultimate outcome that you’re hoping to guide your players through. Take this a step forward by creating a timeline of events to ensure the story has a believable timetable while placing NPCs at appropriate times and places.

Essentially, you have to write a short story. Establish a status quo, disrupt the status quo, set antagonists to hinder the plot, protagonists to accelerate it, design your climax and the aftermath. Now, expand it into multiple arcs that are building towards something big. Along similar lines, decide how much and what kind of power you want the players to have. Is this going to conclude in a high powered kaiju battle, or will it be a skin-of-the-teeth experience the players keep barely surviving?

Write Your NPCs For Quick Lookups

When creating NPCs for your Gorechord narrative, it’s important to consider the pacing of the story and the players’ need for quick reference. A well-crafted NPC can add depth and complexity to your chronicle, but too much information can slow down the gameplay and hinder immersion. To keep things simple and effective, follow the W5 formula:

Who are they? Provide a brief description of the NPC’s physical appearance and personality traits. This can help players visualize the character and form an initial impression.

What are their goals? Every character should have a reason for being in the story. What motivates this NPC? Are they trying to achieve a specific goal or fulfill a certain purpose?

Where are they in meeting their goals? It’s important to give the players a sense of progress or urgency. Is the NPC close to achieving their goal, or are they just beginning their journey?

When are they planning their next steps in these goals? Provide context for the NPC’s actions. When will they make their next move? Are they waiting for a specific event or opportunity?

Why are they doing this? This question delves deeper into the NPC’s motivations. What drives them? Are they seeking revenge, power, or redemption?

Optional: How will they accomplish this? Depending on the NPC’s goals, it may be helpful to include a brief description of their methods. How do they plan to achieve their goals? What obstacles will they face?

By keeping NPC descriptions concise and focused, you can create characters that are easy to remember and reference, without sacrificing depth or complexity. This approach can also help you stay organized and prepared for gameplay, allowing you to quickly recall key information and keep the story moving forward.

Don’t Write Yourself or Your Players Into a Corner

That is, have some concrete components that motivate the plot forward without making the players’ decision a lynchpin in your story. Give your players a clear end-objective, and then be prepared to make the person and circumstance delivering that narrative something that can be interchangeably used depending on location and NPC. Nothing is more frustrating than dedicating all of your narrative to specific locations or times only for the players to diverge completely from your aim and plan. At that point you either have to railroad players into the plot (frustrating for players), or become a hostage to your players and abandon the module entirely (frustrating to the Storyteller). There’s a few ways around this:

Storytellers should aim to reward player curiosity and make use of new NPCs or interactions as sources of information that the players need. This can be achieved by designing the narrative to allow for multiple avenues of exploration and discovery, and by creating NPCs and scenarios that are flexible enough to adapt to unexpected player actions. Additionally, you should be prepared to improvise and adjust your plans on the fly, in order to keep the game engaging and responsive to player input. By following these guidelines, you can ensure that your chronicles remain dynamic and adaptable, and avoid the frustration of being trapped by your narrative decisions.

Don’t become overly attached to NPCs, including the main antagonist or villain. If your intended villain unexpectedly dies, it’s possible to salvage your story by re-imagining them as a pawn in someone else’s game. This can add depth and intrigue to your campaign, while also keeping your options open for future plot twists and turns. Flexibility, and the willingness to adapt to unexpected outcomes will keep players engaged and invested in the story, no matter where it leads.

When starting a gaming session, it’s important to have a clear goal in mind. Summarize that goal in 3 sentences or less to keep yourself on track. However, be flexible and adaptable as players often come up with unexpected ideas or actions. Use these as opportunities to incorporate their choices into the overarching narrative while still working towards the session’s goal. Continuously seek ways to motivate players towards that goal, but also allow them the freedom to explore and create their own paths within the story.

It’s important to strike a balance between overplanning and under planning. While you don’t want to script every detail, it’s essential to have enough prepared to prevent being caught off-guard. Having multiple maps and locations on hand, even if they are not fully fleshed out, can be helpful in avoiding a narrative dead-end. A basic rough map of a location the players can reach in a session can provide structure and give the players a sense of direction, preventing them from feeling lost. Ultimately, players will always have the ability to surprise you, but having a variety of maps and NPCs prepared can help you adapt to their decisions and keep the story moving forward smoothly

Remember that the players are the driving force behind the game. While it’s necessary to have a clear story and world in mind, it’s equally important to allow players to make choices that align with their characters’ personal interests and motivations. When the players’ agency is taken away and they are forced down a predetermined path, the game becomes a railroad. This not only takes away from the fun and excitement of playing, but it can also lead to frustration and disengagement from the players. By writing the players into the world and allowing them to make meaningful choices, the game becomes a collaborative storytelling experience that is more immersive and engaging for everyone involved. Steering your players down such a course stops being a railroad if it aligns with their character’s objectives and personality.

Incorporating elements of Greek tragedy can add a layer of depth and complexity to any story, including tabletop RPG campaigns. One common element of Greek tragedy is hubris, or excessive pride and self-confidence. By introducing characters with hubris, such as powerful villains or overconfident allies, players can be challenged to overcome their own flaws and weaknesses in order to defeat them. Another element of Greek tragedy is the tragic flaw, a character trait that ultimately leads to their downfall. This can be a powerful tool in storytelling, as players can be faced with the difficult task of recognizing and addressing their own flaws in order to avoid a similar fate. By incorporating tragic flaws into NPCs or even player characters, you can create a sense of tension and drama that will keep players engaged. Moral dilemmas are another effective storytelling tool that can add complexity to any campaign. By introducing choices that force players to consider their own values and beliefs, you can create a more immersive and engaging story. For example, players might be forced to choose between saving innocent lives or pursuing a personal vendetta, or between following the law and protecting their friends. Creating NPCs with their own complex motivations and backstories can also add depth to a story. By giving NPCs their own goals and desires, you can create a sense of realism and complexity that will help players feel more invested in the world you’ve created. For example, an ally might have a hidden agenda that conflicts with the players’ goals, or a villain might have a tragic backstory that makes them more sympathetic. Urgency and dark fates can add a significant level of tension and drama to a story. When used effectively, they can make the stakes feel higher and increase the emotional investment of both the characters and the audience. Urgency can come in the form of a looming deadline or a pressing danger, forcing the characters to act quickly and make difficult choices. Meanwhile, dark fates can create a sense of dread and anticipation, hinting at a tragic end for the characters or a catastrophic outcome for the world they inhabit. Ultimately, incorporating elements of Greek Tragedy and other storytelling techniques can help create a more engaging and immersive campaign. By introducing hubris, tragic flaws, moral dilemmas, complex NPCs, and Urgency, players will be forced to grapple with difficult choices and confront their own flaws and weaknesses. This can lead to a more satisfying and meaningful gaming experience for everyone involved.

Motivate Your Players.

A villain the players will frequently interact with needs to be given the same attention and consideration the players give to their own characters. They need to be dimensional and relatable; in short, they need motivation. More important, making a villain believable and relatable makes them memorable. It’s always underwhelming to be pursuing a villain and not even know why you’re doing it. So maybe you show up and they’re there with all their mini bosses but something spectacular needs to occur to make it more than just ‘another fight’. If your player decides to try something creative to find a solution you weren’t expecting, try rewarding the behavior and seeing where it takes you.

Consequences Over Punishment.

As a storyteller, it’s essential to remember that players should always have agency in the game. The choices they make should have consequences, but these consequences should not feel like punishment. Also, it’s lazy storytelling to respond to unforeseen player actions with punishment! The things happening in-game are meant to be happening to the characters, not the players, so instead, consider consequences that take time to be realized. The players can see how things could have gone differently, and they can apply this knowledge to future scenarios, better developing their characters. When consequences are appropriately utilized, players are more invested in the game, creating a memorable and immersive experience for everyone involved.

For example, suppose the players were asked to find someone prominent who had gone missing in town. The players decide to do personal jobs and interact with NPCs around town instead. Instead of punishing the players, introduce consequences for their actions (or lack thereof). On the fifth night of carousing, one of the NPCs finds the corpse of the missing person and brings the players to it. This is a moment of heavy gravity that can turn into a narrative component. This type of consequence usually reveals if a party member is a “murder hobo,” willing to cast aside altruism for personal gain. A victory for the antagonist such as this could also give them more sway over the town or affect how NPCs interact with the players.

When consequences are used instead of punishment, players are more engaged and immersed in the narrative. It creates a sense of agency for the players and allows them to see how their actions affect the world around them. Consequences also allow for the development of the story and the characters within it.

Players can become disheartened and resentful when they feel inferior or believe they are being punished for their curiosity or actions. As Storyteller, it’s important to avoid deliberately harming players in response to something they do. This response can come across as petty and targeted, and the reslults are seldom beneficial to the narrative.

Gorechord Bibliography 2003–2018

Oldboy (2003) directed by Park Chan-wook: A man is kidnapped and held captive for 15 years, and upon his release, he embarks on a quest for revenge against those who wronged him.

The Descent (2005) directed by Neil Marshall: A group of female friends go on a caving expedition that goes horribly wrong when they become trapped and are hunted by a group of monstrous creatures.

Black Swan (2010) directed by Darren Aronofsky: A ballerina’s pursuit of perfection becomes an obsessive descent into madness as she prepares for the lead role in Swan Lake.

It Follows (2014) directed by David Robert Mitchell: A young woman is plagued by a supernatural entity that is constantly following her and is only visible to those who have been affected by it.

The Witch (2015) directed by Robert Eggers: A family in 1630s New England is torn apart by suspicion and paranoia when their newborn baby goes missing and strange occurrences begin to happen around their farm.

A Cure for Wellness (2016) directed by Gore Verbinski: An ambitious young executive is sent to retrieve his company’s CEO from a mysterious “wellness center” in the Swiss Alps, but soon discovers that the facility has sinister aims.

Get Out (2017) directed by Jordan Peele: A young black man visits his white girlfriend’s family for the weekend, only to discover their horrifying true intentions.

Annihilation (2018) directed by Alex Garland: A team of scientists enter “Area X,” a mysterious and deadly zone where the laws of nature are distorted and mutated, in order to uncover its secrets.

The Lighthouse (2019) directed by Robert Eggers: Two lighthouse keepers on a remote New England island in the 1890s descend into madness as they are trapped together by a storm.

Each of these films feature elements of horror, terror, and splatterpunk storytelling, as well as strong narrative arcs and well-developed characters. By studying the techniques used in these films, storytellers can gain valuable insights into how to create immersive and terrifying worlds in their Gorechord chronicle.

[witchthewriter]

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐃𝐚𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧'𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ female, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!  

a/n: okay so we all know Daemon wouldn’t be a great partner, but this is Tumblr and we take characters and form them into something ... other than what the author created them as. So here is a healthier version of Daemon Targaryen

Warnings; mentions of blood, violence, etc 

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ    

ESTP

Slytherin

Chaotic Neutral/Evil

Aries Sun, Scorpio Moon, Gemini Rising

SFW🌿

⭑ Daemon knows exactly how to push your buttons, and he loves doing so. 

     “Are you not listening on purpose Daemon? Gods! Some days I could wring your neck.”

 “I love you too, darling.”

⭑ He loves when you braid his hair; and massage his scalp during the progress. He’ll audibly groan when your fingers dig into his scalp. 

⭑ Loves seeing you in his clothes

⭑ He’s so incredibly protective over you and no one dares hurt THE Daemon Targaryen’s wife. If anyone tries, then they WILL die. It’s happened a few times actually. To go to the Targaryen’s, enemies would target you. But they had never landed their blows. 

⭑ You’re a tough woman, who doesn’t take crap from anyone. That got you into trouble with a lot of people at court, and you were hated by many people. 

⭑ You didn’t care though - why would you listen to the opinions of sheep?

⭑ And you aren’t scared of darkness within others. You yourself have some (don’t we all?) 

⭑ Daemon loves this about you - nothing shocks you. And he remembers the first time he fell in love with you; when he could tell you everything about himself and you didn’t flinch. 

⭑ Many would think he’s the dominant one in the relationship, but it’s you. It’s all you. 

⭑ You’re absolutely in love with dragons (I mean who isn’t) but you have such an admiration for them, that they were your fixation for most of your childhood. You’ve read everything you can about them, about the Targaryen history and how dragons came to be

⭑ Daemon loves that he has someone to tell everything to. You know many family secrets about the Targaryens (that always stay within the blood-related family)

⭑ You aren’t a Targaryen though. Probably a Baratheon, Hightower, or Lannister noblewoman who was sent to court. 

⭑ Daemon is actually really good at cuddling and likes it best when you’re on top of him - your head on his chest. He’ll mindlessly twirl your hair between his fingers, talking to you until you fall asleep. 

⭑ Your wedding was huge. And I mean absolutely - because Viserys was so happy that Daemon’s focus was on you. It felt like a relief that Daemon was marrying for love. 

⭑ Daemon buys you everything you desire - no expense spared. Literally, he’s gotten into trouble by Otto Hightower with how much he’s spending on you. 

⭑ I do think you have a good heart though, so a lot of the things he buys for you, you give to people who actually need it. 

⭑ Rhaenyra likes you a lot. You’re someone she looks up to - someone who has already broke tradition by being a bold woman. Who says what she thinks and damns the consequences. 

⭑ Viserys would hold some reservations (that were planted by Otto) about Daemon’s legitimacy with the succession. He would have a bigger claim if you bore children. 

⭑ But ultimately it would be up to you. Do you want kids? Okay, Daemon will work day and night to fill your belly. You don’t want kids? Fuck kids then. We have dragons and each other, that’s all we need. 

⭑ I think he would calm down in the sense that he wouldn’t be so brutal towards others. You’re someone who gives him confidence - he doesn’t need to prove himself. So when he needs help, he will take it. 

⭑ People are nervous around Daemon when you’re not there - he’s much more well-mannered and pleasant in your presence. 

⭑ He smells like smoke, basil and frankincense. 

⭑ Calls you ‘My darling,’ ‘Love,’ ‘Pet.’ 

Relationship Tropes: 

Villain/Badass Power Couple

Monster in Disguise (you; I mean c’mon you can let loose) x Incredibly Protective of You

Asshole to absolutely everyone except their significant other x Knows their s/o wouldn’t dare be rude to them because they’ll catch these hands

NSFW🔞 minors dni!

⭑ Daemon definitely has a breeding kink, and the thought of you heavily pregnant with his child turns him on to no end 

⭑ Is definitely into really kinky sex. He loves having hot wax dripped on him as part of foreplay. 

⭑ He loves blood-play. And when you’re on your period he asks you to ride his face. 

⭑ Hickies absolutely EVERYWHERE; Daemon’s favourite pass time when you’re alone is marking you. 

⭑ You love teasing him while in public - your dress slipping, showing your thigh/bending down in front of him to pick something up/’accidentally’ rubbing up against him while in other company

⭑ His favourite position is doggy; he loves when you’re on all fours, your ass in the air. 

⭑ Oh and he most definitely eats ass. 

⭑ I think Daemon would be up for anything. Nothing disturbs/grosses him. 

⭑ His favourite place to cum is either inside you or in your mouth/on your face. 

⭑ When you’re just about to cum, he’ll pull out and wait for your high-pitched whine. 

   “Daemon! Please!” 

⭑ Very rough kisses

⭑ He loves biting your ear lobe while he’s deep inside of you

⭑ Your smell drives him insane - like an immediate aphrodisiac 

⭑ He loves dirty talk and is absolutely shameless about it. 

     “Do you like me fucking you like a common whore?” 

⭑ He’s more dominant in the bedroom ... because you allow him to be. 

⭑ There’s always a hot bath waiting when you’ve finished having sex. You’ll both climb in, and bathe the other. 

[esper-game]

You always knew about catalysts. Of course you did, who wouldn't know about the people blessed (or cursed) with superpowers?

But you were just a regular person — a primary. Albeit one with incredibly overbearing parents that barely let you leave the house, but hey, we've all got issues. You were overall completely normal.

Until you weren't.

"This will change everything."

That's what your mother said when she told you about your flair, psionic inundation: your ability to mentally overload people. And she couldn't have been more right. Being a Rank Six — an unregistered Rank Six — puts a target on your back. The sheer amount of power you hold makes you a liability. You're dangerous. A weapon.

So you ran. And you kept running. With nothing — no one — left to call home, you had no reason to look back. You accepted your life as a criminal. After all, isn't that what you were? Forever doomed to play the part of the fugitive.

Years have passed since your true nature was revealed to you. You've evaded the Triad's efforts to find you thus far, but how long till your luck runs out? Many towns and almost as many identities later, you haven't managed to get anywhere. Everything you do just lands you back in the same place you've always been. Tired, afraid and utterly alone.

The things you run away from have an odd tendency to catch up to you. And that's exactly what happens to you when four agents from the very organisation you're attempting to evade find you. Faced with an ultimatum, you end up joining the force that sought to imprison you.

With your world flipped upside down for the second time, how will you navigate? Will you learn to control your flair or strengthen it? Will you attempt to destroy the Triad from the inside out, or become one of the top Organisation agents?

Customizable main character; play as male female or nonbinary, with customisable pronouns, appearance, personality, views and more

Select choices that will shape characters, the story and more

Develop your abilities as an Esper, either learning to control them or letting them run free.

Make the most of the freedom your new position with the Organisation offers you; either aiding or plotting against them

Uncover secrets, dismantle (groups?) and more as the newest recruit for Team E

Romance or befriend the four (gender customisable) agents who arrested you and are now your coworkers

Leith/Lena Payne (M/F) RO

With their unwavering professionalism and devotion to their work, L is the ideal leader for Team E. Nothing seems to shift their ever-present stoicism. But the sadness in their eyes hints that they may not be the picture-perfect agent they appear to be. Just what are their true motivations?

Sean/Saoirse/Shea Kennedy (M/F/NB) RO

S seems nice enough, with plenty of friendly smiles and kind words to go around. Yet they effortlessly perform their role as the combat specialist in Team E without batting an eye at the violence they must commit. Do they genuinely care or is their amicable persona just a lie?

Ilijah/Imani Hoang (M/F) RO

Prickly and reserved, I fills their position as tech specialist with a bitterness that rivals their attitude towards people. It's undeniably hard to get along with them, and they show no signs of caring. Still, there's something about the way they behave that indicates something lurking below the surface. Is there more than meets the eye to their anger?

Veran/Valerie Hart (M/F) RO

V prefers to tackle their position in the team with a much more laid back approach. They hardly take anything seriously, for better or worse. Despite their attitude, they are intelligent and a true asset to the teem. But at times their playful nonchalance slips into a lack of care. How far does their recklessness go?

Additional characters + appearances in 'characters' link :)

DEMO | CHARACTERS | FAQ

[darylsgirl]

You know you want this

Request for non con :- Daryl and reader were previously in a relationship but Daryl broke up with her and left her hurting. But Daryl realises later on that he really wants to be with the reader so he goes to her place to talk to her, but she can't go through all that hurt again so she says no. This angers Daryl and he leaves and comes back drunk after some time. Then the non con part. But I also want the reader to come around after some time?Request two :  What about Norman edging the reader? Request three:  Can you do one where the reader tells Daryl she wants to try squirting and he’s down for it and she does it repeatedly so many time they just become addicted to it. Alexandria time.

Summary: Daryl breaks your heart after you let your feelings for him slip, Breaking you completely Spencer helps to put the pieces back together, Finally starting to feel like yourself again Daryl decides he wants you back and he’s not going to take no for an answer

A/N: Hey lovelies! Sorry this has taken me so long to write! I had a dream last night for another story so hopefully it won’t take as long for the next one! Thank you all for your patience! If you have any requests let me know! I’m always happy to add them to the list :) 

Hope you like this! Have a lovely day <3

Love Jen :)

Trigger Warning: Smut starts as Non-Consensual, Edging, Squirting, Violence, Eating disorder, Self deprecating thoughts. 18+ only please! 

                                           Masterlist

It had taken months to be able to look at his face without feeling your heart shattering, You had avoided him at every possible opportunity. Excusing yourself whenever he came into a room biting back the tears. 

When people had started to notice you moping around you knew you had to reserve your heart break for when you were alone, When you and Daryl had been together you had kept it a secret wanting to have something just for you both, Not wanting to share your secret happiness with others yet. You could see why he wanted too; he was a very secretive person not wanting to let anyone into his high walls. 

The trouble with this is when one night after over a year of spending the night in his arms you let it slip, Happily curled around him you’d told him you loved him. He instantly froze. 

“Go to sleep Y/N Ya drunk” He had muttered. When you woke in the morning he was gone leaving just a note on the bedside table “You can’t love me, Goodbye Y/N” 

Jumping out of bed you had searched for him around Alexandria to be told he had taken off hunting earlier that morning. When he finally came back he wouldn’t even look at you. You had followed him home desperately trying to get him to talk to you. 

“Please Daryl just talk to me! I know you feel the same way”  

“Nah, Go home Y/N I don’t love ya and I never asked yer to say ya loved me either!, Ya knew what this was” He sneered before slamming the door in your face. 

Hearing him say he didn’t love you was all it took for you to run home locking yourself inside for days, You tried to settle in the bed but his scent was everywhere. Dragging your pillow and a blanket from the bed you had curled up on the floor 

You stayed in the same position for days only moving when your bladder felt like hot knives were being poked through it. You’d heard as various people had come knocking to check on you but you just weren’t ready to see anyone yet.

When you did finally surface a week later you could feel your clothes falling more loosely around you, You were always slim but now you looked painfully so. Carol gave you a sad smile offering you a bottle of water that you took gratefully. Carol was the only person you thought had known about you and Daryl, She had never said anything but from the pitiful look she was giving you now, She must have known. 

“Why don’t I fix you something to eat Y/N” She offered, Her hand motioning to her house. You shook your head quickly. You couldn’t go there, That’s where he would be. 

“No” You croaked your voice raspy speaking for the first time in a week. “ I’m ok, I ate earlier” She raised her eyebrow not believing you but letting it go all the same. 

You spent your weeks like this only eating small amounts if you had no other choice than to accept, Feeling your clothes get looser and looser. 

Spencer had been the one to get you to eat a full meal for the first time, Sitting with you patiently at the cook out you had been reluctant to go to. He sat with you well after dark letting you eat at your own pace, While he filled the silence with idle chatter. 

You found yourself laughing at his stories, The sound startling you when it first came out a small smile crossing your lips. You stayed with him happily forgetting for a while. That was until you heard a loud snort from the other side of the table. 

Looking over your eyes met Daryl’s briefly, You hadn’t realised he was there listening to your entire conversation. Standing quickly you looked at Spencer “I’m sorry i have to go” 

Turning on your heel you ran towards your house. “Wait Y/N! Wait” Spencer said catching up to you within a few feet. You jumped in alarm when you felt his hand on your arm. 

“What's the rush? Hey listen, I was meaning to ask you. Can I make you dinner sometime?” You looked at him shocked not saying anything when he continued. 

“Just thought we could spend some time together, Yano just us.” You thought for a moment. 

He did seem to be a nice guy and he definitely wasn’t embarrassed about being with you.

Nodding slowly, you agreed not sure why he wanted to have dinner with you, making Spencer grin “Cool! Tomorrow? I’ll come by your place at 6 to get you?” 

Nodding again you let him give you a warm hug before turning again and heading straight for your house. 

Locking the door behind you, You let out a small smile, maybe this was what you needed to get over him, someone who seemed to care about you and might return your affections. 

The date had been nice and you had become a regular thing, He had taken to walking you to and from work holding your hand and smiling down at you every time his lips brushed yours to say goodbye. He had continued to be incredibly patient with you letting you warm up to him and letting your walls come down slowly. 

It wasn’t like it was with Daryl it wasn’t a passionate burning love, It was sweet, Caring and different. Your eating problems soon behind you with Spencer, Your heart still hadn’t fully recovered but he was doing a good job of trying to glue it back together. 

It still hurt every time you saw Daryl, His eyes starting lingering on you more now since you had gone public with Spencer. You tried to avoid his gaze, Reminding yourself of the hurt he had caused you and that it was Spencer who had picked up the pieces.

6pm was soon rolling around, Spencer and you had made this a regular thing every Friday you had a date night, You wanted tonight to be different, The more Daryl looked at you the more your lust for him was returning, You had to get him out of your head and give your all to this loving patient man.  

Pulling on the red figure hugging dress you found in the back of the closet you smoothed it down hoping it would signal to him that you were ready. Pulling your hair into a loose bun and picking out some loose wavy bits to hang around your face pulling the maroon lipstick out Daryl had found for you on a run.

You had only previously worn this in bed with Daryl, It was one of his kinks, He liked to see the lipstick smeared across his body where you had left your hot kisses. Making him increasingly harder when he saw the marks around his cock.

You felt your thighs brushing together feeling yourself heat up at these memories. Shaking your head you looked at yourself in the mirror smoothing the dress down nervously. You heard as Spencer knocked on the door. Applying the lipstick you smiled at yourself feeling hot, Before heading to the door. 

As you opened it you were shocked to see not Spencer but a very awkward looking Daryl standing in front of you, He didn’t ask if he could come inside before brushing past you into the living room. 

Your heart pounding in your chest you closed the door slowly following him timidly into the living room. 

Both in silence for a few minutes before you finally found your voice, “Wh...What are you doing here?” 

His eyes wandered over your body taking in your dress before staring at the lipstick. His eyes opened wide when he recognised it

His eyes looked pained now taking a deep breath “’m so fuckin stupid Y/N, I miss ya, I want ya back....For real....I want ya to be mine” 

Daryl had never been that forward with his feelings before. Your heart pounding in your chest, You wanted to fall back into his arms, But it wasn’t fair of him to ask that of you, This wasn’t fair at all. The anger bubbling up now, The fucking nerve of this man! 

“Get out” Shaking your head you felt the anger build “Get out Daryl! No, No you don’t get to do this!! You don’t get to see me happy and moving on, Trying to forget you and just think you can walk back in and it can go back to how it was!” 

“But....Y/N please. I-I” 

Cutting him off trying to cut the emotion from your voice “Spencer will be here any minute, Get the fuck out!” 

You took a step back as he started towards you, He watched as you flinched at his movements, Seeing the fear in your eyes. He was close too close, You could feel your body burning for him, It terrified you how much power this man had over you.

“Ya don’t have to be scared of me Y/N i wont hurt ya....Yer know that..” 

“Too late Daryl, You already did! GET OUT!” Pushing his chest harshly seemed to snap him out of it. Not saying another word he turned on his heel slamming the back door behind him. 

It took a few minutes to compose yourself, Grabbing the whiskey bottle from the cupboard you took a few deep swigs settling it back down and fixing what you thought was a convincing smile back on your face as someone knocked on the door again. 

Thank god, It was Spencer this time!” 

“Holy shit…… Sorry! Hey baby...,. You loook….. Incredible” Spencer said his jaw dropping when he saw you. 

Stifling your giggle you lent up kissing his cheek, Biting your lower lip slightly as you saw the Kiss mark on his face. The blush was rising in your cheeks the alcohol was definitely hitting you fast.

“Shall we” He asked, still in awe holding his arm out to you. Taking his arm you stepped out of the house closing the door behind you. The moment your feet hit the pavement, You almost walked straight into Daryl.  

“Watch where ya goin” He growled. Spencer feeling the tension put his arm around your shoulders protectively pulling you out of Daryl’s way into his chest. 

“C’mon babe, Dinner will be getting cold” You tore your eyes from Daryl’s turning your attention to Spencer as he kissed your hair. Smiling sweetly at him you let him pull you away down the street towards his house, Glancing backwards you saw that Daryl was glaring at you now with those dark eyes. Putting your arm around Spencer's back you tried to shake off his glare. 

He had looked pissed.. But what fucking right did he have to be upset? What did he think was going to happen? You were going to live the rest of your life as a nun moping around and starving yourself because of him?  Or that you would just forget all of it and just fall back into his eyes like the pathetic woman he thought you were? Fuck no! You tried not to let the anger build. 

During your meal you had tried to concentrate on Spencer but your mind kept wandering back to Daryl. You drank more that night than you had on any of your other dates trying to get up the courage to take things further. As you sat on the couch together kissing sweetly, You decided now was the time. 

Standing up you straddled his hips moving your dress up enough to give your legs space to move. Grabbing his face you kissed him eagerly. Moaning as his hands came to your thighs rubbing them gently before moving to the small of your back pulling your core and chest tight to him. 

Moving your lips now to his neck you kissed him hungrily. “Y/N….Y/N stop” 

Pushing away from him you looked at him confused “Why….?” 

“I really want you….REALLY want you but your so drunk!, it’s not right doing this now”

He saw the surprise and rejection in your eyes. Putting his hand in your hair he pressed your lips against his gently. 

“Baby I want to make love to you, So fucking much but not while your like this. But soon. I promise ok?”

You nodded giving him a small smile, He was a good guy and you appreciated that about him. 

“Guess i should go then…” You trailed off standing up from him and smoothing your dress back down. 

“Want me to walk you home babe?” 

Shaking your head “No it’s okay its only a block down i can manage” He stood walking you to the door he gave you one last kiss before wiping the slightly smeared lipstick from your face. Giggling you left. 

Walking slowly up the street enjoying the light breeze before sighing and heading into your house, Leaving the lights off you walked straight into your bedroom. 

That’s when you saw him. Lying on your bed, The same Jealous glare in his eyes. The previously full bottle of whiskey laying empty at his side.

“What the hell are you doing here Daryl?” You asked, trying to keep the nervousness out of your voice. 

“What are you doin with him?” he retorted standing up from the bed now. He walked slowly to you.

Stuttering “He’s my boyfriend… Why wouldn’t i be with him” 

“Ya fuckin mine! Not His!!Tell me Y/N Ya let him touch you?” 

“What fucking business it of yours, I told you to leave me alone!” You snapped. He was standing directly in front of your now so close you could feel the breath on your cheek. 

“You wanna be a whore, Walkin around with the likes of him, I’ll treat ya like a whore Y/N only had to ask….”

Leaning into you he pressed his mouth to your ear “Bet he can’t make yer feel as good as i can” 

You froze as you felt him now his hands pulling you to him kissing your neck feverishly. 

“Stop!” You cried putting your hands to his chest. “You don’t get to do this! Break my heart then think you can just what...Come in here and I’ll fall back into bed with you? Fuck you Dixon” Your voice full of venom. 

You heard the growl rise in his chest, “That’s the fuckin plan” He sneered down at you. 

Gripping your throat tightly he threw you onto the bed hands quick as lightning he pushed your skirt up revealing the lacy underwear you had put on for Spencer. Throwing his body onto yours he tried to kiss you. 

Panicked you bit his lip hard drawing blood “Get the fuck off me….What are you doing!! I’m with Spencer!” 

Wiping his lip he grinned at you “Still feisty Y/N Fuck Spencer. I’m gonna show ya what yer missin with him”

His voice now a low growl “You know you want this”

Putting his hand into your hair he gripped it tightly pulling your head back and keeping it in place while he attacked your neck again struggling against his body he kept you pinned.. 

“Daryl….Please...Please stop this!” You cried feeling the tears hit your eyes as his hand ripped your underwear from you. 

“Ya know ya want me Y/N Why else would you be wearin a dress like this, Or that lipstick i got ya. Stop fuckin fighting this, I need ya now, You need me too” His hand now undoing his own pants as his teeth bit harshly into your neck and chest. 

In one quick motion he was inside you. “See” he growled “So fuckin wet for me” At first you were ashamed of your body’s reaction to him, Then your mind started clouding feeling yourself get wetter and wetter. He pulled his teeth back now replacing it with warm wet kisses.

You couldn’t stop the moan that ripped from your throat as his huge member touched that delicious spot inside you making your chest arch to meet his. 

You felt him smirk against your neck. Feeling the fight leave your body being replaced by the pleasure he was giving you he released your hair and lightened the pressure he had on your arms. 

Instinctively you raised your arms to his neck tangling your fingers in his hair pulling his lips back to meet yours, Every part of your fight gone now. Just loving this feeling you had been denied for so long. 

He kissed you wildly, his tongue pushing into your mouth groaning into the kiss when your tongue danced with his. 

“Tell me how much ya love this cock Y/N” He growled lips moving back to your ear nibbling softly. 

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head at the sound of his voice feeling your body give in fully to him all thoughts of Spencer wiped fully from your head. 

“Tell me Y/N! Tell me how you love my cock more than Spencer’s” he demanded. At Spencer's name your eyes flashed back to his. 

“We didn’t….We never….Oh god Daryl!” You were so close. 

Tormentingly his hips stopped then. “What d’ya mean ya didn’t? Is he fuckin crazy...Look at you...Look at this fucking dress” His hands went back to the hem of your dress which was now lying haphazardly across your stomach. Lifting your torso slightly he pulled it free from you. 

“Oh god, Y/N I’ve missed this sexy fucking body” His head darting down to kiss your exposed breast, Groaning you felt him pull out of you his lips moving down your body. 

“Daryl please, I was so close!” You begged, Missing the incredible full feeling you had moments ago. 

Grinning up at you he ducked his head again running his tongue down and around your navel.  

“Stand up” He ordered. It took a moment for your legs to respond, Standing with him knelt in front of you, He kissed both of your hips before kissing you harshly on your aching bud. 

Licking from bottom to top a few times before starting to suckle softly at first then with growing intensity as his fingers found your heat, Once he had buried his fingers into you, You felt your knees growing weak again. Tangling your fingers into his hair and desperately pulling his incredible mouth closer as it swirled around whilst rocking against his fingers. His fingers curling inside you hitting your g-spot perfectly. 

Just as you were feeling that blissful heat about to explode he pulled his mouth away, Fighting with him slightly you tried to pull him back, Grinning up at you he tutted “Not yet Y/N.” Removing his fingers from you he stood pulling you with him and pushing you up against the back wall. 

Kissing you deeply and lightly brushing his fingers up and down your sides. You were panting heavily feeling the frustratingly close high fade away. Once your breath was back under control he knelt in front of you again.

“Trust me” His voice a dark gravel breath as he moved his body between your legs lifting one foot from the floor and putting it over his shoulder. 

He gave you a swift wink before grabbing the other leg and putting that over his other shoulder. His hands on your hips to steady you he stood with you on his shoulders, Bracing yourself hands on the ceiling you let out a surprised yelp. 

His teeth meeting the inside of your thigh. “Oh yes, Daryl!” you groaned. He turned his face nipping your other thigh before hungrily staring down his main target. 

His tongue darted out of his mouth resuming its earlier attack on your aching clit, “Ahh please Daryl!” You begged as you felt your self building straight back up instantly.

Your walls were clenching tighter and tighter desperate for this knot to be unwound. Arching your chest, your head hitting against the wall a squealing moan escaping your chest as he nibbled softly on you. 

Your breaths getting deeper as you got close again. And just like the other two times he pulled his mouth away. Manoeuvring you off his shoulders into his strong arms before dropping you back to the ground. 

Your pleasure quickly turning into a frustrated rage. “What the fuck Daryl!” You swiped your arm at him trying to hit him in the chest, Catching your arms lazily he smirked at you not saying anything. 

You could feel the tears of humiliation springing back to his eyes, turning away from him you wrapped your arms around your naked body. He had to be messing with you, This was cruel and if you were honest kind of painful. 

“Get the fuck out” you yelled towards the wall not wanting him to see just how frustrated you were. 

As his arms reached out for you, You felt the shift in his mood. At first you tried to shrug him away but he persisted pulling you into his chest. Leading you back to the bed he lay down next to you. 

Still not saying a word he kissed you again sweetly this time. Letting you open back up to him as he slowly crawled back over to you, Nudging your knees open his mouth still on yours as he entered you again. 

You looked at him nervously as he moved slowly not wanting to ignite that heat again, Worried he was going to take it from you again. 

Hearing the deep moans coming from his throat as he kissed you, You allowed yourself to just enjoy the moment. He felt so good. 

Every thrust was slow and deep, Filling you so completely like no one else ever could. He knew just how much you loved the slow torture. Moaning back for him you could feel your walls clenching down again. 

Separating your lips you tried to control your high and calm your body down. Daryl watched as you squirmed, your chest heaving with your deep breaths. 

Bringing his nose to your hair nuzzling it slightly before whispering “Cum for me Y/N” His eyes meeting yours, You prayed he was being sincere as you couldn’t hold it back much longer. 

His hand coming up to your chest tweaking your erect nipples as he started to move faster in you. 

“Oh fuck! Daryl” You whined, Your entire body feeling on fire as your every nerve responded to his words and actions. You felt a different type of pressure build in your groin, It was the sweetest pain you had ever felt. 

Your body started to violently shake as it felt like lightning was ripping through your heat. 

That’s when you felt it, It was like you had been paralysed as Daryl pulls out quickly replacing his throbbing cock with his fingers again. 

Curling them back up to your g-spot his other hand palming your clit. 

“OH FUCKKKKKK” you screamed as the first wave exploded through you. You could feel the waves of wetness exploding from you. Staring at Daryl incredulously he looked just as surprised as you did at your squirt. 

You didn’t know what the fuck was happening to you all you knew was that it was the most incredible feeling you had ever had. 

It seemed never ending as arc after arc of juices spilled out of you hitting his chest, His groin and soaking the bed. Pushing his desperate cock feverishly back into you, He hit into you harder than before. 

Your juices were still leaking around him as he cried out. “Holy Fuck Y/N! I love ya,Yer fucking incredible!” 

Your orgasm still ripping through you “Ah fuck Daryl!!!” You screamed as you felt it hit its highest point before your body started to slowly climb down. 

“Ahhhh Y/N. Fuck” He cried out again as you felt him explode deep into you, You didn’t have the cognitive ability to comprehend what he had just said as you were clinging to  his neck like you had just survived a tidal wave. 

Not sure how long you had both stayed that way you felt as the sheets under you turned freezing cold from your juices. 

Daryl moved off from you then pausing to kiss your forehead. Collapsing at the side of you it took him a few more minutes of deep breaths to compose himself. Both just lying there in stunned silence. 

“That was…” He mumbled. “Incredible” you finished still seeing stars. 

Turning to place a loving kiss on your lips. Your brain finally starting to work again. 

“Wait….Daryl did you say…?” He pulled an arm over his face, his cheeks glowing red. 

“Yah and what if i do?” He asked you slightly angrily. 

“You don’t Daryl, If you did you wouldn’t have left like you did” You could feel the pain returning to your chest, All those months pining after him not able to eat or sleep with his absence. 

“I do Y/N I just didn’ deserve ya, Didn’ want ya to fall for someone like me when you could have someone better for ya, Someone like Him” His arm still draped across his face not looking at you. 

This was the most you had ever heard him talk about his feelings, Lifting yourself just enough off the bed to move upwards to his eye level you moved his arm away from his face making him look at you. 

“I don’t want someone like him, You’re the best there is. I wanted you, And you broke me” 

He looked at you guiltily “It damn near broke me too Y/N” He whispered. 

The silence was awkward now, Giving you a small smile “We should uh get cleaned up, Didn’ know ya could do that....” he joked motioning at the juices still covering his chest. He got up and you tried to follow your legs instantly, going weak before you hit the floor. He caught you with a chuckle.

Pulling you in his arms he kissed you passionately moaning into his kiss you pulled back “I didn’t know i could do that either, Can we do it again?” You asked innocently, your eyes still closed. 

He sighed heavily “I want to do that every fucking...Day” He growled you felt his member stir between you. 

Carrying you to the shower and turning it on he set you down on your feet before taking you again and again. When you finally both came up for air you washed each other off and went back to the bedroom changing the sheets quickly and sinking into a happy blissful sleep with his arms wrapped around you tightly. 

Waking up the next morning you were surprised to find the bed cold when you reached out next to you. Grumbling you opened your eyes searching for him, Eyes locking on him as he was pacing by the end of the bed fully dressed. 

“Morning sugar” You grinned seeing him still with you,

“Good mornin Beautiful” He whispered. You let yourself bask in the happy morning glow. 

“Y/N…..Y/N ‘M so fuckin sorry. ‘M gonna go just waited till ya wer awake, Needed ya to know how sorry i am” His voice full of emotion, He had glanced over to you occasionally not meeting your eyes. 

You looked at him quizzically “Why are you sorry?” 

Coming and kneeling at the side of the bed, He grasped your hand desperately in both of his. 

“Ya know why Y/N I…..uh…..I” Stammering his words, his chest rising heavily, his grip on your hand starting to feel painful. 

“I fucking forced ya!” You heard the emotion run over now as the sobs racked his body. 

Not sure how to respond to this, You had to admit it sure started out that way but if you were being completely honest you had loved how rough he was with you, How much he needed you. The jealousy that overtook his whiskey addled brain. 

He stood ripping his hands off you which brought you back to reality. 

“I’ll go, I’ll leave ya don’ have ta see me again Y/N ‘m so sorry” 

“Noo!!” You half screamed throwing yourself up from the bed and towards him completely forgetting about your state of undress.

Your hands gripping at his vest desperately, “No please! Daryl Please!! Don’t leave me i won’t survive it again, You can’t leave me” You were begging now trying to get his eyes to meet yours. 

He finally gave in seeing the pain on your face. You shivered slightly and he immediately wrapped you in his arms holding you to his chest, His heart pounding in time with yours. 

“But i...i….i hurt ya Y/N, I fuckin hurt ya.”

“No you didn’t Daryl. Look at me i’m fine! I’m ok! Please don’t leave! I just got you back” 

“I am lookin at ya!” He growled. Pulling you towards the bathroom he pushed you in front of the mirror. “Look!!” He half yelled. 

Letting a sharp gasp escape as you looked at your appearance. You were covered in bruises. There were clear finger marks on your neck, Marks from his teeth there too.

Looking down the bruises trailed across your hips with a few on your thighs. 

After assessing them for a moment and determining that none of them actually hurt, The longer you looked the more you remembered about how those bruises got there. Biting your lip you turned to look at him. 

Wrapping your hands around his waist, “Daryl really i’m ok! I bruise super easy, they look worse than they are, I promise. You didn’t hurt me.” Your voice dropping to a whisper “I want a repeat of last night, It was incredible” Feeling your cheeks flush you saw him looking at you incredulously. 

Pulling away from him slowly you walked backwards towards the bed keeping your eyes on him, You could see the internal struggle as he internally fought with himself. 

“C’mere baby i need you” You purred. Grinning as you saw the better side of him win, He rushed over covering your body with his kissing you feverishly, Lying you much more gently on the bed this time. Moaning into his mouth when your tongues met. 

This man was a 100 different types of perfection, His clothes hitting the floor desperate to feel your skin on his again. 

“For fuck sake!!!!” you whimpered as someone started knocking on the door. Panic in your chest as you tried to remember if you locked the door. Daryl stood quickly pulling his jeans back on swiftly.

“Y/N? Y/N you okay love?” He called through your locked front door.

Sitting up quickly and pulling the blanket around your chest hiding your body from his view. 

You hand covering your mouth it was Spencer, God he couldn’t find you like this. You felt tears spring to your eyes as you realised the depth of your betrayal. 

“Oh god, What am I going to tell him, He’s such a good guy and I did this. I’m scum!” 

Daryl scoffed “He ain’t a good guy Y/N and yer aint scum, Yer worth ‘undred of him!” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Exactly what i said, He aint a good guy. Yer don’t wanna hear it Y/N”

Pulling the blanket tighter around your body

“Don’t tell me what i want to hear, Tell me now!” 

Daryl looked completely away from you running his hand through his hair, his other hand balling into a fist. 

“He had a bet Y/N, Him and that asshole brother of his, On how long it would take him to bed ya, Said he were gonna let his brother have ya when he was done. Ta up the stakes he bet he could make ya fall in love with him first…” He trailed off his anger palpable. 

The shock evident on your face, You had trusted him, Thought he had really cared but you were just a bet to him? Fuck this! 

Daryl was hot on your heels as you ran full speed down the stairs and to the door. Ripping it open Spencer had just hit the bottom step as you appeared. 

“Hey baby…” Looking from your face to the blanket wrapped around your naked body. He took the steps back two at a time. “Mmm should i join you” He winked. Stopping just before the door he took in your appearance. 

The amusement dropped from his face as he saw the bruises “Babe what the hell happened? Are you ok?” 

Letting the fury show on your face you pushed the door open wider revealing the shirtless Daryl behind you “Yeah im great! Sorry you're too late asshole, Guess you lost the bet huh?” You spat with as much venom as you could. 

Daryl took a protective step towards you now as Spencer got closer. 

“What the fuck Y/N what the fuck is he doing here? Did he do that?” 

Raising your voice so the crowd gathering on the street could hear. “Don’t fucking start Spencer! I know all about your little bet!! You were going to trick me into falling for you, Fuck you and then hand me off to your brother? Who the fuck do you think you are? You and your brother can go fuck each other.” 

Humiliated Spencer snapped his false demeanour vanishing “So you let the dirty old Redneck fuck you eh? You really will fuck anyone won’t you!” Glancing between you and Daryl. Daryl moving forward and wrapping an arm around you ready to move you out of the way if this got any worse.

“You can keep the bitch, She’ll have fucked half the town soon enough Buddy. Just what Alexandria needed a whore who will drop her pants for anyone if they give her a drink, Tried to fuck me last night too had to pry the dirty bitch off” he spat. 

You couldn’t have held him back if you had wanted to, Daryl had flung himself at Spencer knocking him down the steps onto the street and straight on his ass. Straddling his hips he rained blow after blow, blood pouring from Spencer's face a mess of blood when Rick and Abe finally managed to pull him off.

Yelling at Spencer who was starting to get up timidly looking like he was about to hide behind his mother. 

“I ever hear ya talk about Y/N that way again i’ll fuckin kill ya! Ya fuckin hear me!!! Yer or yer fuckin dumbass brother so much as look at my woman again they’ll be no savin ya!” 

Pulling himself out of Rick’s and Abe’s grasp for a moment he threw a hard kick in the direction of Spencer's head. 

“Daryl Stop!! He’s not worth it!” Your voice shaking as you tried to get Daryl’s attention, placing your hand gently on his cheek he stopped fighting. 

“I ain’t lettin him talk to ya like that Y/N!” He almost whined trying to excuse himself. 

“I know baby, But it’s ok he aint worth it! You taught him his lesson, I love you, I’m yours! Let’s go back inside!” Very aware now of all the eyes on you both, You still in just a blanket and Daryl only in his Jeans. 

Daryl’s eyes softened pulling away from Abe and Rick again he pulled you to him.

“I love ya Y/N Ya are mine and now all these pricks know it” He half chuckled. 

“C’mon, I’d like to get back to our earlier activities before this prick interrupted” Giggling as his eyes grew dark. Throwing a dirty look at Spencer you let Daryl throw you over his shoulder, His arms clamped around the blanket to cover your body.

He ran with you back up the stairs. You heard as Abe guffawed letting out a wolf whistle as Daryl slammed the door behind you both, Moving to the curtains he slammed them shut. 

As he turned back to you, You dropped the towel swaying your hips as you walked over to him. 

“Show me how your’s i am Daryl” You purred forgetting all about the incident just moments ago. 

Your bodies collided, He showed you every spare moment he had just how much you belonged to each other, You couldn’t have even dreamt of how happy you were together. Spencer never hassled you again not even looking in your direction after that day, Much to Daryl’s amusement. 

His group had accepted you as family instantly. Never once questioning your love just embracing it.

Even though the situation that brought you both back together hadn’t been ideal you couldn’t help the grin on your face every time he drank whiskey. 

Thank god for Whiskey and Daryl fucking Dixon. 

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[disturbedbydesign]

The Widow and the Wolf - Chapter 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x dark!exWidow!reader

Summary: After Natasha Romanoff took down the Red Room, the former Widows scattered to the wind. Raised to be a killing machine and released into the world with nothing and no one, you decided to use your newfound autonomy to take down the bad guys of your choosing. But now Natasha is riddled with guilt for leaving you on your own. She wants to recruit you, rehabilitate you, make you part of a team again. But the rest of the squad has reservations, and no one is more against you than Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: Graphic violence; Mentions of domestic violence, rape, pedophilia, human trafficking, child sex trafficking; eventual Dubcon (not Bucky); eventual smut; slow(ish) burn enemies-to-lovers. [More warnings will be added as necessary but these are the Big Bads.] 18+ only, no minors.

If you prefer to read on AO3, you can do so here.

Chapter Two

It’s almost midnight by the time Garcia is officially gator food, but you’re too wired for sleep. You head out, driving the hour and change to Miami, with a stop on the way to clean yourself up a bit in a gas station bathroom. You check in to the swanky South Beach hotel you’ve decided to treat yourself to, because you’ve earned it. The world is a better place without that man in it, the impressionable young girls of Miami are a bit safer tonight, and that’s enough for you. For the moment, it’s enough.

Your next target is a man you’ve been searching for for a long time, and he’s your own personal project, but tonight you aren’t going to think about him. Tonight you’re going to allow yourself a moment to breathe, to celebrate your victories—a party of one, as usual, but satisfying all the same. You don’t have that much time left before last call at the clubs so you get yourself together quickly and hit the spot closest to your hotel. Even at this time of night, there’s a line to get in, but one look at you and the bouncer is opening that velvet rope and beckoning you inside.

The place reeks of sweat and unchecked hormones as you make your way to the bar, the booming bass drowning out any and all thoughts you might have, which is exactly the way you want it tonight. You order a double vodka rocks and you wait to see what kind of man will approach you this evening: angel or devil. Of course, none of them are really angels, not in the club at this time of night, but some are far worse than others.

You have no problem with decent men. There’s nothing wrong with trying to get laid. It’s normal, it’s natural—you know that now. You’ve even learned to enjoy consensual sex with strangers. At first it was difficult for you—your body having belonged to others for your entire life. But it wasn’t long before you started to enjoy the power of choice, of having control over what your body did and who with.

A man approaches you—brown hair, blue eyes, muscular—and you hate that your first thought is of him but you can’t help it. The Winter Soldier had always been the stuff of nightmares—a ghost story to some, but the Widows knew better. He was terrifying, yes, but the few people who had seen the man’s face and lived to tell about it had always remarked on how handsome he was, even with that cold, dead-eyed stare. You’d seen pictures of him after he came out from under all that brainwashing, and they had proven the reports correct, but you’d never seen him in person until tonight. You couldn’t stand the sight of him in some ways, but in others…

You turn to the attractive stranger and smile, waiting to see what he’ll do.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he yells over the music. You raise your nearly full cocktail in his direction and he smiles awkwardly. “That’s the best line I got,” he says, and he introduces himself with a name you don’t commit to memory.

You give him a fake name and he reaches his hand out to shake. He’s got a disarming personality, but that doesn’t mean you trust him. You know better than anyone that there’s no better tactic than to appear non-threatening. Still, he’s incredibly attractive and you’re in the mood for a party of two tonight.

You let him talk for a while—about his job, about his family—and you pepper in a few lies here and there. He hasn’t laid a hand on you or invaded your personal space in any way that isn’t necessary among the crush of people at the bar. When the bartender signals last call, you decide that he’ll do. You’re rarely wrong about people, and even if you are, you could snap his neck like a twig if necessary.

You allow him to walk you out, expecting him to make a move, but he doesn’t. He just stands there with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, rocking a bit awkwardly on his feet.

You smile and tilt your head. “Nightcap?” you ask, and he follows you like a puppy to your hotel room.

You don’t want another drink and neither does he, but he waits for your signal before he tries anything. You try not to make it all seem transactional, but it’s not like your heart is in it. You let him kiss you and touch you, albeit briefly, and you pretend to enjoy it even though that’s not what you want. What you want is to be on top of him, using his body for the pleasure of your own, and it’s not long before you’re doing exactly that. Your beautiful stranger certainly doesn’t mind, not even when you close your eyes and allow yourself to think about someone else inside you—what his face might look like all twisted up and blissed out, what sounds might spill from his pretty lips, what the cold metal might feel like against your hot sweaty skin.

You make yourself cum and then kick him out (kindly). You’re gone by sunrise. You’ve got places to be.

*****

Natasha sits cross-legged on her couch, a pint of ice cream in one hand and scrolling her tablet with the other. After Miami, you’ve been a ghost. None of her usual contacts have been able to give her anything useful. You’ve gone underground, and she knows she won’t find you if you really don’t want to be found. Whoever your next target is, it has to be somebody big if you’ve covered your tracks this well.

She doesn’t regret not taking you in, even though Bucky had complained the entire ride back about how leaving you there was a mistake. But, as she’d told him, you have to want to come in. Trying to force your hand is not only incredibly dangerous, it defeats the purpose. Natasha doesn’t want to retraumatize you; she wants to help you. There’s no point in trading a floating cage for a gilded one.

She doesn’t realize she’s finished the pint until the spoon hits the cardboard. When she goes to pull another one from the freezer, her phone rings.

“What’s up, Rogers?”

Steve’s voice holds a barely contained anger that Natasha knows well. “You need to come in.”

She should have known Bucky would rat her out, but it still pisses her off. “Steve, it’s getting late. Can we do this in the morning?”

“I don’t know,” Steve replies. “Are you gonna steal another jet in the middle of the night?”

“Technically, I didn’t steal-”

“Natasha, please,” he says, and she can picture the set of his jaw on the other end of the line.

She sighs. “Alright, fine. I’m leaving now.”

When she gets to the tower, most of the usual suspects are gathered around the conference table. Steve looks pissed. Tony looks amused. Sam and Wanda look concerned. And while, to anyone else Bucky would be wearing no expression at all, Natasha can tell that he’s feeling a bit guilty—as he should, he gave her his word. He mouths “I’m sorry” when she sits down at the table and she raises an eyebrow at him that he knows to translate as a middle finger.

Steve tries to speak but Natasha cuts him off. “Save me the lecture, Rogers. I’m not going to apologize.”

Steve’s voice is stern but not unkind. “This needs to be a group decision, Natasha, and as of right now, you’re the only person who thinks this is a good idea.”

“That’s not actually true,” she says. “Wanda? Do you want to tell Steve what you told me?”

Wanda looks a little shocked to be called out but she answers, if a bit hesitantly. “It sounds like she needs help, Steve. Like she’s lost. I… I know what that feels like—when everyone thinks you’re a monster.”

Wanda and Nat’s eyes both turn to Bucky, looking for any recognition whatsoever that he, too, knows exactly where they’re coming from, but he’s completely stolid. Underneath his blood is boiling and he feels like he wants to crawl out of his skin, but the surface remains placid.

Tony pops a blueberry into his mouth and swivels in his chair to face Natasha. “So, let me see if I’m understanding this correctly, Romanoff. You want to bring in one of your former compatriots who has spent the last… what?... year or so on a globetrotting murder spree? Am I getting the general idea here, or am I missing something? I have to be missing something, because if I’m not missing something, this is categorically batshit.”

“It’s more complicated than that, Stark. But essentially, yes. That’s exactly what I want to do.”

Tony laughs. “Wow. OK. Well, Rogers—you and I rarely agree on… well… anything, but I gotta say, I’m Team Cap with this one.”

Natasha crosses her arms and huffs her displeasure.

“I’m sorry,” Tony says, looking around and addressing the room, “but don’t we usually catch mass murderers? Isn’t that kind of our thing?”

The longer the conversation goes on, the more uncomfortable Bucky gets. It wasn’t lost on him that Tony’s eyes lingered on him when he threw out the term “mass murderers,” and he’s learned that it’s better to just let Tony go off when he feels the need. Still, he needs to get out of the room. He needs to take a walk, get some air, push all thoughts of you and this whole mess out of his mind, because if he doesn’t, he thinks he might go crazy.

“Are we done here?” Bucky asks.

“No,” Steve replies. “Sam? Anything you want to say?”

Sam takes a minute to gather his thoughts. “Look, Nat, I understand where you’re coming from on this. I really do. And it would be different if she was willing to come in on her own. But it sounds to me like she isn’t interested. She wants to be doing exactly what she’s doing. You can’t rehabilitate that. You just can’t.”

Steve looks apologetically at Natasha. “I’m sorry,” he says, “but it’s a no. I’m not necessarily saying we go after her-”

“I am,” Tony interjects. “I’m saying that. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Steve glares at Tony and it shuts him up. “Leave it alone, Tony.”

“You’re seriously telling me you want to leave this girl on the streets knowing what we know? Come on, Rogers.”

Everyone starts to raise their voice at once—everyone except Bucky, who is already sneaking out and halfway to the door—when Natasha shouts, “Enough!”

She takes a deep breath and blows it out, speaking softer now. “I’ll find her and I’ll bring her in, whether she wants to come or not. But it stays in this room—no cops, no agents, just the team. When I get her here, I’ll figure out what to do with her.”

“Fine,” Steve says, and the rest of the team assents. “Buck, you go with her.”

Every cell in Bucky’s body is screaming not to do it, but he never could say no to Steve. He grunts his agreement, refusing to even look at Natasha before storming out of the room and out into the humid mid-August evening. He walks all the way from Midtown to Brooklyn, but he still can’t shake the malaise that’s settled over him ever since Natasha first came to him with her plan.

Bucky knows that he should understand—and, in a way, he does—but he just can’t bring himself to feel anything for you except disgust. Natasha sees something in you that he just doesn’t see. All Bucky wanted to do when he finally got free of it all was prove to everyone that he was a good man—that he was not the things that he’d done. It took a lot of work and a lot of time, but he’s finally in a place where he’s separated himself from the Winter Soldier. That isn’t who he is; it never was.

Steve always knew that, and Natasha hadn’t taken much convincing. The others, though—some of them still don’t fully trust him, and if he thinks about it for too long, it cuts deep. So when Bucky thinks of you—free now, but still violent and bloodthirsty and absolutely unrepentant—it makes him sick. After all the work Bucky has done, how can Natasha look at you and him and think that you’re the same?

Not everyone comes out of their traumas unscathed. Sometimes people can’t come back from the things that have happened to them. That’s you. That’s who you are. You’re not good, you never will be, and as sad as it may make him, Bucky truly believes that you are beyond redemption. You don’t need to be saved; you need to be stopped.

Bucky gets a text as he unlocks the door to his Brooklyn Heights apartment. He’s been waiting for it, hoping for it, and now he has it. Natasha doesn’t know where you are yet, but he does. One of his contacts in Bucharest has a line on you, and he’s not going to let you get away this time. Much as it pains him, he doesn’t trust Natasha to keep her word to the team and take you in against your will. No, Bucky is going to handle this himself. You may be a Widow, but you’re no match for the White Wolf.

CHAPTER THREE >>>

[bigskydreaming]

If you were editor of Nightwing's book ever since at least the start of Rebirth to today and you were given free reign, what would your story mandates?

Oh no, this is dangerous. LOL. Hmm, I have no idea what to shoot for here, so I'll try to keep it to ten. That's reasonable right? Ten is good. Yeah. Is fine.

Okay, so, in no particular order:

1) Let Dick be competent 101. None of this him having to play hype man for every other character to pop up in HIS title bullshit. Nope. That's not what they're there for. He's the lead man, LET HIM BE THE LEADING MAN. Like sure, everyone has their areas of expertise, he doesn't need or have to be the best at everything, blah blah blah.....but its about the nuance. All of that is kinda lip service because the thing is, you don't go into MOST comic books and NEED to be reminded of that because the lead characters of those books are all constantly getting saved or shown up or chastised by every guest star in their books, you know? This is a very weird, very niche phenomenon very specific to Dick's character, and I'm super over it. I'm here to read about the guy who has literally been doing this longer than most superheroes twice his age. The guy who's been doing this since before he hit double digits. The born acrobat. The destined ultimate warrior or whatever of Gotham's Ornithological Society Of Murder and Pretentiousness. Gimme that guy. And that guy doesn't need to be 'humbled' every other page, because the thing is, he's not some egomaniac to begin with so the everpresent need to humble him doesn't actually come off as humbling! It just comes off as pandering and not even to actual fans of the actual character, so its like.....wyd DC.

2) Let other people take responsibility for their own crap with Dick rather than always just expecting a mea culpa from him. I'm so unbelievably tired of the words I'm sorry from Dick. I love personal accountability, so I never thought I'd have to say this about a character, but enoooooough. They have made it completely in character for this dude to apologize to everyone ELSE for being brainwashed, getting amnesia, being KILLED, like.....the amount of things he's groveled for forgiveness for when he didn't actually do a damn thing wrong or worse yet, was the ACTUAL victim of is like....pretty damn staggering. And meanwhile, there's nary a peep of apology from the people who regularly insult or belittle him, get physically violent with him, take advantage of him or take him for granted, etc, etc, etc. Its entirely too one-sided and imbalanced, and the pendulum needs to swing the other direction, like YESTERDAY, and in a fairly big way, IMO.

3) None of this Baby's First Social Justice Awakening 101 crap. I'm sorry, but no. Especially not when you go out of your way to acknowledge that Dick is Romani, only to then turn around and act like he's only JUST had his eyes opened to an awareness of like, classism and poverty and the real struggles people face day to day? Sorry not sorry, but especially for other white writers out there, do not use people of color as self-inserts for dipping a toe into Learning To See Past Privilege. And especially when talking about a character who has a history of being actively abused and hurt by the system and institutions of power, or hell, even leaving out that particular origin story, who has still been out on the streets helping people since he was a literal child. You can not tell me that this is his first face to face experience with social issues, or the first time he's had the inclination to try and address those head on. (And its also particularly egregious that the people second-guessing Dick in his own title and giving him reality checks or acting like they have more of an awareness of all this than he does like, happen to all be white? OPTICS. LEARN ABOUT THEM. COMMON SENSE. GET SOME.)

Know what would actually be a better way to approach this? Flashbacks. Show us Dick running into situations that make him think back to a case when he was still Robin, when he and Batman had started fighting over their approaches to things, actually SHOW us those conflicts and how their viewpoints had started diverging, and how much of that was due to Dick not having the same experiences as Bruce, or the same standing in society, no matter what house he lived in. THEN you can jump BACK to the present, with the reminder/awareness that this is something that isn't NEWS to Dick, but that he in the past felt he was forced to make his peace with as something he wasn't in a position to do that much about....only NOW, he's in a very DIFFERENT position, and suddenly it just hits him how he's still acting like he did when he was limited in resources or in having to be part of a chain in command or having to factor other responsibilities into things....now he ACTUALLY has the power and the resources to make meaningful change in the ways he ALWAYS wanted to, but maybe just needed time to figure out HOW.

Like you know what would have made Shawn Tsang's story arc so much better? If Dick didn't just remember her as the Pigeon's one time teenage sidekick he'd briefly fought as a kid, but like.....if he remembered her as someone he and Bruce had FOUGHT about. Because he didn't agree with sending someone to juvie for defacing public property as a form of political protest, when it was someone's LIFE who was going to be irrevocably damaged by that while the damage to the city could be fixed with a check, and what made Dick any more deserving of Bruce's leniency and faith in his potential or underlying goodness than Shawn?

But he was still a kid himself back then, and when Bruce responded with his usual conviction, talking about the importance about rule of law and etc etc, Dick just didn't have the words to get through to him then, to get him to understand that this wasn't just Dick not getting it because he was too young, it was BRUCE not getting it, that Dick was literally just saying well he wasn't too young to have been in juvie himself, and of the two of them, he's the one who has experience there so why was Bruce's opinion on whether this was the punishment that fit the crime the one that got to hold more weight here? When Dick's the one who knows what that punishment actually LOOKS like beyond the abstract, for whom it was a reality that still haunts him in ways that even defacing a few statues of some rich old fucks doesn't deserve?

Or hell, go back FURTHER than when he was Robin. Idk where any of those posts are, but I've always wanted to see something where Dick maybe runs into someone he remembers from his time in juvie, maybe a guard who is like, the source of the reasons Dick mistrusts figures of authority and is so hung up on independence and not being under anyone's thumb, or maybe someone who was in there with him, another kid who looked out for him when he didn't have to, etc. Gimme Dick tackling head-on his firsthand awareness that there's no rehabilitation to be found in a jail for kids, when most of those kids don't even need rehabilitation in the first place and only did what they did in order to survive or escape from worse situations or like, were there purely because of racist cops, etc. Let him go after THAT system, driven by personal experiences and memories that maybe only hit him in full after recovering his memories from the Ric Grayson arc, like they're things that he put in a box in his mind a long, long time ago because he didn't have the spoons or reserves to deal with them when he was a kid still so traumatized in so many ways, like, something had to give and so he put all those memories away for another day and just....never got back to them because life kept hitting him with new and fresh trauma every week.

But now something has him thinking back to those early days in Gotham, and reminding him that not everyone had a Bruce Wayne willing and able to give them an out from that place or acrobatic skills to escape it on their own, and like. You want to do something about the cycles of violence in Gotham and Bludhaven? Why not start with the places that literally MANUFACTURE cruelty on an institutional level, that teach kids that no matter what they did to get put there, even if that was nothing at all, they're all going to be treated the same way and given no reason NOT to do whatever it took to be top dog in a dog eat dog world by the time they got out.

There's SO many better approaches to social awareness in the Batbooks than what we're seeing, and like. Sheesh. The bar is way too low.

4) On a related note, if I'm editor of the Nightwing book, the FIRST thing I'm doing is making it a priority to find a writer of color for that book, ideally someone of Rom descent. Its waaaaay past time to let a Romani writer take the reins on Dick, Wanda, Pietro or Doom, aka some of the only prominent Romani characters out there? You can't tell me that there aren't talented writers who identify as Roma who would be more than willing to add their perspective to Dick's archive of narratives, and if an editor's gotta go looking for them? Go fucking look. DC and its fans have milked a lot of mileage out of the idea of Dick being Romani with very little in the way of nuanced storytelling to show for it in the past twenty years, and if DC wants to trot out little reminders that Dick is Romani every couple years, like in the form of a freaking line that has no follow up or expansion to any degree and is offset by an internal monologue that otherwise reads as incredibly privileged, the least they can do is TRY to expand on that with the narrative perspective of someone they claim to be representing via that character.

And no, this isn't gatekeeping, this is prioritizing. Its not about preventing other writers from writing this character, like just for the hell of it, its about being proactive about finding a writer who can write specific aspects of this character that have long gone unaddressed or poorly represented. And like. Okay. Its not easy breaking into the comics industry for anyone, but its particularly not easy for marginalized writers. Most every major comic book company just recites 'make your own stuff first and then show us that' but when you're a writer specifically, finding a compatible artist to partner with on creator-owned indie stuff first, when those artists are in the same position as you are and apologetically and understandably tend to have to take paying work over yours if you can't pay except on the back end, like....there are a lot of hurdles to getting your start in comic books, and while there are more and more marginalized writers in comics these days, DC and Marvel kinda fucked up, because you know what?

After being told 'make your own first, then we'll talk,' writers DID do just that....but then found out that well, due to the ease of online distribution and access these days, for any writers who CAN find an artist to partner with, its a hell of a lot easier to get their content out there these days WITHOUT a major publisher behind them.....and for a lot of marginalized writers in particular, its worth it to keep full creative control in exchange for smaller circulation. Especially when they don't have to deal with editors 'softening' their work to make it more palatable for audiences that quite frankly aren't necessarily their primary target. So yeah, marginalized voices are becoming more and more present in comics, but Marvel and DC for the most part are keeping the same voices centered they always have, and what these voices have to say is becoming less and less relevant and outdated. Because much like this arc from Taylor, even when they DO dip their toes into story matter that's of interest to wider audiences, they're doing so to a degree that still puts them years behind the conversations everyone else is having.

5) The same holds true of disability representation. I stopped reading Taylor's run for a lot of reasons but his way of responding to people unhappy with his depiction of Babs was a key one. If I'm editor on a book, and someone tweets at one of my writers that their depiction of a disabled character was hurtful because it feels like they're doubling back on everything Babs has ever said about not being defined by or ashamed of her disability and now its being treated like a dirty little secret, and that writer's response is essentially to just laugh at them and say there's nothing wrong or ableist about their writing of a disabled person, TO a concerned disabled person? That writer's ass is getting fired. Full stop.

Either you give a shit about this stuff or you don't. Don't pay your readers lip service about how important social issues are to you and how much you care about using superhero narratives to inspire people on these matters if you're gonna turn around and show your ass the second you don't feel comfortable and prioritized by the conversation, like it wouldn't exist without your oh so valuable contributions. ESPECIALLY if you don't identify as sharing the same identity of the marginalized character you're writing. You are a guest in someone else's lived experiences at that point, and you think you've got the right to belittle and talk down to the people who LIVE THERE? Fuck off, my dude.

6) Re-center Dick as someone who the superhero community RESPECTS. I love seeing Dick depicted as someone who has an awareness of his own limitations and an appreciation for what others bring to the table, and so I'm not opposed to him calling on others when he needs to.....but I also would like to see more of the opposite. But not in the way we usually see it these days, where he's asked to come help with a crisis and then usually second-guessed the whole way, and then sent back home without so much as a thank you when its done. Yawn. Sorry. I've read that story by now.

You know what story arc I freaking LOVED as a kid, back in the 90s? In Green Lantern, when Kyle Rayner first became the sole GL, one of his very early arcs, before he ever joined the JLA or anything....was him realizing how little he knew about being a superhero. He was like, my predecessors all had a full fledged CORPS to teach them everything they needed to know, but I had a few lines of exposition from a funny little blue guy in a red pillowcase and then I was off to the races. That's not good enough. There's so much I don't know about being a hero, I don't even KNOW what I still need to know.

So he went on kinda a superhero training roadtrip. He went to Metropolis to ask Superman for advice, he went to Batman to learn from Batman and Robin (Tim at the time). He went to Wonder Woman, Sentinel (Alan Scott, the first Green Lantern), etc, etc. And in the end, Kyle very much became his own kind of hero who wasn't just a pastiche of all those other heroes and the advice they gave him, but like....this put him on the road to that.

And I'd love to see something like that happen in Dick's solo title. We've seen him train in a team setting, we've seen him train the other Robins.....I'd love to see like, young superheroes from OTHER books, not ones created by the title, but like names people actually recognize from other franchises, like, guest star in Nightwing's book to learn from HIM, specifically. I wanna see something where Wally looks at the latest speedster and is like, you know what, if you really wanna be the best hero you can possibly be, then Nightwing's who you gotta go to, because there's no one I trust to make a better hero out of someone than him. I want the newest kid on the JLA block to worry that people aren't taking him seriously because of his age or experience, and he's always hearing them talk about Nightwing and how young he was when he started and so if anyone knows something about how to gain the respect of your older superhero peers, that's the guy to talk to.

Gimme Dick's couch being crashed on at various times by a half dozen new or upcoming young superheroes who all heard or figured out that if they really want to up their superhero game, Nightwing's the guy to see.

7) Bring back Bea. There's no long paragraph expansion on this, its really simply. Bring back Bea. She was one of the freshest breaths of air in Dick's supporting cast in ages, most of the current run is based off her character direction in the first place, she's literally the best suited TO help Dick in this venture, and the reasons they gave for writing her out of Dick's life were all bullshit and they just wanted to focus on his previous relationships, which would be fine if they didn't fall into the same two endless cycles of bring back up, go nowhere with, awkwardly avoid each other for years, rinse and repeat. Like. Bring back Bea, please and thank you, the end.

8) Focus on new villains. Heartless is meh, but the idea of new villains is still better IMO than rehashing Blockbuster, Zucco, etc. Like, nostaglia ain't it. If I want to read Blockbuster fucking up Dick's life, I can do that. They're called back issues. The thing is, love it or hate it, the Blockbuster arc WAS iconic. It left its mark. And anything that doesn't leave just as much of a mark, if they're going to bring him up again, is just gonna be a waste of time, you know? It'll just dilute his overall presence when like, what he was - worked fine as is. We don't need Round Two.

The trick to good villains, IMO, is they have to speak to a fight that needs fighting.

What I mean by that is....the best villains are those who resonate on a more instinctive level because they embody something that already exists in a reader's mind as a conflict that needs fighting. Like, if superheroes exist, if the embodiment of larger than life presences and forces devoted to protecting the world from various things are real....then their villains need to embody the kinds of fights or conflicts that NEED larger than life figures to combat them, at least on a one to one level.

Look at Superman and Lex Luthor. Superman at his core embodies the strength of community. He's the ultimate hero of the people, his essence is that he was the last survivor of a doomed race who was raised by two honest, hard working people to see the beauty in just being ONE of them, in using what he had on behalf of all of them and not just himself. In contrast, Lex Luthor is basically the embodiment of capitalist greed, of excess, of the entitlement of being able to have anything with a snap of your fingers and thus assuming that gives you divine mandate to make the kinds of choices that he sees as only his right to make.

He hates Superman, ultimately, because Superman is the WRONG savior of the people. He wants their only savior to be HIM, half the time he honestly believes he's saving the world FROM Superman, but just as often he's perfectly content to be the villain and not shy about it....because Lex Luthor's ultimate motivation is he wants everyone to know when he's dead and gone that LEX LUTHOR WAS HERE. He genuinely doesn't care WHAT his impact or legacy is at the end of the day, just that it exists and it overshadows most everything else...because all that really matters to him is the irrefutable proof that HE mattered. And thus at their cores, Superman and Lex are perfectly opposed. Ideally situated to eternally be in conflict, their own forever war, because their core natures are incompatible. They CAN'T compromise, without compromising themselves and essentially ending up as someone totally other than who and what they are already.

And you can go down the list. The Joker is the chaos to Batman's order, while Mr. Freeze is the stagnancy of that order taken too far, he's what you get when you freeze everything in your grief and refuse to let anything go on, anything new grow, because that would mean having to admit once and for all that what you're mourning is really gone. Two-Face is the ultimate embodiment of Man vs Self, a once good man at war with his own worse nature, and reminding everyone who looks at him how easily they could fall to the same fate.

And so on and so on. What Dick needs, is more of the same. Like, as much as I'm not a huge fan of Talon stories, I maintain that the Court of Owls were a great foil for him - just they tend to be poorly used in canon as well. But I also think how poorly they come off in canon has a lot to do with canon not really touching on WHY they're such a perfect foil for Dick....and that's Dick's history with being outside the system, mistreated and even exploited by the system. Because the Court, their core concept, is they ARE the system. They are entrenched, enfranchised, institutional power, passed down through generations, dynastic control that is a perfect counterpart to the dynastic power of the Wayne family, embodied in its youngest generation in the form of Bruce's FOUND family, the children he adopted regardless of whether or not his peers found them deserving of that honor. The Court, and their entire....thing...about the Gray Son, is the entitled fury of those denied something they deem theirs simply because they WANT it, and who will burn the whole world down rather than admit defeat or let someone else have it instead.

And that resonates. It could resonate a lot MORE if DC would actually lean into those concepts and allow Dick to explore how the Court are nothing he's not used to, they're literally made up of the same people who have looked down on him ever since he came to Gotham, but now they're actually a face and a name put to all those attitudes, something he can literally FIGHT BACK AGAINST. The Court are literally human-sized embodiments of everything and everyone who's tried to confine Dick since his parents' deaths, tried to define him without his permission, tried to make him other or lesser than who and what he is.....and who thus now exist in a form that Dick can literally BATTLE. So that he doesn't HAVE to just take this stuff lying down.

Thanks to the Court, he doesn't HAVE to just passively accept it, that this is just how life is, that some people are going to view him this way and think this about him and there's nothing he can do about it. He CAN do something about it, in superhero stories. He can kick its ASS, in the form of the Court of Owls and everything its members think about him and intend for him. He can refuse to bow down to them, to accept their mark on him. He can say lol, no, and then blow their shit sky high, ideally with a little help from his family. He can BEAT them, in this incarnated form, and in doing so, even though he can't beat everything they stand for and represent, that victory still matters, still means something symbolic to readers it resonates with.

And that's what we need more of. Villains created specifically to embody concepts that are diametrically opposed to Dick and what he represents. The system, yes, but also villains who embody the kind of tyranny and control he fights back against in his constant battles for autonomy and self control. Villains who embody the 'new hopes' of a second generation just like Dick himself is the focal point of the hopes embodied by the second generation of heroes. I'm actually not the hugest fan of multiversal constant Dick Grayson, but I might like it more if he had an opposite number there, someone he was specifically contrasted with. Idk.

But you get it.

9) Dick having a social life. Gimme the Titans and his siblings showing up JUST to show up. We have room enough for at least a couple pages every other issue where we just get to see these characters having some breathing room, taking a beat to stop and be something other than just a superhero, to be human as well. There's more to life than 24/7 fighting, even for them, and that's largely been lost in modern superhero comics, which kinda sucks, because that was what made most of the more iconic and lasting dynamics between various characters like, STAND the test of time. The larger than life battles between good and evil might be what many of us come to superhero comics FOR, but the relatable back-and-forths and ups and downs of their private lives spent with friends and family tends to be what keeps most of us coming BACK. And lately its all just mission, mission, mission, and I'm like blah, blah, blah and its like, meh, meh, meh. Y'know? Give the guy some down time, and let his friends come spend it with him.

10) Boone. This is purely self-indulgent, but if you know anything about me, you know my obsession with Robin: Year One, Dick's brief time at Vengeance Academy, and the hate/hate relationship he has with his brief frenemy from that period, Boone aka Shrike. This character has SOOOOO much potential to be Dick's true archnemesis and rival, and like. *Sobs* I can't get into it all again. Its too much. I can't do it.

Okay, I absolutely can. And will, probably. But like. Later.

BONUS ROUND:

Other thing I would absolutely insist upon if I were Nightwing editor....

GET THAT FUCKING MEME SHIRT ABOUT BRUCE SLAPPING DICK THE FUCK OUTTA HERE.

Like. Seriously. WHAT THE HELL. Why would you double down on THAT? Why is Babs STILL wearing it? (Last I checked, like I think I saw it in a scan from last issue? I'm pretty sure its still there? If not, forget this entire rant, and I am very embarrassed. Okay not that embarrassed. I don't really care if I'm wrong here but like, in case I'm not)...

WHY. Who thought that was funny? No, seriously, on behalf of any other abuse survivors who like me are SERIOUSLY not amused, who the FUCK thinks its FUNNY to have one of Dick's best friends sporting a shirt that no matter what it represents IN universe, to readers OUT of universe, is always going to call to mind the fact that this meme only freaking EXISTS because of all the times DC has obliviously and without acknowledgment written Bruce abusing his children, including the BFF that Babs is literally wearing that right in front of.

Like omg do you hate her, DC? What other possible reason could you have for thinking that would be a cute, funny thing for her to wear around the guy getting SLAPPED, by his DAD, in your shirt's iconography.

Okay I'm done.

LOL.

Sorry, that last one was brewing for awhile. Deep breaths. Woo.

[lord-explosion-baku]

Lying Is A Formal Pleasure

Yandere!Hawks x Pro Hero!Reader

Forced into a “relationship” to better your image, you agonize through the night as you pretend to be head over you heels in love with a douchebag. 

warnings: non consensual touching, light violence

A/N: I posted this a few months ago, but after a bad mental health night, I deleted it like a day later. But now I’m screaming over my oneshot inactivity and the 80 WIPs that remain unfinished, so I figured I’d post something that’s done fhjfv. :’D

Blinking flashbulbs and whispering onlookers flood your audio and visual spaces, forcing you to pause while you take a moment to gather yourself, swaying uneasily in the too-high heels you’ve been forced into. You’re close to being overwhelmed when Hawks places a smooth hand on the small of your exposed back, ushering you closer to his side. He waves to a camera flickering with a red dot, the one that tells the two of you that you’re live on air. The warm impression of his fingers on your skin offers you an insincere sense of security. You’re not as used to being on screen as your ‘lover,’ so you let him take the lead. It’s easier this way, as resentful as you are to admit it.

A thin woman in a red dress holds a microphone up between the two of you and asks if the happy couple has high hopes in regards to their award nominations. Hawks, always quick to flash a charming grin, leans into the mic and says, “we’re both just very honored to be here.”

It’s not like him to be so humble, especially not when he has an audience, but your publicist recently advised you that although his pride is fitting for his singular image, nobody quite likes a power couple who, in her words, “thinks they’re the shit.” People want to see bashful, blossoming love. They want to see you be together, grow together, and develop together. You have to be shy—show that you’re excited to be by his side, and he has to be supportive—happy to introduce you to the sensational side of being a hero. It’s all a facade, even your relationship, but if you stay true to your new role, your popularity will see a serious incline.

Hawks runs his hand up your spine and you get a chill when you realize that the reporter asked you a question: how long have the two of you been together?

“Oh-” you start, shifting to look up at your partner. Amber eyes bare down on you and you swallow dryly, trusting that you look enchanted, rather than sick to your stomach. If you were to be honest with her, you’d say, ‘too long,’ but it’s not your job to be honest tonight. You have to be delightful and charming, cute and coy. So instead, you timidly blink up at Hawks, cover your shy grin with your elegantly gloved hand while leaning into him, and say, “nearly two months.”

The number two hero chuckles, moving his hand over to your side to squeeze it a little harder than necessary. He’s telling you one thing: wrong answer.

“Well, she says two months, while I say three.” Hawks is all confidence and little to no self-doubt. In a way, he’s everything you want to be, and every time you think about it in that light, the more you seem to detest him. You hate that you virtually need him in this respect to get you where you want to be in your career. You hate that he’s living this farce up. “It took my little angel a while to finally agree to go on a date with me. Even then, I knew that we were meant to be together.” His eyes slide back to you, and his tone takes a dark edge that nobody besides you will be able to pick up on. “From the very first moment I laid my eyes on her.”

It’s not entirely a lie. Hawks had barrated you to go out with him for about a month before your publicist told you it would be good for your public image to have a pro—the number two pro—by your side. Apparently, you and him work well because of your quirk: siren. Her reasoning is that you sing just like birds sing. Hawks is a bird. Therefore, you and him should go hand-in-hand. The public aptly named your relationship birdsong and you’ve already done a photoshoot where you had to pose behind a golden birdcage where Hawks sat inside, gripping onto the cage’s bars, staring up at you while you had your lips pursed subtly, pantamiming a song. The irony of your situation is that there is a metaphorical prison in your fake relationship, but it’s not Hawks who sits in the cage. The second irony of your situation is that hawks don’t sing at all; they prey.

“Awwww,” the reporter whines in a shrill, albeit melodramatic voice, looking adoringly from you to Hawks, “I couldn’t imagine how anybody could ever say no to you! That must’ve put a damper on your ego! Poor thing.”

Hawks shrugs like he does—another thing you despise. You can smell the smugness wafting off his chest that seems to puff up as he speaks. “I knew she was just playing hard to get.” He winks at you, sliding his hand down to sit not so obediently at your hip. You feel him drifting towards your ass cheek, and you struggle to not change your fraudulent smile into a full on sneer. “And she knew I liked the challenge.”

The reporter’s eyes aren’t even on you when she asks, “really, how could you say no to this dreamboat? I certainly wouldn’t be able to!”

If you want him, you can take him, you think tartly as you maneuver your arm around Hawks. He makes a sort of low, sort of grunting noise when you lace your fingers through his heavy feathers, and you realize that this might be the first time you’ve actually touched his wings. You’re bitter to admit that the feel of them in your hands are soft to the touch—enjoyable, almost. They might be the most redeeming thing about him.

You tighten your hand into a fist and tug, softly at first, but when you feel him tense next to you, you pull a little tighter, enjoying the brief sadism break you allow yourself.

“I must have been too darn shy at first!” Your words are syrup dribbling over glass. You wrench your hand, twisting into Hawks’ wings. He clears his throat in an attempt to cover up a groan, his hold on your side worsening infinitesimally. “Or maybe I just couldn’t believe that the number two hero was actually interested in me. Honestly? I was starstruck! I thought I was being used for some kind of joke!”

“Hah…” Hawks’ thumb rubs circles in your back when you guide your hand along the stream of his wings and grab at a different bunch of feathers. He whispers, “take it easy, chickadee…’

But you don’t want to take it easy. Hawks’ cheeks redden a bit more every time you move your fingers through his wings. He must be incredibly uncomfortable and you take pride in the fact that, for once, it’s not you who’s suffering. You lean into his shoulder, offer the reporter woman a smile so sickly sweet, you can practically feel sugar coating your gums when you say, “now every day I get to spend with him is a dream come true!!”

One of Hawks’ eyes twitches when you give the tuft of feathers in your hold a final twist. He spreads his palms wide on your back, and slowly curls his fingers inward, pulling on your skin.

After a few more questions, the reporter notices Hawks glancing down to the large hall being used as the ceremony venue, and thanks the both of you for indulging the public with information about your relationship. Sending a final wink to the camera, Hawks guides you through arched doors and nods at a few other well-known heroes attending the ceremony. You sneak away when you think Hawks is about to get lost in another conversation, but when you slip into an empty lounge reserved for award nominees, he’s right on your heels.

Ignoring his presence completely, you fix yourself a drink at an unattended minibar. You swirl the ice around in your glass and finally turn to scowl at your partner. He looks off, or not very present, still smirking, but dazed. Maybe he tied his tie too tightly, and he’s blocking the blood flow to his brain. You grin at the thought of choking him out while you sip on your beverage. Hawks grins back.

Engulfing and consuming the space around you, he takes a confident step towards you. You feel nothing short of a shadow to a tree with his wings puffed out and spread proudly like they are.

“Nervous?” He asks, placing a hand on the bar as he leans closer to you. You give him a half-hearted shrug, trying to be nonchalant. Even if Hawks knows you're uncomfortable, you aren’t willing to show him an inch of fear.

“You shouldn’t be,” he goes on, staring at your lips. He watches you suck down your drink and clears his throat. “You were great out there.”

“Believable?” You ask sarcastically, licking your bottom lip. You reach out to stroke the inside of his wings, running your hands along his feathers teasingly slow, enjoying the sight of each row of his crimson plume twitch down along with your touch.

“Believable,” he chuckles. “I had no idea that I was your dream come true.”

You scoff and place your empty glass down. “Mhm, my everlasting, waking nightmare.” You bring your arm back to your hip. “I’m truthful when I can be.”

The corner of his mouth quirks up into a goofy half-grin. It’s off-putting. He isn’t any less sharp than usual, but there’s something about him right now that has goosebumps raising on your arms.

“C’mere,” he coaxes, grabbing your wrist. You snap it back immediately.

“Oh, please.” You push past him, intentionally brushing into his wings, and begin strutting away.

“You’re such a goddamn tease,” he rasps, hooking you sideways. Both of his hands curl around your hips, and you’re immediately pulled back against him. “Have I ever told you how sexy your back is?”

“Get off of me,” you say without enthusiasm, because it’s not the first time he’s gotten handsy with you in closed spaces. Call yourself jaded, but it’s something that you’re semi-used to. So, when he doesn’t let up, all you can do is roll your eyes and fetch your compact mirror out of your clutch. While you fix your lips, Hawks lays his chin on your shoulder. His eyes find yours, and though they’re looking straight at you, they are, at once, incredibly ambiguous and eerily hyperfocused. He squeezes his arms around your torso, then brushes his lips across your cheek. Against your stubborn will, your stomach flips when he plants kisses on your jaw and trails down to your neck. The scruff of his beard tickles your skin, making your shift around in his embrace. That's when you feel a stiffening behind you.

“Hawks, what the hell are you doing?”

“Shame on you-“ his breath is hot on your ear- “touching me like that on camera, baby? Who knew my angel could be so naughty…”

You jerk your elbow back into his gut.

“I never touched you,” you seethe, ready to actually throw hands, when he rushes you forward, pushing you against the bar so that you’re lodged between it and him. Hot blood floods your face when you feel him pulse against your ass, and it doesn’t help when he snakes a hand through the back opening of your dress, sliding around to cup your stomach. He pulls you back so his bulge rubs between your cheeks.

“You’re seriously crossing the line right now!” You push against the bar, trying to bump him back, but he crowds you with his wings, shrouding you just like the metaphorical birdcage you’ve been stuck in for two—three months. You grasp a fistful of his feathers and yank on them hard, but he only snickers in response.

“Oh, little dove,” he groans, rocking his pelvis against your ass. It’s like he doesn’t even hear your protests. “Fuck. How’d you know I like it rough?” He kisses the hollow of your throat and hums appreciatively when you reluctantly shudder in response. “You have no idea how badly I wanna slip my cock into you right now. Finally wipe that sour look off your face as I drive myself in, inch by inch.” His fingers move down to pet your pubic bone. You want to scream in defiance when you feel a flash of liquid heat pool between your thighs. He dips in between your folds and he croons. “Bet you’d hug me nice and tight too. You don’t spread your legs for just anybody, do you babygirl?”

“Certainly not for you,” you rebuke. You grasp your abandoned glass, smash it against the bar, and spin yourself around, swiping your makeshift weapon across the number two hero’s face.

There’s a moment of shocked silence that falls between you two. A streak of red falls from the cut on Hawks’ cheeks and falls in spots on the whites in between his tuxedo coat. He dabs at the wound and examines the blood on his fingers, then his chest.

He snickers.

“Oh man, I wonder what they’ll think about this.” He shakes his head, grinning. “What do I tell ‘em: we were getting a little too frisky in the lounge, or do I lie and say it was an accident?”

“You can tell whoever, whatever you want,” you mumble. You know you should apologize for the sanctity of your status, but seeing his blood is cathartic to you, in a way. At least, until he speaks again.

With a clever fox smile, smug as the king of hell, Hawks drawls out, “the rising hero, Siren, is unstable and shouldn’t be trusted by the public.”

Your eyebrows pinch together. Hawks’ grin crawls wider, contented by your reaction to his threat.

“I was telling her not to get her hopes up about the awards ceremony. ‘There are a lot of other promising heroes gunning for The Best New Hero award,’ is what I told her, and she lost it…”

“Hawks—“

“She came at me with a glass she broke on the bar. Honestly, I’ve been worried about her drinking habits since day one, but I didn’t do enough to help her with the issue. In a way, it’s my fault this happened.”

“It is your fault!” You stomp your heel and throw an accusatory finger into his chest. “You attacked me!”

“Who do you think they’ll believe, sweetheart?” Hawks takes your hand in his, brings the back of your wrist up to his mouth, and kisses it. “The new hero with a pretty face, pretty voice, but is otherwise unknown, or me? Hero numero dos: Japan’s most trusted.”

You glare at him and he loves it. He enjoys every minute he puts you through mental turmoil.

“I could tell them it was an accident,” he sings, looping an arm around your waist to briskly pull flush up against him. You let him, but keep your head turned so you don’t meet his gaze. He continues—“but you’d have to make it up to me, little dove.”

His wings fall over you, shrouding you closer to him. He presses his lips to your temple, but doesn’t kiss you—doesn’t even speak again. He’s waiting for you to ask how.

“I’m not going to sleep with you,” you say into his shoulder.

“You don’t have to,” he hums, the vibration of his voice buzzing down your neck, “we can just end your career tonight.”

“Hawks.”

“Don’t act like you’re not soaking wet right now. I felt that cunt, babe. Turns out, I’m not the only one who likes it rough.” He turns your head to face him. “You want me-“ he sneers-“and I didn’t even have to stroke your feathers to get you there.”

You close your eyes when his lips greet yours. The kiss is quick, but it lingers like old faith. If you let him in, he’ll stay there. You know that. But he’s backed you into a corner.

“You’re my girl,” he coos, “and I wanna be civil—I do, baby. You know I only want what’s best for us. But you’re gonna have to meet me halfway in order to get us where we need to be. Do you understand?”

Us...we…He throws those words around as if they matter. Then again, they do matter. They must, to him at least, but not to you. The only thing you really care about is me. Still, you nod.

“I’m gonna need you to say it, Siren.”

You sigh. “Yes, Hawks. I understand.”

“Good!” He chirps enthusiastically, any dark tone he previously took vanished. He spins you around to face the door that leads back to the hall. At first, you think he’s going to continue where he left off, but his hand finds its place at the small of your back, and he guides you forward.

“Now, let's go win us some awards,” Hawks says, bringing his hand down to pat your ass, “then we can make sure both of our dreams come true.”

[nyaagolor]

may we please get the mirror world headcanons?

heck yes u may

Most of it will be under the cut bc I talk a lot

I like to think the Mirror World is a reflection of the regular world (I call it Prime World for convenience's sake), and by reflection I mean opposite. It's not opposite in a "good v evil" way, just in the sense that a mirror world counterpart is the inverse of their prime world self, for better or for worse. For example, Noddies in Prime World sleep for most of their lives, while Mirror Noddies barely ever sleep and are constantly alert. Instead of a Sleep Ability, they give Panic, aka the Kirby equivalent of slurping down 15 espresso shots in a row. The mirror world counterparts are no better or worse than the prime world, just different!

Headcanons for all the mirror world counterparts of the Star Allies (or at least the ones I've thought abt) are under the cut :3c

Shadow Kirby (Skirby): Where Prime Kirby is reckless, bold, and overconfident, Skirby is reserved, cautious, and kinda pessimistic. They're no weaker or meaner than Prime Kirby, but seem a bit shy and non-confrontational because they always want to scope out the scene before they launch into anything. Some might call it cowardly, but Skirby thinks it's pragmatic. Much like prime Kirby, though, he's the hero of Popstar and is usually the planet's last defense against whatever eldritch horror comes their way. He deserves a break, though, since unlike Prime Kirby he's not surrounded by friends to help him out

Shadow Dedede (SDDD): He started off as a good king, always being diligent, professional, and responsible in contrast to Prime DDD's self-serving, goofy ways. He wanted what was best for the mirror world, but life didn’t make it easy. The mirror dees, rather than the loyal helpers we know from the prime world, were backstabbing jerks who were loyal to no one but themselves. SDDD tried so hard to be a good king, but had no one to help, no one to pull him out of a slump, so he just slipped through the cracks and got worse. Bitterness and anger consumed him until he started looking out for himself and himself only. He became a tyrant, turning into an iron-fisted, merciless ruler whose laws were enforced through violence. DDD got better with the help of his friends, but SDDD got much, MUCH worse as a result of his isolation and loneliness. Also he has a battle axe instead of a hammer bc I think it's cool

Dark Meta Knight (DMK): He's basically the antithesis of a knight: he's willing to work for anyone no matter how rotten they are; he always plans on backstabbing them later, cares about no one but himself, never plays fair, and is a lazy, rude jerk. He likes spicy foods instead of sweets, challenges children to duels WITHOUT offering them a sword first, and is deathly afraid of heights, despite having wings. He was in the process of creating a land-razing tank called the Halberd, but his crew betrayed him and cut up his wings and mask so now he isolates himself out of anger and fear. After being with the Star Allies, he's made some friends and realized the value of teamwork-- also he likes teaching Adeleine swears. With Dark Mind gone and the Mirror World still a bit of a dump, DMK would much rather hang out in the prime world and get on Meta Knight's nerves. He tries his best to protect the two (2) people in the mirror world he does tolerate, though (it's skirby and sddd).

Mirror Bandee: Hates SDDD with a passion. In fact, he's attempted to assassinate the king at least 26 times, but fails both because SDDD is way smarter than him and also Mirror Bandee is a sniveling coward who runs at the first sign of danger. His repeated failures have made him more of a scaredy cat, so no one takes him seriously anymore. He has a knife and ties his bandana around his "mouth" like a scarf, but it doesn't help to make him more intimidating. His repeated attempts to kill the king (and more recently Skirby and DMK, who hang out with SDDD) have become a constant in their lives and weirdly enough they don't mind his company.

Mirror Marx: I always assumed that Prime Marx was a noddy with Mirror instead of sleep. Well Mirror Marx is the opposite-- instead of having Panic like the regular hyperactive Mirror Noddies, he has sleep. He didn't show up for the events of Amazing Mirror bc he was snoozin. Because of this, he never got the Nova's powers, never tricked skirby, and never did anything evil. In fact, unlike Prime Marx, Mirror Marx cares too much about everyone's feelings, is always kind, and doesn't have a mean bone in his body. He's the glue holding the mirror world together bc not even the worst of villains want to hurt him. He's just so darn CUTE

Mirror Animal Friends: Imagine the animal friends. Give them angry expressions and sunglasses. Now make them part of a gang. Yeah that's it. The Animals are no friend of skirby's and would sooner maul the poor kid than ever lend him a paw (or flipper or wing). The forest bows to their whims and they rule it like your typical mafia boss. They're jerks.

Mirror Daroach: See these posts.

Dark Taranza: Hoo BOY he's bad. He's real bad. He rules over Mirror Floralia (Sporalia?) which is underground and filled with nasty creepy crawlies. He hates getting his hands dirty and will do anything it takes to get more power and luxury so long as he doesn't have to put himself in danger. He only cares about one thing, and that's himself. What about Queen Sectonia, you ask? She was the original queen of Mirror Floralia, but Dark Taranza mind-controlled her into his puppet to do his bidding. When the people finally snapped and declared war on the tyrannical queen, it was her they shattered, being none the wiser that Dark Taranza was the one pulling the strings. He still has a box of her shards in his castle, just in case he needs a new puppet to play with. He loves jewels and machines, all things inorganic. The imperfections of flowers? Not his style.

Mirror Magolor: Quick tangent here: Mirror Lor Starcutter, rather than being a ship to BRING people to paradise, is a sort of pocket paradise, a little virtual reality magic... thing. It can also be easily modified to only open from the outside. That's important for later. Anyway, Mirror Magolor is brutally honest, but also rude, unfriendly, impulsive, and incredibly violent. He hates machines and will start punching a lamppost if he accidentally walks into it. Scrappy little dude. He would actually rather claw his ears off than be friends with another living being. He just likes brawling and destroying ancient artifacts and that's it. Well one day he tells the mirror crew he wants to go get this thing called the Master Crown so he can destroy it. SDDD, Skirby, Mirror Bandee and DMK realize hey, that'd be nice for us to have, let's join him and then betray him at the last minute. As soon as they get there, though, the crown ends up choosing Mirror Mags as a host before anyone can do anything. Oops! The others manage to shatter him... but then the crown pulls his shards back together and attacks them again. Realizing he's both totally lost it and also immortal, the others lock Mirror Mags inside the Lor as the crown erodes the last of his humanity. Consumed by blind rage and the crown's power, Mirror Magolor just lashes out at anything that moves, biting and clawing at whatever he can reach like a feral cat. There's like a 80% chance he has rabies.

Sorry to Susie, Gooey, Adeleine, and all the non-Star Allies crew, I haven't thought abt them yet

[letterboxd]

Blurring the Line.

As a new Space Jam film beams down to Earth, Kambole Campbell argues that a commitment to silliness and a sincere love for the medium is what it takes to make a great live-action/animation hybrid.

The live-action and animation hybrid movie is something of a dicey prospect. It’s tricky to create believable interaction between what’s real and what’s drawn, puppeteered or rendered—and blending the live and the animated has so far resulted in wild swings in quality. It is a highly specific and technically demanding niche, one with only a select few major hits, though plenty of cult oddities. So what makes a good live-action/animation hybrid?

To borrow words from Hayao Miyazaki, “live action is becoming part of that whole soup called animation”. Characters distinct from the humans they interact with, but rendered as though they were real creatures (or ghosts), are everywhere lately; in Paddington, in Scooby Doo, in David Lowery’s (wonderful) update of Pete’s Dragon.

The original ‘Pete’s Dragon’ (1977) alongside the 2016 remake.

Lowery’s dragon is realized with highly realistic lighting and visual-effects work. By comparison, the cartoon-like characters in the 1977 Pete’s Dragon—along with other films listed in Louise’s handy compendium of Disney’s live-action animation—are far more exaggerated. That said, there’s still the occasional holdout for the classical version of these crossovers: this year’s Tom and Jerry replicating the look of 2D through 3D/CGI animation, specifically harkens back to the shorts of the 1940s and ’50s.

One type of live-action/animation hybrid focuses on seamless immersion, the other is interested in exploring the seams themselves. Elf (2003) uses the aberration of stop-motion animals to represent the eponymous character as a fish out of water. Ninjababy, a Letterboxd favorite from this year’s SXSW Festival, employs an animated doodle as a representation of the protagonist’s state of mind while she processes her unplanned pregnancy.

Meanwhile, every Muppets film ever literally tears at the seams until we’re in stitches, but, for the sake of simplicity, puppets are not invited to this particular party. What we are concerned with here is the overlap between hand-drawn animation and live-action scenes (with honorable mentions of equally valid stop-motion work), and the ways in which these hybrids have moved from whimsical confections to nod-and-wink blockbusters across a century of cinema.

Betty Boop and Koko the clown in a 1938 instalment of the Fleischer brothers’ ‘Out of the Inkwell’ series.

Early crossovers often involve animators playing with their characters, in scenarios such as the inventive Out of the Inkwell series of shorts from Rotoscope inventor Max Fleischer and his director brother Dave. Things get even more interactive mid-century, when Gene Kelly holds hands with Jerry Mouse in Anchors Aweigh.

The 1960s and ’70s deliver ever more delightful family fare involving human actors entering cartoon worlds, notably in the Robert Stevenson-directed Mary Poppins and Bedknobs and Broomsticks, and Chuck Jones’ puntastic The Phantom Tollbooth.

Jerry and Gene dance off their worries in ‘Anchors Aweigh’ (1945).

Mary Poppins is one of the highest-rated live-action/animation hybrids on Letterboxd for good reason. Its sense of control in how it engages with its animated creations makes it—still!—an incredibly engaging watch. It is simply far less evil than the singin’, dancin’ glorification of slavery in Disney’s Song of the South (1946), and far more engaging than Victory Through Air Power (1943), a war-propaganda film about the benefits of long-range bombing in the fight against Hitler. The studio’s The Reluctant Dragon (1941) also serves a propagandistic function, as a behind-the-scenes studio tour made when the studio’s animators were striking.

By comparison, Mary Poppins’ excursions into the painted world—replicated in Rob Marshall’s belated, underrated 2018 sequel, Mary Poppins Returns—are full of magical whimsicality. “Films have added the gimmick of making animation and live characters interact countless times, but paradoxically none as pristine-looking as this creation,” writes Edgar in this review. “This is a visual landmark, a watershed… the effect of making everything float magically, to the detail of when a drawing should appear in front or the back of [Dick] Van Dyke is a creation beyond my comprehension.” (For Van Dyke, who played dual roles as Bert and Mr Dawes Senior, the experience sparked a lifelong love of animation and visual effects.)

Julie Andrews, Dick Van Dyke and penguins, in ‘Mary Poppins’ (1964).

Generally speaking, and the Mary Poppins sequel aside, more contemporary efforts seek to subvert this feeling of harmony and control, instead embracing the chaos of two worlds colliding, the cartoons there to shock rather than sing. Henry Selick’s frequently nightmarish James and the Giant Peach (1996) leans into this crossover as something uncanny and macabre by combining live action with stop motion, as its young protagonist eats his way into another world, meeting mechanical sharks and man-eating rhinos. Sally Jane Black describes it as “riding the Burton-esque wave of mid-’90s mall goth trends and blending with the differently demonic Dahl story”.

Science-classroom staple Osmosis Jones (2001) finds that within the human body, the internal organs serve as cities full of drawn white-blood-cell cops. The late Stephen Hillenburg’s The Spongebob Squarepants Movie (2004) turns its real-life humans into living cartoons themselves, particularly in a bonkers sequence featuring David Hasselhoff basically turning into a speedboat.

David Hasselhoff picks up speed in ‘The Spongebob Squarepants Movie’ (2004).

The absurdity behind the collision of the drawn and the real is never better embodied than in another of our highest-rated live/animated hybrids. Released in 1988, Robert Zemeckis’ Who Framed Roger Rabbit shows off a deep understanding—narratively and aesthetically—of the material that it’s parodying, seeking out the impeccable craftsmanship of legends such as director of animation Richard Williams (1993’s The Thief and the Cobbler), and his close collaborator Roy Naisbitt. The forced perspectives of Naisbitt’s mind-bending layouts provide much of the rocket fuel driving the film’s madcap cartoon opening.

Distributed by Walt Disney Pictures, Roger Rabbit utilizes the Disney stable of characters as well as the Looney Tunes cast to harken back to America’s golden age of animation. It continues a familiar scenario where the ’toons themselves are autonomous actors (as also seen in Friz Freleng’s 1940 short You Ought to Be in Pictures, in which Daffy Duck convinces Porky Pig to try his acting luck in the big studios).

Daffy Duck plots his rise up the acting ranks in ‘You Ought to Be in Pictures’ (1940).

Through this conceit, Zemeckis is able to celebrate the craft of animation, while pastiching both Chinatown, the noir genre, and the mercenary nature of the film industry (“the best part is… they work for peanuts!” a studio exec says of the cast of Fantasia). As Eddie Valiant, Bob Hoskins’ skepticism and disdain towards “toons” is a giant parody of Disney’s more traditional approach to matching humans and drawings.

Adult audiences are catered for with plenty of euphemistic humor and in-jokes about the history of the medium. It’s both hilarious (“they… dropped a piano on him,” one character solemnly notes of his son) and just the beginning of Hollywood toying with feature-length stories in which people co-exist with cartoons, rather than dipping in and out of fantasy sequences. It’s not just about how the cartoons appear on the screen, but how the human world reacts to them, and Zemeckis gets a lot of mileage out of applying ’toon lunacy to our world.

Bob Hoskins in ‘Who Framed Roger Rabbit?’ (1988).

The groundbreaking optical effects and compositing are excellent (and Hoskins’ amazing performance should also be credited for holding all of it together), but what makes Roger Rabbit such a hit is that sense of controlled chaos and a clever tonal weaving of violence and noirish seediness (“I’m not bad… I’m just drawn that way”) through the cartoony feel. And it is simply very, very funny.

It could be said that, with Roger Rabbit, Zemeckis unlocked the formula for how to modernize the live-action and animation hybrid, by leaning into a winking parody of what came before. It worked so perfectly well that it helped kickstart the ‘Disney renaissance' era of animation. Roger Rabbit has influenced every well-known live-action/animation hybrid produced since, proving that there is success and fun to be had by completely upending Mary Poppins-esque quirks. Even Disney’s delightful 2007 rom-com Enchanted makes comedy out of the idea of cartoons crossing that boundary.

When a cartoon character meets real-world obstacles.

Even when done well, though, hybrids are not an automatic hit. Sitting at a 2.8-star average, Joe Dante’s stealthily great Looney Tunes: Back in Action (2003) is considered by the righteous to be the superior live-action/animated Looney Tunes hybrid, harkening back to the world of Chuck Jones and Frank Tashlin. SilentDawn states that the film deserves the nostalgic reverence reserved for Space Jam: “From gag to gag, set piece to set piece, Back in Action is utterly bonkers in its logic-free plotting and the constant manipulation of busy frames.”

With its Tinseltown parody, Back in Action pulls from the same bag of tricks as Roger Rabbit; here, the Looney Tunes characters are famous, self-entitled actors. Dante cranks the meta comedy up to eleven, opening the film with Matthew Lillard being accosted by Shaggy for his performance in the aforementioned Scooby Doo movie (and early on throwing in backhanded jokes about the practice of films like itself as one character yells, “I was brought in to leverage your synergy!”).

Daffy Duck with more non-stop banter in ‘Looney Tunes: Back in Action’ (2003).

Back in Action is even more technically complex than Roger Rabbit, seamlessly bringing Looney Tunes physics and visual language into the real world. Don’t forget that Dante had been here before, when he had Anthony banish Ethel into a cartoon-populated television show in his segment of Twilight Zone: The Movie. Another key to this seamlessness is star Brendan Fraser, at the height of his powers here as “Brendan Fraser’s stunt double”.

Like Hoskins before him, Fraser brings a wholehearted commitment to playing the fed-up straight man amidst cartoon zaniness. Fraser also brought that dedication to Henry Selick's Monkeybone (2001), a Roger Rabbit-inspired sex comedy that deploys a combo of stop-motion animation and live acting in a premise amusingly close to that of 1992’s Cool World (but more on that cult anomaly shortly). A commercial flop, Back in Action was the last cinematic outing for the Looney Tunes for some time.

Nowadays, when we think of live-action animation, it’s hard not to jump straight to an image of Michael Jordan’s arm stretching to do a half-court dunk to save the Looney Tunes from slavery. There’s not a lot that can be fully rationalized about the 1996 box-office smash, Space Jam. It is a bewildering cartoon advert for Michael Jordan’s baseball career, dreamed up off the back of his basketball retirement, while also mashing together different American icons. Never forget that the soundtrack—one that, according to Benjamin, “makes you have to throw ass”—includes a song with B-Real, Coolio, Method Man and LL Cool J.

Michael Jordan and teammates in ‘Space Jam’ (1996).

Space Jam is a film inherently born to sell something, predicated on the existing success of a Nike commercial rather than any obvious passion for experimentation. But its pure strangeness, a growing nostalgia for the nineties, and meticulous compositing work from visual-effects supervisor Ed Jones and the film’s animation team (a number of whom also worked on both Roger Rabbit and Back in Action), have all kept it in the cultural memory.

The films is backwards, writes Jesse, in that it wants to distance itself from the very cartoons it leverages: “This really almost feels like a follow-up to Looney Tunes: Back in Action, rather than a predecessor, because it feels like someone watched the later movie, decided these Looney Tunes characters were a problem, and asked someone to make sure they were as secondary as possible.” That attempt to place all the agency in Jordan’s hands was a point of contention for Chuck Jones, the legendary Warner Bros cartoonist. He hated the film, stating that Bugs would never ask for help and would have dealt with the aliens in seven minutes.

Space Jam has its moments, however. Guy proclaims “there is nothing that Deadpool as a character will ever have to offer that isn’t done infinitely better by a good Bugs Bunny bit”. For some, its problems are a bit more straightforward, for others it’s a matter of safety in sport. But the overriding sentiments surrounding the film point to a sort of morbid fascination with the brazenness of its concept.

Holli Would (voiced by Kim Basinger) and Frank Harris (Brad Pitt) blur the lines in ‘Cool World’ (1992).

Existing in the same demented… space… as Space Jam, Paramount Pictures bought the idea for Cool World from Ralph Bakshi as it sought to have its own Roger Rabbit. While Brad Pitt described it as “Roger Rabbit on acid” ahead of release, Cool World itself looks like a nightmare version of Toontown. The film was universally panned at the time, caught awkwardly between being far too adult for children but too lacking in any real substance for adults (there’s something of a connective thread between Jessica Rabbit, Lola Bunny and Holli Would).

Ralph Bakshi’s risqué and calamitously horny formal experiment builds on the animator’s fascination with the relationship between the medium and the human body. Of course, he would go from the immensely detailed rotoscoping of Fire and Ice (1983) to clashing hand-drawn characters with real ones, something he had already touched upon in the seventies with Heavy Traffic and Coonskin, whose animated characters were drawn into real locations. But no one besides Bakshi quite knew what to do with the perverse concept of Brad Pitt as a noir detective trying to stop Gabriel Byrne’s cartoonist from having sex with a character that he drew—an animated Kim Basinger.

Jack Deebs (Gabriel Byrne) attempts to cross over to Hollie Would in ‘Cool World’ (1992).

Cool World’s awkwardness can be attributed to stilted interactions between Byrne, Pitt and the animated world, as well as studio meddling. Producer Frank Mancuso Jr (who was on the film due to his father running Paramount) demanded that the film be reworked into something PG-rated, against Bakshi’s wishes (he envisioned an R-rated horror), and the script was rewritten in secret. It went badly, so much so that Bakshi eventually punched Mancuso Jr in the face.

While Cool World averages two stars on Letterboxd, there are some enthusiastic holdouts. There are the people impressed by the insanity of it all, those who just love them a horny toon, and then there is Andrew, a five-star Cool World fan: “On the surface, it’s a Lovecraftian horror with Betty Boop as the villain, featuring a more impressive cityscape than Blade Runner and Dick Tracy combined, and multidimensional effects that make In the Mouth of Madness look like trash. The true star, however, proves to be the condensed surplus of unrelated gags clogging the arteries of the screen—in every corner is some of the silliest cel animation that will likely ever be created.”

There are even those who enjoy its “clear response to Who Framed Roger Rabbit”, with David writing that “the film presents a similar concept through the lens of the darkly comic, perverted world of the underground cartoonists”, though also noting that without Bakshi’s original script, the film is “a series of half steps and never really commits like it could”. Cool World feels both completely deranged and strangely low-energy, caught between different ideas as to how best to mix the two mediums. But it did give us a David Bowie jam.

‘Space Jam: A New Legacy’ is in cinemas and on HBO Max now.

Craft is of course important, but generally speaking, maybe nowadays a commitment to silliness and a sincere love for the medium’s history is the thing that makes successful live-action/animation hybrids click. It’s an idea that doesn’t lend itself to being too cool, or even entirely palatable. The trick is to be as fully dotty as Mary Poppins, or steer into the gaucheness of the concept, à la Roger Rabbit and Looney Tunes: Back in Action.

It’s quite a tightrope to walk between good meta-comedy and a parade of references to intellectual property. The winningest strategy is to weave the characters into the tapestry of the plot and let the gags grow from there, rather than hoping their very inclusion is its own reward. Wait, you said what is coming out this week?

Related content

Rootfish Jones’s list of cartoons people are horny for

The 100 Sequences that Shaped Animation: the companion list to the Vulture story

Jose Moreno’s list of every animated film made from 1888 to the present

Follow Kambole on Letterboxd

[andromeda612]

Renga Fantasy AU

I've seen lost of fantasy Au's with Langa being the prince and Reki either the cute gardener, the adorable captain of the army, or any other common role that will be the prince's love interest... but what about Prince Reki?

I can see it like this:

Joe is the head of the cook and Reki's paternal figure number #1.

Cherry is the first advisor of the royal family and Reki's paternal figure #2.

Shadow is a guard and probably Reki's main bodyguard, he acts like he is annoyed by Reki's too energic and loud personality but in reality he is a big softie and has a weakness for the young and gentle prince, he is Reki's older sibling figure.

Miya is the son of a noble family, probably training for either being court sorcerer or knight, he is Reki's closest friend despite being younger, he sees Reki as his old brother and is very protective of him because in his opinion (and in everybody else's opinion for that matter) the redhead is too nice for his own good and someone needs to take care of him for god's sake! Of course he will deny it for ever and still be the tsundere he is.

Langa can be the son of a merchant and a doctor from another kingdom, after his dad dies his mother decides to go back to her home in the Kyan's kingdom (Okinawa), because of her reputation as a good doctor she gets a job in the palace as court physician. Langa stays with her at the palace and he could be either training for knight, physician or maybe sorcerer too but he hasn't decided yet, or even training for advisor under Cherry's wing. For the time being he just study with Reki.

Now in this au's Prince Langa main trouble is he feeling lonely or incomplete, Reki being the sun he is complement him and his trouble is of course his self confidence, I want to keep it that way even if Reki is the prince now.

So Langa feel not sad anymore but definitely off since his dad died, he used to love traveling with him, try new things, he loved the most all the things he could learn from the items he got to sell, he wanted to be a merchant like him but now he is not sure anymore, that's why that for now he is just studying along with the prince as he decides what he want to do with his life, he is not unhappy but he can't help but feel there is something missing, that's it until he meets the ray of sunshine that is Prince Reki, the royal is gentle and unlike other royal member he has met (due both if his parents jobs) he doesn't treat the rest with superiority, he traits everyone the same, with kindness, a warm and genuine smile, he actually doesn't act like how he was taught princes are supposed to act, he is loud and very energetic, he is polite and all, but he doesn't emanate an aura of someone to be afraid off or someone you feel intimidate with, he makes you feel like you are with a friend, he will talk and talk enthusiastically to no end... unless you show him you were bored, which was not rare to happen, with the prince being too kind and easygoing is was easy for others to forget he was the prince. But Langa could hear him for hours and never get bored, Reki showed him the palace and different places of the kingdom, he show him his drawings, all his crafts, the prince was incredible with smithy, he designed most of the best warriors' armors, as well as some of the innovative artifacts that helped so much in the kingdom, he showed him his passion for his realm and his passion for his hobbies, he was amazing... it's such a shame the prince is not capable to see it himself.

Reki for his part, he is the genius, creative sunshine we know. He is energetic and almost all the people loves him. Almost, because there is still the royal and nobles assholes that think he won't be a proper ruler because of his personality. As well as the people that get fed up with his energy. Those all are the people less liked in the kingdom. Though is really a trouble that the royal ones hold such power, because they really chose violence when it comes to Reki's self confidence. Especially because the most deep root for his insecurities comes from no other than his passed away father.

The king was... not a good man, the kingdom was not in ruins but the people were not happy, his family was not either, he would lash out to his wife and daughters, telling them they were good just to show of, to serve him, he was abusive with this staff on the palace and to his people, but who got the worst treatment was the young prince, since a child Reki was unquiet, loud, energic, totally the opposite to a centered, reserved and serious prince, he was also too kind with everyone no matter how much he told him he was above all the people, but Reki refused to be rude or mean to anyone, the only people that he lashed out to were the rude and cruel royals that abused of their power and were mean to people with no status or power. The king ruled with an iron fist and with stronger severity he tried to rise his heir, but Reki's golden heart was always stronger, however it didn't protected him from the abuse, the hard punishments and the constant reminders of how a failure he was, how he was worthless, how he was a mistake, how easy it would be for him to replace him if not were for the fact he needed a boy of royal blood to be his heir and he had no one, how annoying he was, that there was something wrong with him. And all the people that thought the same as his father had no seconds thoughts to remind him of the same in every. Single. Opportunity.

It was such a relief when the king died from a mysterious illness, and if anyone ever thought about it as a coup from the queen and the royal staff? Well nobody blamed them, but that was just a rumor and they were fine without him anyways.

Indeed, after the king's death the Kingdome went through a prosperity that haven't been seen in years. Despite what the king and his lackyes believed the Queen was actually a very well skilled ruler, she fixed the mess her former husband made and bring a new era to her people, she made new allies, she cleaned the corrupted government and brought new opportunities to the kingdom of Okinawa, the people were happy again. And her son, his ideas for artifacts to make certain tasks easier, his enthusiasm about cultural development, not mention that despite what his father said Reki was really smart, a total pride for his tutors even if his chaotic nature gave them green hairs, also his ideas to improve the army of the Kingdome, his ideas helped a lot to their realm's development. Many people called him the inventor prince.

However there were some royal asses that were not happy with him, there were invertors for that, there were artists, musicians, artisans for the cultural things, a prince shouldn't be look being so friendly and informal to commoners, shouldn't be so loud and idiot.

Not to mention the people that just... were fed up with his chit chat, and okay, they get it, Reki's personality could be overwhelming and even obnoxious to some people, but they needed to be so rude about it? The fact that must of this people were royal visitors didn´t help at all, Reki just felt he was embarrassing his mother and the Kingdome, no matter how many time she and the royal advisor Kaoru told him otherwise, or the fact that those people were usually not good allies at all.

Years of abuse and constantly hearing how a waste you were are hard to heal.

But, the love and support of the people that truly loved him helped Reki a lot, it was a long path but he was getting there. Though, the person that were really close to him, and you know who these persons are, know that sometimes the thoughts gets too loud on Reki's head, but they are there for him, and are happy to see that everyday the sunshine prince is doing better and better.

Well, and then of course the boys met and all of that, they help each other to find what was missing, to discover how much loved and worth they are.

The Queen and the court physician ship them, because this is my fucking au and I say love is love, you are who you are, no labels :)

Kaoru, Kojiro, Miya and Hiromi are definitely fondly exasperate with their mutual pining and just want them to just kiss already and spare their poor souls out of their misery.

About Ad*m... I don't know yet honestly.

In one hand I'm so tempted to make him not existing in this au. On the other hand he could be a major villain, maybe a lord wanting to make coup to the kingdome with Tadashi being a spy loyal to Queen Kyan. And I really want Langa to beat the shit out if him for messing up with his sun, but well, idk.

Any thoughts about this? Feel free to ask! 👀

[richincolor]

*As is usual with our discussions, there may be a few spoilers ahead, so beware.*

We all were incredibly excited to read Angeline Boulley's FIREKEEPER'S DAUGHTER when we first heard about it, so we decided to make it our second group discussion book for the year. Come join us!

As a biracial, unenrolled tribal member and the product of a scandal, eighteen-year-old Daunis Fontaine has never quite fit in, both in her hometown and on the nearby Ojibwe reservation. Daunis dreams of studying medicine, but when her family is struck by tragedy, she puts her future on hold to care for her fragile mother.

The only bright spot is meeting Jamie, the charming new recruit on her brother Levi’s hockey team. Yet even as Daunis falls for Jamie, certain details don’t add up and she senses the dashing hockey star is hiding something. Everything comes to light when Daunis witnesses a shocking murder, thrusting her into the heart of a criminal investigation.

Reluctantly, Daunis agrees to go undercover, but secretly pursues her own investigation, tracking down the criminals with her knowledge of chemistry and traditional medicine. But the deceptions—and deaths—keep piling up and soon the threat strikes too close to home.

Now, Daunis must learn what it means to be a strong Anishinaabe kwe (Ojibwe woman) and how far she'll go to protect her community, even if it tears apart the only world she’s ever known.

[Note: While we will not go into any great detail in this discussion, Firekeeper’s Daughter contains murder, suicide, kidnapping, sexual assault, addiction and drug use, racism, colorism, and death of parents/family members.

You can read an excerpt of the book here!]

Audrey: To get us started--let’s talk about this gorgeous cover! The cover art was created by Moses Lunham and designed by Rich Deas. The first thing I noticed when I got my copy of the book was that the two faces at the top had different skin tones. According to this interview, author Angeline Boulley says that “the different shades of the faces symbolizes Daunis claiming her biracial identity,” which is a major part of the book.

Jessica: The cover is so beautiful. It’s next to me on my desk right now and I can’t stop looking at it. Love how the cover ties into the themes of the book.

K. Imani: This cover is absolutely beautiful! I love the design of the faces looking like a butterfly as well as the bird and bear (I think) and the fire. There are so many subtle images in this cover that you can almost find something new each time. And the colors are so stunning. Like you Audrey, I noticed the faces had different skin tones which I found interesting and made me wonder what was going to happen in the book. Knowing the faces symbolize Daunis’s biracial identity now is powerful and really brings home the meaning of the book.

Crystal: I agree that the cover is gorgeous. In addition to the aspects of her physical appearance and physical identity, Daunis’ cultural identity is also displayed within the illustrations with bears representing her clan. In addition there are the birds like the one that guides her and the sun is in the background too which is from the story of the original Fire Keeper’s Daughter. The faces forming a butterfly is also just brilliant for a coming-of-age story. There’s so much to see. Each time I notice more.

Audrey: Daunis, our heroine, is on the older end of the YA protagonist spectrum at 18. She’s dealing with a lot of upheaval in her life, and things only get more complicated in short order. Something I really liked about Daunis was how often she thought about and evaluated what her responsibilities were--to her family, to her friends, to her community, and to herself. These sometimes complementary, sometimes competing, responsibilities strongly influenced her decisions.

Jessica: You mention the complementary and sometimes competing responsibilities -- that’s exactly it. I loved how her thought process was explored throughout the book in such a thorough and complex way. The way Daunis balances and reconciles the interests of her community with what the FBI wants from her and her quest for justice is laid out really clearly. Sometimes, narratives can tend toward simplistic, binary summations of the issues people, especially from marginalized communities, face -- but that’s just not the case, and Daunis really highlights that. To be honest, I was a little nervous at the introduction of law enforcement and the FBI, given the racism and oppression baked into these institutions, but the way Daunis navigates her interactions with them, plus the way other members of the community tell the truth about these institutions, really played out in such a nuanced way. (I really, really hope that the Netflix adaptation keeps these nuances and hard truths in the show, but I suspect that won’t be the case, unfortunately.)

K. Imani: I enjoyed that Daunis was 18 and on the cusp of adulthood. So many YA novels focus on the character’s high school life but a lot does happen and teens do grow and change a lot in that year after high school. Many have left home for college (that was me) or working full time and they are learning how to navigate a life that was not completely so structured. In addition to having to deal with changing friendships as people move away or just become busy. It’s a unique time and I loved that we got to spend time with Daunis as she was going through this change. She was learning how to become an adult in one of the most stressful ways possible, and sometimes I felt she was a little too idealistic, but I’m glad that she kept her truth throughout and was focused on helping her community in addition to helping the FBI. Her perspective helped keep the investigation grounded in what mattered which wouldn’t have happened if she wasn’t involved.

Crystal: Daunis balances a lot of responsibilities and really tries to follow what she’s learned from elders. She considers how her actions may affect all of her relatives within her family, clan, community, and beyond. Boulley embedded a lot of elder wisdom within Daunis’ inner dialogue such as thinking about the seventh generation when making decisions.

Audrey: One of the things that I really appreciated about Firekeeper’s Daughter was the depth of the setting and the characters in it. While Boulley says that Daunis’s tribe is fictionalized in the author note, it’s clear how much care and thought Boulley put into creating Daunis’s community. It’s filled with people who have complex histories (both within and between Native and non-Native groups), with differing opinions and prejudices and goals.

Jessica: This really highlights how important it is to have stories where cultures and communities aren’t portrayed as a monolith. It’s not just the right thing to do, it makes for a better and more accurate story. I read Firekeeper’s Daughter and watched the TV show Rutherford Falls back to back, which really drove home the power of depicting a community with nuance. (Also, sidebar: Highly recommend checking out Rutherford Falls, which does this really well.)

K. Imani: One of my favorite aspects of Firekeeper’s Daughter were the elders in Daunis’s tribe and how we got to hear many of their individual stories which showed the complexity of real life. I loved that Daunis listened to her elders, really took in their stories and learned from them. Her interactions with the elders greatly contributed to her growing sense of self and her desire to help her community. And this is where this novel being truly #ownvoices shines because of Boulley’s connection to her community that she took great care in making sure Daunis’s tribe felt real and authentic as well as culturally accurate. It was not full of stereotypes but filled with real people who had real lives and real stories. I was drawn into Daunis’s community and really cared about the people that made Daunis who she is and becomes.

Crystal: Like Jessica says, there is a lot of nuance here. When you have a wide variety of characters who are not simply good or bad, the story has more power and is definitely more believable. The people in our everyday lives are also complex and have a story if only we take the time to listen. This is what Daunis excels at with elders and others around her. She is paying attention and trying to connect with people. There is a lot of love throughout the book of many different types. The love is beautiful and yet also has some ugliness too in the betrayals. It’s not picture perfect and that makes it so much more real.

Audrey: Boulley tackles a lot of difficult topics in Firekeeper’s Daughter, especially ones that can hit hard on a community level. Much of the plot focuses on drug use and addiction, of course, but violence against Native women also has a significant impact on what happens in the book and affects multiple characters, including Daunis.

Crystal: Daunis and the other women are examples of the many, many, women who have been harmed in the past and the present. That’s not the whole story though. As Daunis is learning, there are many ways of being brave. Throughout the story, we see many women being strong and brave though at initial glance their actions may not seem to be either of those things. There is bravery in speaking out, but sometimes bravery requires something else. These women have done what they needed to do to survive or help their loved ones survive.

Audrey: Firekeeper’s Daughter has a complicated ending, and it left me thinking about two things. The first was how proud I was of Daunis and her character growth. There were a couple of times where she came across as very Not Like Other Girls (particularly with the hockey players’ girlfriends), but that changed over the course of the book. The second was grief at how many people and institutions failed Daunis and her community, both within and without. Just as one example, even though Daunis is a confidential informant for the FBI, the FBI doesn’t come out of this story as a Good Guy.

K. Imani: I was torn by the ending too. I so wanted justice for Daunis and Lily and for others who were murdered, but on the other hand life doesn’t always have a happy ending and I recognize that Boulley gave us that horribly realistic ending because the fight for missing and murdered Indigenous women continues and the fight for justice for Indigenous peoples. It was a heartbreaking reminder of a very real issue. On the other hand, I was so proud of Daunis as well. She was able to achieve her goals of helping out the FBI while staying true to herself and her community. She grew so much as a character and really found her place in her world.

Crystal: The ending gave me much to think about too. Daunis grew a lot as she worked through this complicated puzzle in her community. She learned much about herself and some of the assumptions folks have about others. I also really, really wanted justice, but unfortunately, would be unlikely in real life with our current justice system. I also found Jamie’s growth to be interesting. He is truly struggling with his own identity as an adopted child with Cherokee roots, but no Cherokee teachings or culture to turn to. I don’t know if a sequel or companion book is planned, but I would be interested in seeing more of their journeys whether their paths cross again or not.

Jessica: Audrey, thanks so much for leading this discussion! Now I have a question for you all -- what YA books by/about BIPOC are you reading right now?

For AAPI month, I’m rereading Turtle Under Ice by Juleah del Rosario. After that, I’m planning on reading The Ones We're Meant to Find by Joan He, Apple: Skin to the Core by Eric Gansworth, and Witches Steeped in Gold by Ciannon Smart! Yes, my TBR pile is excellent. :P

Audrey: Next up on my list are The Theft of Sunlight by Intisar Khanani, Forest of Stolen Girls by June Hur, and Simone Breaks All the Rules by Debbie Rigaud. I feel like that’s a pretty good mix of genres and authors right there!

K. Imani: Since I’m needing some inspiration for my vampire manuscript, I’m re-reading and new reading some vampire novels. Currently I am reading Fledgling by Octavia Butler then up next is Renee Ahdieh’s series The Beautiful and the sequel The Damned.

Crystal: I just re-read Saints & Misfits and then dove into the sequel Misfit in Love. S.K. Ali is an author that I really enjoy and I am loving it so far. Next up is American Betiya by Anuradha D. Rajurkar along with Love & Other Natural Disasters by Misa Sugiura. I also think my TBR is pretty stellar.

If you've had the chance to read FIREKEEPER'S DAUGHTER, please join in the discussion below! We'd love to hear what you think.

[dirty-holy-things]

The Space Between (your heart & mine)

Chapter 17 has been posted to Ao3, and below to Tumblr.

Catch up on chapters 1-16 on Ao3.

Notes: This fic is 18+ and explicit. Chapter contains canon-typical violence and descriptions of injuries. Reference to past abuse. Please exercise caution if this is a sensitive subject for you. Also - I promise there's a happy ending, but it might take a bit of angst to get there. For those who have kept up with this fic, sorry for the delay in updating - grad school has kept me busy, but regular updates should resume.

Words: 5.1k update, 80.9k total.

There had been changes within yourself as well, even though you struggled to admit it after having spent so much of your life suppressing that which was now showing itself within you. Your safety had always depended on your ability to mask your powers, or at least conveniently use them, and now they were unexpectedly breaking through your barriers. Through observation and meditation, you had started to put together that your abilities and powers swelled whenever your emotions did, just as they had when you were younger. When Din was once running behind schedule for a bounty, your nerves and fear alone were able to entirely warp the canteen you had purchased for yourself, crushing it to the point that it was unusable junk. And when Din finally returned home to you, bruised and battered, and yet focused only on touching and kissing every inch of you — you found that his cuts and bruises began to disappear from underneath your fingertips without any direct focus or attention. There was an undercurrent of power that was growing within you and Grogu, and it was beginning to breach the walls that you had put in place to hold it back; and you had no way of predicting when that wall may cave in.

These ever-increasing powers and revelations were both fascinating and terrifying. You did not know what would happen from here if you and Grogu continued down this unmapped path. You could understand that power without training could be exceptionally dangerous, but how would you even go about learning how to control it all? You had once been able to suppress your connection to the Force, but you never actually learned how to master this connection; repression is not true mastery or control, as it only delays the chaos.

But who was there to learn from? The Jedi Order was no more, the grasp of the Sith had receded with the rise of the New Republic, and the civilizations that connected with the Force as a form of magic were incredibly closed-off and tight-lipped. You had been extraordinarily lucky to stumble unto the teachings of Ixxith as you had, but now that the seal had been broken, now that Pandora’s box had been opened, you were faced with an impossible question — where do you go from here?

Image credit to my love @knivesareout as she makes beautiful things and supports my writing.

An eternal thank you to @soyelfuegoquearde for beta'ing my baby and giving me constructive feedback.

And love to @bdavishiddlesbatch and @louderrthanthunderr for all of their love and support.

"We fall in love because we long to escape from ourselves with someone ideal as we area corrupt. But what if such a being were one day to turn around and love us back? We can only be shocked. How could they be divine as we had hoped when they have the bad taste to approve of someone like us? If in order to love, we must believe that the beloved surpasses us in some way, does not a cruel paradox emerge when we witness this love returned? If they are really so wonderful, how could they love someone like me?" - Alain de Botton

The universe felt brighter as you traveled through it now, suspended in space and time within the secure confines of your roaming home. You continued to watch the stars streak past you on every journey, still feeling just as entranced by them as you had on the first flight from Chandrila — but it was even more of a beautiful and brilliant thing, as you now had the incomparable comfort of being known, and being loved. For a brief moment, you had worried that your admission of love would make things complicated, awkward, unbalanced; but your fears had been completely dismissed and rendered unnecessary, as it had brought you and Din closer than you could have imagined.

It was the little gestures and moments throughout the day that allowed those fears to be quieted. His hands would brush along your body in passing; he brought you a blanket to the cockpit after seeing you wrapped tightly around yourself to fight off the chill; he would gently tuck away the stray pieces of hair that fell across your face. And you became less reserved in showing your affections as well; you would often drape yourself across the back of the pilot’s seat and over his expansive shoulders as he navigated the Razor Crest through the atmospheres of new planets and hyperspace. You would bring him food and water, reminding him to take care of himself in ways that he often forgot to. And the two of you spent more time encased in the security of darkness, to the point where you joked that you might develop night vision. Very few things can grow in the absence of light, and yet here you were, your love thriving in this unexpected place.

You found that you didn’t necessarily feel as though you were missing anything, by not being able to see his face. Your love felt whole, comprehensive, and possibly even more valuable as it was so unconditional in its nature; you would love him endlessly, and you didn’t need a face to assign that love to, as he was so much more than the anatomical structure that existed behind the helmet. Somehow, the darkness felt more freeing than the light. The comfort and security of the darkness offered you both the opportunity to be completely and entirely exposed; no helmet, no clothing, no beskar, no self-doubt. It was infinite in its nature, and allowed for infinite possibilities.

How beautiful, these little infinities you had created together.

And while you never held any regrets for the life you shared with Din, you understood that some things were not worth repeating. You didn’t offer to help with a job again after Corellia, and it was a decision that you had come to by yourself. Again, you held no regrets for what had transpired on the industrial planet as it had been the catalyst that had brought the truth to the surface, the truth about your love, but it had left some wreckage in the process. Your sense of self-preservation and fear had been reignited when the Twi’lek had made unwanted physical advances, and although you knew you were safe now, it was challenging to quiet that instinctual part of yourself that had risen up, desperately seeking to sustain your hard-won survival.

Following the events of Corellia, you started to have the occasional nightmare, your mind resurfacing old wounds and memories that you had worked to let go of and leave on Chandrila. You would have dreams of the torrential thunderstorms of Eadu, threatening to drown you as your family watched, making no effort to help you stay afloat. You would feel the radiating pain of Orron’s blows throughout your body, every old wound somehow reemerging and aching anew. Sometimes the terror and pain of the nightmare was quick to pass upon waking, but there were some occasions in which you woke up crying and thrashing, a scream trapped in your constricted throat. Sometimes, you would wake up shaking like a leaf in a thunderstorm, chest heaving as the tears flowed; upon waking, you were always disoriented and scared for a moment, until you realized you were still at home and you were still wrapped securely in Din’s arms. You knew Din hated seeing you like that, tearful and distressed, and you didn’t want to cause any further hurt to yourself or to him. So you made the decision to no longer act as bait.

There was no sense in reopening old wounds, and creating new ones in the process. If you were to live with these pains, you could at least avoid inflicting them onto others.

Din had been supportive of your choice to no longer participate in bounties. He had reassured you that he still believed in your capabilities and value as a companion, but agreed that the reduction in stress would be worth the reduction in payouts. It had been tough to find a way to keep yourself occupied and still feel like a valuable, contributing asset; you knew you would never be content to simply exist here, offering nothing to Din except your body. While your originally agreed-upon partnership ended up not lending itself to you becoming a bounty hunter, you were not about to become a deadbeat, indolent passenger either.

The first few weeks after Corellia were alright, as you found odd jobs around the ship that you could tend to; repairing sagging panels, cleaning away the cobwebs, reorganizing equipment. These were tasks that you could manage, even with your limited mechanical and engineering knowledge. But eventually, as time wore on and your journeys carried you further along, you started to run out of tasks that could be done on the ship. Needing something to do, you then turned to managing additional business responsibilities, hoping to relieve Din of some of the stress that he carried on those broad shoulders. You kept a more organized, detailed record of his jobs and finances, and made sure there was an appropriate stock of supplies to support the Razor Crest’s three travelers.

And then there was the kid — you quite often found yourself managing him.

Following your journey to Bardotta, something had awoken in both you and Grogu; it was as if a creature that had laid dormant for many years had been awoken from its hibernation, and had returned with renewed strength. While you felt this change deeply within yourself, it presented itself most visibly in Grogu and his increasing abilities. You frequently had to search for him within the ship, as he had been working on learning how to cloak himself as you once had, adding this to his other skills. He was not able to fully vanish into his surroundings as you were, but he was decent enough at camouflaging himself to the point where you once had a panic attack that he had managed to escaped the ship into the wild forests of Dantooine while under your supervision. He was also experimenting with bringing larger and larger objects to his small green grasp, most noticeably larger and larger portions of food, or other comfort items like blankets. His growing curiosity and expansion of power hadn’t been allthat concerning until a particularly rough tantrum, during which he pushed both you and Din a good three feet back from him, without ever laying a hand on you. The changes occurring could no longer be denied or ignored, and you understood you would have to confront them at some point.

There had been changes within yourself as well, even though you struggled to admit it after having spent so much of your life suppressing that which was now showing itself within you. Your safety had always depended on your ability to mask your powers, or at least conveniently use them, and now they were unexpectedly breaking through your barriers. Through observation and meditation, you had started to put together that your abilities and powers swelled whenever your emotions did, just as they had when you were younger. When Din was once running behind schedule for a bounty, your nerves and fear alone were able to entirely warp the canteen you had purchased for yourself, crushing it to the point that it was unusable junk. And when Din finally returned home to you, bruised and battered, and yet focused only on touching and kissing every inch of you — you found that his cuts and bruises began to disappear from underneath your fingertips without any direct focus or attention. There was an undercurrent of power that was growing within you and Grogu, and it was beginning to breach the walls that you had put in place to hold it back; and you had no way of predicting when that wall may cave in.

These ever-increasing powers and revelations were both fascinating and terrifying. You did not know what would happen from here if you and Grogu continued down this unmapped path. You could understand that power without training could be exceptionally dangerous, but how would you even go about learning how to control it all? You had once been able to suppress your connection to the Force, but you never actually learned how to master this connection; repression is not true mastery or control, as it only delays the chaos.

But who was there to learn from? The Jedi Order was no more, the grasp of the Sith had receded with the rise of the New Republic, and the civilizations that connected with the Force as a form of magic were incredibly closed-off and tight-lipped. You had been extraordinarily lucky to stumble unto the teachings of Ixxith as you had, but now that the seal had been broken, now that Pandora’s box had been opened, you were faced with an impossible question — where do you go from here?

Your best attempt at navigating this next step was to seek out knowledge in a different format; as Din’s travels occasionally brought you to larger cities, you would spend a portion of the layover browsing the city’s libraries and book stores, if they existed, poring over the texts to see if there was any history, legends, instructions, or insights that could be obtained. You had very little success at finding anything that taught you about Force powers and how to use them, however you had managed to find several interesting texts that chronicled the historical power struggle between the Jedi and the Sith. You had heard whispered stories and legends as a child, tales of heroes and villains who carried out the unending battle of good versus evil.

And as you read of these wars and conflicts, you came to an interesting conclusion — depending on the perspective of the available source material, both Jedi and Sith could be considered good, or evil.

Thinking back to Ixxith’s teachings about the importance of balance, you could understand how these two diametrically opposed sides were continually fighting against the scale of the universe that sought balance. From your wide assortment of readings, you understood that the universe itself truly held no favor for good or evil, Jedi or Sith, and it only ever sought an equilibrium — and yet the universe’s occupants insisted on living within one extreme or the other, the scale never allowed to settle at a place of peace and balance.

You enjoyed studying the texts that you had managed to acquire, and learning more about the history of those with abilities like you, even though it may not have been the specific knowledge you had set out to find. Occasionally, you would talk with Din about the things that you discovered in these books, which prompted him to share more about the history of Mandalore and their role in the galaxy’s history and development. This newfound, strengthening point of connection between you was beautiful and valuable in its own right, even though it may not have offered much help for corralling yourself and the kid’s behaviors.

Reading had given you something to do during the down time while Din was working, and while the kid was self-contained or safely entertained. You had never had much time to dedicate to your own hobbies and interests before, and it was refreshing to be able to have your own passions that you could pursue as you desired.

Having few travel expenses of your own, you were still living quite comfortably off of the bounties you had profited from, and you were able to purchase the things that caught your eye or interest. This led to a steadily-expanding corner of the cabin that became yours as it was occupied with stacks of books, piles of blankets, an assortment of snacks, and a respectable wardrobe. The fresher also now showed evidence of your residency, as some of your specialty products had found their way to the shelves and the shower; silky lotions, a nice brush, hygiene products that didn’t exist in the shape of a bar. The Razor Crest was gradually becoming a shared space, a shared home, and were someone to step foot onto the ship, they would be able to determine that the fearsome Mandalorian was no longer maintaining a solitary existence.

This change in Din’s lifestyle was becoming more and more clear to outsiders as you now frequently accompanied him to his negotiations and trade-offs with Karga when on Nevarro. The older man had been excited by your reoccurring presence, and while he had teased Din for it in the beginning, he had since relaxed and always welcomed the two or three of you with a genuine smile. And with each visit to the volcanic planet, Din grew more comfortable with claiming your relationship openly; he almost always kept a hand on you, tracing pressured circles into your skin, or if you were seated with some degree of privacy, gently stroking the inside of your thigh from underneath the table as a tease for what was to come. There were rarely moments in which you were left alone, and you found you preferred it this way. While Orron had once insisted upon keeping you within arms reach, out of his own need for power and control, you understood Din’s motives to be different. He wanted to protect you, wanted to show you off, just genuinely wanted to be with you because he loved being with you. And you also knew that he would never deny you an opportunity to venture off on your own, to explore the town or take Grogu to play with the local children.

Today had been no exception to that truth; as Din and Karga haggled over upcoming bounties, you grew bored and restless, and decided you would prefer to stretch your legs with a walk around town, and feel some sunlight on your skin as it was a fairly nice day. You squeezed his knee gently, getting his attention before nodding your head to the door of the cantina, where the three of you had gathered for this business dealing. Din nodded wordlessly, trusting you to keep yourself safe and return to him when you were ready. This unconditional sense of trust was new to you, but you loved every moment of it, and loved Din for offering it so readily to you.

You excused yourself from the table and strolled out of the bar, knowing that Din’s eyes had followed your entire journey through the tables and patrons until you exited into the bustling town center. The sunlight felt nice on your skin, and the slight breeze kept the air from feeling heavy and stagnant around you; you stretched your limbs and you felt the cracking and popping of your joints. You needed breaks like this, to be able to physically stretch your body and keep it limber and in shape.

And yet, despite the small space of the Razor Crest, you had still found ways to keep your body moving; Din had certainly made physical exercise more enjoyable. You thought back to all of the nights that had now been spent on the floor of the Razor Crest, as your exhausted bodies had collapsed into one another; you loved every minute of the physical exertion the two of you created, but your body needed more. It needed to run, jump, stretch, bend, without the constraints of the small cabin space. But Maker, did making love with Din feel like the most glorious and exhilarating use of your body; you marveled at every moment of passion the two of you shared, holding nothing back in the pursuit of giving the other what they desired.

You were brought back to the moment by an oddly dressed man bumping into you; you turned to apologize, as you had been the one to have stopped in the middle of the street, but they had already run off by the time you looked for them. Shrugging, you carried on with your afternoon expedition. You had intentionally chosen comfortable and lightweight clothing today, knowing it would offer a nice opportunity to stretch your legs. As you strolled through town, you felt yourself start to pick up your pace gradually until you were jogging along at a decent speed, leaving the town behind you as you ascended the black volcanic hills that surrounded the area that had since become familiar to you. From atop the hills, you could see the cantina, the school, the marketplace, and off in the distance you could see the Razor Crest as it was undergoing refueling and maintenance.

Continuing to run for a while, just along the outskirts of the city, you relished the feeling of the breeze against your skin; while Nevarro was hot and the air somewhat sulfurous due to the volcanoes, it was still a nice change from the recycled air of the ship, and was certainly better than some of the atmospheres of other planets you had journeyed to. You could feel the lava rocks and ash shifting beneath your feet as you ran, offering just enough resistance to make your heart race and your lungs expand with forceful, concentrated inhalations.

Having now circled about half of the city, watching the landscape change from your position above it, you settled down onto a spot that offered some dry grass to sit comfortably on. You waited for your heart rate to slow back to a resting pace, and stretched your limbs out around you, loving the bit of soreness that came along as your muscles stretched and contracted. You allowed yourself to rest here for a while, clearing your mind as you worked to let the Force flow through you, just as Ixxith had taught you. You could feel the Force moving through you gently, almost like a breeze passing through an open window. You settled into this feeling, into the peace that it offered, as silence and tranquility had become rare within the steel confines of your home. Relaxing, you only barely noticed the breeze that seemed to push and pull the air through your lungs, as you sank into the comfortable silence for a while.

Sensing a growing chill in the air, your eyes opened to scene around you. The sun had begun its descent behind the volcanic hilltops and you knew it was time to be on your way, to return to Din and Grogu, to your home and to your bed. Pushing yourself up from the ground, you brushed off the dust and debris that had pressed into your body and clothing, before starting a comfortable pace down the hillside and back into the city.

As you passed some of the houses that made up the outskirts of the city, you could sense that something, or someone, was watching you; turning to look all around, you didn’t see anything unusual. You tried to shake off the feeling as you navigated yourself down a familiar city path, shifting your focus towards your upcoming reunion with Din; thinking of the way he had pinched the inside of your thigh earlier shot your heart rate right back up to its previously racing pace.

And yet there was a persistently odd feeling around you though, one that you couldn’t seem to shake, even with the thought of Din. Deciding to trust your gut, you stepped down what seemed to be a quiet alleyway to take better stock of the situation around you and determine what was causing this unsettling feeling of observation. No, observation wasn’t the right word. The word that came to mind was stalked. Like something was hiding in the shadows and corner of your vision, keeping in step with you but never being revealed. You scanned the street you had just been walking through, trying to find whatever was causing this unease, this growing sense of danger —

And then you felt a large hand grasping your forearm like a steel trap, crushing your wrist as whoever this was pulled you further into the alley and into the seclusion that it offered.

Whirling around as your free hand having found its way into a fist, you intended to punch this unexpected attacker in the face; but before you could complete your movement, a grey and leathery hand grabbed your entire fist and wrenched it away, but maintaining a tight hold on your hand to restrain you. Looking up, you saw a terrifyingly familiar humanoid face.

Maxir Bragant had been a close companion and business partner of Orron Jakar, and you had spent more time around this Delphidian man than you ever cared to recall. He had been a frequent visitor to your shop, and the individuals who he dumped onto your cot for healing rarely survived due to his brutal and unyielding attacks. Being quite fond of cleaving into others with his axe, there was generally very little you could do to improve his victim’s odds of survival; you were no miracle worker, and you recalled how you had been beaten mercilessly for your failures. As you looked down to see that very same black axe strapped to his belt, you felt bile and fear rise up in your throat, not confident that you would be able to escape the crushing grasp of this towering man who now had both of your arms restrained.

His voice hissed out coldly, as his pitch-black eyes stared into yours with the same kind of fury and hatred that you had often seen echoed in Orron’s icy blue ones. “What a surprise to find you here,” he laughed, and the sound turned the very blood pumping through your veins to acid, to ice. He sneered at you, lips curling back to reveal the same ugly grin that showed up in your nightmares. “Figured you’d know better than to show up in a town like this. But, you were never a very bright one, were you?”

You bit your tongue, trying not to snap at that bait that he had flung out to you; you knew he wanted you to respond, wanted you to get mouthy, so he would have an excuse to discipline you, just as Orron once had. He wanted an interesting fight — you knew that he thrived on crushing the life out of a terrified and desperate soul, and you were not going to give that to him. You needed to ignore his jabs, verbal and physical, and focus on how to get yourself out of this situation, how to alert Din, or the Marshal, or any bystander who could offer you some sort of reinforcement against what was surely about to be a horribly painful and ugly fight.

Bragant used his leverage to pull you in closely to him, and you could smell the putrid odor of sweat and blood that radiated from him. It was nauseating and made your head feel dizzy, but you couldn’t let this get to you, couldn’t let this throw you off. From this positioning, you knew that you wouldn’t be able to use your upper body to fight him off as he had your arms secured; making a quickly-calculated decision, you brought your knee up forcefully into his groin, and as he bent over in pain with a groan, he released one of your hands. Gods, was it satisfying to see this motherfucker writhing. Having some more leverage and momentum now, you kicked into his sternum forcefully, his massive body flying backwards into the stone wall behind him. You turned to run, willing your feet to move faster than the stars you had watched in hyperspace — but he recovered faster than you expected; you had only made it about four or five steps away when he wrapped his rough, scarred arm around your neck and brought your writhing, desperately fighting body up and into his, pressing his back into the wall to keep you out of sight.

“Stupid bitch,” he spit at you, and you could see the flecks of blood and saliva that landed in the dust around you, standing out in stark contrast to the dark volcanic ash. “Did you really think you’d get away with it, killing him?” You felt the cold and rough-hewn blade of his axe pressing into your chest, a jagged corner digging in just enough to make you gasp as it pierced your skin; the blade was pressed dangerously close to your heart, and you had seen the force with which he could swing his weapon.

“Still curious how the fuck you got out of there like you did, vanishing like that; but we’ll have plenty of time to ask questions when I bring you back home. There are a lot of people that have been missing you.”

You could sense the sick and cruel smile on his face as he pictured what would surely be a gruesome, horrific, and torturous death.

No. No, you were not going to go out that way. Not on his terms, not on Orron’s. Not like this.

You thought about the horrors that would await you if Bragant was able to bring you back to the cartel. You thought about the sickening fear and sadness that Din and Grogu would feel at your unplanned and unexplained departure. Thought about how Din would cut his way through each and every formidable cartel member trying to bring you back to him, to bring you back to safety, to bring you back home. Thought about how one man wouldn’t be enough to fight off an army, thought about how Din would die trying to bring you back, just as you had nearly died bringing him back on Bardotta.

Thought about how the love between the two of you would threaten to shatter the galaxy.

You thought about how Bragant had called the cartel home, and the anger that coursed through you felt as though it was moving through your very bloodstream, each desperate beat of your heart pushing that anger further and further into your body, fueling your muscles and your strength until it was threatening to burst forward from you like a seismic charge.

“Home?” You screeched, the words tearing their way through your throat with vitriol.

“Home?! You keep that word out of your goddamn fucking mouth!” You screamed forcefully, your voice echoing against the stone and clay walls; you heard a loud crack, and the wall that Bragant’s body was resting against collapsed in on itself.

This disruption and destruction caught Bragant by surprise, and he fell backwards into the pile of rubble that your anger alone had created, releasing you from his grasp in the process. Your chest was heaving as you inhaled deep lungfuls of air, feeling the oxygen feed more and more power to your body — you felt invincible, impossibly strong and powerful — and vengeful. Every violent revenge fantasy you had ever had came rushing back to you, as you saw the tidal wave of your abuser’s blood overtake the world around you.

Here was a man who had contributed to your pain and destruction, who had killed countless people with no mercy — and now, you didn’t have a single ounce of mercy to extend to him. And you were at peace with that.

A blinding hot, red wave of fury overtook your body, crashing around you and drowning out the fragile sense of humanity that was desperately clambering to stay afloat. It was as if you were possessed, as you watched your arm extend before you, muscles twitching beneath skin as your fingers pointed in Bragant’s direction, before your hand found itself curled into a tight fist. Your nails dug into the palm of your hand, and you could see redness dripping forth from it — and you saw Bragant’s writhing form being lifted from amongst the stones, until he was levitating in midair. His hands clawed desperately at his throat, and the sight of his now-bulging eyes filling with terror felt beautiful.

With a final, overwhelming rush of immense power, your wrist pulled your hand inwards to your body and you heard a nauseatingly satisfying crack reverberate through the alleyway as Bragant’s eyes went dark and his body went limp, collapsing onto the pile of rocks and clay beneath him with a dull thump.

Your head began to spin as the energy that had previously flowed through you was suddenly ripped away, and you felt as though every cell of your body was now collapsing in on itself in slow motion; the sky above you and the ground below you tumbled throughout your field of vision, spinning both together and apart as your body connected with the dusty floor of the alleyway.

You could vaguely see a blood red stain spreading in your field of vision. Whose blood was it?

Throughout all of the endless spinning and disorientation, your eyes eventually came to rest on one comforting and familiar sight — a tall figure clad in beskar rushed to your side, but you couldn’t feel anything, couldn’t feel the hands that you knew were on your body, couldn’t feel the shift in your form as you were hauled into his arms. Couldn’t feel the heavy breaths and terrified words that spilled around you, as your head lolled to the side in his arms. It felt as though the link between your mind and body had been snapped, like a harp string tuned too tightly, and as the universe continued to tumble through your field of vision, you closed your eyes tightly and prayed for it all to stop.

Stop. Stop.

Stop.