#especially when it comes to like gratuitous violence

[mysterious-moonstruck-musings]

Closed Position: Week 3 (Cha Cha Part 2)

Closed Position Masterlist ||| Main Masterlist Dieter Bravo x OFC (Katarina)

Series Summary: Dieter Bravo, now sober, was looking to change his bad boy image after hitting rock bottom. His team hoped that having him join the nationally televised family friendly dance competition, Dancing with the Stars, would be a good first step, if they can keep him out of trouble. 

Katarina Stamos expected her last season as a professional dancer on the show to go the same as it had for the past thirteen seasons. That all changed when she was partnered with the infamous Dieter Bravo. 

Dieter and Katarina are reluctantly thrown into their partnership and must learn to work together to succeed in the competition. In the process they form a deeper connection beyond the dance floor that neither anticipated.

Chapter Word Count: 17.6k

👉 Warnings: Themes dealing with intimate partner violence, past alcohol abuse, and past drug abuse. There will be fluff, tears, spicy language, and smut. This will be a slow burn. Read at your own risk. Dieter Bravo comes with his own warnings.

👉 Chapter Warnings: Dieter being Dieter. Gratuitous use of the "f" word and talk about Dieter’s member. Cat and Plant dad Dieter cuteness. Brief mentions of intimate partner violence (more protective Dieter).

Chapter Quote: “I think I just became the bitch of a seven pound menace.”

Dieter’s POV

This week had been a fucking roller coaster. It started off with a bizarre production meeting with Stacia and Joe. I couldn’t believe they asked Kat and me to be flirty for the cameras, knowing she was engaged to someone else who is part of the cast. It was beyond inappropriate. Honestly, it pissed me off and I wasn’t OK with it. I didn’t like the position it would put her in. 

They hadn’t been wrong about Kat standing out during the group performance. It was obvious to anyone who had eyes and I honestly felt proud of her. After the way Stacia had acted when I requested Kat as my partner, like she wasn’t that great of a dancer, it was almost like a big ‘fuck you’ to her. I loved every second of it and was feeling a little smug as they talked about putting Kat in the spotlight. It took everything in me not to rub it in.

The lunch with Kat that followed was an interesting experience. We really hadn’t got to spend a lot of time talking about things other than dancing up to this point. The lunch was a welcome break to have other conversations. I appreciated that she seemed interested in my hobbies. My plant hobby wasn’t something that I really got to discuss with people, so it was refreshing. I also got to learn about her plans for opening a dance studio after this season ends. I could tell she wasn’t looking forward to giving up competitions, but she seemed legitimately excited about her next steps. I was excited for her, and honestly, I couldn’t wait to see what she came up with. I knew whatever she did would be amazing.

During our first rehearsal for the Cha Cha, I found myself spiraling. Especially when we started putting the dance together. I knew the Latin dances had more of a flirty and sexual feel to them and I tried to mentally prepare myself for that ahead of time. However, I was not prepared for the way Kat was moving her hips, especially when she was doing it with her backside essentially rubbing up against my dick. When I told her I didn’t want to make an ass of myself, I was referring to the fact that it was taking everything in me to keep little bravo from standing at full attention and poking her from behind. I couldn’t focus and I couldn’t relax. It was literal torture. I was obviously going to have to figure out how to deal with that or we were going to have a problem going forward. I’m not even sure how I made it through rehearsals that day. 

I was shocked when a text from Kat popped up on my phone later that evening. I was even more shocked when she said we were going to a Latin dance club. I tried to play it off with jokes, but internally I was falling apart. I spent the evening standing in my closet staring at my clothes. I had no fucking clue what to wear to a Latin dance club. I ended up texting my stylist around 10:30 PM, begging her to tell me what to wear. I was relieved when she said she would have a few things sent over the next day.

I had an appointment with my therapist very early the next morning. The first topic of the day was how things were going with Kat. I lied through my teeth, wanting to change the subject. I was not ready to unpack my feelings for Kat with Dr. Smith. Mostly because I was afraid of what she would have to say about it. I’m not sure Dr. Smith believed a word I said. She gave me a skeptical look when I changed the subject, but let me continue without coming back to that topic. I did notice her jotting down some notes though. I had a feeling it was going to come back to bite me later. I knew my feelings were wrong and that I shouldn’t be having them, but I couldn’t help it. I felt like it was out of my control at this point. I had tried so fucking hard to ignore it and I was still trying but failing. Some of it was physical, obviously, but the more time I spent with Kat the more I was drawn to her personality. I had never felt anything like this before and could not even begin to understand what it meant. I just wanted to pack it away and worry about it later. 

I had a photo shoot with some fancy men’s fashion magazine after that. Honestly, I wasn’t even sure which one. It was the last thing I wanted to be doing, but I needed any job I could get. I still had to prove that I had my shit together and could show up and work without issue. It was also part of rehabilitating my image. The new and improved stylish Dieter Bravo. People in Hollywood talked, so it was important that I was present mentally and physically for this. I did my best to smile and be engaged with everyone, but it all felt forced. However, everyone seemed happy with the final product, so I took that as a win. At least it kept my mind distracted from what Kat and I were doing later. 

When I got home, I found that my stylist had dropped off several items of clothing for our outing. I went with what looked the most comfortable. Luckily it was mostly light fabrics, so I wouldn’t burn up. I really only needed to change clothes since I had already showered, and my hair was styled from the shoot. That left me with an hour to do absolutely nothing except get myself worked up into a frenzy. The minutes were dragging on agonizingly slow, and my mind was already going to places that it shouldn’t be. I wondered what Kat would be wearing and if she was going to be moving the way she had been during rehearsals the day before. The thought of her rubbing up against me again was already making me hard. 

I paced around my bedroom, begging my dick to calm the fuck down. Nothing was working. The only resolution I could come up with was to take care of it. I had been avoiding doing this because every time, my thoughts would wander to Kat. I didn’t want to think about her that way, worried that it would open up a door that I was frantically trying to hold closed.

I huffed out a quiet “fuck it” under my breath before quickly undressing and grabbing a t-shirt off the floor that I had slept in and crawled onto the bed. I found a bottle of lube in the nightstand drawer and went for it. I didn’t even try to keep the thoughts of Kat away this time - the way she would bite her lip and look at me through her lashes, the way it felt when she touched me while we were dancing, the way her hips moved. I imagined how she would look moving her hips like that on top of me and how fucking amazing she would feel wrapped around me. That was all it took to send me over the edge. I felt like a fucking teenager who was unable to control his load with how fast I came into my dirty t-shirt over the mental image of her writhing on top of me.  

I laid there with my eyes closed for a few minutes, trying to come down from the high I was still riding, but the images and thoughts kept coming. I couldn’t stop them now. I wondered how she was when it came to sex. Would she prefer it to be slow and sensual or did she have a wild side? Something told me it was a little bit of both, and I was one hundred fucking percent on board with that. Within minutes, I was hard again. Jesus fucking Christ what is wrong with me? It had to be a new record because it never happened that quickly. Was it because I had been denying myself? Or was it because of Kat? Maybe both? 

I looked at the clock, realizing I had to leave in 30 minutes. I sighed loudly, aware that this little problem wasn’t going away on its own. It was already almost painful. So, I went for round two and hoped that it got whatever the fuck this was out of my system. 

Twenty minutes later I was a sweaty mess, standing in front of a fan trying to cool off after having one of the most intense orgasms I can recall having from masturbating. Then again, I had probably been too high in the past to remember the majority of them, so that didn’t say much. Once my heart rate calmed down, I moved to the bathroom and grabbed a towel to dry myself off some. I didn’t have time for a shower, so I threw on some more deodorant and cologne and hoped for the best. At least my hair still looked decent. 

I somehow made it to the dance studio a few minutes early. I sat in the car waiting for Kat. I leaned my head back against the seat and closed my eyes, feeling strangely calm and focused. I hoped I could maintain this mood for the rest of the evening - the rest of the week even. I just needed time to desensitize myself to the intimacy and close proximity that we were being forced into this week. Once I did that, I would be able to handle anything. I had to. 

I was startled from my thoughts by Kat opening the passenger side door. She laughed loudly over my reaction and it was the most beautiful sound. I could listen to her laugh all day. Then I took in what she was wearing, a simple knee length black dress that hugged her curves in all the right places. It was the sexiest thing I had ever seen, and she wasn’t even showing that much skin. 

I appreciated that she thought to warn me about the bar during the drive to the club. Most people wouldn’t have considered that. I figured there would be alcohol and other substances floating around, but oddly enough, those things were not even on my radar. I wasn’t lying to her when I said it was a non-issue because I would be distracted. I just fibbed about what my distraction would be. My thoughts were only of her, and I knew they would be for the rest of the night. 

The club was as expected, the same as any other. Kat wasted no time pulling me onto the dance floor. I was hesitant at first, worried about the possible involuntary reactions my dick might decide to have. Any hesitation I had dissipated when Kat grabbed my face and forced me to focus on her. There was something familiar about the way she was looking at me that I couldn’t place as she urged me to become one with her and the music - to relax and trust her. It drew me in, igniting that connection that we shared. The connection that I had been fighting so hard this week. After that, I was surprised to find that my worries ended up being a non-issue. I had to laugh to myself, realizing the only thing I had been needing to do was beat little Bravo into submission, for tonight at least.

The longer we danced, the more at ease I became. It felt like we were just two friends having a good time together. It seemed a little flirty, but that was the general atmosphere, and it came with this type of dancing. I knew that and tried not to dwell on it much. When Kat broke away and suggested a water break, I noticed she had an odd look on her face. I wanted to ask if something was wrong, but decided not to, figuring she was probably just tired. She had been going all day after all. She offered to go grab us some bottles of water. She didn’t have to say it, but I knew she was making an effort to keep me away from the bar, which I appreciated. The last thing I needed was to be photographed near one.

I was surprised when a few fans approached and asked for pictures while I waited for Kat to return. In the past, I had been kind of an asshole to fans, and I knew it. So, I tried to make it a good experience for them. They seemed just excited to see Kat when she joined us. They had actually been fun to talk to and it ended up being a humbling reminder that they were the reason I had the life that I did. It made me appreciate my choice to get sober even more.  

Once Kat and I got back on the dance floor, I could feel something shifting between us. She had that familiar look on her face again and it was stirring something inside of me. After a few songs, it finally hit me. It was the same look she had in the video I had watched of her and Alec dancing. She never had it with any of her other partners from what I had seen. 

This realization sent my mind spiraling. Now that I had picked up on it, I couldn’t stop looking at her eyes. There was fire blazing in them as she looked back at me, but there was something else there too. Conflict? Confusion? The intensity of it only seemed to increase the longer we went on. I could feel the air crackling between us so strongly that it was making me dizzy. I was almost afraid to think about it, but my gut told me that she was feeling something for me too. 

When I playfully dipped her backward, I couldn’t help admiring her neck as her hair slid off it. For the first time, I dared to wonder what it would be like to kiss her there. As I pulled her upward, our eyes locked. I knew I should look away, but I couldn’t. She rested her forehead against mine as her hand gently caressed my cheek. I could feel her hot breath blowing over my lips as we lingered there. I really thought she was going to kiss me, until she suddenly turned to walk away. I didn’t want to let go, allowing my hands to trail down her body as she moved toward the edge of the dance floor. What the fuck just happened? 

And just like that, the spell was broken. When she turned back toward me, she was smiling, but her eyes were guarded, and the fire was nearly extinguished. It wasn’t completely gone though, I could still see it simmering under whatever composure she thought she had gained. I gave her a big smile, relishing my new discovery. 

I wasn’t surprised when she suggested we leave after that. The atmosphere of this place was chipping away at the thin wall that both of us had put up. If we stayed, that wall was going to crumble, fast. 

I didn’t hesitate to take her hand as she led us out of the club. I was having sort of a “fuck it” moment and throwing caution to the wind when it came to touching her. I wasn’t even sure if I could stop myself at this point. We took a minute to take some selfies with fans on our way out. I kept at least one hand on her throughout that. The whole ride back to the studio I did manage to restrain myself since I had no reason to touch her while I was driving. I wanted more than anything to take her hand or rest mine on her thigh. I was dumbfounded by this sudden urge. It wasn’t one that I had before. I usually shied away from any type of physical touch unless I was having sex with someone. Even then, it wasn’t affectionate. It was for pleasure. Affection just wasn’t something I had had a lot of in my life and it wasn’t something I ever wanted. Until now. 

When we got back to the studio and found Alec waiting outside, my stomach dropped. I had a really bad feeling about leaving Kat alone with him because he looked angry and a little inebriated. When she told me to go inside, I hesitated, but felt like I couldn’t just stand there. So, I went inside and got changed, realizing that I had left my sneakers in the car when I didn’t find them in my gym bag. At least I had a good excuse to go outside and make sure she was OK. 

As I walked out the front entrance, my eyes immediately sought Kat out. My gaze found her just as Alec shoved her against the wall, causing her head to smack against the brick. I didn’t hesitate to go to her and shove him out of the way. I had never wanted to cause harm to someone so much in my life. It was taking everything in me not to crush his fucking face in with my bare hands, but Kat came first, and I needed to make sure she was unharmed. I’m sure my attentiveness to her only pissed Alec off further, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t going to bow down to his ego anymore. 

I decided to try and diffuse the situation, for Kat’s sake, but that didn’t go as planned. I couldn’t say I was really surprised that Alec tried to hit me. I saw the look in his eyes and the way his hand balled up before he threw the punch. I was surprised by my reaction to it though. I’m pretty sure I closed my eyes as I flinched away from his fist, but somehow still managed to hit him pretty damn hard right in the nose. Hard enough that my hand was burning afterward. The satisfaction that I got from seeing his busted up face was well worth it. 

When Alec called out for Kat to leave with him, I could feel every muscle in my body tense. There was no way I was letting her go. I couldn’t. I would hit him again before I let that happen. I was relieved when he didn’t try to fight it and left without further issue. As soon as he was safely out of our vicinity, I pulled Kat into a tight hug. I needed to check her over again - make sure she was really OK. Of course, she brushed away my concern in place of her own as she looked over my hand. 

I realized she needed something else to focus on so that she didn’t fall apart. So, I let her take care of me. It didn’t stop me from looking her over again as she dug through the first aid kit. I could see her hands trembling as she rummaged around for supplies. Physically she seemed fine, but I knew her emotions were all over the place. I could tell she was in a fragile state, and it was breaking my heart. For the first time I noticed that this sweet and beautiful person was so fucking broken on the inside. She had done well to hide it, but the cracks were there, and I was finally seeing them. I wanted nothing more than to make her feel better and keep her safe. I wanted her to be mine and I wanted to take care of her the way she deserved. 

I knew it was a bad idea to put my feelings out into the world right now, so I didn’t. I did, however, want her to know that I was here for her and that I was willing to help in any way she needed. It was all I could offer, but it seemed to be enough. For now. Even though I didn’t tell her how I felt about her, I did share what I thought about Alec. I could only hope she would consider my words and make the right choice for her own well being. I had already decided that I would be there for her through it, no matter what, I just hoped she would let me.

I spent all night tossing and turning, worried about whether Kat was safe. She had texted that she got home safely and was locked in, but that didn’t do anything to relieve my anxiety. I was up before my alarm went off the next morning, in a rush to get to the studio just so I could lay eyes on her. Then I realized me getting there sooner didn’t mean she would get there sooner. I grabbed my phone, found her name in my contacts, and typed out a quick text. 

Me: Want me to pick you up some breakfast with your coffee? Muffin? Cheese Danish? Kit Kat? 😏 (smirk emoji). 

It was my sneaky ass way of making sure she was OK without asking. 

Kat: Again, I will never turn down food. Surprise me. No Kit Kats though. I’m banning them from the studio. 

I chuckled. It seemed like she was back to her normal snarky self. 

Me: ☹️☹️☹️ (three frowny face emojis)

Kat: OK. Fine. Just don’t let me SEE you eating them. 

Kat: And Dieter…

Me: Yeah?

Kat: I’m OK. You could have just asked. Thank you though. 💜 (heart emoji)

Well, damn. She was onto me. Not that I minded. I kind of loved that she knew me well enough to know what I was up to. 

Me: I didn’t want to be annoying about it. I’m happy you’re OK though. I was worried. Maybe I’ll actually get some sleep tonight…I’ll see you soon.  

I hesitated before I hit send on that reply, but I wanted her to know how concerned I was and that I actually cared. At this point, I felt like I was mentally getting out a hammer and chisel, chipping away tiny pieces of wall between us. I wasn’t going to be able to keep all this in forever. Hell, before it’s over, I may end up busting through, Kool-Aid man style. 

Once I gathered everything I needed for the day, I headed to the coffee shop, getting there in record time. I got Kat’s usual coffee order and added a blueberry scone. I was antsy, wanting to get the studio as soon as possible. I still needed to see her, to be sure. I knew the tightness in my chest wasn’t going to go away until I did. 

I arrived at the studio twenty minutes early. I was surprised when I spotted Kat’s car in its usual spot. The space beside it was open, so I pulled in. Knowing it would be easier for me to keep an eye on things as we left later. My arms were full causing me to struggle to get inside the main entrance, but I managed without dropping anything. Kat laughed at my exasperated face once she noticed me trying to open the heavy studio doors. She ran over to help, giving me a warm smile as she took the drinks and food from my hands. 

Kat sat everything down on a few chairs at the back of the room. I followed behind, eyeing her. I was relieved to see that she did seem to be OK, that was until she reached up to tie her hair back. After she finished, the wide neck of her top slid off of her shoulder, revealing bruises. I could feel my jaw tightening as I reached out to touch them. 

Kat’s brow furrowed at my expression before looking down to where my fingertips softly grazed her discolored skin. She sighed, taking my hand in hers as she peered up at me, “I told you, I’m fine. I didn’t even notice it.” 

I shook my head, feeling the rage simmering, then pulled her into a tight hug. “Please tell me you’re done with him,” I said into the top of her hair. 

She hugged me around the waist, burying her face in my chest for a moment before she pulled back, inhaling a deep breath, “I had a ton of messages and missed calls from him when I got home last night. All full of apologies…he knows he fucked up.” 

I tensed, not liking how this sounded.

“I texted him back…not ending things, but I did ask for space. I have a lot to think about and I can’t do that with him talking at me.” 

I was hopeful that she would see what an asshole he was. She had to. She couldn’t continue like this.

“How are you feeling about things this morning?” I asked.

She gave me an apprehensive look.

“You know what, it’s not my business. I shouldn’t be asking.” I said before she could respond, suddenly feeling like I was prying. I didn’t want to do that. I moved to turn away from her, but then I felt her hand on my arm, “No, really…it’s OK. I don’t have anyone to talk to about it. Nobody knows about that side of him.”

She sighed, sat down, then ran her hands down her face. “Honestly, I’m just kind of numb. I really don’t feel anything. I should at least be angry, right? Is that bad?”

I sat down beside her. She reached for my injured hand and started rubbing her fingers over the knuckles with a lost look in her eyes. I watched her for a moment before I responded. 

“Honestly, I think maybe you feel that way because you're avoiding dealing with it. Compartmentalizing it maybe? But I get the feeling it’s reaching a point where you can’t do that anymore.”

She pursed her lips and nodded. “I think maybe you might be right.” 

Her eyes met mine with a sad smile on her lips, “The film crew will be here soon. I should try to cover this up. I don’t wanna give them gossip on a silver platter.” 

She turned and reached for her gym bag, pulling out a smaller pouch full of makeup. I watched as she dabbed green, yellow, and purple color correctors on my knuckles then covered it with concealer, finishing with a setting spray. The discoloration and bruising were hardly noticeable now. 

“Hopefully that will last long enough to get us through filming today. I’ll try to be careful and not rub it off while we’re dancing,” she said. Now turning her attention to the noticeable bruise on her shoulder. She started working to cover that as well, but struggled, not really able to see what she was doing. I reached out my hand, “Here, let me do that for you.” She sighed, but relented and handed me the color corrector palette she was holding. 

I could feel her eyes on my face as I worked. My cheeks heated under her gaze as my heart pounded away in my chest. The static was crackling between us again, causing a few more chips to fall away from the wall between us. The moment felt incredibly intimate, and it only made me crave more. Once I was finished, she quietly thanked me and packed everything away out of sight. 

We sat enjoying our coffee and breakfast as the camera crew started filing in with their equipment. A couple of the crew members got us mic'd up and started the interview right away while everything else was set up.  Of course, they had questions about the sightings of us at the Latin club. I shouldn’t have been surprised, but I was. Luckily, Kat handled those questions perfectly. I know I would have stumbled my way through them in a way that probably would have raised some eyebrows. 

Overall, we were more relaxed during filming this week - actually laughing and having fun as we rehearsed. We had a moment where Kat accidentally kicked me in the shin while transitioning to a lift. I turned on the dramatics for it, whining and rubbing at the spot as if it had hurt badly. It really hadn’t, but I did enjoy getting her worked up over it. Once she realized I was messing with her, she lightly smacked my shoulder and called me a jerk before breaking into laughter. The crew got a good chuckle out of it, quickly catching onto my antics before Kat did. We pretty much had the routine down by the end of the day, which put us a little ahead of schedule. That took a lot of stress off us for the week, which I think helped with the playfulness between us. 

The day was over before we knew it.  Kat seemed to be in better spirits as she got into her car, smiling at me over the roof of it as she waved. Once she was safely on her way, I pulled out of the parking lot to head to the pet store…again. I had gone through several different brands of cat food over the last week. The Little Dude wasn’t having any of it. He only wanted Tuna. I found myself in the cat food aisle, staring at a wall of packages. They all looked the same to me. I sighed, feeling overwhelmed by the options and not knowing anything about cats. I finally settled on some meaty looking wet food and hoped for the best. 

As soon as I got home, I found Little Dude waiting outside the sliding glass door in the kitchen. He was on a schedule now and wasn’t going to let me forget about it. I opened the door, allowing him to come sashaying into the kitchen to sit next to the island. Waiting and watching as I scooped some of the new canned food out onto a plate and presented it to him. He stood and tentatively sniffed the chunks, then took a few nibbles but decided against it. He sat back down and looked up at me, whipping his tail around. 

“Still a no, huh?” I said to him. He meowed loudly back at me. I sighed heavily, “You know, considering you were on the streets not long ago, you’ve gotten awfully picky. I feel taken advantage of here…” 

He meowed again. I rolled my eyes as I moved toward the pantry for another pouch of tuna. I tried mixing some of the juice in with the food and gave it back to him. He still wouldn’t touch it. So, I added a few chunks of tuna as a topping. He ate the tuna and left the rest of it, before plopping himself down on his haunches and staring at me for more.

I chuckled to myself, “I think I just became the bitch of a seven pound menace. Fine, Dude. You win. Here’s your damn tuna. We need to get this figured out though. I’m sure you're not getting all your nutrients from that.”

He meowed up at me happily as I added more tuna to the plate. Once he had his fill, he walked over and jumped up on the couch making himself at home. I scoffed, “Dude, come on. You smell like something out of Pet Semetary.” He had the audacity to start wallowing around on his back. I rolled my eyes as I made my way to the linen closet, pulling out a spare blanket. After moving back to the couch, I opened up the blanket and fluffed it out next to him. He wasted no time settling in, purring and making biscuits with his paws. I gave him some scratches behind the ears as he dozed off. It was clear to me now, this cat was obviously trying to move in. With a heavy sigh, I realized that I needed to get some cat stuff for the house if this was going to be a thing, but I wasn’t even sure where to start with that. It was just another thing to worry about, but I sort of didn’t mind. He was definitely growing on me, making the house feel less empty and me less alone.  

Friday rehearsals went by in a blur. I arrived a few minutes early, finding Kat in the studio, ready to go. She seemed in good spirits as we joked through our morning coffee. Her twinkling laugh continued as we went through our stretch routine. I moaned and groaned through the torture while she bent my body to its limits, and I loved every fucking minute of it. I noticed that our new found comfort with each other had her leaning into me more. Her touches were more casual and relaxed. I couldn’t get enough of the feeling of her warmth against me or the brilliant smile on her face as she laughed at my ridiculousness. The hint of sadness that I noticed hidden in her eyes the last couple of days was nowhere in sight. 

Once we moved into the routine, the air between us felt like it was crackling again. Heated glances and small smiles passed between us as we made it through the entirety of the dance several times without error. We were so in tune with each other now, dancing in silence as one. Moving effortlessly through the steps without any thought or hesitation from either of us. The world fell away at that moment. We could have been in the midst of a war zone, and I wouldn’t have noticed. All I saw was her. There was no question about it now, I definitely had feelings for her that were more than just physical attraction. I couldn’t keep denying it to myself. 

Of course, Alec was technically still in the picture. Kat made a point to say that she hadn’t ended things with him. She had only asked for space. I was still determined not to put her in any type of compromising position. I had too much respect for her to do that, my own feelings be damned. I really needed to watch myself. 

After a few hours, we finally took a break. I lay sprawled out on the floor, staring up at her as she drank from her water bottle. I could see the sweat running down her neck, disappearing in the hidden space between her breasts. I had to force my eyes upward to her face before little Bravo decided to wake up against my wishes. 

When she finished, she turned to me, catching me staring. I didn’t even bother to look away. She gave me a shy smile as she sat down on the floor next to me. 

“So, what are you up to this evening? More plant daddy responsibilities?”

I snorted, “Plant daddy? That’s one I haven’t heard before.” 

Kat snickered before taking another sip of water. 

“No, actually I need to go to the pet store…hey, do you know anything about cats?”

Her brow furrowed, “Is this some kind of weird joke that I’m about to walk into?”

I chuckled, “No, I’m serious. I’m talking about the feline kind. I’ve had this stray show up at my house and he won’t fucking leave. Somehow that’s turned into him becoming a roommate. I’m having issues finding food he’ll eat though. I also don’t know what sort of cat stuff I need if I bring him inside like he seems to want to do.” 

She chuckled, a mischievous glint in her eye as she said, “So, you’re a cat daddy now, too?”

I shrugged with a smirk, “Yeah, I guess I’m trying to be.” 

She had a look on her face that I couldn’t decipher before breaking into a smile. 

“Yeah, I had cats growing up. They can be finicky and dramatic when it comes to food.”

I nodded, “Yeah, I’ve picked up on that...What should I do? Can you give me a list of stuff I need to get? I’ve never had a pet, so I have no idea where to start.” 

Her face softened, “You’re going to the pet store after you leave here?”

I nodded, curious what her tone meant. She paused before answering, seeming somewhat hesitant at first, “I could go with you if you want?”

I felt one side of my lips tug upward, “That would be amazing, actually.” 

Kat was true to her word. Once we finished rehearsal, she followed me to the pet store. Parking in the space next to mine and smiling as she exited her car. As she walked toward me, I realized it made me feel strangely giddy to be doing something like this with her. 

She hooked her arm with mine as we walked toward the entrance. I could feel warmth spreading in my chest at her casual touches. I had to fight the smile tugging at my lips.

“So, what is your fur child actually eating?” She asked. 

I grimaced, “Well, up until like a week or so ago, I assume whatever he could catch and kill. Honestly, he smells like something out of that Pet Semetary movie…which reminds me…have you ever given a cat a bath?” 

It was her turn to grimace, “Are you insane? Cats usually don’t like water. There are professionals that will do that for you, ya know?” 

I shook my head, “This kid is not used to people. I fear he wouldn’t be able to handle a grooming salon. At least not yet…”

She sighed, giving me a serious wide-eyed stare, “Fine, I’ll help you give the cat a bath…but if I die…I’m haunting your ass.” 

I belly laughed at her response as we entered the store, which seemed to draw some eyes toward us. I dropped my head and moved toward the first aisle as Kat got a shopping cart. 

“A cart, huh? How much of my money are you about to spend?”  

She chuckled, “Hey, I’m just making recommendations. You do what you will with them.” 

She pointed things out as we moved down the aisles, some of it just for fun, some of it was needed. I ended up splurging on a couple of robotic litter boxes and cat cave beds, bathing supplies, toys, a ridiculously massive cat tree, and a collar all before getting to the food. She was relentless with her teasing about my need to buy the most expensive thing on the shelf. I loved it when she teased me like this. It caused her eyes to light up in a way that made my heart race.

Once we got to the food aisle, she again asked what the cat was currently eating. 

“The only thing I’ve been successful with so far is Tuna. I’ve gotten several different kinds of cat food, and he just turns his nose up to them.” 

She stood staring down the aisle with too many options, scrunching up her nose before speaking again. “OK, so he likes fishy stuff. Have you tried dry food or wet food?”

She is too fucking adorable when she makes that face. My brows arched at her, “Both.” 

Her lips set into a line, “Did you try salmon flavored?”

I scoffed, “I’m pretty sure I tried every flavor they have. They were all a no.” 

Her brow furrowed as she looked up and down the aisle, thinking. Her eyes finally settled on a freezer at the far end, “Maybe he would prefer something a little fresher since he’s a hunter?”

My eyes widened, “I hope you don’t mean like…live rats or something. I’m not doing that.” 

She snorted, “Noooo. Ugh, no. I would never suggest that. I meant raw food.”

My eyes widened, “Ohhh. I hadn’t thought of that. Maybe…I’m willing to give it a try.” 

We made our way down to the freezer and she picked out a raw salmon food. It was small scoopable frozen nuggets full of organic ingredients. It honestly sounded better than the other stuff I had bought. At least I could pronounce everything on the label. I felt confident this might do the trick. It figures I would end up with a cat that had a taste for the fancy stuff. 

As we walked down the last couple of aisles, I circled back to the bath conversation, “Sooo, were you serious about helping give the Little Dude a bath?”

She nodded with a smirk, “Yes, I meant every word I said.” 

I chuckled, “You wanna come over tomorrow evening for that? I can get everything set up for him tonight. I’ll let him formally move in after he’s bathed.”

She made an annoyed face, “Tomorrow is spray tan day.”

I puffed air out through my cheeks. “I could get some of those long dish washing gloves, then we won’t get wet…and maybe protect us from being clawed to death too.”  

She snorted, “That sounds like a plan.” 

“I’ll make dinner. I have a feeling I’ll owe you by the time this is over...” 

One of her brows ticked upward, “I know I said I would never say no to food, but…you’re gonna cook?”

I placed my hand on my chest, feigning offense. “Excuse me? I happen to be a very good cook. It’s another new hobby I’ve picked up since rehab. My stuff is better than any five star restaurant.” 

The sound of her twinkling laugh filled my ears. “Riiiight. I’ll believe it when I see it,” she said between laughs. 

I rolled my eyes and gave her a playful smile, “Fine. Be prepared to stick your foot in your mouth.” 

Kat chuckled as we approached the checkout counter. We were surprised when the young lady behind the counter nervously asked if she could take a picture with us. We of course agreed and snapped a quick group selfie with the girl. We made small talk with her as she rang up my items. I explained how I had a new visitor show up and Kat was kind enough to show me what all I needed to buy, suddenly worried the girl might get the wrong idea about why we were there together. I had a feeling this would show up on social media at some point.

Kat helped me load everything into the back of my car before giving me a small smile and asking to let her know how the new food goes over with the Little Dude. I thanked her again with a cheesy grin before we both got into our vehicles and headed to our respective homes. 

It was a little after 9PM and I was deep into cat tree assembly when I received a text from Kat asking how dinner went. I pursed my lips as my fingers hovered over the keypad. Instead of typing out a message, I hit the video call button. I almost thought she was going to send me to voicemail, but she finally answered, her eyes wide as they jumped around the screen. It looked like she was lying in bed in a dimly lit room. Her hair fell around her face in damp waves, like maybe she had just showered. She looked beautiful. It took me a few seconds too long to find my voice.

“Hey, sorry, are you in bed?” I finally managed to sputter out. 

She smiled, “I’m in bed, but not sleeping. Just watching trashy TV and doom scrolling. How did the new food go?” 

I smiled at the screen, “Amazing. He devoured it…didn’t even hesitate.” 

She smiled back at me, “Good. Happy to hear it. What is he up to now?” 

I huffed out a laugh, “Laying at the end of the sectional, silently judging me over my struggles to put this damn cat tree together. I swear you have to be a fucking engineer to figure it out.”

I turned on the front camera of my phone to show her the cat, stretched out on his stinky blanket at the end of the couch as he gave me that judgy stare. She laughed loudly. 

“Oooh he’s pretty! He does look very judgy right now though.”

I switched the camera back to me, “This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen. Why are there so many parts?”

“Hey, you’re the one that had to get the biggest one they had in the store. Deal with the consequences. I told you that you should’ve just asked for the floor model that was already put together.” 

“Ummm, no. I wasn’t about to buy something that’s had a million grubby little hands on it and who knows what else. Dude only gets the best…brand new out of the box.” 

She rolled her eyes at me, “Did you try looking at the instructions? I know that’s hard for guys to do.” 

I scoffed and rattled the paper in front of the camera, “Umm…excuse me? I have been looking at the instructions and they’re garbage. Do you SEE this? It’s literally really bad drawings with no words. I can’t tell the pieces apart. It’s bullshit.”

She let out a loud laugh at my dramatics, covering her mouth with her hand to try and hold it back. I loved seeing her like this. A small part of me wondered what it would be like to lay in bed with her, laughing at trashy TV shows while we were wrapped up in each other under the covers. I shook my head slightly to clear that thought. 

“Is this your way of asking me to help you, without actually asking…out of fear of further judgment?”

I furrowed my brows and snorted, “I’m not afraid to ask. Judge me, I don’t care. I have no shame…but if you’re offering…” 

“Send me a picture of the instructions. I’ll hold your hand through it.” 

I rolled my eyes, “Oh yeah, thanks. You had to go and say it like that.” 

I did send her the instructions and we spent the next hour and a half on facetime putting the cat tree together. She had my full attention every time she would pull up the drawings to look at them. Her face would scrunch up in the most adorable way as she tried to figure out the next steps. The only thing that could have made the day more perfect is if she had been here with me in person. 

Once the tree was put together, we said goodnight. I noticed Kat lingered on the call for a moment before finally ending it. It caused my stomach to flip. I wished I knew what she was thinking. Is she feeling this too? Or am I just being delusional? 

After getting Dude settled in the garage for the evening, I finally crawled into bed. I laid there thinking about what I should cook for dinner. I didn’t want to do anything too over the top, but I did want to impress her. Then I moved on to picturing her in my house, in my space. Us in my space together. It was almost overwhelming. Realizing how badly I wanted that almost scared me. 

Sunday rehearsals flew by. We did the last of our fine tuning to the routine, running through it several times with the music track. We nailed it each time. The flirty aspect of the dance seemed to come to us easily now. There was no longer any lingering awkwardness between us. We were both comfortable and trusting of each other and having fun. 

We ended up leaving rehearsals a little early to get over to Television City Studios for the cast spray tanning session. We were hoping to get finished quicker by getting there before everyone else. I also felt like Kat was trying to avoid Alec too, which gave me a surge of excitement. It gave me hope that she was possibly thinking about ending things with him for good. 

After heading to our respective dressing rooms to get changed into our robes, we found each other again outside the large room used for the spray tan setup. To our surprise they were able to get us in quickly. Kat went in first, then they called me in several minutes later. After I was finished, I wandered back to my dressing room and changed into my gym shorts. I took a minute to dig around in my duffel bag for a t-shirt that I didn’t care for in case the spray tan rubbed off on it. There was no sense in ruining all of my shirts for this shit. 

There was a quiet knock on the door, I moved to unlock and open it, assuming it was Kat. She stood there, eyes racking over me with a smirk on her face. I gave her a quick smile as I turned my attention back to my bag, “I’m almost ready…just trying to find a shirt that I don’t care to mess up.”

She came in and leaned against the countertop of the vanity, “No problem, take your time.” She sounded amused. I glanced up at her, she had her arms crossed over her chest as she watched me with one brow raised. “Is something funny?” I asked. 

“Every time I come in here, you're half naked.” 

I found the shirt I was looking for and pulled it out, standing to my full height to face her, “If that’s the case, why do you keep coming in here then?”

Her face reddened, “Touché. You got me there.” 

I laughed, “Yeah, see how that works? I mean…it’s a dressing room. There’s bound to be various stages of undress happening. Don’t act so shocked. At least I have pants on this time.” 

She rolled her eyes before looking away. I moved to put my shirt on, purposely taking my time to pull it down over my head. Just as I yanked it down over my face, I caught her eyes shifting away from me. She was definitely checking me out. I could see it in the flush of her cheeks. Well, that's interesting. Maybe she was feeling the spark between us just as much as I am. It doesn’t matter, Bravo. She’s technically still taken. 

I turned to pile all of my junk back into my bag, pretending I hadn’t noticed her staring. She finally broke the silence, “So, what are you making me for dinner? I need to start preparing myself now if I’m to survive it.” 

I scoffed, “Come on. Give me some credit. You should know by now that I excel in all my extracurricular activities.”

Her eyes widened briefly, a small smirk playing on her lips, “I won’t believe it until I have firsthand experience as proof.”

Are we still talking about cooking? I felt like this conversation had a double meaning. I gave her a cocky grin, “Then prepare yourself for the most…pleasurable…food experience of your life.” 

She snorted out a laugh as she moved toward the door, “Right. We’ll see.” I grabbed my bag and followed behind her. Within minutes, I was in my car, driving toward my house with Kat following behind me. I tried not to think of what the evening held, but I knew I needed to behave myself. I had to keep reminding myself that I couldn’t cross any lines with her, no matter how badly I now realized I wanted to. 

A short time later, I was keying into my front door with Kat standing close behind me, taking in her surroundings. I was suddenly nervous for her to see my home. It made me feel naked in a different kind of way that I wasn’t prepared for. She would be seeing pieces of me that no one outside of my very small inner circle had. I would be opening myself up to her in a very raw and unfiltered way and I worried she wouldn’t like what she found.  

We were both quiet as she entered the living room. There was a small smile playing on her lips as she slowly walked around the space, running her hands over things as she went. Stopping to look at books and little knick-knacks I had sitting around from my travels. My stomach quickly rose to my throat when she focused on the paintings hanging on the walls. There were several duotone abstract pieces I had painted throughout my early days of recovery - visual representations of where I was emotionally at the time I painted them. I had hung them to remind myself of my progress. She spent a lot more time looking at these than anything else, raising her hand to touch the one closest to her.

“These are amazing,” she said quietly, almost to herself.

I could hear my heart pounding in my ears as I watched her fingers drop down to the rounded DB initials in the bottom right corner. Her eyes suddenly widening as realization set in. She turned to me, her face now lit up in a way I had never seen. Her eyes were sparkling with wonder as she peered up at me. “Dieter…d-did you paint these?”

I nodded shyly. I couldn’t speak, afraid that my emotions would reveal themselves to her. It meant more to me than I expected that she liked them. Now realizing that her opinion was the only one that ever really mattered to me. 

She smiled, “Well…I guess you do seem to excel in your extracurriculars. I can’t wait to see what else you have up your sleeve.” 

I smirked at her, swiping my thumb across my lip before speaking. “Hmm, well…I’ll have your mouth watering within the hour. You wanna help me get started?”

One of her brows twitched upward, “I’d be happy to.” 

I led her to the kitchen and began pulling ingredients out of the refrigerator and pantry. She stood nearby, taking everything in. 

“I’m actually a little jealous of your kitchen. This is nice and so are all your gadgets.” 

I chuckled, “I do spend a lot of time in here. A fancy kitchen was one of my requirements when I moved.” 

She nodded, then pointed at the speaker on the counter. “Do you usually play music while you cook?” 

“Yeah, you wanna turn something on?”

“Sure, it’s almost too quiet in here. I like a little background noise.” 

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and opened up the music streaming app - hitting play on whatever playlist was already queued up. A soulful blues song started emitting from the speaker. Kat smiled and nodded in approval. I went back to pulling out the rest of the ingredients, piling everything that needed chopping near the cutting board on the island then grabbed two knives from the drawer. 

“Can you handle chopping the veggies? It’ll make this go a lot faster.” 

She nodded, then took one of the knives and got to work chopping the mushrooms that I sat in front of her. We worked side-by-side in silence for a few minutes. My mind wandered to thoughts of how domesticated this felt. I liked it…too much. 

My attention was suddenly drawn back to Kat as her hips started moving to the rhythm of the music. Fuck, that’s distracting. I placed my hand on the small of her back, causing her to pause and look up at me, “You’re gonna chop a finger off moving around like that.” 

The side of her lip tugged upward as she peered at me through her lashes, “Don’t worry…I’m a pro at my extracurriculars too. I can do a lotta things with my hands while my hips are moving.” 

I sucked in a sharp breath at her words, my mind started running through all the possibilities behind them and none of it was wholesome. I finally managed to choke out a laugh, before going back to chopping the celery I had started on. Kat continued moving to the music beside me, humming along with the chorus. Fucking hell, I’m gonna chop my own finger off if I don’t watch it. The next song started playing. I was too distracted by Kat’s rolling hips and my thoughts that I didn’t realize what it was until the chorus hit. 

Fuck me like you mean it / Make me believe it / Walk the wire, it's alright / Love me like you need it / 'Cause I can feel it / Take it higher, show me why

The knife in my hand clattered down onto the cutting board, I was slightly mortified.

Kat’s movements paused, “Well, I didn’t see that coming…that's a little dirty...” She snickered.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize what song this was…. I’ll change it.”

Kat placed her hand on my forearm as I turned to grab my phone, “No, I actually kind of like his sound. Leave it.” 

Her hip movements continued as I switched to chopping the carrots and her the tomatoes. I wasn’t sure how much more of this I could take. I stood there willing my dick not to get hard. Luckily, I got through the carrots quickly, and took the opportunity to turn my back to her. Moving on to peel and cut an onion under the cold water from the faucet. Which is probably just as well, because another song by the same artist came on that was sending my mind straight to the gutter. It felt like a playlist straight from my debauched thoughts. 

Hypnotic lover taking over my mind / Your spell is binding, makes it so hard to fight / She twists her hips and keeps it coming all night / I can't control myself, that girl is so fine

Thankfully we finished with all the vegetable cutting soon after that. I moved on to preparing the pork and getting the frying pan and oil up to temperature. I was happy to have something that required my focus. Kat appeared, leaning against the counter next to the stove, watching me intently. 

“So, are you ever gonna tell me what you’re cooking?”

I smirked, “Pork cacciatore.” 

She gave me a deadpan stare, “You do know I’m a vegetarian, right?” 

I was briefly hit with a streak of panic, before I realized she was messing with me. She had eaten a steak burrito in front of me, twice. I let out a dramatic sigh then smiled, “I guess I’ll be eating alone then. Oh well, more for me.” 

She laughed as she playfully smacked my shoulder. I moved in front of her, placing my hand on her hip to scoot her out of the way as I reached above her head to get into the cabinet that housed all the spices. I muttered a quiet “excuse me” as I glanced down at her eyes that were looking up at me through her lashes. She didn’t really move. Instead, she stayed pinned between me and the counter. I could hear the faint sound of her breath hitching at my proximity. I smirked, then turned my attention back to the cabinet, pulling out the dried rosemary, oregano, and basil before finally removing my hand from her hip and stepping back to the stove. I could feel her eyes on me the entire time. 

As I started mixing in all the ingredients to simmer, she leaned down on her elbows and inhaled deeply, “Mmm…you were right. My mouth is watering. This smells amazing.”

I gave her a cocky smile, “I told you….and it tastes better than it smells. It’s like an orgasm for your taste buds.” 

Shit. I probably shouldn’t have said that. My mouth got ahead of my brain. Her tinkling laugh filled my ears, “That’s a lot of confidence you’ve got in your cooking skills, Bravo.”

I shrugged, “I promised you a pleasurable experience. I’m just delivering on my word.” 

Fucking hell, I’m being ridiculous and getting out of line. Reel it in, Bravo! 

She didn’t seem phased by my comments, if anything it felt like she was enjoying the banter. 

We soon sat down at the dinner table, which I couldn’t recall ever actually sitting at to eat. Kat proceeded to moan through several bites and gush about how delicious it was. I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face. It made me feel almost giddy that she enjoyed it. Our conversation flowed easily, as we talked about different things. Getting to know each other a little more and slowly chipping away at that imaginary wall that separated us. 

“I’m just gonna start coming over here for dinner every night. My cooking can’t compete with this,” she finally said with a joking tone as she scooped that last bite off her plate. 

I gave her a toothy grin, “I’ll cook for you anytime you want me to.”

She laughed, “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

I laughed it off, but she had no idea how fucking serious I was. I would cook for her every night of forever if she’d let me. 

After several minutes of Kat fussing over helping with the dishes, I finally convinced her to let it be. I had a housekeeper that would take care of it in the morning, so it really wasn’t that big of a deal. We decided to take our chances by giving the Little Dude a bath after that. I led her out to the garage which was still a mess with boxes, but Dude didn’t seem to mind it. He had turned it into his own personal playground. 

I had set up everything we would need for a bath next to the utility sink so we could get right to it. Kat grabbed one of the towels and laid it out on the counter and got the brushes ready, saying we should brush out all the mats first. As she was explaining the steps we should take, Little Dude decided to make his presence known. He came strutting out from somewhere in his box fort to meow out me. He then proceeded to rub up against Kat’s legs. She giggled at him, bending down to pick him up.

“Ooof, he is rank,” she said through a chuckle. 

“I told you. I swear he rolled in something dead.” 

She grimaced, moving him away from her body to sit him on the counter. 

“He’s really pretty though. He seems young. Have you taken him to the vet yet?”

“Not yet. I’m working up to it. I didn’t wanna stress him out too much all at once…though…he seems strangely fine with everything. He’s the one that wants to move in,” I said - laughing quietly to myself over the absurdity of it. 

Kat began to look him over, “He has some pretty bad mats under his arms, we may have to cut those. Do you have scissors? They aren’t too close to the skin, so I think I can cut them easily enough.” 

“Uhh, yeah. I have a whole clipper kit with scissors. I’ll go get it.”

I ran to get the kit and was back within minutes to find Little Dude sprawled out on his back while Kat brushed at the hair on his stomach. He seemed to love the attention. I stood next to Kat, keeping him distracted with pets while she worked. She ended up cutting a lot of the mats out just to save time. After several minutes had passed, she turned to me, a concerned look on her face. 

“What? Is something wrong?” I asked. 

“I would say so. We have a major problem here.” 

My stomach was suddenly in my throat. My mind now conjuring up the worst things, “What is it?” 

She fought to hold back a laugh, “Dude is not a dude.” 

My brow furrowed, “What do you mean?”

She snorted, “There is no twig and berries down there. Dude is a Dudette.” 

“Seriously? You’re joking?” 

“Nope. Did you even check?” 

“Do you see how much hair she has? I was just guessing. I couldn’t tell. It makes sense why she wouldn’t leave though…chics do love me.” 

Kat snorted again, “Staaap. You’re so ridiculous.” 

I chuckled, “At least now I know why I was getting the judgy looks.” 

“Well, now you need to give her a proper name. Something cute…that is not Dudette.”

“Yeah, I guess I’ll have to think about it. Damn.” 

After a brief pause to laugh about our discovery. We continued. Luckily the cat’s top half wasn’t as bad, so Kat made quick work of it. Then we took a minute to prepare ourselves for the chaos of the bath. Strategizing on the best way to handle it if she freaked out. It turns out, we didn’t even need to do that. The cat apparently loved water, which blew our minds. She sat still, enjoying the massage we gave her as we worked the shampoo into her fur. She nearly fell asleep as I used the spray head to rinse her, occasionally pointing the stream in Kat’s direction just to be obnoxious. After reminding me that we had just gotten a spray tan, I stopped. She said I wouldn’t be able to endure her wrath if I made her streaky. 

Once we got the Little Dudette clean and dry, I picked her up and brought her inside. I took a minute to show her where the litter boxes were, her beds, and her new cat tree. I sat her at the top of the cat tree, and she immediately began exploring it. Kat and I watched her for a few minutes, before Kat looked around the room.

“Hmmm…the plants could be an issue. I know some are poisonous to cats.”  

My eyes widened. I hadn’t even thought about that. Damn I already suck at this cat dad stuff.

Kat pulled out her phone and found a list of toxic plants and let me look over it. I sucked air through my teeth, then moved to pick up the Aloe plant sitting on the end table, “Sorry Barb. Looks like you’re gonna be banished to the art studio.”  I handed it to Kat, “Please hold Barb for a moment.” 

She started laughing at me. I turned to grab the Cutleaf Philodendron that was sitting in the dining room. “You’re out too, Cutlet,” I said as I picked up the medium sized tropical plant. 

“Follow me. We’ll put these away in another room.” 

As we made our way through the house, I grabbed another Aloe plant that was sitting on a bookshelf. “Sorry, you’re out too, Spike.” 

I could hear Kat snickering behind me as we ascended the stairs. Once we reached the door to my studio, I juggled the plants in my arms to turn the knob. I suddenly felt nervous for Kat to be in the space, but tried not to dwell on it as I pushed the door open with my foot. She followed me inside and set Barb down on the window sill next to Spike. I set Cutlet down on the desk. I’d have to find a spot for him later. 

I could tell Kat wanted to explore the room, but she held back, shyly looking down at the ground instead. I was sure she could sense this was an extremely personal space for me and didn’t want to intrude.  

“You can look around if you want.” I finally mustered up the courage to say. I trusted her enough to share this side of myself. Not many people got to see it. 

Her eyes lit up with excitement, “Are you sure? I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable.” 

I nodded and gave her a small smile. Standing back to watch as she walked around the room looking at the various paintings leaned against the walls. Her eyes roamed over every surface, pausing to spend extra time on the sketches spread out on the tables and desk. 

I hadn’t spent any time in this room since rehearsals started. I hadn’t had the time, and when I did, I was too tired. However, I suddenly had that nagging need to. There were images swirling in my head that I needed to get out onto a canvas. I was shocked to find they were colorful shades of purple and blue with hints of magenta. There was no black in sight. I knew the cause of the shift, it was Kat. She was my new muse. Replacing the self-hatred and unhappiness with her light. I wanted to paint her dancing with the fire in her eyes. I wanted to sketch all of my favorite parts of her - her lips, her eyes, the curve of her hips. 

Seeing her in my home and how easily she could fit into my life was making me want things I never thought I would. I wanted her to be part of everything. My other half. I wanted to share my existence with her. Then reality set in. She still belongs to someone else, Bravo. Stop thinking like this. 

I shook my head to clear it as she looked my way with a smile. I tried to return it, but it didn’t reach my eyes. She walked toward me, “Dieter, all of this is amazing. I-I don’t have any words. You’re so talented.” 

My brow furrowed, I was suddenly feeling emotional. I murmured a quiet “thanks” to her as she turned to look around the room one last time before turning back to me, “Would you paint something…for me? I would love to have one.” 

I gave her a genuine smile now, “Of course. I think I already have an idea for something.” 

Our gazes locked for a moment, something unsaid lingering between us, but it passed. I motioned toward the door, “Well, would you like a tour of the rest of the place? I have a feeling you might enjoy my other sanctuary.”

She gave me a quizzical look, “Lead the way. You have me intrigued now.” 

I snickered as we walked into the hallway and closed the door behind us. I led Kat down the hall to the room where I did everything else - music, reading, writing. It really was my other sanctuary. It was a large open room with glass doors that opened to the balcony overlooking the ocean. The espresso colored hardwood was covered by a deep navy and maroon Persian area rug. Floor to ceiling shelves lined one cream colored wall, full of books and scripts. Two leather chairs sat in one corner with two acoustic guitars perched on stands between them. Several other guitars hung on the wall nearby. Another wall of shelves housed my record collection. The old record player stood next to it, connected to vintage floor speakers. An espresso colored wicker hanging chair with a white cushion hung from the ceiling in the corner near the record player. An extra large white furry beanbag sat nearby, with a few deep yellow throw pillows on it. There were plants everywhere - large potted ones sitting on the floor, vines hanging from the ceiling, small succulents scattered throughout the shelves. A small writing desk sat against the wall next to the balcony doors. The few open spaces on the wall were home to more of my paintings. The center of the room was completely open. Aside from my studio, it was my favorite place to be. 

When I opened the door and motioned for Kat to enter, her face shifted. A hint of a smile ghosted her lips as her eyes rounded and sparkled. She stood in the center of the room turning in a slow circle, taking in the space. 

“Dieter…you’re right. I love this. Everything about it is perfect.” 

She walked over to one of the paintings, an abstract sunset of black, deep blue, red, and yellow. It was a more recent one, not as dark as the ones downstairs. Her fingers grazed over the DB scrawled in the bottom corner. One side of her lip turned upward once she realized it was another one of my paintings. She turned, moving back toward the center of the room and spun around with her arms out.

“This room is huge…big enough we could rehearse in here.”

My teeth sunk into my bottom lip, biting back a smile. I loved that the thought had crossed her mind. That she wanted to be in this space with me. 

“We could. There’s a lot of open space. I left it like that so I could come in here and paint if I wanted. Depending on the time of day, the lighting can be better here than in the studio. Plus, I can open the doors and hear the ocean. It’s soothing.” 

She nodded, a pensive look on her face as she continued looking around the room. 

“I take it you probably didn’t expect all this, huh?” 

She shook her head as her brows pinched together, “No, honestly. I’m not sure what I expected, but strangely enough, I’m not surprised. I know you're not shallow and emotionless like the tabloids often make you out to be.” 

She was standing in front of me now, her eyes roaming my face. “I see you, Dieter. I know you feel things deeply…even if you don’t always admit to it. So, it doesn’t surprise me that this is how you spend your time. Us tortured souls have to get the feelings out somehow.”

I couldn’t breathe. The way she was looking at me literally took my breath away. I knew without a doubt that she meant what she said. She did understand me better than anyone ever had because we were the same in a lot of ways, but complete opposites in others. We balanced each other out and fit together in a way that filled in each other's gaps to make a whole. We were meant to find each other, I could feel it in my bones. If only she could see that and finally get rid of the disease in her life that was Alec. 

Kat’s face turned almost wistful as she stared at me for a beat. Finally turning away and moving toward the leather chairs in the corner and sitting down. She turned, eyeing the acoustic guitars sitting next to her. 

She pointed, “Are these for decoration or do you actually play?”

I shrugged, “I guess you can call it that…I had to learn for a role many years ago. It kind of stayed with me after that.” 

She raised a brow in my direction as her hand slid around the neck of the nearest instrument, “Do you mind…” she asked, pausing for my response. 

Curious where this was going, I shook my head. “No, I don’t. Have at it.” 

The way she handled it told me this was something she was familiar with. I could hear the blood pumping in my ears from excitement at the thought that she might play something. I shuffled over to sit in the seat next to her and picked up the other instrument as her fingers slid over the strings, like she was getting a feel for it. I bit back the anxious feeling that was forming in my chest and started plucking at the strings on the guitar I had just picked up. Playing chords for the first song that came to mind. 

Kat watched me for a moment. Her eyes narrowed at my hands, “I know this song…” 

I smiled up at her as she hummed along for a few seconds, trying to place it. She surprised me when she started to sing along.

She's the place I go / When there's nowhere left to run to / She's the one I hold / When there's no one to hold on to

I was awed by her. Her voice was amazing - soulful, velvety, and pure. She was so fucking beautiful it hurt. The moment caused something to swell inside of me, making me emotional. I had to take a deep breath to fight it back as I watched her place her fingers on the frets and start strumming along with me. She continued singing the chorus. Without thinking, I joined in, which elicited a brilliant smile from her. 

She's been with me late at night / When I was drowning in the dark / She heard my every word / When I was pouring out my heart / So I thank my lucky stars / For every crack, scratch, and scar on this guitar

Our voices harmonized together perfectly, causing goosebumps to break out across my body. I suddenly felt connected to her in a way that I hadn’t before. I picked up the next verse as she continued playing with me.

She's given me her best / When I am at my worst / When I can't find the pieces / Fingers scratching in the dirt / She offers no forgiveness / 'Cause she likes to make it hurt

Her eyes stayed on mine. I could see the fire blazing in them again. I couldn’t help smiling as the words passed through my lips. She returned it as she joined back in for the chorus. We finished the reminder of the song with a flourish, breaking into laughter when it was done. 

Once the laughter settled, I finally asked, “Why didn’t you tell me you played? And can sing for that matter?”

She shrugged, “It’s not really something I do a lot of anymore…Not since my dad passed. He taught me to play when I was younger…before things got bad with him. We picked it up again after he was sober.” 

A sad smile formed on her lips, “He had a few friends he would play with on the weekends…pickin' and grinnin' is what they called it. Just a bunch of friends and their families hanging out in someone's backyard, having fun. I learned a lot from them.”

I had a sudden urge to hug her, but then the sparkle from that damn engagement ring on her finger caught my attention for the first time that evening. It was a stark contrast against the black bout of the guitar, silently screaming a reminder that she was still with the asshole. It broke through the delusional thoughts that had started to swirl around in my head the last few minutes.

I cleared my throat, “Well, you’re really good. I didn’t see that coming.”

She gave me a genuine smile now, “You’re not so bad yourself. Still excelling in all areas apparently.” 

I had the sudden need to be away from her. I was feeling overwhelmed by my conflicting feelings. I glanced down at my watch, “Hmm…it’s getting late. We should probably call it a night. I don’t wanna be your excuse for being tired tomorrow.” I let out a nervous laugh. 

She looked at her watch, “Oh damn. Yeah, it is…and I still have a 30 minute drive home.” 

An awkward tension settled in the air as I placed the guitars back on their stands. We walked in silence down the stairs. Kat took a minute to give the kitty some scratches before collecting her purse and phone to leave. I asked her to let me know when she made it home as she leaned in for a side hug. 

“I will…and thanks for dinner. It was amazing.” 

When she pulled away, her hand lingered at my waist. She smiled before finally turning to walk toward her car. I kept an eye on her until she was locked inside and backing out of the driveway. This was getting to be too fucking hard. 

I sighed, walking through the house to turn everything off and lock up for the night. The cat followed behind me every step of the way. Once I got settled in the bed, I felt her jump onto the mattress. She tentatively walked over and climbed up on my chest, purring into my hand as I scratched behind her ears. 

“Maybe you're meant to be the only woman in my life. I should probably accept that and move on.” 

Her eyes drooped under my touch. A quiet meow squeaked out in response.  “I guess I should give you a proper name now, because Dude is not gonna cut it.” 

I thought for a minute. A plant name might be cute, right? “How about poppy? Ehh, no. That might raise some eyebrows given who your dad is. Let’s avoid drug references…”

I laughed to myself. It was so ridiculous that I had to think about stuff like that. 

“Hmm, how about Rosie? Na…that’s too girly. You’re kind of a bad ass critter catcher.”

She meowed loudly, almost like she was agreeing with me. I chuckled. “I’ve got it. Zinnia. Zee for short. That’s cool, right?”

She was asleep now. She could have cared less. “Zee it is. Zee my little warrior queen.” 

I got a text from Kat a few minutes later, letting me know she got home. I sent her a thumbs up emoji then set the phone on its docking station for the night. I somehow managed to drift off to sleep. 

I was woken up about ten minutes before my alarm went off by Zee, making biscuits in the crook of my arm and purring. I couldn’t even be upset about it because it was too fucking cute. This cat was already making me melt and had me wrapped around her paw. I nuzzled my face into her fur, she smelled so much better. It was nice to finally have her properly clean so I could cuddle her without being grossed out. I don’t know why I fought against having her for so long. It felt nice to have another living being in the house with me. 

I finally rolled out of bed and took a quick shower. It was show day, so I couldn’t be dicking around this morning. I threw on clean shorts and a t-shirt, then headed out. I stopped to get our usual cups of coffee before heading to Television City Studios. Kat and I were one of the first groups there, determined to get the rough run through out of the way. 

Kat was already chatting with the band when I walked in and handed her coffee over. We went through the routine a few times to get the camera blocking out of the way and gave feedback on the music. The other couples had started to filter in by the time we were on our last run through. I could see Alec sitting, waiting for his and Lana’s turn. I hadn’t seen him since the incident, so I wasn’t sure what the damage was. His face was pretty bruised up around the nose and under the eyes. I had to hold back the satisfied smile that was tugging at my lips as we walked by him. 

Kat did take a minute to add some makeup to my knuckles. They were still a little bruised. We didn’t want the cast to see it if we could help it. After she finished, we headed into hair and makeup to get slathered in more makeup and hair gel. 

Kat and I were seated next to each other again. We chatted with each other while they worked on us. I told her what I decided to name the cat. She laughed at first but wasn’t at all surprised that it was the name of a plant. She finally relented, admitting that it was cute and giving her seal of approval.

About 30 minutes after sitting down in the makeup chair, Anika approached me. She had a shy, but flirty smile on her face as she leaned against the vanity in front of my seat and purred out a “good morning.”

I smiled at her awkwardly, unsure of what was happening. Anika glanced toward Kat, then turned so that her back was toward her. 

“What are you doing after the show tonight?” she finally asked. 

I shrugged, “I don’t know yet. I suppose it depends on how tired I am.”

She laughed like I had just told the most hilarious joke. I now realized what was happening. Fucking hell. Please don’t do it. 

Her hand rested on my knee, “How about we go out for drinks after? Maybe we can hang out for a bit.” She gave a suggestive squeeze with her fingers as she spoke. 

I could tell from my reflection that I had the deer in headlights look. My brain completely shut down. I was not interested in the least. “Umm, I dunno. I really need to get home…and feed my cat.” 

“Oh, come on, just one drink. You can do that after.”

It was Kat who responded with an agitated tone, “You do realize he’s sober, right?”

Anika looked surprised, then laughed nervously. “Well in that case, you can just watch me drink. You don’t have to have anything with alcohol.”

I sat there with my mouth agape, not really sure how to respond to that. I couldn’t stop anyone from drinking around me, but damn. If she was trying to win me over, that was not the way to do it. 

“Are you a fucking idiot? He’s sober. He doesn’t wanna be around alcohol.” Kat was having none of this from her. 

Anika huffed, “I don’t think I asked you, Katarina. Mind your business. Shouldn’t you be worried about what your own man is up to?” 

I realized the ladies that had been doing our hair and makeup had stepped back. Kat looked like she was about to come up out of her seat after this girl. I cleared my throat, “Ummm thanks for the offer, Anika…but I think I’ll pass. Maybe another time?” I said nervously.

She gave me a disappointed look before flipping Kat off and walking out of the room. 

Kat puffed air out of her cheeks, “Ugh, I fucking hate that girl.”

The ladies who were working on us snickered before continuing with their task. 

I glanced over at Kat, “Thank you for that. I wasn’t really sure how to handle it.”

“Well, you better figure it out, because I’m sure she’s not done asking. Unless you wanna go out with her, of course.” Her tone was very clipped, and I wasn’t sure why. It surprised me. Did I do something wrong?

Kat was quieter after that, seemingly lost in her thoughts. I wasn’t sure how to handle it. It was making me feel off. I was happy when hair and makeup had finished with me. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. I made a beeline for my dressing room to get changed into my costume. I didn’t hear from Kat for a while, assuming they had dress rehearsals for the group performances.

While I waited, I texted my assistant and asked him to bring me some brunch to pass the time. It was a little early for lunch, but I was already starving. A few minutes after he dropped off the food, I got a text from Kat, asking where I was. 

Me: In my dressing room. I have 🌯🌯🌯. (three burrito emojis) 

It wasn’t even a full minute before there was a knock on the door.

“Come in.” I managed to garble out through a mouth full of steak goodness. Kat pushed the door open, standing there with a disapproving look and her hands on her hips. 

“You're hiding away to eat burritos? Really?”

My ability to speak left me as soon as I laid eyes on her. The only response I could muster was to hold out the extra burrito I had gotten for her. She looked fucking amazing in her costume. The hem was asymmetrical, showing off her toned legs. The shorter side revealed her entire right thigh. The front was lower cut than I had expected, showing the curve of her breast. From the sketches, I knew the back was non-existent. There was only enough of the fringy fabric to cover her ass. They had left her chestnut hair half down this time. The front of it was pinned back leaving the soft curls cascading down around her bare shoulders. The red shade of the dress, if you could even call it that, looked amazing against her golden skin and made her red lips pop. All of the exposed flesh definitely had little Bravo’s attention. It took everything in me to refocus my thoughts and get him under control. 

She raised a questioning brow at me, a smirk forming on her lips as she took the burrito, “You OK, Bravo?”

I nodded as I swallowed down the food I had been chewing even though I wasn’t ready, nearly getting choked in the process. I coughed uncontrollably for a moment, then reached for my drink. I ended up dropping burrito juices on the robe I had put on over my costume. 

Kat laughed, “Good thing you put the robe on. I wouldn’t want to explain that mess to the costumers or producers.”

After taking a long drink through the straw, I managed to get myself together enough to respond, “No kidding. I have an extra one hanging over there if you wanna use it while you eat. I know these are messy.” 

“Why yes, I think I will. Thank you.”

Whatever had been bothering her earlier seemed to have passed. She was back to her normal smiley self as we rushed through our meal. It helped me feel a little more at ease and out of my head. Once I was finished with my burrito, I pulled the robe off, checking to make sure I hadn’t gotten anything on the costume. I turned to ask Kat if she saw any evidence left behind. I didn’t miss how her eyes looked me up and down before focusing on my shirt. 

I couldn’t help teasing her, “You see something you like, Kit Kat?” 

She narrowed her eyes at me, “I was just getting a look at your costume. I hadn’t seen it on you yet.”

I stood back, pulled the blazer open, and did a little spin for her, “You like?”

“Oddly enough…yes. The 70’s vibe suits you. I can’t believe you have it buttoned all the way up though. I was beginning to think you had a button allergy.” 

I gave her a cocky grin, “If you wanna see a little more skin, just ask honey. I guess I probably should show a little more, in solidarity with you.” 

She rolled her eyes before taking her last bite. I turned to the mirror and undid the top few buttons. I could see her watching me in the reflection, shaking her head with a smirk on her face. A few minutes later, we headed toward the ballroom for our final dress rehearsal. As we stood on the outer perimeter of the dance floor, Alec and Lana came to stand behind us to wait their turn. Kat seemed to be ignoring them, which was surprising. I couldn’t help glancing over at Alec. My mouth seemed to have a mind of its own as I took in his appearance.

“It looks like hair and makeup did a knockout job on you today, Alec. Can’t even tell that your face is fucked up.” 

Kat snorted next to me, covering her mouth with her hand to hold back the laugh. I was surprised to see that Lana also had a hint of a smile on her lips. 

Alec sneered, “Don’t get too excited, Bravo. You didn’t hit me that hard…nothing is broken.”

I gave him a toothy smile, “Nothing but your pride, right?” 

“Fuck you, Bravo.” 

Kat turned to me, placing her hand on my chest, “That’s enough, you two. Shut up or I’ll throat punch both of you.” 

I was still smiling when I muttered a quick “sorry” her way. 

She gave me a playful wink that Alec couldn’t see before looping her arm with mine, forcing me to turn away from him. We were called to go through our routine soon after that. We nailed it the first time through. The lightning, music, and camera angles fell into place perfectly for us. We went through it two more times just to be sure. 

I don’t really know what came over me, I assumed it was because Alec was glaring at me the entire time, but I made sure to turn the flirtiness of our routine up a few notches. Kat didn’t seem to mind, meeting me where I was. Not that it was all an act. The way the fringy dress accentuated her hip movements really did almost have me on my knees. The woman’s body moved in ways that my brain could not handle. 

I have to admit, I was getting a small thrill out of knowing Alec was seeing how good Kat and I were together. I didn’t want to make things harder on her, but he really did need to be put in his place. He needed to know that Kat was desirable. 

I could feel the static crackling in the air between me and Kat as we walked off the dance floor, hand in hand. She had that look in her eyes again while we waited for final feedback. We were given the all clear to head to our final fitting after that. Kat kept hold of my hand the entire time. Only dropping it as soon as we ran into Stacia and Joe in the hallway. We moved to walk around them, but Stacia stopped us. I noticed she looked both of us over before she spoke to Kat, “Care to share what happened to Alec’s face?”

Kat’s eyes widened slightly, “What did Alec say happened to his face?” 

Stacia’s eyes narrowed, “He didn’t…just said he’s clumsy.” 

I worked to keep my face neutral, but I really wanted to laugh at the absurdity of everything.

Kat gave her a tight lipped smile, “Well, I won’t argue with that. He is clumsy.” 

“So, you’re not gonna spill the details?” Stacia prodded. 

“I’m afraid I don’t know the details. He was fine the last time I saw him…so I can’t help you there.”

I could tell by the way Stacia was looking at Kat that she didn’t believe her. It was almost like they were having some sort of standoff now, eyes locked in an intense gaze. Stacia’s eyes finally shifted over to me, her head tilting slightly. “How about you, Dieter? Do you know what happened to his face?”

I shrugged, “What makes you think I would know anything? I hardly see the guy.” 

Stacia studied my face for a moment, almost like she was trying to read if I was lying. Her lips eventually turned upward into a smirk, “Well, good luck you two. Your dress rehearsal looked perfect. You’ve really turned up the heat this week. I’m sure the viewers are gonna love it.” 

Joe stood by smiling like the Cheshire Cat through this entire interaction. Only mumbling a quiet “Good luck” as they walked away. Kat and I gave each other wide-eyed looks as we turned to head toward the wardrobe department for our final fitting. Once the fitting was done, we stopped in for hair and makeup touch ups. Kat had to go change for the opening performance while I went to the staging area to wait. 

Since I skipped out on watching the group dress rehearsals, this was my first time seeing it. I remembered Stacia saying that they were going to put more attention on Kat, but I didn’t realize how much. She was the performance. Everyone else might as well have been background dancers. She worked the room and the cameras like no other and had the audience going crazy. She was magnetic and I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. 

I lost interest once she was off the dance floor, opting to scroll through social media on my phone instead. I went down a rabbit hole of hashtags for the show, curious what people were saying. Kat was indeed a hot topic, and it was mostly positive. They fucking loved her and that made me happier than it probably should have. I definitely felt like Stacia was getting a heavy dose of karma after insinuating that Kat wasn’t that good in the beginning. 

I eventually came across a Dieter and Kat hashtag. I thought twice about clicking it but did so anyway. There were apparently a lot of shippers for us out there. It now made more sense why Stacia and Joe were pushing that narrative. I was honestly surprised at the support for it. Usually, my fans flipped the fuck out anytime I was linked to any sort of serious romantic partner, but they seemed ok with this. I saw Kat coming in my periphery, so I hit the hashtag ‘follow’ button then locked my phone just as she made it over to me.

We were buzzing with anticipation as we awaited our turn. Kat hooked up her earbuds to her phone, “You ready for some hype music?” 

I nodded, “What’s it gonna be today? Eye of the Tiger?” 

She chuckled, “Oh no. I only pull out the big guns when it’s serious.”

She handed me one bud and my ear was immediately filled with the familiar guitar riffs of Walk this Way by Aerosmith and Run DMC. “Yaaaaaas! I approve!” I said with a wide grin. She laughed, bobbing her head to the beat while my fingers played the chords on my air guitar. It was exactly what we needed to get hyped up. 

Before we knew it, it was our turn. I was strangely calm as we stepped out onto the dance floor and took our places. Kat’s confidence and sparkling eyes seemed to keep me grounded in the moment as the spotlight dropped down on her. I stood off to the side in the darkness, waiting until it was time to join her. She opened with the flirty strut and hip shaking thing she does so effortlessly before I came into the light, playing the lovesick puppy matching her every move while she shimmed and gyrated around me. There were a couple of instances where there was no space between us as our bodies moved as one to the beat. Kat’s cheek rested against mine, our fronts pressed together, our bodies twisting downward before popping back up for me to dip her backwards. She pushed me away dramatically before we transitioned into a lock step sequence followed by cross over breaks and a chase with full turns. We ended with a flourish as I spun Kat around and dipped her backward again, this time pulling her leg upward into our ending pose. 

When the lights dimmed, I pulled Kat upward and hugged her against me as she bounced up and down. Her arms wrapped around my neck as her cheek pressed firmly against mine. “I swear, that was fucking perfect. We killed it,” she said loud enough for me to hear it. I could feel her hot breath against my ear as she spoke. I couldn’t help burying my face in her neck for a brief moment. I inhaled her scent quickly, it was sweet like berries and a spring day. I didn’t want to let go, but I had to. The producers were finally getting what they wanted, our whole interaction since stepping foot on the dance floor was over the top flirty and sexy. More so than it had been during rehearsals as we continued matching each other’s energy, not holding anything back. If the connection between us continued to grow like this every week, it was only a matter of time before something happened between us. Having this much chemistry was unsustainable in its current form. 

While I did my interview and waited for the scores, Kat stood hugging me around the middle with both arms. I wrapped one of mine around her and pulled her tightly into my side. 

The judges didn’t really have any feedback for us. They mostly gushed about the sexiness of the performance and how in sync we were with each other. Noting that we probably had a stronger connection than any other couple on the show this season. My head was spinning from the adrenaline of it all before we even got our scores. My knees felt like they were going to give out as they started calling out the numbers. They gave us two 8’s and two 9’s. Kat and I were both in shock as we stood with our mouths agape. She had to give me a little shake to bring me back down to earth as the host asked how I was feeling about having the highest score of the night. 

Afterwards, we walked back to the staging area with smiles on our faces. Several cast members congratulated us as we passed by. We found a spot in the back corner, away from the others. Kat pulled me in for another hug, “That is the highest score I have ever gotten. I think I’m in shock.” 

I chuckled, “I know, I’m in shock. That was…wow. I have no words.”  

“We should celebrate with a big greasy burger after this,” she said with a toothy grin. 

I nodded, my hand still resting on Kat’s hip after she pulled away from the hug. Her hand sat on the back of my shoulder as she leaned into my side. We stayed like that while watching the next couple’s performance. The energy was still buzzing between us when we were interrupted by Alec. I noticed his eyes drop down to where my hand was on Kat, anger briefly flashed across his face, but he managed to compose himself. 

“Kat, can we talk for a minute?” he finally asked. 

Her lips set into a tight line before she finally nodded and pulled away from me. He’s not really gonna do this now, is he?

They moved further away into the back corner, but I could still hear him begging her for another chance. I rolled my eyes, trying not to listen, but I honestly couldn’t help it. 

“Baby, please, I swear. I’m not gonna fuck up again. I’m really gonna try to do better. I went to an AA meeting yesterday. I haven’t drank at all since that night. I feel terrible and I realize I can’t keep acting like this. I’ll do whatever you want. I’m still going to anger management, I’ll do therapy too if that’s what you really want. Please, I’ll do anything.”

I chanced a glance in their direction, Kat looked like her resolve was breaking. Fucking asshole. He was saying all the right things and I bet he didn’t mean a word of it. 

“Alec, I can’t keep doing this.”

“I know baby, I don’t blame you. Just one more chance, please.” 

Kat sighed, “OK. This is the LAST time though. You fuck up again and I’m done. It’s on you. You hear me?”

I didn’t even hear Alec’s response. I felt like the air had been knocked out of me. I had gotten my hopes up - let my fantasies of her being mine run wild and infect my senses. I felt dizzy for a different reason now, realizing my breathing was turning shallow.

My attention was drawn back to Kat when I heard my name. 

“You need to get over whatever your issue is with Dieter. He’s done nothing wrong and doesn’t deserve to be treated like this. I’m not gonna put up with it. I want you to apologize for trying to hit him. That was on you.” 

I don’t want his fucking apology. 

“I’ll do whatever you want, just let me come home with you tonight. Please? So, we can talk, and I can show you how sorry I am. Let me make it up to you.” 

She puffed air through her cheeks before nodding, “Fine. Whatever.” 

I felt sick. I needed to leave. It felt like the walls were closing in on me and everything was suddenly too loud. Sweat was beading at the nape of my neck and running down my back. I felt like I was gonna have a fucking panic attack. 

I turned to leave, nearly bumping into Kat who was now holding Alec’s hand at her side. I just stared at them wide-eyed. I could see the concern on Kat’s face, but I didn’t care.

“Dieter man, listen…I’m sor…” Alec started to say. 

“Save it. I don’t want your fucking apology.” 

I glanced down at Kat, “Enjoy your evening. I’m not feeling well, I need to go.” 

I could hear Kat calling after me as I left the staging area and moved toward my dressing room. I quickly changed out of my costume and stuffed it into the dry cleaning bag, sitting it outside my door for pickup. I closed the door behind me and locked it. I sat down in the chair, my head in my hands as I fought to control my breathing. The tears pooled in my eyes as I tried to reason through why I was reacting like this. It wasn’t normal. The hurt was too much. 

I was startled from my thoughts by a loud knock on the door. 

“Dieter, are you in there?” It was Kat. I didn’t answer her. 

My phone buzzed with several incoming text messages. They were from her, but I didn’t bother to look at them. I couldn’t. 

I exhaled slowly, running my hands down my face. What is my fucking problem? It was then that the realization finally hit me. I was in love with her. “Fuck.”

Next: Week 4

A/N: Y'all ready to come at me with pitchforks? Don't worry, it won't last long. Alec is a class A fuck up. You know it's only a matter of time. So, there was a lot that went down in this chapter. Now that you've read Dieter's side, who do you think is down worse, Dieter or Kat? There was a lot of flirty banter in this chapter and I am here for it. Do we think Kat was intentionally flirting? What do we think about them singing together? I can confirm, this will not be the only time that happens... We got a small glimpse of plant dad and cat dad Dieter in this part. Are we swooning yet? How much did we love Dieter being a smart ass to Alec during dress rehearsals? I feel like we need more snarky Dieter. What about Dieter's revelation at the end? How do you think that is going to affect his interactions with Kat going forward? Now for some fun stuff... a big shout out to @readingiskeepingmegoing for introducing me to one of the music artist featured in this chapter. I. AM. OBSESSED. The three songs referenced in this chapter are linked below as well as their performance song. I have also included another fun Cha Cha video that I took inspo from.

CP Taglist: @secretelephanttattoo @titlee78 @maggiemayhemnj @legendary-pink-dot @morallyinept

@survivingandenduring  @wannab-urs @harriedandharassed @hisandsnakes @misstokyo7love

@readingiskeepingmegoing @runningmom94 @sin-djarin @cakipy-blog @missladym1981

@guelyury @weho2kcmo @alokaerza @girlofchaos @trulybetty

@rhoorl @bitchwitch1981 @madnessofadaydreamer @darkheartgatita @jazzloveslatte

@timpletance @musings-of-a-rose @samiamproductions @myloveistoolittle @for-a-longlongtime 

@copperhalfcent @auteurdelabre @drewharrisonwriter @burntheedges @stevie75

@bunniboo0015 @quicax3 jackie923 @sherala007 @pastelnap @pedrostories

@angelofsmalldeath-codeine @jessthebaker @rebel-held @gwendibleywrites @senorabond

👉 If your name is marked out, it wouldn’t let me tag you. ☹️

If you would like to be added to the tag list, let me know in the comments or shoot me a DM.

Credits: Support/MDNI Dividers: @cafekitsune Disco Divider: @deadbranch

[multitrackdrifting]

my concise Final Fantasy 16 review

[physalian]

What No One Tells You About Writing #4 (100 Follower Special!)

Have you got any that deserve to be on these lists? Don’t be shy! Send ‘em over.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

*This list contains mentions of assault, #4

1. Zero cursing is better than censored cursing

I made the mistake in the early days of writing a self-censoring character, and every “curse” she said just took the teeth out of the rest of the statement. I’m talking gosh, darn, dang, etc, not world-specific idioms a la “scruffy nerf herder” or “dunderhead” instead of “dumbass”.

Look to any American TV show that so, so badly wants to use f*ck or sh*t but has to appease the sensitive conservatives who still somehow believe strong language is worse than graphic violence and horrifying psychological damage. For shame! Your characters can be angry without expletives, so rework your sentences to include equally damning insults that don’t resort to potty mouths if you’re concerned about ratings.

Or go full-throttle into the idioms of the world or the time period like Pirates of the Caribbean. Or just… don’t. There’s zero modern cursing in the Lord of the Rings adaptation and not a single sentence that censors itself. The dialogue is above vulgarity and feels more *fantastical* that way anyway.

2. “Yeah, you aren’t the target audience.”

It’s kind of hilarious seeing the range of reader reactions to two characters I intend to have a romantic relationship. Some will go “I ship it!” after the first page of them together… and another will go “wait, I thought they were just friends” up until they kiss. Sometimes you might be too subtle, other times it might be better to just accept that you can’t rewrite your entire book to please one naysayer.

When I’m pitched a fantasy adventure book that turns out to be a by-the-numbers romance where no one is allowed to be a peasant and every important character is royalty in some way, with a way cooler fantasy backdrop, I get severely disappointed. That doesn’t mean the book is bad, it just means I’m not the target audience.

3. There is no greater character sin than making them boring

Unless you live in the wacky world we find ourselves in where any flaws whatsoever are apparently harmful depictions of so-and-so and not at all written with things like ~nuance~. I will gush over your heinous villain committing atrocities because he’s *interesting*. I will not remember Bland Love Interest who’s a generic everyman with zero compelling or intriguing traits or flaws.

There’s another tumblr post out there that I cannot find that says something like this, and I believe the post goes “his crimes are fiction, my annoyance is real”. Swap annoyance for boredom and you get what I mean. So, I don’t care what your character does so long as they’re memorable. I will either root for their victory or their doom, but I do need *something* to root for.

4. The line between “gratuitous” and “respectful” is actually very thick

Less what no one tells *you* about writing and more what no one tells screenwriters. Y’all do realize you can write a character who experiences assault without actually writing the assault, right? Fade to black, have them mention it in their backstory, or have the horrific aftermath as they come to terms with it. An abrupt cut to this devastated character when it’s all over and they’re alone with themselves can be incredibly poignant and powerful. This goes with anything sensitive, especially if it’s not coming from experience.

If you want to write it or film it respectfully, romanticizing assault, for instance, is when it’s framed as if either character has earned or “deserves” it. If the narrative in any way argues that it's justified. The victim might have "earned" it for any of the BS reasons we use in the real world, or the perpetrator might've "earned" it because of temptation, desire, pressure to assert dominance, etc. Representation is important, but are you “representing” to shed light on a misunderstood and maligned topic, or are you doing it to satisfy a fetish or bias in yourself?

5. Don’t let your eyes get bigger than your stomach

Fantasy has no limitations, which means you can dig way deeper into the well of your worldbuilding than you realize, until you look up and realize you’re stuck down there. I have never seen a more obvious inevitable disaster looming than the pilot of GoT season 5. Why? Nobody has any plans. They’re all just led around by whatever side quest the writers throw them on, twiddling their thumbs until the writers deign to pull the trigger on the White Walkers.

To the point that what should be a major character can skip an entire season because his arc is meaningless. Everything in the last half of that show was one big “eventually” while the story toiled around in an ever-expanding cast of characters and set pieces (seriously, it’s hilarious how jarring the extended version of the theme music became compared to the pilot episode to fit all these locations).

When you have too many directionless characters, too many plot elements, too many ideas you want to fully mature and get their due spotlight and then somehow combine them all together for a common foe in the end, writing can get tedious and frustrating very quickly. Why, I imagine, the book series remains unfinished. Fantasy is great for being able to create such complex worlds, but don’t be the snake that eats its own tail trying too hard.

6. No one cares about your agenda if you insult them to push it

This deserves its own post but here we go. Peddling an agenda is a paradox: those who agree with you won’t need to be preached to, and those who you want to persuade will instead reject you further because they feel belittle and disrespected. This is why so many recent “strong female characters” fail on both sides of the aisle. Feminists see an annoying caricature of the movement they’re passionate about. Antifeminists see an insufferable, shallow, liberal mouthpiece when they just want to be entertained. You have failed both sides, congrats.

The answer? Write a strong, nuanced, well-developed character. Then make them a woman. I know this has been said before but this BS keeps happening so clearly the screenwriters aren’t listening. Entertain me first. Entertain me so well I don’t even realize I’m learning.

7. Today’s audiences won’t react the same way as tomorrow’s

Sometimes genres or tropes get oversaturated and need a few years to cool off before audiences are receptive to them again—teen dystopia, anyone?—that doesn’t mean your story is inherently bad because it’s unpopular (nor does it mean it’s amazing because it is popular).

You should always write the book you want to read, not the book that chases trends. I can pick up a well-written teen dystopia I’ve never read before and enjoy it. I can continue to ignore Divergent because it has nothing to say. Write the book you want to read, but then accept that you might make no money because no one else wants to read it, not because they think it’s bad. And, who knows? You might get a boom of chatter months or years down the line when readers stumble upon an uncut gem.

8. Your characters don’t age with you

Depending on how long you’ve been working on your world and what age you were when you started, the characters, concepts, morals, and story you set out to tell might no longer reflect who you want to be as an author when all is said and done. Writing can take years, some of which can be incredibly turbulent and life changing. I wrote the first draft of my first original novel in my freshman year of college. Those characters and that draft are now unrecognizable and has left a world I’ve poured my heart and soul into in limbo.

I’ve slowly creeped up my characters’ ages. My writing has matured dramatically. The themes I wanted to explore in the height of the 2016 election are just demoralizing now. That book was my therapeutic outlet and, as consequence, my characters sometimes reflect some awful moods and mindsets that I was in when writing them. But nothing in that world grows without me tending to it. It’s not alive. Despite all the work I’ve done, there’s still more to be done, maybe even restarting the plot from the ground up. When I think of what no one told me about writing, staring at characters designed by someone I’m not anymore is the hardest reality to accept.

—

If you think I missed something, check out parts 1-3 or toss your own hat into the ring. Give me romance tropes. Mystery, thriller, historical fiction, bildungsromans, memoires, children’s books, whatever you want! Give me stuff you wish you’d known before editing, publishing, marketing, and more. 

Also, don’t forget to vote in the dialogue poll!

[blacknedsoul-blog]

The divorce of the White Raven was the chronicle of a foretold death

Now that the White Raven divorce officially begins tomorrow. I wanted to do a little review of why I've been looking forward to this moment for over 40 chapters and the delicious drama to come. 

The chapters of Annabel and Lenore talking in the greenhouse are wonderful for many reasons, but mainly because they lay the groundwork for what the conflicts in their relationship will be from now on, simply put: these two just aren't on the same page. 

Annabel wants to save them both, Lenore wants to save everyone.

Annabel calls Lenore "my favorite," "my darling," and "my petal"; Lenore understands "my companion animal" (and Annabel doesn't bother to clarify). 

Lenore says they are friends; Annabel clearly knows they were a couple.

Annabel tries to kiss her goodbye on the lips; Lenore kisses her hand. 

As the comic progresses -and especially with the last chapter released by the Freepass- the more fundamental root of this problem becomes more apparent: the White Raven don't really know each other, they think they do and, incidentally, insist on not listening to each other.

The Annabel Lenore Knows

The "disappointment rooms" are a Victorian myth (I say "myth" because there is no evidence that they were a widespread practice, although there are cases like Blanche Monnier's, they did not seem to be particularly common. But they exist in this comic, so they will be treated as real in this essay) were isolated rooms where a family member with a mental illness or physical deformity was kept isolated from the world, making him or her an outcast. 

We don't know the real reasons why Annabel wanted to get close to Lenore (this scene make it clear that it was of her own free will, something Lenore knows), but anyway, this was extremely strange at the time, the kind of thing that could severely damage someone's reputation if it became public.

In other words, for Lenore, Annabel not only pulled her out of the spiral of madness she was in, made her feel alive again, and treated her like a person (something that hadn't happened since Theo's death); she also put her reputation on the line to get closer to "the crazy woman in the attic". 

Add to that the fact that Annabel, like Lenore, is someone with an extremely protective personality, albeit in a much more subtle way: containing Lenore's outbursts by trying to distract her, complimenting her when she doubts herself, trying to give her a sense of purpose by asking her to write her a song, and automatically containing her own panic attack when she sees Lenore's horrified expression. 

To Lenore, Annabel is someone who would rather destroy something that makes her happy and be hated than let Lenore suffer for her absence.

This is a gigantic contrast to the Annabel readers know, yes, the basics are there: she is seen to genuinely care about Prospero, and gratuitous violence against someone who cannot defend himself infuriates her. But Lenore does not dimension how Annabel's methods of survival (shaped by her trauma of not being heard, reasons why she machines her way through people) make her a Machiavellian, manipulative and cold-blooded person. 

The last time Lenore saw Annabel in a situation where she could do nothing, she saw her give up. But readers know that this time, Annabel is willing to burn absolutely everything down to get them both out of it.

That is why the Duke affair takes her by surprise. Never mind that Annabel has said she's willing to destroy or trample anyone to get out of Nevermore. The Annabel Lenore knows would not be capable of that.

The Lenore Annabel knows

This part is more difficult to analyze, because unfortunately Annabel's memories are tied to big mysteries within the plot. On the plus side, this comic is excellent at dropping large amounts of information at the point of detail. 

The most obvious: Annabel is carrying around the ring Lenore had when she burned down her house, in other words, "Leo's" charade worked so well that the two of them got engaged. In other words: Annabel has seen this woman burn down a family home (perhaps with servants inside), fake her own death, steal, take a continental trip, change her identity and pose as a man, all to save her from an arranged marriage. 

A very "you and me against the world" situation. A scenario Lenore made possible by lying to basically everyone, even Annabel herself, who must have spent at least a few months believing Lenore was dead until "Leo" knocked on her door. 

Add to that these two scenes: in the first, Annabel seems pretty convinced that Lenore has a good idea of what's going on here...

And in this one, Annabel thinks Lenore is doing this out of guilt.

Again, this is a huge contrast to the Lenore we readers have seen throughout the comic: a person who desperately wants to show others the affection and security that no one (except Theo and Annabel) has given her. A mix of a naturally vivacious and caring personality with traumas from which her need for control stems from anxiety and a terrible fear of abandonment. 

In this light, Annabel putting Duke in danger to keep Montressor away from Lenore was something that was informed, known, and something that Lenore would agree with, because the Lenore she knows would be willing to sacrifice anything to achieve her goal. 

In that sense, that scene is foreshadowing. Not only did Lenore trick her into using a memory that Annabel does not have, but it comes right after Annabel confidently says that "no one knows Lenore better than she does.

The masks

One of the most painful tragedies of the White Raven relationship (besides the fact that it ended with both of them dead) is that one of the two has had to wear a mask on both sides of it: Annabel pretending that this relationship isn't as deeply ingrained in her as it really is, and then Lenore doing the whole "Leo" thing to be "the perfect fiancé" in everyone else's eyes.

Their divorce is imminent because both of them (especially Annabel) are projecting onto the other the expectations they have that are a product of the few memories they have been able to recover, rather than really looking at the person in front of them. 

I'm going to enjoy all the beautiful character development that comes from here on out, because they both have a lot of unpacking to do separately from this divorce arc. And, I hope that, when they can finally reconcile, we also get to see how, for the first time in the history of their relationship, Annabel and Lenore can actually see eye to eye.

[httpskuzuu]

Softer

hola :D fyodor is alive - fyodor esta vivo I was thinking about making a masterlist or something like that, I don't know if when I upload this I will have it published or how I will do it

anyway, I really liked this and enjoyed writing it, it's longer than I usually post but Idk, by the way, I hated translating this, it was a pain in the ass, but that's what I get for joining a mostly English community ññññññññññññ-- well, this is mostly inspired by Sinner by TheBloodySadist, you can find it in Ao3 if you want to read it, I had an obsession with it a few months xd

jaja this has gone on too long, well, adiós adiós :p

Yandere!Fyodor x Reader

English is not my mother tongue, sorry for the mistakes

sumary: You tried to escape and now you have to take the consequences, but you make something change in Fyodor... (juju, mistery >:p) Pt.2

tw: yandere behavior, kidnapping, failed escape attempt, explicit punishment, explicit violence, blood, broken bones, humiliation¿, manipulation, brainwashing, stockholm syndrome, reader needs therapy, stabbing, nudity, sedative, Fyodor is a fucking tw

You tremble under the weight of the boot on your ribs, you swear that at some point you hear them cracking along with an agonizing pain throughout your body.

The pressure on your body makes it impossible for you to breathe properly, which is a serious problem considering you are hyperventilating. Every breath burns your exhausted lungs and aggravates the pain.

You'd ask Fyodor to kill you already if it weren't for the fact that your throat is in a terrible condition from so much screaming and pleading.

"Well, I see I can't trust you, can I?" Despite the situation, Fyodor's tone provokes you inner anger, sounding so sarcastic. Something deep inside you tells you it's not sarcasm, it's concern, but you can't believe it, especially not coming from Fyodor.

You imagine that, if you had the strength at this moment, you would kill him with your own hands. You know well you wouldn't be able to, but it's pleasant to think about it.

"I do everything for you, and still you try to escape." He puts more pressure against your ribs and you've never felt as much pain as you do now. "You spoiled brat." He growls and his Russian accent becomes much thicker.

He removes his foot from your body and you can breathe. Relief courses through your veins and, out of pure instinct, you thank him for that act of kindness. He could have stretched it out longer, put more pressure on you and broken your ribs more, but he was merciful and gave you a break…. A break, you know that your punishment is not yet over.

You don't know yourself and your thoughts. One thing you have to hand it to Fyodor is that his training is really effective, but you're tougher than that, or at least you like to think so. Realistically, right now, you just want to curl up against him.

A kick in the side snaps you out of your thoughts, you moan and cry from the pain, your throat burning with fire. You never want to utter a sound again in your life after this.

"Aw, you poor thing… Does it hurt? Now you know how I feel every time you leave me." He's lying, you know that, but that doesn't take away the guilt that settles in your head free-form.

You shouldn't have run away, Fyodor isn't even that bad if you behaved: no gratuitous physical harm and he takes better care of you than you could ask of a kidnapper. You were an idiot, you deserved all this for not appreciating your life with Fyodor properly. God… Why did you try to escape in the first place? The Russian would always would catch you, you were just causing trouble.

Ignoring your destroyed throat, you decide to speak. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I won't try to escape again. Please give me another chance, I'll be good…"

Fyodor kneels down next to your agonized body. He puts his hand against your tear-stained cheek, at first you flinch, thinking he was going to hurt you more, but then you lean almost automatically against his cold hand.

You cry harder as you feel Fyodor's gentle touch, you don't quite understand what's wrong with you, you just know that you want to melt against his hand. You close your eyes and tremble. You want a hug from him, you know you shouldn't want that, that it's disgusting, he kidnapped you and hurt you, but at a time like this, when you've been disobedient, he's still showing you affection….

"Shh, it's okay, милый." He catches the falling tears with his thumb. "I know you're sorry, but your punishment isn't over yet." You automatically tense up and slowly open your eyes to look at the man in front of you, there is a smirk of superiority painted on his face, observing your pathetic appearance.

You don't dare open your mouth to complain because deep down you know very well that you deserve it, you deserve the pain for being so bratty and causing inconvenience to Fyodor. You accept what lies ahead of you and let Fyodor pull his hand away from you.

With his grip firmly on your hip, he guides you to turn around. You keep the cheek that was previously receiving the loving touch against the ground a thousand times colder than Fyodor.

You concentrate exclusively on the Russian's hands, it's just an idiotic attempt to ignore the pain all over your body. He pulls up your shirt, leaving your back bare against the cold, why is everything so cold all of a sudden? Fyodor is too, in a way he brings you peace of mind, it's like he's everywhere, even in the air…. What the hell are you thinking? You firmly believe you're delusional at this point, these are not your real thoughts, it's clear to you, he put all these idiotic ideas in your head and now you can't get them out. It's agonizing in a certain way.

The only thing you hear is your irregular breathing, if it wasn't for Fyodor's hand clamped on your hip, you would think you were alone right now, and you don't know if you would like that more or less.

Something sharpening presses against your upper back. Everything breaks down in a moment as Fyodor makes a straight cut across your entire back. It hurts horrendously, especially as the blood starts to spurt out. You start to feel dizzy and for a few moments you convince yourself you're going to pass out, but no, your body is still holding on, focused solely on Fyodor's hand.

"Breathe, моя любовь. It's just a cut." You repeat Fyodor's last sentence in your head like a mantra: it's just a cut, it's just a cut. He could have done it much worse to you, you were fine, just a cut.

You take comfort in closing your eyes hard and imagining that you are once again a child at the doctor's office, that you are simply having blood drawn for a blood test because you have not been feeling very well lately. You make a fist with your hand and clench it, digging your fingernails deep into your palm, it's as if you are clutching the hand of one of your parents for comfort. There is no more pain, it's okay, it's all right-

Another cut, this time horizontal, creates a cross on your back. You don't care, you're at the hospital, and you're safe, nothing will happen to you. It's just a cut.

Fyodor stabs the weapon into your side. You open your eyes wide as a torn scream comes out of your mouth.

Fuck it all, do you really deserve this? Have you been so horrible? You assume that Fyodor simply hates you, that he wants to torture you.

Fyodor pulls the weapon out of your body, you look out of the corner of your eye and the wound doesn't seem to be that bad, you thought it was deeper because of the pain, but no, it was something apparently superficial. You didn't want to know how much it would hurt if he had really stabbed you deeper.

Fyodor's voice right next to your ear startles you. "Sorry, was that too much? Did I hurt my little one too much?" That mocking tone again, but you hear a hint of love and concern, or so you assume. No, it's impossible for Fyodor to hate you, if he hated you there wasn't that hint of love, was there? If he hated you, he wouldn't say to you like that: my little one, his little one.

"I can't take it anymore! Please, Fyodor!" He leaves a chaste kiss on the back of your neck, and you cry disconsolately, you don't know why, but you do know it's not because of the pain, the pain doesn't matter anymore.

"You can." Fyodor's voice is the ultimate authority right now, and if he says you can take it, it's because you can. "You don't want to disappoint me, do you?"

After those words you instantly panic, you desperately shake your head, of course you don't want to disappoint him! You have to accept your punishment, it was your fault in the first place.

"Brace yourself, dear." Fyodor leaves a trail of kisses from the nape of your neck all the way down your back, above the vertical cut. You assume he's filled his lips with blood and hate yourself at the thought of how attractive he'd look like that.

A new cut interrupts your hatred. You scream, but nothing more, you can take it, for Fyodor….

It's just one cut.

You don't know how many cuts there are next, you are not able to count them. You don't feel your throat anymore, but miraculously it still works, your screams are still coming out of it, you are relieved because you still want to keep your voice to talk to Fyodor, to ask him to hold you.

Fyodor removes your shirt completely and lays it aside on the floor. He holds you firmly and helps you sit up, any movement is hell for your ribs, but you endure it by concentrating on your kidnapper, on his loving but steadfast touch.

You look at him dizzy, teary-eyed and shattered. He is smiling, you have not disappointed him. Your head hurts as you cry disconsolately against his chest again.

"What's wrong? Why are you crying now? Your punishment is over, I won't hurt you anymore."

"You…" You're unable to speak, it's too much at once, the pain and your thoughts coming together in a ball of discomfort. You shake your head and hug him tightly.

"Are you afraid?" You weakly shake your head. It's true that Fyodor scares you, especially on these occasions when he punishes you, but you're not crying about it now.

Funny, you don't know why you're crying, but you do know what you're not crying about.

Fyodor is silent, thinking about why you're crying. "Is it about the pain?" You deny again.

Fyodor hums thoughtfully. "If you don't tell me what it is, I can't help you." You ponder on that: does he want to help you? Is he serious?

You make the feeble attempt to gather your thoughts and speak. "It's just- I don't know" Your voice comes out shakier than you wish it would. "When you touch me… It feels so good, I don't deserve it, I don't-"

"Oh, I see… Aren't you crying because of something bad? Is it because it feels good?" You nod quickly, yes, that's as close as you feel. You're happy when it touches you, when it's good to you. Were you crying out of happiness? Well, you guess so, although it feels more depressing.

"It's okay, relax." He leaves a kiss in front, and it breaks you inside. "You've taken the punishment very well, come on, you deserve to be taken care of."

The process of getting up from the floor is horrible, not only because of the pain all over your body and your numb legs, but because your mind doesn't stop spinning around Fyodor's last sentence. It feels horrible and so good at the same time that your mind is only around one specific person.

He helps you up and you let him lean your useless body against his. He guides you through the house, being patient with your slow pace. He's mostly silent, except when he tells you how well you're doing or that not long to go. Since when did Fyodor know how to talk so pleasantly?

You reach the bathroom, he sits you on the toilet and turns on the bathtub faucet. While it is filling, Fyodor takes some pills out of a drawer that you have always found locked. You don't know what the pills are or what they're for, but he hands you one and you take it without question.

You let your head fall against Fyodor's stomach, even though he is standing upright he doesn't move an inch and lets you be comfortable, he strokes your hair and you sigh lovingly. You don't deserve it, but you need more of this Fyodor, the soft Fyodor who takes care of you and makes you feel good, what did you have to do in the future to keep it in this shape? If you need to be damaged for that, well, you are willing to do it.

"The tub is full." He warns and moves a little away from you, causing you to raise your head. You miss a little that he's touching you, even though he's only been separated of you for three seconds. He holds you under your armpits and helps you up. "I need you to stand up on your own, can you, дорогой?"

You try not to focus so much on Fyodor asking you if you could do it instead of just sending you the order, and focus on standing on your own.

The Russian undresses you completely, his hands are soft, and you feel them all over your body. They are so cold, and you are so cold too now that you are naked. You are vulnerable, now more than ever, and Fyodor's fixed gaze on you disturbs you. You are simply an easy prey to hunt, his prey.

He doesn't look like a hunter now, as much as his gaze is like knives stabbing through every spot he focuses on, you think he's not doing it on purpose. Fyodor doesn't know how to be nice, he never has. He knows how to be neutral: he can keep you alive and give you necessities, but he can't kiss you and keep you warm.

But there's something wrong with all this, he's being warm because since when are his hands so soft against your battered body? You need him, you need him so much it hurts, is this his way of being nice? Okay, fine, you accept it without complaint.

When he puts you in the tub you want to die, the cuts on your back burn at the contact of the water. You don't dare say a word at that or ask Fyodor to pull you out, you're afraid you'll upset him, that he'll get tired of you being so weak and whiny and stop being gentle. Fyodor could have left you lying on the cold floor, bleeding, but he didn't. You can't be an unbearable child to him.

The Russian starts washing your body, putting special emphasis on your cuts and the wound on your side. You look at his serious face with need, why were you only now realizing how handsome he was? Mmmh, you must have been blind before. He notices obviously your shy look on his lips and he smiles, that smile indicating that he was superior to you and despite that, he was still keeping you alive and forgiving of everything you did.

He approaches you and gives you the only thing you needed to be satisfied for today: a kiss. It reminds you of all the good things, strangely enough in those memories Fyodor also appears and disturbs you minimally.

You question yourself that, maybe, Fyodor does know how to be gentle.

This is the proof you need to know that now this was a new version, right? He kissed you. You feel a warmth spreading throughout your body, now it is warm, and his hands are warm too. There is a big change in temperature and it feels like heaven.

After that, Fyodor continued to wash you with special care, ignoring how your face might explode from how red it was.

The only thing that could crush the heat was tiredness, you almost fell asleep a couple of times, but you didn't want to fall asleep because it would be like wasting time with this soft Fyodor, what if tomorrow he returned to his serious and impassive face? You can't waste this time or you would regret it.

"Go to sleep, take it easy. I'll take you to bed when I'm finished." You looked at him as the most merciful being in the world. He cared about you…

You hold back your sobs for these acts of kindness, you don't want to cry anymore, not only to avoid possible discomfort in Fyodor, but for yourself, the headache is unbearable.

You let yourself fall asleep, with your head supported on your knees and Fyodor's soothing touch.

You had a nightmare which you don't remember, or don't want to remember. You wake up with your body held in Fyodor's arms, warm and gentle.

Since when did everything become so homey? Homey? Would that be the right word? Describing any situation involving Fyodor with that word doesn't feel natural to you.

You find it hard to feel your body, and your thoughts don't flow as quickly and aggressively as they used to. It's like being enveloped in a cloud, full of comfort and calmness.

You just feel something on your side, at the site of the shallow stab wound. You think maybe it's some bandage, but your limbs are asleep and too comfortable against Fyodor to move them to check. Otherwise, you feel nothing, only someone else's hand on your lower belly, it's extremely intimate in your perspective.

You turn your sleepy head and glance sideways at Fyodor. He seems calm, looking at you, his face is emotionless again and it scares you. You come to convince yourself that he is still the soft Fyodor, if he wasn't his hand wouldn't be on you, he still hasn't changed, you repeat that to yourself until you believe it.

"… Fyodor, do you know what?" Your voice comes out weak and hoarse, you wonder how soon your throat will heal. You're thankful you can't feel it well, so there's no pain anymore.

"Mmmh?"

"I think I love you."

"Do you?" There is a change, minuscule, but a change.

You nod and look away from his face, you can't stand it, no. There has been a change, you don't know in what. There's been a change, a change! Is it good or bad? You want to think it's a nice thing.

"You're different."

"I am? In what way?"

"You're softer, something nice."

"You're drugged, you don't talk sense."

"But you're different! Seriously, you never take care of me."

Silence rules the room and it hurts. Why did you talk? What idiocy, it's your fault everything that happens now, all your fault.

"You cried with happiness when I helped you sit up." Your gaze returns to the other.

"I know, so what? You want me to cry again?" There are no bad intentions behind your comment, there really aren't. You feel your brain empty, and you can't quite interpret the situation, what is Fyodor trying to tell you? Is he angry? Is he going to punish you again? It's exhausting to use your brain in this state, so you just give up and go with the flow.

"No, I don't want that." The silence stretches a little longer and, for just a few seconds, Fyodor looks away. He looks away. "I just… I thought maybe you'd be happier if I treated you good."

"Ah…" He wanted you to be happy? Really?

"I know I hurt you, but you know I only do it when you deserve it, don't you?" You nod and the cuts on your back burn for a few seconds. "Good. I really want you to be happy, with me."

You feel like at any moment the old Fyodor will appear through the door and say something like it was all a test, and then punish you for failing it. It's a horrible feeling, but you come to believe that it will seriously pass.

"So… Are you still going to be soft?"

"Yes, only if you are obedient in return."

Yes, yes, yes. He's going to keep being gentle. For some reason your chest hurts, and you sob, Fyodor has a few drops of surprise in his expression. You hide from his gaze and just focus on the yes, it's like releasing a horrible burden out of your body. You weren't afraid he was lying, something told you he wasn't, his expression maybe, or his voice, or….

"Are you crying with happiness now too?"

"I like the soft Fyodor…"

"Mmmh, that's good, isn't it?" He pulls you a little closer to his face and leaves a soft kiss on your forehead. You'd like to kiss him in return, but you can't move. "I'll keep being soft then."

I swear all I could think about while writing this was to to send it all to hell and make these two fuck

maybe I will make a second part

[randomgirlyoudontknow]

No one will probably read this, but as a long-time fan of ATLA (as in, I literally watched the show as it aired in 2005-2008), I wanted to share my thoughts on the live action. Let it be known that I am far from an ATLA purist––the original certainly had its own flaws and aspects that didn't age well, in retrospect. Despite the generally negative reviews I've seen from the fandom, I was actually very satisfied with this adaptation! But I’ve seen people saying that the characters were butchered, that it’s a soulless and superficial reproduction, and those who liked the live action aren’t capable of thinking/watching critically, which I wanted to push back against (I mean, I’m working on a doctorate in literature…I am quite literally incapable of watching anything uncritically).

The shift in tone to a darker, more mature one was a positive change, imo. It is definitely a much angrier show than the original, even if some of the characters were not as fiery as they should have been (*cough* Katara *cough*). Overall, while there were certainly decisions made that I didn't agree with (mainly related to pacing and narrative), I thought the cast and crew really captured the spirit of the original, and even added depth and nuance to parts I felt were initially lacking.

In general, I really appreciated the added emphasis on the cost and suffering of war and imperialism, as well as the depiction of the physical effects of bending. Now, I realize this is largely a matter of personal preference––for example, I'm very interested in depictions of war in fiction (I mean, my dissertation partially covers the impact of WWI on avant-garde art & literature, so...). But I've seen several claims that the live action glorifies war and violence in a way that is meant to traumatize the viewer, and I simply don't think that's true? While the original handled war, genocide, trauma, etc. in a phenomenal way for a kid's show in the early 2000s, it was also still sanitized when it comes to death and injury, to an extent that I feel like we, the viewers, almost lose sight of the fact that bending KILLS. Sure, we were exposed to its after effects, like the death of Katara and Sokka's mother or Zuko's scar, but there's something to be said actually seeing and acknowledging the very palpable danger that something like firebending presents.

I've even seen someone say that the show's depiction of "gratuitous violence" constitutes a "profound misunderstanding" of the source text, which I think is frankly a bad faith take. The death and violence, though more realistic, is still not a major focus of the show, nor is it glorified in any way. A glorification of violence would look like indiscriminate killing and maiming for the sake of edginess (looking at you GOT). We would see graphic depictions of death and injuries, which simply does not happen in this show (they even joke about the fact that we never see anyone die in Ember Island Players). War and fighting are still treated with the same depth and gravity as the original, only this time, the severity of its consequences isn't obscured from the viewer.

I also thought the show's handling of trauma (especially Katara's) was excellent. The choice to have Katara's mom's death revealed in flashbacks (specifically when around firebending) was something that really stood out to me. And the new characterization of Bumi, which I realize was quite unpopular, was another change I quite appreciated. His bitterness and cynicism seemed more in-line with someone who had endured 100 years of war and the suffering of his people at the hands of a brutal imperial force. Lastly, I was pleased to see the narrative attempt to address the role Iroh played in the Siege of Ba Sing Se (something that was absolutely missing from the original). The Earth Kingdom soldier confronting him and calling him a butcher was a powerful moment, for me. I truly hope the show continues to dive into this aspect of his character in future seasons.

Speaking of characters, I loved that we got extra background and insight into several of the characters. Zhao, for example, was unexpectedly quite funny, and his actor really did a phenomenal job of fleshing him out and making him feel like a real person (as slimy and smarmy as he was) rather than a stock, cartoon villain. And I have to give kudos to the actors who played Sokka and Zuko––they both did an incredible job of embodying their respective characters, in a way that felt highly reminiscent of the original. In particular, I thought the handling of Zuko's backstory was truly outstanding––perhaps even better than the original.

All in all, I felt the live action did a really nice job of balancing the darker sides with the light. While I've seen fans complaining that the show doesn't have the same goofiness and lightheartedness, I actually thought the humor worked really well––it was one of the few times I felt the overly ironic, Joss Whedonesque one-liners actually fit. Sure, the humor was a lot drier and more toned down than the original, but I nonetheless thought it carried the show's spirit well (loved that they let Sokka say “ass” not once, but twice). There were moments when I genuinely laughed out loud! I also appreciated how, despite the more mature tone, hope, friendship, and harmony still remained the most important aspect at the end of each episode.

There's a lot of room for improvement, but I was overall very satisfied with the live action, and I'm very glad that the series has been renewed. I'm very excited to see what the cast and crew does with the rest of the show!

[thelastharbinger]

I’m already seeing male reactors get very verbally defensive about that scene in She-Hulk where Jennifer describes how, simply as a woman, she has more experience in suppressing rage than Banner because speaking out will get you labelled “hysterical”, “emotional”, “difficult”, “too much of a feminist”, the list goes on. And if you snap back at the wrong cat-caller, you can get murdered. So now mcu bros are rushing at the opportunity to cry out “this is just another ‘marvel throwing in another woke scene for woke’s sake’. But like...it isn’t untrue. Comic nerds are all for female superhero protagonists until she, god forbids, talks about the dynamics of what it’s like to live within the confines of patriarchy.

MCU fans are always clamoring for the social commentary to be more “subtle” and not so “in-your-face”, just so they can mindlessly enjoy a punchy fighty show and not have to confront any real-world intersections with racism, misogyny, xenophobia, transphobia, all the -isms and -phobias you can imagine. Additionally, even when the social criticisms are embedded into the story, the conflicts are routinely either overlooked or watered-down and discussed at the individual-level as if these are just isolated incidents and not reflective of larger phenomena. Dudebros forget that superhero comic media, from the very beginning, has always been political. A lot of the mainstream characters we know and love today were created in response to the anti-war and peace movements during the seventies in the United States (this is also not to say that there isn’t some definite war propaganda and Red Scare-inspired comics out there either).

Comics are teaching grounds for morality, human good, and bad, power, greed, corruption. Comics have been about the social commentary from the get-go. The idea that the government (and by extent society at large) is villainizing and surveilling a specific minority group who carry varying physical and genetic traits contrasting to that of the “ideal national subject” because of a perceived inherent aggression or difference based on their physical attributes *ahem ahem mutants*...where do you think they got that from?

I literally sat through a dude being like “IN MY EXPERIENCE AS A MAN, THAT IS NEVER THE CASE! IF A WOMAN GETS UPSET AND MAKES A SCENE IN PUBLIC, THE MAN ALWAYS LOOKS LIKE THE BAD GUY BECAUSE IT IS ASSUMED HE DID SOMETHING WRONG. MEN ARE THE ONES WHO CAN NEVER BE ANGRY.” (Obviously for Black men, my argument is different because when Black men express rage, they are viewed as a threat or turned into spectacle, but the person who made this rant was not a Black man, nor was he factoring race into his argument). As if masculinity and gratuitous violence have not become nearly synonymous. When male celebrities are accused of beating their partners, fans run to their defense to say “well she shouldn’t have provoked him.” When Will Smith slapped Chris Rock, the internet rooted for a televised boxing match between the actors/comedians. We all watched the Trump and Hillary debates right, where his belligerent behavior was coddled while she had to maintain composure?

We’ve collectively grown up watching male newscasters, talk show hosts, and reporters make jokes about angry women in sports, in the media or in news reports being on their periods, as a way to minimize the stressful and abusive circumstances, or people, women are subjected to. The world expects women to react to harassment with class and elegance; women’s anger, Black women especially, is never not mitigated. For male fans to come away from that scene wanting to eye roll is why the commentary is so “in-your-face” because a lot of y’all still don’t get it! Men are still finding ways to make women’s issues about them and the “loss” of their rights. In a world where Brock Turners are able to walk free, are you really trying to argue against this scene? Really? What else do you expect out of a series whose main character is AN ATTORNEY? Y’all are just not going to enjoy this series then, as per usual.

[aerequets]

I really liked the scene you drew for the fanfic Once more with feeling. Do you have other fanfics recommandations? PS. I love your art :3

thank you! :D and yes of course i do 😎 i have this list (twiyor) from a while ago but i have amassed more than enough new faves to make a new one!

i will try to get a mix of fics w/ different vibes, and different lengths, as well as those that you may not have heard of before. most if not all of them will be twiyor tho, bc that's what i read most.

i'll put them under the cut!

FUN FACT i spent like 45 mins writing a list and SOMEHOW DELETED IT ALL. so this is take 2 😭😭😭😭 ANYWAYS

The Woman in Red by @nightofnyx8

rated M, 7/7 chaps, 47.9k words

this fic feels like a book to me if i was already invested in the characters. it revolves around yor, who gets an assignment to find out where a bunch of trafficked girls are being kept by the asshole of the millenium, vito cohen. it is also post reveal, post relationship twiyor. this fic has dark moments just by virtue of the subject matter, but none of it feels gratuitous if that makes sense? like every bit of violence lends to the whole picture. there are also some Steamy ™ twiyor moments, which are easily skippable if that's not your thing, but their whole relationship here is just written so well. the trust is there and the protective loid vibes are 👌 i m m a c u l a t e

Smoldering by @julphines

rated G, 1/1 chaps, 2.1k words

i freaking love the look into post reveal, pre relationship twiyor we get here. it's not overtly romantic but instead them getting to know each other. i especially love the details of them having to make themselves be vulnerable in some ways because they just aren't used to it. a really nice, in-between sort of fic :)

In Love With the Distance by Newt on ao3

rated T, 37/37 chaps, 21.5k words

this one is formatted as a collection of letters and i am OBSESSED. i think the author does a very good job getting the character voices down, and the fact that the progression in their relationship is clear despite being in this letter format will never cease to amaze me. it's also incredibly consistent and has cute 'ciphers' at the top that are used to disguise the letters. this one is also post reveal, and kinda follows what happens immediately after. some bits are outside the letter format, but for the most part, it's loid and yor writing to each other. love

La Vie En Rose by @jubileen

rated T, 1/1 chaps, 3.7k words

i love me a good ol 5+1 fic, and this one did not disappoint 😌 i especially liked how the thing that is being counted here (you know, the "five times x and one time x") is not explicitly stated each time. it's something that is as slowly revealed to the reader as it is to the characters, which is a nice touch. and there are more things you catch after a reread, which i am also a great fan of!

An Ever Fixed Mark by Spiraling (Stormwind13) on ao3

rated T, 3/3 chaps, 3.8k words

soulmates that share wounds!!!!!! need i say more?? ALSO, there's some GORJUS artwork in this fic! actually, the first "chapter" is just the cover page, and then in the third chapter is another illustration which is so well done! so that's a plus :) this fic has the nice ol heartwrenching mix of backstory and present for the characters, another plus!

this fic is restricted tho, so u gotta be logged into ao3 to read it 🙏

Love, He was Certain by toteally on ao3

rated M, 1/1 chaps, 3.2k words

this one is so funny and good to me bc loid goes head empty seeing fruit juice dribble down yor's chin KJFDHSJ i love when overthinking characters suddenly can't form a thought at the most mundane of happenings. ALSO the thing fics/books do when the title comes up and you're like OHHHH THERE IT IS!!! yeah that as well

Macabre Theme and Variations by @piracytheorist

rated T, 15/15 chaps, 66.6k words (lol)

WOOOO TIME LOOP FIC! yet another thing that i am a fan of :DD although HEED THE WARNING because there IS violence but there is also a happy ending. this fic follows twilight as he goes through the same day over and over again and tries not to die a horrific death forever. mans gets more trauma, BUT he also gets character progression and a happy ending so fair trade off right 🤔 (yes. the answer is yes)

anyways, this list is hardly even the tip of the iceberg. there's also my bookmarks which, at the time of writing this post, are at 354... most of which are sxf/twiyor.... so yeah LMAO obviously i couldnt put all of them into this post but definitely check those out. i've also got my own works if you're interested but hopefully this list contains fics you have not yet read, and that you will like 🙏🙏

(if your fic is on this list and you haven't been tagged + would like to be, pls let me know!)

[paintingpuff]

Netflix ATLA and the Air Nomad Genocide

I've started watching NATLA, and though I'm not really enjoying it, I've found it really interesting to compare its writing decisions to the show as a way to break both down and see how their parts tick. Since NATLA is trying to be more faithful than some other adaptations, the changes it does make stand out more and reveal the mechanics of the storytelling.

While I overall think a lot of NATLA's changes--even the minute ones--made the story execution weaker, the more complicated and interesting change of theirs is the intro, showing the day the Fire Nation ambushed the Air Nomads.

Pacing Criticisms

Cards on the table, I think that putting this sequence at the very beginning was a mistake. Watching Aang's emergence from the iceberg in NATLA made me realize how much the original cartoon imbues its beginning with mystery that makes for a much more active viewing experience. Aang doesn't know much about the present, Katara and Sokka don't know much about Aang's origins, and in their back and forth of information, we the audience organically learn both. Watching Katara and Aang piece together how long he's been frozen in ice was more satisfying and natural than Grangran deducing everything immediately when Aang showed up.

But Sherlock Grangran was kind of the only decision the writers could do, because if they tried the build up the cartoon did, it would just feel tedious to the audience, because we already know everything from the start. They kind of wrote themselves into a corner there.

But let's ignore that problem. We could imagine in another draft that this sequence of the Fire Nation attack shows up as a flashback, kind of like what happened in ATLA with The Storm.

That then begs the question: How does this sequence’s inclusion change the audience's experience, and is it for better or worse?

Facing Vs. Hiding the Horrors

Both series portray very dark and horrific situations, but the way they try to evoke horror from the audience are very different approaches, and for me raises a question I've been asking myself for a while: When wanting to display discomforting violence, is it more effective to imply/hide it, or to show it in detail? Somewhere in between?

(I specify discomforting violence, as opposed to violence meant to be catharsis or spectacle.)

There are arguments for both. Explicit violence can create a visceral, physical reaction to an audience member (especially the squeamish ones), though for some it can come across as gratuitous and even exploitative.

Whereas hiding the violence can horrify the audience by leaving a lot to the imagination (insert that quote about fear of the unknown from Hack Penmanship Lovecraft), or give the sense that the events are so awful that even the camera has to look away. Some also say this gives the characters more dignity, though others think this softens the emotional reaction almost as a form of self censoring (there's a reason kid's media often tries to show horrific stuff off screen, such as the original ATLA).

Ultimately I've come to the conclusion that the former approach works for some stories, whereas the latter works better for others, all of it based on a ton of factors.

So I don't think NATLA's choice to delve into more detail about the Air Nomad genocide is an illogical decision. I wasn't sure about it when I heard it, but I thought that maybe I'm just attached to ATLA's off screen approach, so I kept myself open.

And dialogue issues aside, I don't think the scene is that poorly done. But it did ultimately solidify for me that ATLA's narrative is stronger without an explicit depiction of the Air Nomad genocide.

The Grief of Never Knowing

The image of Gyatso’s skeleton from ATLA has haunted me ever since I saw it as a kid. It was an emotional gut punch in a very well done episode, but this particular screenshot has stuck with me, and that is because of the Fire Nation soldiers. A lot of people have pointed this out, but there are a lot of bodies here, and it implies that Gyatso managed to not only kill these soldiers, but do it when they were strengthened by the comet. That image is very discomforting--Gyatso is always seen from Aang’s perspective, and thus we only see him as the gentle old mentor and friend, one who cheats at games and throws pies he meticulously baked.

It also puts into Aang’s position and the grief he has to face. From his perspective, he was gone only a few days as 100 years passed. He never gets to see the interim, and thus neither do the audience. He is left with the same implications as we are, and has to face the realities of grieving the fact that sometimes you’re not there when they leave.

An excellent point from @endless-nightshift here is how one of ATLA’s core themes is coping with the aftermaths of atrocities and war, analyzing their long-lasting affects rather than just the initial shock of violence--something I had never consciously realized but once said out loud makes a lot click into place for me. There is a reason the show starts a full century into the war rather than just a few years. 

François Truffaut once said that “there is no such thing as an anti-war film,” because the medium of film is inherently better at elevating and glorifying what it shows rather than deriding or deconstructing it. While I don’t think it’s impossible to do the latter, the extended action sequence that is the intro to NATLA causes that sentiment to echo in my mind as I watch, rather than invest me into the story. 

The implied atrocities of ATLA draws me in to empathize with the wounded characters and world, whereas the explicit action of NATLA pushes me away. 

…and that’s where I was planning to end this analysis, but there is one thing NATLA’s intro adds into the canon that I think is actually genius--if they take advantage of it in the future. 

The Air Nomads are Joy

When I first saw the addition of the Comet Festival, I saw it as a purely mechanical decision to have all the Air Nomads in one place for the attack, as well as to make the act even more scummy. However, the more I thought about it the more I realized how it could tie into one of my favorite themes of ATLA: the Air Nomads (and especially Aang) as the joy and hope of the world. 

(I saw an old tumblr post about this theme that inspired this section. I wish I could link it but I can’t find it anymore, I’m very sorry and if anyone can help me find it tysm)

There is a recurring motif of associating the Air Nomads with humor and fun. Iroh mentions their good humor; Gyatso baking pies just to prank the other masters with it; Roku’s first airbending flashback being him using it to mess with his friend. This is a core tenet to Aang’s character as well. The first line he has in the show is inviting Katara to go penguin sledding with him. Half the stops he makes in Season 1 is purely to have fun. He excites Kyoshi island with an airbending party trick. The humor in ATLA’s tone isn’t just there because it’s targeted towards kids, but is the bedrock of the series’ themes. 

(On a personal note, the humor is also what got me and my family into the show. We saw the intro sequence with Aang crashing into the statue and it made my mom laugh so hard that we watched the whole series, and years later we’ve rewatched it dozens of times and own all the DVDs)

Joy and fun and hope were the first things to die when the Fire Nation attacked, and part of Aang’s job is returning that to a world that has been scarred by decades of war. You may already be seeing where I’m going in regards to the Comet Festival. 

A core conflict in the cartoon finale is Aang wanting to keep to the principles of the Air Nomads while still finding a way to stop the war (side note: I think the resolution and Aang’s decision to spare Ozai was a good one, I just think the execution was a little janky). Beyond the surface level conflict of who wins in the battle between Aang and Ozai, there is the additional tension of who will win ideologically. The return of the Avatar State is an interesting development in this dynamic, having Aang suddenly physically winning the fight, but spiritually losing up until the last moment. In the end, it is a triumph where Aang manages to find a third option to win both conflicts, despite them seeming diametrically opposed. It is about defeating Ozai and the Imperial Fire Nation by wholeheartedly rejecting their ideology of violence and might-makes-right. 

But now I see a really cool opportunity for NATLA with what they’ve established in the intro sequence: What if Aang reclaimed the symbol of Sozin’s Comet for his people? That day of the Fire Nation attack, centuries of the Comet Festival were wiped over in history, with people now naming that event as Sozin’s Comet and the beginning of the war. Wouldn’t it be poetic for Aang to mark the ending of the war by wiping away that stain done to his culture, taking it back from the Fire Nation in what ways he can? To turn a tool for genocide into an event of joy and fun once more. 

I’m reminded of moments from the cartoon like Suki commenting how beautiful the comet looks. It would just tie everything up beautifully, and I really really hope the NATLA writers--if Netflix does give them enough seasons to get there--take advantage of this.  

So, to sum up what I think of NATLA so far: I think a lot of its changes have made the story weaker, but I don’t want them to stop trying changes. If I wanted a 1:1 copy of the cartoon, I’d just watch ATLA--it’s also on Netflix, after all. With more work, I can see the writers making changes that accentuate and build on the beauty of the original. 

(Note: These are the thoughts I’ve accrued from just watching the first episode. I plan to watch more, but it does exhaust me at the moment. Still, I hope I can do more of these kinds of analyses, it’s a really fun writing exercise for me)

[shakesqueers13]

The Macbeths' Missing Child:

So, this isn't really anything groundbreaking, but I've been studying Macbeth recently even though it's not really my favorite tragedy (I'm kind of a Macbeth hater... sorry) but I like it better when I think about in terms of parenthood. Dr. Gemma Miller at The Globe called Macbeth “Shakespeare’s most child-obsessed play” and it’s interesting to think of it this way! (Though Titus Andronicus might give it a run for it’s money…)

(Obligatory disclaimer that this is just an interpretation, and there is no "right" answer to any of this. Please don't comment and tell me I'm "wrong" unless I have my facts wrong - this is just theory, none of us can know what Shakespeare meant for sure).

Anyway, I read a post recently that said something like "some scholars tend to get obsessed with paternal themes in Shakespeare!" and like... yeah... that's where I am. But we can talk about maternal themes too...

So, the backbone of this entire theory is found in act one, scene seven:

Lady Macbeth: "Does unmake you. I have given suck, and know  How tender ’tis to love the babe that milks me.  I would, while it was smiling in my face, Have plucked my nipple from his boneless gums  And dashed the brains out, had I so sworn as you  Have done to this."

I.vii.62-67

This is obviously a jarringly violent line, ESPECIALLY coming from a woman. There are a lot of moments like this in Macbeth; just gratuitously upsetting descriptions of death or violence, especially against innocents. This line draws attention and is often quoted to show what a monster Lady M is (more on this later). But what this line tells us is that Lady Macbeth had, at one point, a baby who she loved. It's possible that she had a child in a past marriage, but we know that her and Macbeth don't have any living children together - Macduff tells us that unequivocally in Act 4, Scene 3, specifically stating that Macbeth has "No children." So it isn't that their children are off stage, or that they've grown up and moved out. Either, they've never had a child together, or any children they did have together didn't survive.

(Additionally, this is minutia, but her use of that single male pronoun for the baby could potentially be notable because it's very specific - usually children weren't really gendered during this time period, you can read more about that in Dr. Miller's article, which I'll cite below. If Lady M wasn't referring to an actual son, she likely would've used 'it' twice instead of 'he' once. Take that with a grain of salt, but if we're really reaching, I think we can draw the conclusion that their lost child is a son). Anyway.

Scholars and directors deal with this in different ways. Perhaps most notably, Michael Fassbender's 2015 version opened with a silent funeral for the Macbeth's child, which is often talked about. I'm not sure if that version was the first to include the silent opening scene (probably not) but it's the most famous one, so I'm just using it as an example. It really changes the play if you have that opening scene for a number of different reasons, so if we operate on the assumption that yes, Macbeth and Lady Macbeth had a son who died young, here are some notable interpretations, as well as pieces of evidence that would support the conclusion:

Motherhood & Lady M:

First of all, mothers in Shakespeare are incredibly rare. It just didn't make sense for Shakespeare to write them in extraneously because he didn't have female actors, and women wouldn't have had as much agency in the story. So whenever a woman/mother is included in Shakespeare, she's there for a reason, serving a purpose that a single father couldn't. (There's so much to say about Shakespeare's motherless daughters, but that's a different essay). Obviously, Lady Macbeth serves a major purpose in this text. People, especially non-scholars, often have this misconception of Lady M as a bloodthirsty psycho who drives the very normal and well adjusted Macbeth to commit atrocities. In reality, that is not really what I think the text tells us. Also, it would be uncharacteristically lazy writing for Shakespeare to create such a one-dimensional deuteragonist. No, Lady M has just as many feelings as Macbeth does, and she expresses remorse and worry throughout the narrative, ESPECIALLY when it comes to Lady MacDuff, a mother. So what leads her to participate in these crimes?

Well, Lady Macbeth's violence is very closely tied to motherhood. In her first scene on stage, she says, "Come to my woman’s breasts/And take my milk for gall, you murd’ring ministers," I.vi.54-55. We can potentially say that maybe Shakespeare didn't know how lactation works, but women only produce breastmilk after having a child. So, this line, along with the one about nursing a baby quoted above, really makes it seem like Lady Macbeth had a baby, at least somewhat recently. And if we get into interpretive territory, we can certainly take this line to mean that Lady Macbeth's anger and violence comes directly out of her grief for losing a child. Perhaps "murd'ring ministers" refers both to the spirits who are currently driving her to murder, AND/OR the spirits who already "murdered" or took her child from her. This line can be interpreted as her saying, if I've already lost my child, take away the womanly attributes that allowed me to create it, and let me become just as cruel and murderous as the world that took it from me.

However, when Lady Macbeth snaps, it's because of the murder of Macduff's family (more on that later). In act five, she famously says, "The Thane of Fife had a wife. Where is / she now? What, will these hands ne’er be clean? No / more o’ that, my lord, no more o’ that. You mar all /  with this starting." V.i.44-47. It seems like Lady Macbeth can excuse murder, but she draws the line at hurting another mother and child. This is what drives her to madness.

There's also an element of patriarchal expectation at play. Why is Lady Macbeth so power hungry? Well, usually that's attributed to just regular ambition (a fatal flaw, see all of Julius Caesar for elaboration), but maybe there's more to it. It's certainly possible that Lady Macbeth felt an immense sense of failure for not giving Macbeth a son. As I'll write more about in the next section, Macbeth mourns his childlessness, he wishes he could continue his family line. So, maybe Lady Macbeth is so desperate to grasp power for her husband because it's something she can do. She failed to fulfill her "duty" of providing an heir, but what she can do is get her hands dirty and try to fill that gap between them where a child should be with a crown.

Brief side bar: The love between the Macbeths, in my opinion, is an absolutely essential element of the play. Without it, the story crumbles. Macbeth loves and respects his wife; he calls her "my dearest partner of greatness" and tells her everything. If you've never read Denzel Washington's quote about how he thinks Macbeth and Lady Macbeth fell in love, I would highly recommend looking it up because it's beautiful. But their love and their trust in each other just cannot be discounted. I believe that Lady Macbeth wanted her husband to be happy - she knew he wanted more political power, and she desperately tried to get it for him.

Additionally, when Lady Macbeth dies, Macbeth just shatters. His life becomes meaningless! How painful it is to imagine that Macbeth lost his child, but by some miracle, kept his wife, not losing her in the very dangerous ordeal of childhood, and THEN, through their love for each other, eventually lost her anyway. Macbeth really doesn't seem to see a point to ruling without his wife by his side, or even to live without her. If this is a play about loss, the division of this couple is incredibly emotionally impactful.

Fatherhood, Shakespeare, and Dead Sons:

Something else notable is that Macbeth was probably written about ten years after the death of Shakespeare’s only son, Hamnet. I have a lot of feelings about this. But in terms of Macbeth, it’s not an easily overlooked fact because if Hamlet is Shakespeare grieving, it kind of seems like Macbeth is Shakespeare raging at the world over the loss of his son. It’s such a bloody play, and it really sheds light on Shakespeare’s belief that the loss of a child is one of the worst things to inflict on a character.

In the source material that Shakespeare consulted - Holinshed’s historical chronicles - Macbeth does not intentionally have MacDuff’s children murdered. He really doesn’t seem to want them dead. We see this in Richard III as well in a very similar way - Shakespeare has Richard Plantagenet malevolently send an assassin to kill his nephews when it’s unlikely that that’s what actually happened, (young boys locked in an unheated tower… English winter… shit happens). So, Shakespeare has this kind of fascination with the murder of innocents, especially young boys, and it comes out in many, many plays (I mentioned Titus before but that’s a big one). This is another point that I could elaborate on, maybe that would be a cool essay. But I digress.

So, IV.ii is a really brutal on-stage murder scene which I would say is somewhat uncharacteristic for Shakespeare, and for the Elizabethan stage. This scene was actually censored for years because it was so graphic, and it's still very jarring, especially because Shakespeare takes the time to humanize Lady MacDuff and her son before this murder - it almost feels like someone is going to swoop in and heroically save them, but of course, no one does.

Conversely, we have Banquo's son, Fleance, who escapes Macbeth's assassins, and whose father begs to revenge him. This is a clear parallel to Hamlet, but also, in the context of Macbeth, is a rare moment of mercy within the play. The child is emphasized, again, as in act one, scene three when after hearing the prophecy, Macbeth remarks, "Your children shall be kings."

There's room to interpret a wistfulness in that I.iii remark ^ if we consider that Macbeth has lost his own children. Macbeth's childlessness bothers him throughout the play. In III.i.65-69, he revisits Banquo's prophecy, and says: "They hailed him father to a line of kings.  Upon my head they placed a fruitless crown  And put a barren scepter in my grip,  Thence to be wrenched with an unlineal hand,  No son of mine succeeding."

It's almost as if Macbeth is jealous of Banquo's prophecy, he wishes for a son, and is regretful that he won't have one. Macbeth knows he won't have (any more) children, and is sorrowful. This connects to the above paragraph about Lady Macbeth's attempts to fill that void. Their lost child hangs between them and colors their entire relationship.

Finally, it's interesting, especially in this context, that Macduff is so specifically "not of woman born." Two things, first of all, it's just notable on the whole that in a play so concerned with children, the survivor and killer of Macbeth is distinct from this recurring theme. On a more specific level in relation to this interpretation, it's probably very painful for Macbeth to hear that Macduff somehow cheated his way through childbirth and childhood if Lady Macbeth had complications during her pregnancy and birth. If the Macbeths did all of this because they were grieving the loss of their child, it's sort of heartbreaking that in his final moments, Macbeth may have imagined a way in which his child could've lived; he may have seen a man that his child could have become.

WORK CITED / the basis of this entire post:

[hazelnut-u-out]

Just coincidentally, I was talking to @dirty-bear-rick-sanchez, and he mentioned the fact that Evil Morty had a ‘Chekov’s Gun’. As soon as I saw the words, my brain immediately made some connections based on the events of ‘Rickmurai Jack’, ‘Full Meta Jackrick’, and ‘Unmortricken.’ 

First of all, I remembered making this post about the metaverse goggles in ‘Full Meta Jackrick.’ In the post, I was talking more about the device labeled ‘Foreshadowing’, which I thought could potentially show up in the future and make the glimpse we get of it in that episode a fun easter egg. Now, my focus is on how the devices and their labels coincide with the events of ‘Unmortricken.’ 

Let’s look at the Devices pictured: 

We have Checkov’s Guns, Foreshadowing, Ticking Clock, and Action Enhancer. (There are other devices that can be seen in the scene that are difficult to read. The one in the corner is labeled ‘Gratuitous Violence’.) Thinking about the events that took place in the Prime fight, these things may have come into play. While we didn’t see the exact Foreshadowing device pictured used in the fight, it did pique my interest that the device seems to be pointed at the Chekov’s Guns display. The Ticking Clock being placed above the Foreshadowing device also made me realize just how much that parallels the use of the Omega Device as it’s shown in ‘Unmortricken’.  Think about it… The reveal of the Omega Device is already being used as a method of Foreshadowing, Slow Mobius was lowered into the Omega Device from above while using his powers to slow the moment down (hence, Ticking Clock being a device used to create suspense), and at the end– when handed over to Evil Morty– the schematics become a Chekov’s Gun with a promise to return. Their placements parallel the events of the fight scene, even down to the blatant Gratuitous Violence! (I’ll admit, I don’t have an obvious placement for Action Enhancer yet, unless you count the Kill Bot drones/giant Diane Bots… I guess Evil Morty does ride one like a motorcycle!)

You don't show an Omega Device without erasing someone important to the audience from infinity, if you know what I mean.

I was having a lot of thoughts, and some of these branched off into different connections about Evil Morty and his exit, especially with the previous assumption/symbolism in mind. He looks at Rick and says the following: 

2 things I thought of:

1.) This feels like a threat, not just an exit.  It makes a lot of sense to interpret this as a future promise of betrayal. The fact that Evil Morty has to remind Morty Prime that they’re not friends makes me think he could come back to specifically stab Morty Prime (or Mortys) in the back, especially since he tends to dislike ‘sellout’ Mortys. Saying he could ‘use’ Rick for being ‘different’ makes me wonder if ‘ending the Rick Experiment’ could be synonymous with putting himself or another Morty in the Omega Device and eliminating the toxic relationship between Ricks and Mortys for good. Does acknowledging Rick is ‘different’ and useful imply that Evil Morty could use another life for leverage using the Omega Device in the future to get C-137 to do what he wants? (Not sure he’d erase himself since he references the vengeful Summers thing, but who knows?)

The events of ‘Full Meta Jackrick’ support this sub-theory, as well. Another post I made after the airing of ‘Full Meta Jackrick’ (here) talked about how I suspected Mr. Twist’s interaction with Morty (where he acknowledges Morty is the plot twist) might have actual weight to it.

If you remember, one of the BIG moments of ‘Full Meta Jackrick’ was this one right here: 

I think Rick emphasizing the importance of Morty’s existence is major foreshadowing. Not to mention, Rick tries to ban Morty from accompanying him to the Prime fight. More acknowledgment that Morty is very important to Rick. Being able to tie all of these elements back to a single episode AND Evil Morty’s arc would work quite well in terms of storytelling. 

2.) What is the ‘Rick Experiment’? I think that the Rick Experiment might just be Morty’s existence. Especially since we know our Rick was a founding father of the Citadel/Curve, it seems plausible that Mortys would be the central ‘Rick Experiment’ (created to be the perfect sidekick; obey them; keep them company; hide their brain waves; prove they could create life across infinity when the Omega Device can destroy it; and– for C-137 and others– there’s the added benefit in the search for Prime). I’ve even wondered who Ricks are trying to hide their brainwaves from while on the CFC, and I think that who might’ve been Prime. This theory would explain why Rick is holding Morty so triumphantly in that photo in Birdperson’s house in ‘Get Schwifty’ AND how Rick knew a Morty baby in general. 

We have to keep in mind that Evil Morty not only told our Morty about the Morty Trade in the first place, but also that he's probably the most knowledgeable (outside of C-137 or what's left of the Council) about the Morty Trade/ Rick Experiment in general, whatever that turns out to be.

This was essentially me throwing theories at a wall to see what sticks, so all of this could be nothing! Just some big food for thought, lol.

[lollytea]

Given that Hunter was introduced to anime in the Human Realm (canon), what do you think some of his favourites would be? Any he wouldn't like as much?

Astro Boy

Voltron Defender of the Universe (the 80s one. He eats it up. Its his cocomelon)

Mobile Suit Gundam Wing

Gus also enjoys Sci-fi type stuff so this is what they watch together <333

Sailor Moon/Cardcaptor Sakura/Whatever other cute wholesome power of friendship magical girl animes that you can think of. I just believe he loves Magical Girls. That is a headcanon that is attached to my brain like a leech.

Pokemon. He loves cute little creechurs, they're silly and they remind him of palismen <33

I imagine that he really enjoys sports anime. Especially the ones with intense homoerotic friendships. He loves Haikyu and Free, god bless. If you dare to open your mouth during Yuri on Ice, he will kill you.

As a guy who is a bit awkward, passionate about his interests, a little bit on the gnc side, and into making clothes, I think he'd like Princess Jellyfish.

I think when it comes to anime he WOULDN'T like, I think maybe....slice of life shojo high school stuff. Ones that are deeply rooted in experiences that Hunter cannot connect to. Not that he hates that stuff. He just struggles to relate. Also, as introspective, sensitive and emotionally mature as I imagine Hunter to be, I also think that his attention span cannot be held by a show that focuses on feelings/romance alone. Bro is like "I want SPACESHIPS!! I want SPORT!!! I want POKEMON!!!" There's gotta be some exciting angle to keep him entertained.

Something I'm a little unsure of is what Hunter's relationship is with gore/horror/edgy type stuff. Because we know he was a fan of Ruler's Reach, which was written by an edgelord 8 year old and was packed with gratuitous violence. Considering he was not only a teenage boy (who tend to gravitate towards depictions violence because of societal influence) but a child soldier who was unnervingly desensitized to brutality, it does make a lot of sense. Ruler's Reach also seemed to be something of a masculine power fantasy written by one boy who felt small and powerless in his own life, which connected with a boy who felt similarly. King wanted to be feared, Hunter wanted to be respected.

However, this was during the time that Hunter was trapped in a very bleak situation, one that he didn't even fully understand was bleak. And he coped by hyperfixating on a book that normalized the cruelty.

But what I wonder is, would he still feel the same way about that book now, after everything? He's been woken up to how horrific his life was until this point. He's aware of the atrocities and he's deeply uncomfortable with all of it. Things are drastically different now. Hunter is drastically different.

Personally, I think Ruler's Reach was something that comforted him when he needed it. But as he changes as a person, its just not his taste anymore.

Hunter can certainly stomach gore and violence. He's seen more disturbing sights than anything an anime can show him. But I don't think he actively seeks it out. I imagine that he prefers stuff that's lighthearted. Not that he doesn't enjoy tension/excitement/high stakes. Just not the kind of stuff that will make him extremely upset.

Like Fullmetal Alchemist for example. Absolutely amazing anime, but not something Hunter would enjoy sitting through. It's good to have fiction that makes you feel something deep in your core, the way FMA does to people. But Hunter has experienced enough real life trauma and existential horror for a lifetime. He's felt enough!!! He doesn't need to see that weird fucking dog!!!!! Leave him alone!!!!!

So ya in summary, I think he likes fun, semi-lighthearted stuff. But he doesn't really wanna watch anything that's gonna make him sit in the shower for over an hour and rethink everything. He is already mentally exhausted. He once learned made of a dead guy's bones, that's enough for him.

[sednonamoris]

teeth

Pairing: John Marston x gn!reader

Summary: John never returns from his scouting trip. You, Arthur, and Javier seek him out through the snow.

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, animal violence/attack/death (pretty brief), strong language, description of wounds, mild angst, snow storms, gratuitous horse content

Word count: 2,646

A/N: I like to think John made squeaky toy sounds when the wolves tried to eat him :) In all seriousness, though, Enter, Pursued by a Memory is one of my fav missions!! Really hoping I balanced the actual events with Ghost's presence well, but don't anticipate a rehash of every single mission like this. We had to establish a major plot point for John, but the rest of the story will mostly have the feeling of stranger missions as we see what Ghost got up to during the timeline of the game. My hope is to only 'redo' a handful of the really major missions - after all, RDR2 is Arthur's story!

Series masterlist • AO3

—

John is missing. 

He’s a grown man and he can handle himself and he was sent out to scout and surely he can follow your tracks here but it’s been days now and he’s missing. No one else seems to have noticed but Abigail. Maybe because the two of you are the only ones fool enough to care.

Everyone else is too focused on their own survival here at the frostbitten end of civilization. Colter, as someone recalls its name to be, is just as beat to hell as the entire camp feels. Its remaining walls provide shelter, but only just. The few threadbare blankets that made the journey aren’t enough to keep everyone warm, and the handful of cans of salted offal Pearson snagged for the journey are hardly food enough to keep everyone fed. The wagons are stuck until the spring melt begins, and it’s looking less and less like you’ll all make it ‘til then - already you’ve buried Jenny and Davey. You swear you won’t bury John, too, much less mourn an empty, snowbound grave, so on the second day you give in to your restlessness.

“I’m goin’ out looking,” you tell Abigail with a grim shake of your head. “He’s run off before, but… not like this.” 

“Thank you, Ghost,” she clasps your hands, and you hesitate only a heartbeat before squeezing back. “I’m— I knew you would understand.”

“Sure,” you try to offer a reassuring smile before heading out to tack your new mount.

Moonshine was Davey’s stud. He’s a stunning blue roan color with a powerful, compact build. He’s always been tough to handle, as wild and savage as his rider, but since Davey passed he’s been especially mean. That’s how you landed him; out of everyone in the gang, you’ve got the keenest horse sense. Already he’s bitten Charles in the short time he’s spent tending the mounts while his hand heals. Ever since, you’re the only one allowed to handle him. And still he’s a menace.

True to form, he pins his ears when you approach with the saddle and lifts a hind leg in warning. 

“Enough of that,” you chastise. 

“Sure that’s enough horse for you?” Arthur’s voice sounds from behind. 

You turn to face him and raise a brow when you see he’s got his own tack at the ready. The big painted bay he took from the Adler’s barn snorts softly. 

He shakes his head. “I still say Marston’s run off again, but Abigail asked me ‘n Javier to come with.” 

“Hosea’s worried, too,” Javier chimes in. He flashes an encouraging smile over Boaz’s back that offsets the sour look on Arthur’s face. 

You mount up and tilt your head towards the wilderness. “Let’s ride, then.”

—

Javier picks up the trail first, a set of hoofprints just past the stream that heads up further into the mountains. There’s an abandoned camp there still smoking, only a few hours old by Arthur’s reckoning. The embers in the fire have gone cold with the freeze, but you allow them to light a spark of hope in your chest all the same. 

John is alive out here somewhere. He has to be. 

The going is slow through snowdrifts and steep inclines, but the horses take on the challenge gamely - except Moonshine, who squeals and kicks out when Arthur rides up too close behind you. A quick spur forward redirects the stallion’s outburst. He prances and arches his neck before settling once more, and you pat his neck with murmured praise. 

“Jesus, that thing’s mean,” Arthur says.

“So is Ghost,” Javier teases. His eyes glint with mischief when he looks back at you, and you scoff a tired laugh. 

“So was Davey,” you say. “Still hard to believe that bastard’s gone. Everything happened so fast.”

“What did happen?” Arthur presses. 

You glance up at Javier, who lets out a breath. “We had the money, everything seemed fine, then suddenly they were everywhere.”

“Bounty hunters?”

You shake your head and grimace. “Pinkertons.”

“It was crazy,” Javier says. “Raining bullets.” 

As you climb the winding mountain path he explains how Dutch killed a hostage - a young girl, he says, in a bad way. You think about the blood on Dutch’s face as he dragged John to shore. The cold look there. Determination, not regret. You think about the feeling of a body going limp in your arms so many years ago. The eardrum that still doesn’t hear as well bursting with her head at the gunshot. The guilt you waited to feel that never came. 

“Bad business,” Arthur says with a weary sigh. 

You stay silent, staring past the falling snow. Bad business, alright. 

There’s little time to dwell on it as the storm picks up. Javier leads everyone higher and higher into these cursed mountains. A wolf cries in the distance. The sound rakes a chill down your spine that has nothing to do with the cold. As snow starts coming down thicker you urge the horses to pick up the pace. In weather like this it won’t take much to lose the trail. You brace against the wind, tugging your coat closer around your shoulders. It does little to keep the biting cold at bay, but it’s better than nothing. This high up the wind is even worse, and the path only gets narrower.

Soon the horses begin to flag. You pat Moonshine’s neck and the palm of your glove comes away damp. He’s steaming with exertion. It won’t take much for him or the others to catch cold this way. 

“Tough going,” you say. Your voice is laced with the worry you’re trying so hard to keep in check. 

“Lots of fresh snow,” Javier agrees. “I don’t see the tracks anymore.”

“We can’t follow nothin’,” Arthur says, and your hackles raise. He and John haven’t gotten along for years, but his reluctance still rankles. 

You turn in your saddle and open your mouth to snap at him when Javier makes the decision for you all that it’s worth pushing just a bit more. The trail could pick up again. John could be close. 

Arthur sighs, but without another word you dig in for the climb. 

A dark shape in the snow not too far ahead has your heart in your throat. When you canter up to it, vultures take off. You’re about to send up a prayer that it isn’t John when you realize it’s not a person at all, but a horse.

Dead in the snow. 

“Missy,” you say, but they both know. 

John’s faithful red mare lies frozen, petrified with death and cold. Something other than vultures has started to eat her as well, belly ripped open and guts strewn. The snow around her is stained red. You turn away with a sigh. 

“Oh… that’s…” Arthur trails off. You pointedly ignore his glance towards you, laden with sympathy. 

“John could be close,” Javier reasons, and raises his pistol above his head to fire off a single shot. 

The sound cracks and echoes off snowy peaks. You swear you stop breathing when you hear a faint cry for help from a scratchy voice you know better than your own.

“Hey! Help! Here!”

You canter a little further up the path, but all too soon it narrows enough that taking the horses further isn’t an option. The three of you dismount and ground tie your mounts before continuing the journey on foot. 

Arthur clutches his shotgun a little tighter as you climb. Your rifle is thrown over your shoulder, just in case, and even Javier loosens his revolver in its holster. Anything could be waiting for you; these mountains are not made for kindness. 

Crouching beneath stone and scrambling up rock shelves you make your way towards the sound of John’s desperate pleas. He seems scared. A stab of fear pierces your own heart for him. 

A narrow walled pass allows brief respite from the wind, and you all pause for a moment to breathe. Javier passes his flask around, and you let the whiskey sting warmth into you as it goes down. When you emerge on the other side the storm seems even worse. 

“John!” you shout over the wind. “Hold on, we’re almost there!” 

“I’m here! Out on the ledge!” he calls back. His voice sounds closer than ever, hoarse and desperate but alive.

“There,” Javier points, then raises his voice for John’s benefit. “We’re coming!”

You sprint through snowdrifts to the edge of the dropoff. 

“I’m here!”

When you reach the ledge and look down to see him you curse under your breath. He looks… bad. Some predator got to him - wolves, if you know anything. Tore up his leg and made a mess of his face. The entire right side has been slashed through, nose, cheek, and mouth. He’s lost plenty of blood. The remaining skin is red and inflamed, like it’s infected already. He’s lucky it didn’t catch his eye. He’s lucky to be alive.

“Jesus, John,” you finally say, because you can’t think of anything else. “They chew you up and spit you out? Can’t taste that bad.”

“Nice to see you too, Ghost.” He tries to smile but only winces in pain. The relief in his voice could make you cry. 

 “That’s quite a scratch you got there,” Arthur observes when he catches up only a moment later.

Despite his heckling he’s quick to jump down and hoist John up to you. Javier helps pull him upright and he sags between the both of you. 

“Never thought I’d say this, but… it’s good to see you, Arthur Morgan.” 

You want to squeeze tight and never let him go, but he’s hurt, and even moving him from leaning on your shoulders to thrown over Arthur’s is enough to make him groan. 

“You don’t look so good.”

“I don’t feel too good neither.”

“Hang in there, compadre.”

It isn’t a long trek back to the horses, but it certainly feels that way. You have to keep reminding yourself not to hover. All that pent up worry and fear has nowhere to go now that John is safe with you. Maybe a good cry later will get it out of your system, but for you just have to worry about making it back to camp.

Javier notices your hypervigilance and offers a smile. “Tranquilo, my friend. Not much farther now.”

You try to smile back at him, but your expression drops when you spy movement over his shoulder. Wolves. On the ridge ahead. Three of them. Their coats are mangy and they look thin, which scares you a hell of a lot more than it would otherwise; they must be as desperate as you are. A bone-chilling howl looses from the throat of their leader when its yellow eyes meet yours.

“Shit,” you say. “Fuck. Goddamnit. Arthur, you and Javier get John to the horses.”

“No,” he puts John down and shoves him into your arms. “You take him. I’ll hold them off.”

You have no choice but to nod your thanks and hobble as quick as you can to where the horses stand spooking. Moonshine’s eyes roll back at the wolves as they stalk toward Arthur, growling. He dances in place, but stands still long enough for Javier to help you hoist John behind your saddle, even when Arthur starts shooting. Two gunshots ring crisp and clear, and you wait for the third but hear a cry of pain instead. You whip your head over to Arthur and see one of the wolves has him by the forearm. Without thinking, you grab your rifle from your back and take aim. On the exhale you squeeze the trigger, and with a yelp the wolf falls to the ground.

Arthur looks up at you, eyes wide with shock and thanks, before running to meet you and scramble onto his horse.

“Nice shot,” he pants.

“Any time,” you tip your hat. “Now let’s get the hell out of here.”

You spur the horses down the mountain and don’t look back.

—

Apart from the initial excitement, it’s a quiet ride into camp. John is in rough shape, but his grip at your waist never falters. It takes three people to get him off the horse once you make it back, and even with the extra hands they catch his bad leg at an awkward angle. You flinch when he cries out. 

“Careful, idiotas!” Javier scolds.

Hosea steps out to thank the three of you for a successful rescue, but you don’t stay to talk. Arthur can handle that. Instead you linger in the doorway, watching Abigail fret over John. Besides dressing his wounds he needs to get warm, so you pull yourself out of your stupor enough to close the door. Just before you turn away he catches your eye and mouths a thank you. You manage a sad smile and leave them be. 

For the rest of the day you make yourself scarce, cooling the horses out and chopping firewood and even lending Pearson a hand with the stew. Only once night has fallen and everyone else is long asleep do you allow yourself to sneak back into the cabin to see John.

It’s easier than you’d feared to tiptoe around everyone’s sleeping forms and into the empty chair at his bedside. The hard part is ignoring the pang of guilt that comes when you spy Abigail’s beautiful, moonlit face asleep without that pinch of worry between her brows you’re so accustomed to seeing. Jack is snuggled in just as peaceful at her side. A family. John’s family.

But when you reach him, everything else fades away.

They did a good job cleaning him up, given the circumstances. Thick strips of cloth bandage wrap half of his face, even the eye. The other half has been sponged clean so the blood and grime is no longer caked frozen on his skin. His hair is still unwashed and limp, but no longer matted to his face. They even wrangled him out of his shredded clothes and into some of the few spares lying around. 

He’s dead asleep. The exhaustion must have finally hit once the adrenaline and fear faded away. You settle into the chair at his bedside and just watch him sleep. Each steady rise and fall of his chest reassures you that he’s alive. That he’ll stay that way.

Before you realize what’s happening tears begin to wet your cheeks. You sniffle quietly to muffle the sound but can’t stop. He could have died up there. All alone on that mountaintop with only the snarl of wolves and the snap of their teeth to send him to the other side. This life you lead is dangerous, always, but you haven’t had to look mortality in the face in a long time. It stares at you with an open maw and hungry yellow eyes through John’s torn flesh, and you shudder in spite of the fire. 

It should make you want to confess. To lay your heart out and speak the love that’s laden your tongue for years uncounting - before it’s too late. But when you glance over at Abigail you can’t bring yourself to say a word. Instead you grasp John’s hands as gently as you can and raise them to your chapped lips.

You press a soft kiss there where your hands are joined and smile down on him past the heartbreak. When you go to leave he closes his fingers around your wrists. You stop dead in your tracks.

“Knew you’d come for me,” he rasps. His unbandaged eye opens blearily and shines up at you. You squeeze his hands back. 

“Of course,” you say. Whether he means the mountain or this room tonight, it doesn’t matter. The answer is the same. “Always.” 

Still, you leave before he can convince you to stay.

[fullscoreshenanigans]

Hey if the GF kids + GP team were watching horror movies (the oldest because no horror movies for the youngest kiddos or they will not sleep because some horror movie ARE terrifying) What movie would scare the most at every child/teen?

Like i can see Emma being scared of IT, whatever which version, especially the first scene (you know what i mean, right?) for exemple.

Ayshe would be probably scared by White Dog or Cujo :/ but not scared by the movie but scared and sad because of the poor dog (who is a victim in both movies, infected by rabies in one and trained to attack in another). she would speak for the first time to Norman to ask him do find her an appointment to vaccinate her dogs (because it's real dogs, not demoniac dogs or it would be hard for her to feed them in the human world. I doubt that people would be happy to see their beloved pet dog "vanish" (and be eaten).

Barbara would play "the cool sister who isn't afraid" but would be afraid by Scream (for exemple and would be clingy to Cislo/Norman/Vincent's arm for all the movie XD

Have you other ideas? =)

Feel this comes down to semantics because I don't think they'd find mainstream horror scary but more so unsettling? Besides like a well-earned jump scare getting the best of them that's immediately, viscerally frightening and might result in a comedic reaction they tease each other over.

But given everything they confronted in the demon world—both the direct, palpable terror of almost being eaten alive by the grotesque

(Chapter 117)

to the existential horror of realizing everything you've come to understand about yourself and that your very humanity and the humanity of all the people you care about is systemically devalued in such a cold, detached, clinical way—

(Chapter 28)

it doesn't seem like it would result in an immediate bubbling up of palpable terror for them with both the barrier of the screen and their understanding of horror media and media in general often being used to communicate an idea between a creator and their audience (e.g., the possession scenes in Talk to Me being used to symbolically convey the silent brutality of drug addiction, the existential dread presented by pregnancy and STDs in It Follows, etc.). But the important thing with a lot of these pieces is that while horrific violence might be perpetrated, there's still an underlying upholding of human life as inherently valuable and something to be protected, so they can have fun with it and appreciate the works for what they are.

What I believe would be a sticking point for them would be abject, wanton cruelty with no purpose. So like, torture porn, purposefully edgy works that revel in the audacity of boundaries pushed and the shock value of the obscene, exploitation films. Hostel, Funny Games, A Serbian Film, 120 Days of Sodom, etc., I can't imagine them growing up and being fans of this subgenre after everything they experienced.

So I wouldn't say Emma is scared of King's It, but would perhaps be unsettled by a cosmic malevolent force preying on children for no purpose other than personal gratification, and how that servers as a metaphor for the underlying fear of stranger danger present in the 1980s in the US. The specifics might be inaccurate based on statistics (child abduction more often being committed by someone a child knows), but it's the possibility of harm being done by fellow human beings and that one can't immediately combat it with physical retaliation like they did in the demon world due to optics and laws in this world that could lead her to dislike it for her own personal entertainment.

I feel like works that involve medical horror could be triggering for Barbara, or scenes where there's gratuitous focus on flesh being violently bludgeoned into viscera mush with how it might bring back the smells of when she'd enact that on demons.

And I haven't seen Cujo or White Dog, but it does sound like something Ayshe would find disquieting with how she considers her dogs family. Same thing with The Thing, though the dogs being killed and impersonated don't last the whole film. None of these would compare to Cannibal Holocaust, though; I don't think she could watch a movie knowing animals were killed on set for the sole purpose of entertaining people. It would be too upsetting (and why I haven't watched it).

[prospectivehero]

BATMAN: THE DARK KNIGHT RETURNS - Written by Frank Miller, Illustrated by Klaus Janson

If I have an associate's degree in Batmanology, my dad has a master's degree. In his own words, he has a detailed understanding of characters and their classic stories but doesn't have the expertise of lore or newer stories. He's the guy you'd want to have a deep conversation about Batman, or any classic DC hero, without being gatekept. Because of this, I'm always willing to hear his comic recommendations, especially when he is as excited to talk about this comic as he was.

The story starts with a retired Bruce Wayne. He may have aged well, but Gotham City has not. The many familiar rouges have aged past usefulness or passed away. They are replaced by more colorful thugs and dangerous characters. Gotham seems in worse shape than it has been, but its people don't want to change. Batman no longer stalks the streets in a city doomed to repeat itself. But not even apathy can keep Bruce Wayne away from his calling forever. His conviction calls him back when threats from the past and a new protege reinspire him to change Gotham before it's too late.

Even with my dad's recommendation, I was apprehensive about this comic. Much like The Last Ronin, this is a story of a character I love being written in the context of a darker future. On top of that, this is a story about Bruce Wayne, a character whose darkness and tragedy are often misrepresented. This is a topic for a future episode, but Bruce Wayne is misunderstood as a doomed character in a doomed city. Maybe that's an interpretation of this character that's valid, but I always thought that Batman stories were about hope. Bruce is trying to find light in a dark city. This is best represented in this comic through Carey Kelly, his new Robin. He could die any day, but she has a future that Batman must protect.

The writing and illustration of this comic is masterful. The span of this story is depicted through different media. Bruce's story is interrupted and overlapped by interviews, press conferences, and other relevant narratives. What could easily be a distracting means of storytelling flows smoothly. All of it serves the purpose of questioning Batman and his choices. The reader is challenged as anchors, psychologists, politicians, and citizens argue whether or not Batman is doing the right thing. While the comic comes to its own conclusion, it's realistic about the kind of people who live in Gotham and what those people have to say about a man in a bat costume who takes the law into his own hands.

I am now in my dad's big shoes, recommending this comic. I tend to think that a theme that superhero stories should include is "hope." That's not to say that every good hero needs to be in a universe of sunshine and rainbows, but it is to say that superhero stories are about the future and finding a foothold in it. To borrow from a different universe, superhero stories aren't about falling. They are about getting back up. The Dark Knight Returns is about choosing to get up from a very long fall.

TRIGGER WARNINGS (with potential spoilers) -

1) Implicit Violence - While I wouldn't categorize the violence as gratuitous, it's intense. Gotham's darkness is reflected in how easy it is for a random citizen to find trouble. It gives a distinct picture of how commonplace death and violence are in this version of Gotham.

2) Disturbing Character Designs - The art style represents a dirty and doomed city, and the character designs of a Tom, Dick, or Harry aren't appealing to look at. Even so, some character designs cross the line into gratuity with warts, scars, and other deformities that are hard to stomach.

[jellybeanium124]

I don't know who you were talking about so I could be wrong, but I think that those "people who talk about Ed stans like they're a problem" most likely are not referring to all the people who like/love Ed but specifically to those you talk about in the post that in order to discredit Izzy at all costs they only see him as someone who exists to further Ed and Stede's character development. Apart from that, this way to see "non protagonist" characters sadden me… If they weren't also important why do Jenkins spent time on Jim's story, on Lucius and the others? Just to fill and make the episodes longer?? D:

I disagree with people who think "ed stans" are a problem in the fandom, especially when people think they're an equivalent problem to the canyon. no they're not. there is at least one guy on """my side""" of things that I find really annoying, and I've definitely seen takes from other people out in the open (aka not in the canyon) that I don't like. but you cannot call the issues equal.

first of all, I've never seen "ed stans" the way izzy people talk about them. granted, I don't go into the tags. I can't say I've seen everything. but like, if you have 2 groups, and the 2 groups don't like each other, they tend to exaggerate and make up shit about the other group to continue the antagonizing relationship. ngl I've seen it on """my side""" too. I have seen some canyon takes first-hand. I'll occasionally scroll down their blogs out of curiosity. there's varying levels of canyon-ness. and people on """my side""" have sometimes exaggerated things or made it out to be that everyone in the canyon thinks this versus it just being one dumb fuck's take. we see the canyon as a monolith but it really isn't, same way we aren't a monolith. anyways, long story short, you cannot call these two groups equally bad because of the canyon's obvious racism problem. this was just a long-winded way of getting to the fact that izzy stans and the canyon have a racism problem.

I'm not saying """my side""" is perfect, nor am I the person to discuss that in depth because I am not a person of color. I'm just saying that the canyon is continuing to perpetuate racist tropes in fic and art after literal years of fans of color discussing how these things are racist. stede and/or izzy having to teach ed how to bathe/take care of his hair immediately comes to mind, for example. writing ed as uniquely violent, and responding to feeling threatened with gratuitous violence instead of hiding and curling up into a ball. continuing to reference slavery in their fics.

why don't "ed stans" talk about how ed did bad shit more? because the canyon won't shut the fuck up about it! I think having a frank and productive discussion surrounding ed's actions in 2x01-2x02, as well as a bit of 1x10 is impossible in any sort of public space, and could only happen in a private discord server. I don't think there's anyone who seriously believes ed did nothing he had to apologize for. he did do horrible things. he did have to earn the crew's trust back. the show did really, really rush through it due to The Shortening. but we don't talk about it because we're too busy trying to counter canyon takes.

I do agree with you on that last bit. I am not inclined to view any sentient character in any story merely as a plot device for the protagonist(s). it's just not a method of literary analysis that I particularly jive with. symbolism is cool, and obviously it should be discussed, but at the end of the day, I view characters as people within their own universe, not objects within their own universe, regardless of their importance to the narrative. take jack, for example. one of the most plot-devicey characters in the show. but I still prefer to, and find it more interesting to, see him as a person within the world of the show rather, than a plot device puppet. my point with the post was I see people arguing that izzy's side-characterness makes him less of a person inside the world of the show than stede and ed, but never ever apply that line of thinking to any other side character, and I find it reactionary and hypocritical. now, if you view all the side characters as plot devices, then you're being consistent, and while I don't agree with you, I don't particularly care, and I think that's fine.