#and it's way better this time trust me

[midnight-fables]

Entry 2: Souvenirs

Bearblr Promptober Day 1: Scary Movie

Summary: In which Carmen vents about the demon (memories of Chef Winger (aka Chef David for the uninitiated)) haunting him.

Warnings: Thoughts of self harm, trauma, Chef Winger mentions, nightmares, swearing.

Notes: All journal entries will be titled as such and tagged with #cb journal.

Author DOES NOT want feedback on how accurate of a characterization this is; author is an original works writer and is new to fanfiction, so please be nice. Thank you to @carmenberzattosgf for putting together this prompt list.

01 October 2024

My life is a fucking horror movie.

Fuck the anxiety, the dread, the self-loathing—child’s play. I’ve had that ball and chain since I was an infant. Such is the curse of being a fucking Berzatto; you think you’re born with nothing, so the world takes its taxes in sanity and peace instead.

No, fuck Chef Asshole’s voice emanating from whatever empty, dark corner happened to be on my right in some sick fucking divine prank cooked up by whatever cosmic being that spent eternity laughing at us. Fucking pissants scurrying around on planet Earth like cockroaches with misguided senses of purpose. Fuck Chef David. I didn’t know a kind of asshole could exist that could haunt you while still being alive, but that’s what he was. I would collapse on the couch after closing up the restaurant, hunt for shapes in the shadows cast by peeling paint on the ceiling of my shitty apartment, scour the footage of the day replaying in my mind’s eye for mistakes, for things to get better tomorrow, and then out of nowhere, I’d be back in Empire. Scalp tight because my hair had to be slicked back. Back aching like I had a paring knife stuck between my vertebrae. Aligning a serving of caviar, calling for hands, placing a fillet of salmon, calling for hands, no, chef, the sauce is broken again, calling for hands—and the Devil’s voice would always appear. I’d had the nightmare enough times to know it was a nightmare now, yet I watched my own hands go through machinations without my input, I willed against all odds that this time, I’d wake up before the Devil told me I should be dead, but that would be mercy on the part of the world, wouldn’t it?

I’m fucking stunned.

I made you great.

He made me great, did he? You made me great, huh?

I’m fucking stunned.

Sometimes I caught the voice when I was wide awake, and it would tilt my world. Sometimes I heard the Devil coming, only to spin around and see Claire or Sydney or Marcus or Tina instead. He was everywhere. He walked in my shadow, ate at my table, slept in my bed at night. What kind of exorcism do I need to rid this fuck? Do I put salt in a circle around me? Sometimes I wish the Devil would put that paring knife in my spine already so I could stop waiting for it to appear. Fucking slice me open, tear back the bones and sinew, look at the damage you did to me, look at what you left of me, take some more to add to your souvenirs, why don’t you? Can you rip out the parts of my brain that won’t forget you exist while you’re at it?

[ass-fuehrerin]

t r u s t

The words linger, taut and suffocating, like a noose drawn tight between them. In-ho’s gaze falters, the cracks in his mask widening under the weight of it. His eyes, stripped of their shield, beg the question his voice cannot:

Why do you trust me?

Gi-hun stands resolute, unwavering in the ruin of his own scars. He doesn’t speak, but his answer is clear, carved into the silence like stone:

Why shouldn’t I?

The silence between them isn't empty — it roars. Their eyes lock, and for a single, excruciating moment, the humanity buried beneath the wreckage of them both surfaces — raw, trembling, fragile.

In-ho’s shoulders stiffen; his lips part, the faintest breath of protest trembling there:

Stop. Don’t. But no sound escapes.

Gi-hun’s stillness cuts deeper than any blade, unwavering and steady, yet impossibly gentle. It’s the steadiness that unnerves him, something unbearably familiar.

The weight of that trust is fire, scorching through the layers of cruelty and steel he’s built around himself. It hurts more than he expects. It burns because it matters.

But it’s too late. The moment slips through his fingers, too sharp, too bright to hold. In-ho turns away, his steps leaden, his retreat inevitable.

And yet, even as he walks, the echo remains, a whisper lodged deep in the shadows of his mind:

Why?

[neon-tigre95]

first time drawing nick, hope i did him some kinda justice

[front-facing-pokemon]

[thegreatyin]

I've spent a couple of years lurking on Tumblr in the Arknights tag, and like wow

this story's like *really earnest* and really loves humanity, loves *people*, doesn't it

it's going to be one of those stories that rewrite your brain, change your brain chemistry, stuff like that? Like, I'm going to get into this and I will never be able to leave.

Arknights *really is that good?*

sorry that I'm not making much sense rn, I just had a dream about Arknights today and when I woke up I was like "oh fuck, I think I get why so many people love this thing's story now" lol

*sniffles, wipes a single tear from my eye* i've never been prouder of an anon in my inbox

[xinganhao]

is this something i should've included in my 2024 wrapped? probably. but i'm still doing it to close off the year! (´◡`)

incredibly grateful to have gotten so much love in the past three months. i'm not able to respond to everything, but trust that i see every comment— whether in the replies, reblogs, or in my inbox.

if anything, let this be a reminder to support your favorite writers/creators. in an algorithm that thrives on likes, reblogs with comments in the tags/replies/asks make a world of difference. if you liked someone's work, let them know.

here are some of your words that have stuck with me. 🫶

"#i heart tumblr user xinganhao #no one is doing it like them #the amount of depth in their work #THE EFFORT IS ALMOST TANGIBLE #not to participate in idol worship but …. #a role model for the fic writing community #hashtag proud to be born in the same timeline as tumblr user xinganhao" — g4minelvr re: fake dating!seungkwan

"i always look forward to vernon's slides because I CAN HEAR HIM!!!! its wild like all the replies???? his voice is in my head. but i also realized i can imagine/hear hoshi's so easily too!!! and a lot of his are so funny and witty. anyway ive been so entertained the past few days cos of kae's writing" — maplegyu re: svt reacts to 'i used to have a little bit of a crush on you'

"#so cute !! #“to love is to be burdened; but to not think of it that way.” #HELLOOO #thats such a fire line to drop ???? #sigh these alignments are all accurate but i really need hao to take caee of me :((" — planetkiimchi-rbs re: svt reacts to your drunk texts

"I bet your uni entry essay kicked ass. Youre so creative its mind blowing😭" — bambispostsblog re: sociology major!junhui x reader

"#welcome back dramateen😭😭😭" — dcrlingyou re: svt when idol!reader releases a breakup song

"#i think someone's already said this but #the writing under the texts is like a little treat that i somehow always forget about #its so fun #i read the texts and im like “aww thats so cute i love this blog so muchhhh” #and then i scroll #AND THERES MORE #its like the best thing ever" — forever-atiny re: svt reacts to your drunk texts

"This is DEVASTATING 😭😭😭😭😭 your writing is beautiful but DAMN did it rip my heart and throw it into the ocean" — sasalalista re: svt (taylor's version), heartbreak edition

"#okay maybe I'll allow myself to be this delusional only for this smau bc it's adorable 🥹" — stay-in-district9 re: chan x fansite!reader

"#kae did u know i have a whole maladaptive dream world abt this pairing #it’s like u looked directly into my brain #but like it’s just so perfect for wonwoo #and i just love how pathetic u made him" — pochaccoups re: wonwoo x streamer!reader

"#did i ever mention i am literally your biggest fan #ALL your works i am eating them up 🙏 #and this one was just oh my god #the way you narrate is always too good #with your little details abt the screenplay and all #i aspire to write like you- it's like mixed media but in writing #i loved loved loved this exes to lovers suits gyu so muchhhh" — simpxxstan re: film major!mingyu x reader

"#user xinganhao the way you EAT EVERY SINGLE TIME #COOKED WITH GAS AND FIRE AND DEVOURED #permanently sat for ur posts i fear #can’t get up won’t get up" — ahuiahoe re: seungcheol x fanbase!reader

"the fact that you do complete research into each and every one of the topics and write them well is just pure dedication and hats off to you!!" — choco-scoups re: biology major!vernon x reader

"i'm so in love with the way you design your extra content/headcanons under the photos!! the soccer team and notes app got me down bad, but i really adore the text visually fitting the concept in all of your works!! always excited to get a notification from you. thank you for sharing your creativity with the world!!" — purple-eustoma

"I hope you know your works always hit the spot just right. not even kidding I was in class for two hours and then I see this in my notifications the way i INSTANTLY SMILED?! how do you manage to make my day better😔🫶" — cxffecoupx re: operation dispatch (chan x idol!reader)

"Honestly I know most of your svt burner account fics are meant to be open end, and I really love that. It is just that your writing makes me keep wanting to know more of the story, it is soo well written. I want to dive into the world a little more every time����" — anon

"#THIS IS SO CREATIVE WTF #the genius interview and the whole song… kae ur BRAINNNNNN #this is so good omfg im rooting for them so hard #living vicariously thru simp cheol tweets pretending i am the fanbase 😔 he wants me guys trust #i love love love all the little bonus stuff you do for these literally most creative and fun smau writer ur changing the game" — junhui-recs re: seungcheol x fanbase!reader

"these keep coming up on my dash and i will never skip an smau made by the greatest smau creator on this silly little tumby app" — hachireads re: dead poets society!hhu x reader

"im so srs rn. pls never stop writing" — wonuloves re: vernon dates rockstar!reader (4)

"woozi loves silently, consistently, and sincerely. these are not the adjectives anyone would typically match with the concept of love. and yet, it fits. i first felt the depth of his love with vocal unit songs. and i never looked back. thank you for writing this. thank you for understanding seventeen so well. you deserve everything good in life." — chugging-antiseptic-dye re: jihoon x poetry account!reader

how lucky am i to get to say that this is a mere fraction of all the kindness i've been afforded. again: i see all the nice words directed my way, and it motivates me to stay on this godforsaken site (lol) for at least one more day. thank you, thank you, thank you.

if i can love well, it's because i've been loved well. please let me repay all your kindness in 2025 and for however much longer that i can (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧ if you got this far: happy new year! i wish you clarity, courage, and compassion at every turn. xo

— kae

[extravagav]

AND WE JUST DONT TALK ABOUT THIS?!?!?!!????

[chasemywishes]

nsfw, not explicit

Sirius, who acts so cocky and confident, mixed Remus, who is a nervous and awkward wreck and they are both going to have intercourse for the first time in their lives together, and both left mind blown by whatever the fuck happened on the bed

[aalghul]

when it comes to being willing to make concessions on methods & morality specifically in exchange for gaining batman’s trust & access to the inner bat circle vs rejecting an existing trust & access (because it did exist prior to jason’s death & would have existed had he chosen to walk back in with no radically opposing beliefs after lost days #1)….jason should never choose the first

[pleasedontcareaboutme]

It's missing my father hours rn so imma just dump a bunch of pictures here and cry

( sorry i don't know the source of anything I just had them on my phone)

(also dont read the tags i just need to let it out lol)

[t4transsexual]

at the risk of people getting mad at me for saying this ive noticed that every single trans person who refuses to date other trans people is extremely insecure in their transness and like. thats fine i guess u dont gotta date trans ppl or anything im just saying this is something ive noticed

[fluent-in-lesbianism]

the phrase ‘stuttering like an idiot’ needs to be stricken from all forms of media

[thegayestaddams]

happy valentines day lumax ily

[raptor-claw]

i lied, put your clothes back on. i’m actually going to explain the whole plot of supernatural seasons 1-9 to you in extremely incoherent rambles, while maniacally giggling and frantically stimming, and then quiz you extensively on every single detail of each season afterwards.

[mirrortouchedsea]

dark. that was all he had ever known. cold, dark, damp. the boy shivers in the small room, painfully alone, only a book and his magic to keep him company. he tries not to use his magic very often, though. it seemed that the people above knew when he used it and they always always always refused to give him food until he “woke up” next, if they bothered to keep track of that. maybe this time he’ll learn their lesson. the boy whispers his spell, cur memini, and creates a small light in his fingers. this is the only spell he can cast safely, too small to be noticeable by the people above. he holds his hand over the fading book on the floor. the boy can’t read the letters on the page, but this book has pictures. he flips through it again, careful of the pages that were falling apart, admiring the figure in armor who always comes to rescue the figure in the tower, cut off from the world, just like him. the boy frequently dreams of a figure in armor coming to save him, despite the years he has spent alone. dark and cold and damp. 

the room the boy lives in, the only room he has memories of, is empty besides himself and the book. sometimes the people above would give him water and stale bread to eat, and then there was a cup and a dirty plate, but otherwise it was just the boy and the book. the boy knows why the people above have locked him away, they told him that he was a freak of nature, unnatural, dangerous. but the boy could only make lights in his palm, and that wasn’t very dangerous at all. he thinks to himself that the people above are the dangerous ones, locking away a child for something like this, but he can’t say that out loud. he doesn’t want to die again. 

the boy’s stomach grumbles and he curls in on himself, the light in his palm fades out. he longs to see the sun again, to play with the other children he can hear through the ceiling, to be normal. the people above must have decided to punish him again, though, as he doesn’t remember the last time he had anything to drink, to eat. his stomach would eat through his skin and he would still wake up the next day. why can’t he just die once and for all and be rid of the pain? why is the world keeping him here? why was he even born?

the boy closes his eyes, and falls asleep. maybe this time it won’t hurt so much. 

--- 

how long has he been here? the boy doesn’t keep track of time. he knows he’s died at least a dozen times, but how long does it take for a dozen lifetimes to pass? 

--- 

a clattering on the floor wakes the boy up. the people above decided he can eat today. stale bread and water again, but better than nothing to the boy. he crawls closer to it, listening to the door. it closes and the voices disappear. where was the sound of the lock? did they forget? 

the boy scarfs down his food and water before tiptoeing up the stairs. he doesn’t hear any voices, but he needs to be careful. he doesn’t remember what the above looks like, but he needs to leave. he needs to be free. 

slowly, quietly, he opens the door. it’s dark on the other side of it, but still much, much brighter than his room ever was. he closes his eyes but keeps the door open. breathe in, and out. opens his eyes again, blinking the brightness away. pushes the door further open. steps on the hard ground outside the door. he’s so close. closes the door quietly. turns around and holds his breath. where was outside? pick a direction and go. his legs hurt. turn the corner, listen for voices. voices are dangerous, get away from the voices. whisper his spell, create a small light. keep moving keep moving keep moving. window ahead. break it? open it? is he strong enough? lift the window up. too weak. voices coming. hurry hurry hurry must get out now. whisper spell again, hand on window. break the glass and jump through it. cuts on feet cuts on legs deal with that later. voices getting louder voices shouting. run run RUN. 

the boy runs away from the building, away from his room. freedom is so close. first get to the trees, then… he hasn’t thought that far, but he will find a way. gunshots from the house. he runs faster, must get to the trees, must hide, must be free. cur memini, he whispers again, crossing into the forest. his spell can make lights and now break windows, but he needs it to protect him at this moment. run run run until the voices are quiet again. his legs are giving out, but he needs to run. he can’t die now or they’ll find him. keep running. bare feet on sticks and stones and sharp things, everything hurts but he can’t stop. he keeps running until the sun comes up. his heart beats out of his chest. 

--- 

when he wakes up he doesn’t know how much time has passed. his heart beats fast and he sits up. did they find him? he looks around. trees, rocks, a gurgling stream. he’s free. he’s free. he sighs and lays back down. how far did he run? he needs to go further. away from other people, away from anyone who might lock him up again. he sits up again and forces himself to stand and walk towards the sound of the stream. he can start there. water is important, and he might be able to get food from the little stream too. 

his first drink of the stream water is icy cold, quenching his lifelong thirst in just a few swallows. he washes his face with it, removing years of sweat and grime. he wants to sit by the stream forever if only he could, but the people will find him eventually if he doesn’t keep moving. but he allows himself a few minutes to bathe in the water, savoring the feeling of water on his skin. his stomach still growls, wanting something more filling than the freezing water of the stream, but that would have to wait. he needs to get his bearings. 

the light of the outside world is almost blinding, he realizes. the sun and the snow made it almost impossible to see anything. he should get up above the trees. can he even do that? cur memini, he says, trying to get his voice to be louder than a whisper. his feet float a few inches above the ground. he closes his eyes and says his spell again with more conviction. Cur Memini. he feels himself shooting into the air before he opens his eyes. he can see the forest stretch out for miles around him. trees covered in snow in every direction. if the old house is behind him, he should fly straight ahead, towards the forests on the mountains. tentatively, he leans forward and focuses his magic on keeping himself afloat. 

it doesn’t take much to exhaust what little magic he has, but he’s put more distance between himself and the old house and the people above now. he should be safe to rest, truly rest. but first he should find something to eat. is there anything to eat out here? something in his head tells him to look a little closer to the ground. to his left. there’s a bush full of berries. he’s never had anything but stale bread, and doesn’t know what to expect as he crushes one with his teeth. 

the sensation overtakes him for a brief moment. the berry is sweet, yet tart, and delicious. it’s the best thing he’s ever eaten and he thanks the little voice in his head for the information as he picks several more berries from the bush. the juice runs down his chin and makes him sticky, but it feels good. he feels truly alive for the first time. 

once he’s finished picking the bush clean of its fruits, he needs to find a place to rest, to stay warm. he’s shivering in the intense cold of the north, but it’s nothing he isn’t used to. the room was never very warm after all. he listens to the little voices calling out to him, guiding him towards a small cave, instructing him on how to make a small fire to warm himself up. a small rabbit brushes against his leg and he swears one of the voices is coming from it. and with the fire going, he thanks the rabbit before it hops away back into the snow. he would be roasting that same rabbit over the fire a few months later. 

the boy can’t stay in the cave forever though. as days turn to weeks turn to months, he worries that the people above are getting closer to him. they’ll put him back in that cold, dark, damp room again. he needs to keep moving. he has been practicing his magic, casting stronger spells, and he needs to be ready to fly. it's been long enough. cur memini he says holding his hand out. a rough stick with twigs tied to the end flies into his hand. it’s a poor excuse for what he understands is a broom, but it will work. he climbs onto it and focuses. cur memini cur memini cur memini. he lifts off the ground and watches as the branches of the trees get shorter and eventually he passes above the treetops. 

he takes a moment to gather his bearings. he no longer remembers the direction the house was in, but going up is his best bet of staying away from the people above. he laughs, realizing that he is the one above them now. after a moment, he flies into the mountains. the small voices change into bigger, unfamiliar ones as he gets further into the mountain range. they tell him to hide, to stay away. he doesn’t listen. they cannot be more dangerous than the humans he is running from. 

the boy lands, still exhausted from using so much magic, but he was able to travel further this time. that has to count for something, surely. he gathers some sticks and looks for another cave to make his home in. the caves remind him too much of the room he left, so he chooses to stay close to the entrance, close to the light that reminds him he is free. the fire keeps the animals away, but the voices are curious about the new presence in their woods. they make him curious too. he should stay in the cave tonight though and regain his energy. maybe he can get some small game to fill his stomach before settling in for the night. he listens for a rabbit’s voice, or maybe a squirrel, anything that would be small enough to kill with his hands. 

at last, a small fox’s voice is heard nearby. he wonders if fox will taste different from the other game he’s eaten thus far. he lifts a hand-sized rock and slinks out of the cave towards the voice. it takes a few minutes to find the source, but the fox is curled under a tree, shivering, hungry, just like him. the boy hesitates before bludgeoning it and slinging the corpse over his shoulders. there are more foxes. he is much more important. 

the fox is only the first animal he hunts in those mountainous woods. he spends several years in that forest and eventually humans settle up there as well. the boy, or rather, the man now, has made a name for himself amongst the human populations of the north. he is no longer afraid of humans capturing him and locking him up. they are still terrified of him, but now he is in control of that terror. the hunters that left his territory alive whispered tales of the great wizard owen who inhabited the mountains and terrorized anyone who had the bad luck of running into him. 

all of this is perfectly fine with owen. eventually his reputation will grow beyond himself, encapsulating atrocities that were impossible for even someone as strong as oz to commit, but that would be a problem for future owen. for now, he is still young and living in his cave on the outskirts of a small village and scaring hunters who stray too far from their boundaries. the wolves don’t like these visitors either and gladly listen to owen’s lamentations. it keeps his hands clean of the bloodshed if he isn’t casting the spell himself. the wolves don’t care for owen either, but they respect him. and that is enough for owen. 

the first of the unwanted visitors was a young man, someone who wanted to provide for his family. he pleaded with owen and the wolves to let him go and he wouldn’t cause any problems. those pleas fell on deaf ears though as owen looked the man in the eyes. won’t your family be disappointed, he asked almost innocently, you don’t have anything to show for your efforts. the man stammered a response, they’d rather i come back alive with nothing than die trying to find food. is that so, owen reached out for the man’s chin, the distance between their faces was almost nothing. y-yes, sir, please just let me go and i won’t bother you anymore. owen grinned. oh i’m sure you won’t be causing us any trouble again. the wolves stalked out of the woods, drooling at the prospect of tearing a piece of that man for themselves. owen snapped his fingers, and they came running forward, only to stop mere inches from the now trembling man. there was a suspicious yellow stain in the snow beneath him. p-p-please sir, anything you ask, it’s yours! then make sure you tell the rest of your little village that this forest belongs to the great wizard owen. the man ran off, leaving behind a hunting rifle and a ratty sack. the rifle would be of use, but the sack became tinder for his fires. 

despite the warning from that first man, hunters continued to enter into owen’s territory. and one after the other, they ran off screaming with their tails between their legs. this should have annoyed owen, that people would ignore all of the warnings and stories that had started popping up about him, but it doesn’t. their fear feeds into his magic power, only making him stronger, and that is all fine with owen. he is no longer a weak child locked in the damp, dark basement, and he never will be again.