#going to the movies by yourself be like *catharsis catharsis catharsis*

[tojikai]

Sundered⁺ : CATHARSIS

Big thanks to @mikeyslvrr for commissioning this piece! ♡

Pairing: Gojo x reader

• SUNDERED MASTERLIST

Genre: Angst

tags/cw: angst, babydaddy!gojo, babymomma!reader

word count: 5.6k

a/n: Only the kitchen conversation can be considered a part of the main series.

Have your pieces been carried by the waves, swept away from this city that whispers his name everywhere you go?

Satoru woke up from a hard smack on his shoulder. “What is wrong with you? You kept grunting in your sleep.” You walked away, fixing your belt. “You’re leaving?” He muttered, heart still racing as he ran a hand down his face, thinking of his dream where you got mad at him and left with Yui.

Satoru's pretty sure that if he died today, he would get seven minutes of all the moments he had hurt you, not seven minutes of happy moments. Sometimes all the wrong things he did would catch up to him and haunt him in his sleep; where he can almost physically feel the pain he caused emitting from your skin because he chose to be a better man for someone else.��

“Uh, yes. Isn’t that why you volunteered to babysit? He watched you reapply your lipstick. Satoru found himself licking his lips, spacing out. “Oh yeah,” He sighed, realizing that he just fell asleep after snack time with Yui. He overheard you asking your Mom to babysit Yui while you go out and he volunteered.

You’re going out. On a date. At night. With a guy.

He blinked fast like it could wipe away his heart-wrenching thoughts. It’s just a date, he told himself, reminding himself of his place in your life and how he doesn’t have the right to be…territorial and possessive over you. 

“I, uh, haha, ‘had a really deep nap’” He scratched his head. There were a lot of things going on inside his head but hugging you was the hardest to control. If he begged you not to go, would you listen? But he promised to support your happiness. 

Satoru and you have been having a very healthy co-parenting relationship, and you're more comfortable around each other now. Although you never mentioned anything about taking him back, he just can't let go of his hope. If he gave up, he feared to end up like his father. 

Lose the woman he loves, his family, forever. That's his biggest fear. He’d probably just drop dead without warning if it happens.

“I won’t be out so late.” You rushed to check on your sleeping doll in her room. “Her screen time, Satoru.” You reminded him as you looked at yourself in the mirror. Satoru could only hum in response, mesmerized. He wished he could go out on date nights with you too.

Tapping his shoulder, you left him daydreaming in the middle of aftershocks from a nightmare.

———————————————

“Yui, do you think Mama still loves Dada?” He asked absentmindedly, juggling a toy in his hand while his daughter was lost in the movie. He didn't think she was listening to him, but she replied with a simple, “No.” He stared at the side of her face for a minute before sighing, afraid that she might be right.

“Mama wuv Yui.” She pointed at her chest, leaving Satoru in awe. “Of course. Dada loves you as well.” He was trying to let go of the weight on his chest but tragically failed when he remembered the words he said to you that fateful day. It was one of the days he regretted the most. 

That, and the day he chose to give up on your relationship.He can see himself spending his whole life proving his love to you as long as you let him. 

The wait was agonizing. He feels like his oxygen levels get significantly lower with each passing hour. He paced around the kitchen after lulling his child to sleep. It’s 9:27 PM and just as he was about to check his phone, the door opened. “Oh, it’s been a while since I ate out with a friend alone.” You sighed, a small smile playing on your lips. Satoru just stood there nervously.

“W-welcome home. How did your…date go?” He kind of regrets asking that because it felt like he was intruding, but you smiled, taking your shoes off. “It was fun, a little breather. Where’s Yui?” You walked to Yui’s room and Satoru couldn’t help but breathe in as you passed by him.

You smelled of…your cologne. He let out a sigh of relief. But did he feel relieved? No. It’s just the first date. There could be a second, third, and fourth date. Then, you’ll be together, and God…what will become of him?

“Did you go home by yourself?” He followed you. “Of course not. He dropped me off.” Damn it. He should’ve waited by the window so he could see him. “He got Yui a little something.” You pulled a little bear keychain from your bag, and Satoru couldn’t help the painful contractions in his heart.

That motherfucker prepared. He cursed internally, smiling a little too hard as you showed it to him. “Guess I’ll just give it to her tomorrow.” You both kissed your daughter good night before leaving the room. He felt a splitting headache coming on. He hasn’t stopped thinking since this afternoon.

As Satoru left, he took in the small smile on your face as you closed the door. You’re really happy. Now, he’s curious about this guy. Closing his eyes, he squeezed the steering wheel. It was that feeling with Toji again, and this time it’s worse because he has to witness you slowly fall in love with someone new.

He felt like running back inside and begging you to just let him begin again like that too. But that would be too much of an imposition, especially for someone who almost ruined your perception of love.

What he can only do is go home, suck it up, and sleep.

———————————————

The following weeks have been nothing but torture for Satoru. The second time, you went out with a couple of friends but that didn’t change anything for him. And now,  you’re meeting up again, and despite being told that your mom can do it when it’s not his schedule, he still insisted on babysitting.

Now he’s once again sitting on your couch, elbows on his knees. What would he do if you called him and told him you won’t be home tonight? No, no, he doubts that. You’re too hands-on with Yui, no way you’ll just decide like that. But…What if? He shot up from the seat to peek at the window when he saw headlights from outside.

You’re still inside the car. Images started flashing before his eyes and he could tell he was just a pinch away from bursting out the door to get your attention. Satoru’s hand moved up to his chest in relief when you stepped out. He probably kissed her. His brain whispered and Satoru was forced to gulp the pain.

He’s gonna have to see it one day and he will have no choice but to look away.

Sitting down when he saw you walk to the door, he rubbed his eyes quickly before pretending to be on his phone. “Hi,” You smiled at him, “I got home late.” You sighed, glancing at your wristwatch. “It’s alright, Yui was being so good, she slept early.” He ran a hand through his hair and walked behind you.

Kissing your daughter’s cheeks, you looked up at him. “You know, I was wondering if it’s fine to take Yui with us to the theme park next time?” You stood up, heading to the kitchen. “I mean, I’ll be there, I just want to tell you since you’re her parent too.” You continued, unaware of the thoughts in his head.

This kitchen. 

He felt nauseous watching you stand there, leaning on the counter like you did when you had your big fight. He thinks this sensitivity stems from all that has happened to him and your family.

“What do you think? You can meet him before we go—” You explained but he just stood there, shaking his head as he licked his lips. “I don’t know. I mean, I know you won’t let anything happen to her but…” He inhaled sharply, should he admit that he was jealous? You wait for him to finish talking but he doesn’t know what else to say.

“Is he…Are you guys getting serious?” He tried to smile genuinely. “Ah…” Sighing, he continued, “I guess I was just being…overprotective. Sure, y-you can take her. I mean, I’m sure he’s a good guy if he—” Straightening up, you crossed your arms, perplexed. “Satoru, what’s going on? What are you thinking?” He can’t give a reason. He just bit his lip.

“N-nothing.” His eyes feel heavy, he just wants to sleep. He starting to feel…defeated. “I just got a bit…I guess protective because a…a new person is gonna be around my child but,” He nodded awkwardly, desperate to convince you and hide his feelings, “It’s alright. You’re with her. Yeah, it’s okay.” He was about to bid goodbye, but your curious eyes froze him in place. 

“Alright,” A sigh of relief escaped his mouth despite not really feeling relieved. “Why don’t you eat with me? I bought something on our way home. Take it as a thanks for babysitting even when it’s not your schedule.” You joked, getting the plates. As much as Satoru wants to sleep his heartache off, how could he reject the smile on your face?

He can’t even remember the last time you ate together. Just the two of you. Looking at you now, he can’t help but wonder if this will be the last time too. If you fall for that guy, this could be the last time he’ll see this; the glow on your face as you share your thoughts with him. In the midst of it, Satoru can’t help but feel sentimental.

“None of this would’ve happened if I hadn’t done all that shit. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to atone, but I’ll sell my soul just to take a quarter of the pain off your mind.” You paused, processing his words. You remember all the times you felt irked while experiencing something fun, knowing it could’ve been the three of you if it wasn’t for what happened.

But you’re teaching yourself to create space for something good by letting go of the bad.

“Why did you do those things? Did you…did you want to get rid of me so bad back then?” You chuckled bitterly, suddenly feeling vulnerable, but he quickly answered. “No, Y/N. I never wanted to get rid of you. I was just…” Inhaling deeply, he looked you in the eyes. “I was desperate to run away from the problems I created in our relationship.”

“I thought distancing myself from you might help me move forward, but…” He licked his lower lip, shaking his head. 

But you can’t really create distance when it comes to someone you love, no matter how far apart you physically are. 

“Seeing Toji was the last straw. I knew I had to do something then, and I felt even dumber for letting it get to that point before listening to myself.” You looked down at the mention of your dear friend.

“I know how much you hate it, but…Y/N, I’m sorry. So many things went downhill in your life, and I took part in all of it. I can never do enough to fix it.” His voice weakened with every word. “You gave me the best thing, too.” You spoke, and his eyes lit up a bit, but not enough to mask his sorrow. 

You nodded toward your child’s room. “Satoru, it’s hard to just forget. I’ve said this countless times. But for that tiny human,” A small smile played on your lips, “For that little girl, we have to put things behind us. I don’t want her to grow up surrounded by the negative things of the past.” You leaned back in your chair, understanding that at times like this, you have to be positive. 

Satoru had been through things, too, and you wouldn’t invalidate that.

“Did you learn from your mistakes?” You asked him, standing up to grab a bottle of water. “I did, Y/N. I promise. I know it’s not much, but I try, and I will continue trying for you, for Yui.” You only realize now that you hadn’t really talked about it so thoroughly. Why? Probably because it scared you. But you can't live in fear forever.

However, the conversation brought you back to when you first saw him and Naomi. You tried hard to stop your emotions from taking over. Your face slowly drops at the memory. You remembered how you trusted his words, and how he went back on them.

“Why did you decide you didn’t want to try with me anymore that time?” Your throat started to constrict. Your chest suddenly felt too cramped up for your beating heart. Perhaps if you chose to spill out your unanswered questions earlier, it wouldn’t feel so hard right now. 

“I was a coward. I was too afraid to face our problems with you, so I thought it was better to cling to the freedom I felt with Naomi.” Stretching his legs out, he glanced at you. You can’t help but think that if only you had been open and talked it out before, instead of pushing each other away, things would’ve been better.

But of course, there’s always the threat of his beloved mother.

“Then, my mom introduced Naomi to me. She was there, she took care of Yui with me. She didn’t pull away from me, even when all I talked about were my problems. She didn’t make me feel alone.” He paused. The silence was deafening. You hated that all that you could hear was your heartbeat.

“That time…it was what I needed. But that’s definitely not what I wanted.” He looked up at the kitchen light, recollecting the feelings and thoughts he used to have. “I wanted myself to believe that. I made myself believe that I’m better off without you. For a little while, I did. She gave me a sense of tranquility, something we never had in a while then.” The peace. 

You didn’t think it would still hurt to hear him talk about her like she’s his savior but you found yourself looking down, sighing. “The quiet was nice, right?” You felt bitter suddenly. “Is that why it took a whole new guy coming into our lives for you to stand up and get your family?” You looked at him, feeling bad that you were having these thoughts for something gone. 

You don’t like to dwell on things so much but, maybe after all this time you still hate to think that some other girl was at your place. 

“It’s not quiet when I got you on my mind.” He murmured, your breath hitched. “Weeks after we fought in this kitchen, I couldn’t dream of anything else but your face, your voice.” He closed his eyes, eyebrows furrowed like he was in pain. “I could’ve sworn that if I heard your voice calling out my name, I would’ve given it all up.” You gulped your water, recalling how crushed you felt that time.

“Y/N…why did you pull away from me? I was scared shitless every time you’d say you’d find someone better because I know damn well there’s a lot.” He laughed unenthusiastically. The breath you took was harsh on your throat. It felt like it was slicing your neck from the inside. 

“I didn’t know how else to protect myself, Satoru.” You sniffed, reminding yourself that this one conversation could change so much between you and Satoru. “I didn’t know how else to protect myself from the pain, from your mom.” Something flashed in Satoru’s eyes at the mention of his mother. He’s hurt but you know that he longs to talk to her. It was still his mother, after all.

“I failed to stand up for you because I was too focused on pleasing my mom. I’m sorry that I couldn’t protect us from her.” Satoru knew that if he only believed in you a little more, the damage in your relationship wouldn’t have gotten so big. “I didn’t realize that she was already dictating my life to the point where she got me to leave my family without even knowing it.” 

Slowly taking your hand in his, he rubbed your skin with his thumb. By how shallow his breathing was, you can tell that this conversation was slowly breaking Satoru into tinier pieces. Holding your hand was probably the only thing that could keep him from falling apart right now, so you let him. 

Feeling his touch, you wondered if this was how gentle he was to Naomi.  You can’t help but think…what if he’s way gentler with her? Before you knew it, you were already speaking out your most kept thoughts; the softest, most tortured part of your heart was exposed.

“For many nights, I stayed up crying, wondering how you could so easily protect Naomi at the expense of my feelings.” You watched as his finger stopped moving on the back of your hand. “I remember wanting to know what she had that made you the man I always wanted you to be.” Tears started to pool in your eyes again, but you refused to look at him. 

Knowing about what happened to them, you were convinced that Naomi was also a victim of Satoru’s mother. She was a victim of her love towards Satoru, and that love was taken advantage of by Satoru’s mother. But other than that, you can’t help but think about how she used to be such a wonder to Satoru that he fell for her so easily. 

You watched Satoru wordlessly move out of his chair to kneel before you, kissing your hands. His whispered apologies spoke volumes. “You’re never any less, Y/N. Please, don’t think like that.” But you made her feel like that. He wished he could find the right words to say. But he thinks that no amount of apology could erase the scars he painted on your heart.

“I wanted to be better. But I'll forever regret everything I did just to satisfy her even when I knew it was hurting you.” His breaths were shaky, rough. “I wanted to be the man you wanted me to be. And just because I did it for her doesn’t mean I didn’t want to do it for you. Y/N, more than anyone, I wanted to be better for you first.” He knows that there will never be enough words to comfort your ache. But Satoru’s willing to prove it to you.

“I thought improving myself for her would make me feel better about our broken relationship. I was selfish, Y/N. I’m sorry.” You quickly wiped your tears away, sighing at how the heavy feeling in your chest seemed to slowly vanish after being uncaged. “Did it? You were going to marry her.” You weren’t mocking him at all. But it kills you to think that he loved her enough to want to marry her.

“At one point, I did. I used to think taking things further with her would pull me farther away from you. But it didn’t because if it did, I wouldn’t break so easily at the sight of you being with someone else.” Silence follows, and you can only smile and nod. Words alone still feel hard to believe. That’s why you've opted for a co-parenting setup with him—for now, you're letting his actions speak for themselves.

The night stretched on as your questions found answers, regrets were voiced, and what-ifs were shared. The conversation was bittersweet, a plea to undo mistakes and lessen the depth of wounds. The answers served as stitches and bandages to the injuries made.

That night, both of you hoped for a brighter tomorrow and lighter hearts in the days ahead.

_________________________________

Three years ago, you wouldn’t have seen yourself in an unfamiliar town, living in a small apartment with your mother and working as a waitress in a small restaurant. It was a tough adjustment for the kid but you’re getting there. She still asks for her father now and then, but you can’t give anything but a simple “Not now. He’s working” 

Will they ever meet again? Will you ever see him again? It doesn’t matter if he won’t come for you. You will live. For yourself. For Yui. You walked home with your head down, clutching your bag as you entered a small convenience store to grab some bread. You stared at a pack of candy on one of the shelves, allowing the buried memories to play in your mind.

—FLASHBACK—

“So, you’re good with her father now?” Your friend asked you as you pushed Yui’s bike. The theme park was packed with people and Yui couldn’t be more distracted and excited. “Yeah, I guess. We talked about a lot of things. We needed that.” You sighed, pursing your lips. 

“I'm still hesitant about trying again with him. With what happened between us, it’s still hard for me to just decide that.” Albeit unaware of your entire past with Satoru, your friend tried to be understanding, and you truly appreciated that. 

Seeing a row of empty chairs, you decided to sit down, and just as you were about to speak to your friend again, Yui got up and cheered for the coming cart, “Mama! Clouds, pwease!” You stood up as she pointed to it, dropping the toy Satoru got her. The toy quickly rolled down the pathway to the direction of the cart which had to stop by a group of kids and parents.

“Oh, shoot!” Your friend didn’t even have time to get it for you. You beat him to it, running after the toy which luckily bumped into a potted plant near the cart. You picked it up, panting as you looked back at them. Your friend was standing up, ready to go to you but you waved the toy at him, pointing at the cart to imply that you could get it yourself.

It was getting a bit crowded from the buyers so you signaled him to stay there with Yui, not wanting to involve her in any possible accidents. Thankfully, the vendor was skilled, and soon enough, you were returning to your daughter with a pink ball of cotton candy. “You moved so fast. I could’ve gotten it for you.” Your friend laughed, shaking his head in amusement.

“I guess it’s because I got used to it. When Satoru can’t be around to help, it’s all on me so…” You shrugged, only realizing that when it comes to Yui, you’d rather let yourself do all the work instead of relying on others. But that changes little by little now that Satoru’s around more. The day flew by, turning out to be more about Yui's outing than a friendly date.

You quickly checked your phone after your friend dropped you off. ‘Can I come over when you’re home?’ It was Satoru. Your brows furrowed at how serious he seemed. His texts usually carry a hint of sweetness, but this time, it was just a plain old text. ‘We’re home.’ You quickly replied and not even 15 minutes later, he was already at your house.

“Where’s Yui?” You looked at him standing at the door, waiting until you signed for him to come in. He was always like that, and while you appreciated it, you found the awkwardness somewhat amusing. "She fell asleep. Have you had snacks—" You were about to ask him, but he cut in abruptly, his tone serious.

“Y/N, can I ask you about something?” You felt nervous all of a sudden. He looked at you before reluctantly sitting down on the couch. You joined him when he pulled out his phone, scrolling for something. “Please, don’t take this the wrong way. I just want to know what happened here,” 

Your eyes widened, staring at the photo of Yui with your friend at the park earlier. It only captured half of the cart, blurred in the background. “Where were you? Look, my daughter’s alone with a… basically, a stranger to her—” You interrupted, heart racing in your chest, “Why do you have that? Did you get someone to follow us?” He sighed, remaining composed.

“No. Now, please just answer me first.” You learned the hard way about fights and now you just want to stay calm because this is certainly a misunderstanding. “I went after her toy that rolled down, and I bought cotton candy for her.” You reached out to zoom in on the pic, cursing out the way it was taken. What matters is that the cotton candy cart can be recognized.

“I know it’s blurry but I’m here, I even have a photo of Yui with a cotton candy if you want to—” Satoru shook his head, sighing exasperatedly. “Y/N, you left our daughter with a man. You barely know this guy, he’s a newbie in your work and now you…” Rubbing a hand over his face, Satoru looked at you with disappointment but still soft nonetheless. 

“You could’ve let him get that toy for Yui if he was such a man, made him buy in that crowded place for you.” You stayed silent, understanding where he’s coming from but the fact that he has this photo is setting you off. 

“He was about to. But I beat him to it because it’s always been like that for me.” You tried to explain before continuing, “Who sent you that, Satoru?” Satoru stared at you, contemplating. 

“My mom came to my house.” Now you know why he was in such a state. You bit your lip, wanting to cry out of frustration. Her restraining order lasted six months. You know there’s no way you could tear Satoru’s mother away from his life but you just want him to stop being tied to her apron strings.

He told you about how his mother came to him a few hours ago. He initially told her he was not yet ready to talk to her again, but was intrigued when she said she ran into Yui and a man at the park. 

“Were you following them?” He didn’t try hiding his accusatory gaze. “No, son! Believe me, I was just afraid that Y/N would panic if she saw me. But I saw her leave Yui with this man.” She looked so different from before. Satoru almost wanted to cry to her despite the pain she caused him, ask her why she did that. But he has to be tough. 

“You may go, Mom. I will talk to Y/N about it.” He attempted to close the gate but she kept getting closer to him, “When will I see my granddaughter? I miss her so much. And you, my Son…” Her teary eyes were still too much for Satoru, he looked away shaking his head. “I don’t know. Not now.” With that, he closed the door. 

“I don’t want you to think that I’m just simply buying her words, that’s why I came here to talk to you,” Satoru reassured you, “I know you didn’t mean to leave Yui like that but please, just…” Before he could even finish, you already answered, kind of relieved that this didn’t end with the slamming of doors again. “I know, I just got used to doing stuff for her myself. I’m sorry.” With that, the misunderstanding was cleared.

You didn’t think this would be followed by a string of events that would once again mess up your slowly glowing life. “Why are you here?” Your phone was in your hand as you blocked the door, your fingers found the emergency dial and immediately called Satoru. “I just want to see my Yui. I know I messed up Y/N, I just want to see my only grandkid.” You just can’t bring yourself to let her in.

“Satoru…can you come over? Right now. Your mother’s here.” You can hear his heavy sigh from the other end, “Don’t let her in. Wait for me.” And just as Satoru arrived his mother cried on his chest. “Son, I know I did wrong things but how can you treat me like I would harm your child?” Satoru’s hold on her arm was gentle but firm. 

Holding her to his chest as she breaks down, she looks at you with eyes that bear his agony. You can’t blame him for that’s his mother. But you’re desire to protect your child was greater. “I will only allow it for a few minutes, Satoru.” You wiped Yui’s face, peeking at the door to see his mother sitting on a monoblock chair with her head down.

“I know. I understand and I’m sorry. Sit with us if that would make you feel more at ease about this. I’m here, Y/N.” Hearing this from Satoru calmed you a bit, but it didn’t take away your worries. You just prayed that this would end soon. 

The last straw was the humiliation she caused you in front of your friends and strangers at a cafe. You were caught off guard and were almost torn down again but you stood your ground. 

“You dare leave your daughter at home just to mingle around? Y/N, what kind of a mother are you?” Your friends attempted to break it off, trying everything they could just to get his mother off your back. You should’ve just called the police that day. 

“What do you know about being a mother when you set up your own son for assault?!” You answered back, garnering whispers from strangers. “This is not about me! This is about you leaving your daughter just to fuck around!” It was only a matter of time before the guards dragged the two of you out of the cafe. 

“Out of all the days, she really chose the time when Satoru’s overseas for work!” You cried, fixing your hair on the way home. “You gotta protect yourself and Yui from that woman, Y/N.” Your friends looked at you with concern. That woman brings nothing but misfortune to you and your life. 

The moment you got home,  you called Satoru immediately. “I’m filing a case whether you like it or not, Satoru. I’m tired of this.” You cried, “I know, Y/N. I’m so sorry but please just wait for me to get back. I’ll help you when I’m back, I promise.” You couldn’t go out for a few days after that, it also took everything to stop your mother from committing a crime. 

And now, just a week after that, you almost lost your reason for living. 

You had to get another set of utensils after Yui dropped hers. When you returned, you saw her walking out of the cafe’s door. Satoru’s mother held the door open, using a pack of candy to lure the child out.

You’ve never run so fast in your life. You fought with all your might but she beat you to it, carrying Yui and attempting to take her away. “If you weren’t in our lives, Satoru would’ve been fine!” She screamed at you, pulling at the crying kid. You were so terrified and angry that you started to shake. You chose to scream for help rather than answer back, afraid that you’d lose your baby.

When people started rushing towards you, she immediately took off. You didn’t bother to see if she was captured, you just ran, desperate to save your child. After calling your mom, you’ve made your decision. You attempted to call Satoru but he was unreachable. You tried to understand that he was working and he didn’t even know this was happening. 

And when he finds out, he’d probably only try to hold you back and you don’t think you can do that. You can’t be in a place where your daughter’s unsafe. You knew you had to leave. Your daughter’s cries tell you that you have to leave. The scratches in her arms tell you that you have to leave. And that’s what you did, albeit without a clear place in mind. 

You left with your mother and that’s all Satoru knows too. 

Going home from his trip, Satoru didn’t even go back to his house. He went straight to yours and as if his fears came to life, you weren’t there. He tried calling you but it doesn’t even ring. He looked everywhere, asked around, and even went to Toji’s to beg him but he didn’t know too. His nightmare came true and the beat of his heart felt like it was slowing down with each day that passed without news about you.

All he knows is that the last time you were here, Yui almost got kidnapped by her own grandmother. 

He knows how protective you are of Yui. No wonder you disappeared. Satoru partially blames himself for not coming home when you called him crying. You probably thought he would put you off again. You probably thought he’d choose his mother again and honestly, he can’t blame you after all that he’s done in the past.

Satoru was broken, and the love he used to have for his mother turned into disgust and hate. His father helped him with his mother’s case. She was sent to jail after witnesses including your friends testified. His sleepless nights were endless. His search for his family was ceaseless too.

-END OF FLASHBACK-

Three years have passed since that, and you promised yourself that you would only believe that you and Satoru are meant to be together if he found you. If he didn’t, then maybe it’s better to let it go. After everything, you just can’t help but feel like the heavens are intentionally trying to separate the two of you.

But here you are, proven wrong when you bumped into a white-haired guy with tired blue eyes as you exited the store.

“Y/N?”

Sundered Masterlist

[after-witch]

Horrorfest: Trick or Treat [Yandere Chrollo x Reader]

Title: Trick or Treat [Yandere Chrollo x Reader]

Synopsis: "Can you at least tell me where we're going?" Chrollo, in the driver's seat, says nothing. And you barely resist the urge to rip the blindfold off your head.

For Horrorfest request... Chrollo taking darling to a house & won't say the rest because the reveal is necessary for the catharsis.

notes: yandere, reader is kidnapped, emotional damage idk

“Can you please tell me where you’re taking me?” The edge in your voice makes it crack like glass, a tone just as fragile as your poor nerves. Your fingers curl tighter against your thighs. Just what the hell is going on?

Chrollo is beside you in the driver’s seat, as always. He’d never trust you with a car, even in the ordinary circumstance you find yourself in them--traveling from place to place, whisked to hotels and hideouts and sometimes less-than-hospitable abandoned places. 

You can hear the gentle acceleration of the engine, the hum of the road underneath you, the rush of wind when he opens the window a crack. The weight of his presence is there, that almost imperceptible sensation of strength from his pure existence. 

But. 

You can’t see a damn thing through the blindfold he tied around your forehead after getting you into the car earlier this evening.

“You’ll see soon enough, dearest,” he answers finally. You swear you can sense the way his head glances down at your clenched hands. “Do try to calm down. I promise it’s nothing bad.”

You bite your cheek.

“Your definition of bad is often different from mine, so you can see why that doesn’t exactly reassure me.” 

The swerve of the car when it turns, more frequently now, like you’ve gone off the main road and are now somewhere more complicated. Where is he taking you, and why? There’s a thud in your heart when you consider the possibilities.

If this was simply a matter of moving to a new hideout, he would have told you; you would have packed your things, few though they are, and been given at least a vague schedule. Driving times. Flight take-offs. Whatever.

But tonight, he’d asked you to follow him after dinner, led you out to the car, and gently urged you inside. He ignored your questions. Then he said it would be a surprise and tied a blindfold around your eyes. 

There’s only the vaguest sense of time passing--how long have you been driving anyway? Wherever he was taking you, would you stay there long? Would you be back at the hotel by nightfall? You’d hoped to catch a horror movie marathon the hotel was hosting on its own channel. It was the only Halloween activity Chrollo had agreed to, since he didn’t like the idea of taking you out to a party and it wasn’t like a hotel was going to get trick-or-treaters. Maybe you could have asked him to get some decorations, but somehow the thought of taping up paper bats on the walls of the luxury hotel room didn’t feel in the spirit of the season.

The car comes to a stop and you lurch slightly in your seat.

Chrollo turns off the engines. He leans over and unbuckles your seatbelt. 

“Just a moment,” he says, and you swear your hear warm mirth in his voice. Asshole. He enjoys playing with you, doesn’t he? And that’s what this must be, some sort of sick game.

The door opens and there’s a whoosh of pleasantly cool air that smells like leaves and bonfires. He grabs your arm and helps you out of the car. You shiver, not from the chill. You’re outside, that much is clear. But where? And why? And for what?

”Chrollo,” you say, pleading. Your fingers dig into your upper arms. How much trouble would you be in if you just ripped the damn thing off your head on your own?

He chuckles, and he’s close enough that you can almost feel it. Finally his fingers fiddle with the knot of the blindfold and you feel it drop away before your eyes register that you can see again.

It’s--

It’s--

A neighborhood. An ordinary neighborhood. The evening has not quite settled in, and the sky reflects brilliant orange and red against rows of homes, all flickering yellows and purples and greens from Halloween decorations tacked and staked and pinned outside. The glow of lit jack o’lanterns practically shimmers against the dutifully swept sidewalks.

It makes your heart hurt to see this sort of life. 

“Why… did you bring me here?” A thousand thoughts rattle off, most of them not staying long to catch. The idea that he’s taunting you or teasing you comes to mind. Or maybe he’s got some target inside that he’s going to kill and make you watch as revenge for telling him that if he loved the expensive lingerie that found its way into your suitcase so much, he could wear it himself.

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he simply takes your arm and you can do nothing but follow. Helpless thing that you are. Sure, there are people outside. Children itching to trick or treat, parents forcing them to pose for photos. And they’d be dead in a second (if they were lucky) if you said something to them. 

The house is nice. A typical suburban house, you suppose. There are orange-and-black garlands strewn about, a giant witch stood up in the corner with a cauldron that has fake lights and an artificial bubbling sound. 

There’s even a jack o’ lantern in front of the doorway, glowing softly from a tealight placed inside. It’s a pretty thing. Maybe you should have asked Chrollo if you could carve a pumpkin in the hotel, after all. 

When he gets to the front door, he stops and shoves his hands into his jingling pockets. He… has a key to the house, which should perhaps surprise you. But your heart is pounding and your nerves are frayed, and all you can do is think in alternating thoughts: why are we here, and why can’t I live like this?

The door creaks open. You half-expect something to jump out. A corpse. A member of the Phantom Troupe. Both?

But instead there’s just… a house. Just an ordinary house. With some of the lights on in the kitchen and a fake fireplace and fairy lights with orange pumpkins strung up in the entryway. Next to the coat rack is a table with an immensely large bowl filled with an assortment of candy. Chocolates and sour sweets and licorice. 

A few feet in front of the entryway is a rack of--clothes? No, they’re colorful and strange looking. Costumes, you realize. Halloween costumes. But why…

Your heart thuds, once, twice, three times.

“I don’t understand.” Your mouth is dry. Something in your chest tightens as Chrollo gently pushes you forward until you’re in front of the costume rack.

His voice comes from next to you, but you don’t dare face him. You don’t know what expression he will wear and worse than that, you don’t know what expression is on your face right now. But you know that it’s something too vulnerable to share with him so openly.

“You said you’d never been able to hand out candy to trick or treaters, didn’t you?”

It takes a few moments to hit you, and when it does, your hands wring together.

“So you… this is…” Not some awful, nasty trick, but something kind and done for you? You don’t say it. You don’t need to say it. The disgusted, awful relief of it--the gently rising pleasant surprise--must be showing on your face.

He holds up a princess costume while your mind tries to process what’s happening, and you shake your head at it. Too sweet and colorful for your vision of Halloween.

“Don’t think too much about it, dear,” he says, thumbing through the hangers of costumes. “Just find something and get dressed. I’m sure there will be plenty of kids coming to the door soon enough.”

Kids. In costumes. Trick or treating. 

At your--no, not your house, but maybe your house? In some way. Just for now. For the moment. For one one night--Halloween night.

That has to be good enough.

--

The witch costume is just the right size, but that’s no surprise. Chrollo has a shockingly detailed knowledge about your body; he’s even, with trial and error, mastered the art of nabbing nearly perfectly sized underwear across different brands. Bastard.

But you don’t think about that now. All you think about is how… spooky you look. How fun. How pretty, in that dark and morbid and delightfully Halloweeny way. 

You forgot how this felt, actually: wearing a real costume. Not the mask you put on every day to survive co-existence with Chrollo Lucilfer, but a real Halloween costume. Something shiny and cheap, not meant to be worn more than a few times before you find a broken seam, sigh, and chuck it out. 

In the end, you look like anyone else might, living in this house, dressed up on Halloween. A witch costume, complete with a hat and fake wart that you are sure is going to fall off your face within about 15 minutes thanks to some questionable quality sticker glue. 

When you step out to show Chrollo, you find not Chrollo, but a vampire in his place. Okay, okay. It’s Chrollo, wearing his normal outfit with a thin black cape lined in red over everything. He slicked back his hair--admittedly you prefer it loose, not that you’d ever tell him so--and it looks like he applied a thin layer of white powder to dilute his pallor even more. 

A vampire. Dracula. A bloodsucker. How appropriate for him. Not that you’d ever ruin this night by vocalizing that thought, so you bury it like a fake skeleton underneath the house of your mind. 

“You look marvelous,” he says, when you come out into full view. And you laugh immediately. Because he’s stuck fake fangs in his mouth. The cheap kind that looks like dentures. They make him sound absolutely ridiculous. 

He doesn’t take offense, or at least he hides it well. He pops the fangs out, a line of drool trailing after them and holds them in his hand. They glow a little green in the dimness of the house. 

“Too much?” You only smile in response, and he drops them in the trash. “They were uncomfortable, so it’s no loss. I’ll pretend that I keep my fangs hidden until I’m ready to bite.” The last words were spoken almost too lasciviously, and hIs gaze seems to lighten then. Because of course he’d feel better about looking like a fool as long as he could turn it around on you.

You don’t have time to let this bother you, though, because--

The doorbell rings. A quaint thing. Ding-dong.

Is it possible for your heart to stop while you’re still alive? Suddenly your legs feel heavy. Suddenly your whole body feels heavy. Suddenly you can’t possibly answer the door.

Ding-dong.

“Go on, love.”

Chrollo’s hand is on your shoulder and for once it feels reassuring rather than terrifying. You let him guide you to the door, which you open with trembling hands.

You’re greeted by a group of small children dressed up, holding out pillowcases and candy buckets.

“TRICK OR TREAT!!” 

You can’t speak. You forgot how to interact with normal people, normal things. No, no, it’s not just that. You want to cry. You’re going to cry. Because this is the first time you’ve ever opened a door to find smiling children waiting for candy on this most special of fall nights, a night when people can be anything, when the air itself feels magical.

You feel like you’re moments away from whirling around and running deep into the safety of the house when Chrollo touches your shoulder again. And his touch grounds you. Shakes you up. Snaps you out of it.

“O-Oh, I’m sorry!” You say, half-laughing, to the children who have begun to stare at you like a particularly curious bird in a tree. “Your costumes are just so cool, I was speechless!”

You begin to scoop handfuls of candy into their waiting bags and buckets. Most of them look eagerly at their growing haul and run away without another word.

One kid dressed like an oversized turtle yells out “THANKS!” before he, too, runs away. You look down the driveway and see that some of them have parents waiting, but most are traveling with friends. The turtle kid almost bowls over his mother, who looks back at the doorway. You expect her to wave and smile, but she only quirks her head a little at you before her son grabs her arm and drags her away.

You pay her little mind--it’s the trick or treaters that interest you, the way they happily shout to one another about what houses are giving out what, the shrieks you can hear when they are scared by electronic dolls that pop out when they pass a threshold. 

What a lovely thing, that freedom.

What a lovelier thing, right now, for you to play your part in it.

There are no other kids running up the sidewalk towards the house, so Chrollo shuts the door for you. There’s a silence between you, until Chrollo reaches up and wipes away at tears that had just begun to make themselves known in the corner of your eye.

“Are you all right?” His voice is low, soothing. He doesn’t usually tease you when you cry. Maybe he knows it would push you even further away. You wonder, briefly, if your tears or his touch smeared your carefully applied witchy eyeshadow.

“Yes,” you say, when you realize he actually wants an answer. “I’m just…” How to explain the feeling in your chest? This warm, fuzzy feeling that only comes on Halloween and that feels amplified by the role you’re playing right now. “It feels weird,” you decide on. “To be finally doing this.” 

Chrollo looks at you quietly. He nods, but says nothing more. 

A few moments later, that beautiful sound returns.

Ding-dong.

Ding-dong.

And--

”Trick or treat!”

--

The night goes on wonderfully. You stay more or less by the door, though you occasionally wander into the living room to admire the decorations. You wonder how long it took Chrollo to put them up. Maybe this was why he was gone for the better part of the previous day, setting everything up so it was just right for you. The thought makes you feel… pleasantly tingly. 

He thought of everything, actually. He even puts on a Halloween movie with the volume low, perfect for watching in between trick-or-treaters or peeking at from the entryway. While you’re handing out candy, you hear the microwave buzzing in the kitchen, and when you shut the door he hands you a plate with warm pizza on it.

It’s not the kind you usually get--you’re a pineapple on your pizza person, even if it might just condemn you to hell--but you suppose the options for pizza around here were different than in the city. It’s a little stale, too, but since it seems likely that Chrollo got it yesterday to avoid having to stop there on the way, it doesn’t matter. It’s not like some mediocre pizza was going to break the spell that the night was casting over you.

It was just… perfect. The air was cool but not terribly cold, and you felt like you could smell the leaves, the bonfires, the hint of apples and plastic pumpkin pails that seemed to rush through the door every time you opened it. 

Chrollo makes light conversation. Not the exhausting philosophical discussions that he likes to pull from you, usually in the late hours of the morning, but light, fun, casual. He asks about horror movies, horror books. He asks what you typically dressed up as when you were young, and chuckles when you rattle off the exact list of your costumes age 4 to 12 in sequential order.

It feels, heaven help you, domestic. Like the kind of life you might  have had, if Chrollo didn’t enter your life. Or if he wasn’t who he is, because he didn’t have to be out of the fantasy entirely. If he was the type to settle in the suburbs and buy a house with you and work 9 to 5 and come home tired but eager to see you, this could be your life. You would ask him to hang up the Halloween lights and he’d sigh but do it for you, because he knows you love it.

In return you’d promise to roast pumpkin seeds later that evening, and maybe even give him a kiss. The two of you could spend the night cozying up by the fire (a real one, not a fake one, perhaps you are too used to that luxury now--) drinking hot chocolate and making idle chit-chat. 

His arms wrap around you suddenly, and you almost flinch as the cobweb of your fantasy is unknowingly stepped through. This close, you can smell the powder on his face, see the little dots of it that have caked on his skin. 

“What are you thinking, dear?” 

You look at him and for once don’t feel like telling him to shove it. For some reason, hurting his feelings right now would actually make you feel worse, not better. Maybe it’s because you feel like you’re on high; maybe it’s because he did all this for you. 

“Just… that this is nice,” you admit. You smile at him, and it’s not forced. It really isn’t. “Thank you.” 

Chrollo presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“I must say, my reward was well worth all this effort.”

You quirk your head, the gesture reminding you briefly of the mom from earlier before you return your focus to Chrollo. “What reward?’

Chrollo, surprisingly, pushes you a little bit away from him. A finger goes up to your chin and your cheeks feel heated at the sudden intimate touch.

“Seeing you light up like this all night. I don’t believe I’ve seen you like this before, not really.”

You feel silly. Not humiliated, but silly. This is the first time that he’s seen you happy, isn’t it? And you suppose, for someone like him, it must be some kind of treat for you to be happy. To be open. To not be hissing, metaphorically and otherwise, at his attempts to be around you.

It’s a little too much to confront right now. 

You grab a slice of the pizza he left sitting on the side table, and take a bite. You chew through the cold dough. “It’s hard not to have a good time on Halloween,” you mumble, averting your gaze. 

Chrollo chuckles at you, but lets you eat your pizza in peace. He takes up his own slice and chews, watching you look out the window, eager to see if more children come scampering down the walk.

--

You flick the porch light off with a sigh. The last trick or treaters have fizzled away, and the only people on the streets are tipsy people stumbling home from parties and the occasional person that you assume must be returning from a late night shift at work. 

There’s a certain magic to this, too, but it’s different from the tingling atmosphere of Halloween evening. Now it is a fading feeling, the last whimpers of the night as life returns to normal in the morning. 

“Shall we finish the movie?” Chrollo asks, and you nod. You may as well hold onto Halloween for as long as possible. 

There’s still some candy left in the bowl, and you grab the whole bowl as you head into the living room. Chrollo follows you, turning off the kitchen light as he goes. That leaves only the dim lighting in the living room from the fake fireplace and the glow of the TV, which is playing the last few minutes of a schlocky B-horror movie.

When he takes a seat on the couch and pats the spot next to him, you don’t hesitate. You don’t feel the need to, though you’d normally try to make a bargain for agreeing to sit next to him so readily. Now, though, you slide into the seat with the bowl in your hands and set it next to you. 

There’s only one chocolate bar left, and you impulsively grab it and hand the bar to Chrollo, who raises his eyebrows briefly before accepting it. 

“These are your favorite,” he says. “You eat it. I don’t mind.”

Your fingers curl on  your thighs, but this time you don’t dig into your skin. Instead you merely look at a bit of pizza grease shining from the reflective TV light. “I know, but… it’s…” The words come out slow and sticky, like candy stuck to your teeth. “It’s a thank you. For this, I mean. Tonight.” 

“Ah,” he says. After a moment, he unwraps the bar. Suddenly half a chocolate bar is shoved into your line of sight, and you look at Chrollo before letting out a little snort and taking it. 

Sharing food with Chrollo didn’t feel so awful tonight.

Lots of things didn’t feel so awful tonight, actually. Like being in the same room as him. Talking with him. Laughing with him.

And maybe, maybe it wouldn’t feel so bad if you scooted closer to him, either. Just because the movie was actually a little scary, a side-effect of the new environment and too much greasy pizza on  your nerves, probably. 

So you do. And he doesn’t say a thing about it and that feels amazing, because if this was your life, it wouldn’t be so extraordinary to sit thigh-to-thigh with your lover on Halloween night. It wouldn’t be so extraordinary to turn slowly towards him and feel a flush of heat in your cheeks, your chest. Heat that was accompanied by gratitude for the way he found this abandoned house and decorated it so fully for Halloween and got you dinner and let you be normal, so perfectly normal, for one single night.

It wouldn’t be strange at all, really, for you to lean in close and kiss him on the mouth.

Chrollo’s breath mingles with your own and it feels like your first kiss, though your logical mind knows it’s far from it. But it’s the first kiss you’ve given him. Your hidden kiss, then, special and secret.

When it’s over, you lean your head against his chest and let him wrap his arms around you. The sofa creaks and you wonder, abruptly, why there was a sofa in a house where no one lived. Why a house with no one in it would have a fridge stocked with food or a manicured lawn or toiletries scattered in the bathroom. Why some of the parents looked at you funny, even after your fake wart had fallen off.

“Chrollo?” 

“Mm?” He strokes your hair, keeping your head against him. 

“How… did you come across this house? Did someone move out? Or--”

You don’t vocalize it. And with Chrollo, you don’t need to. He knows how your mind works better than you do, sometimes.

You hear him intake a breath, formulating an answer, and suddenly shake your head. 

“No. Don’t,” you murmur, feeling yourself beginning to slide into sleep. An easy sleep. A completely ordinary Halloween-night sleep, brought on by the excitement of the holiday, the thrill of the goblins and ghouls who roamed the night and were satisfied with fistful after fistful of candy from your hands and nothing else.

“Never mind.” You whisper against his chest, and let your eyelids close. “Please, whatever happened, don’t ever tell me.” 

[etherfabric]

What benefit is hidden in your aura? + Affirmations

Choose a pile by which picture you resonate with the most.

If your mind is too busy to clearly decide, take a few deep breaths, and use the finger of your non-dominant hand to hover over the images. One will give off the most subtle yet prominent signals, like tingles, a magnetic pull, or temperature. This is your pile. Multiples are also possible.

You are the ultimate authority over your life. I merely provide my perspective. Sometimes the Universe lines you up with something that doesn't resonate with your truth, so you have contrast to find out what does. Never give away your power.

Pile 1

Justice, Knight of Pentacles rx

Your aura reflects your miniscule attunement to injustices. People in your vicinity are taking their sweet time to hold up their end of a bargain they had no problem agreeing to as along as it was your turn to show up. But now that the foundations are being shaken up by influences outside of your control, suddenly it's everyone for themselves. Let your frustration and impatience truthfully shine through. There is no shame in knowing what you deserve, and reacting accordingly when being left in the rain. Those who truly care will feel the discomfort in just the right places to motivate them to be better. And those who shame you for standing up for yourself are just as pathetic as it feels when they do it. You can't save everyone, especially not while being bled dry.

Spend your time waiting for them to process all this on things that bring you joy and nourishment. Joy is easy, joy is pulling you towards things you could do for hours, that make you forget to eat, sleep, drink (but please do eat, sleep, drink). If your mood is too dark to access joy, aim for comfort and relief. If there is anger taking up space, seek catharsis by writing insults in your journal, or throwing hands with your mattress. If you need a good cry, watch that movie you know will break you. Trust your inner compass to guide you to where your next quest is hidden.

Your affirmation is:

I slow down and listen to the guidance that's available to me.

Pile 2

2 of Cups rx, 7 of Wands

Your aura is dulled by your aversion to conflict, even and especially within yourself. As soon as you feel two opposing forces, you shut down and fall into a pit of despair. I know this can sound so hurtful and dismissive, but please see the reality of hope when I say your emotions do not reflect the totality of what is true. I don't want you to stop feeling these things, I want you to stop acting like they are the only things that are true. Those vulnerable aspects of you never asked to carry the weight of being a solo performer. They need their supporting actors - all your other parts, that yes, seem antagonistic at first glance. But avoiding communication, be it inside or outside of yourself, won't lead to anything that will feel as good as you deserve.

You are scared of the fire within you. You are scared once you let it burn, everything you love and need will turn to ashes forever. You have no faith in the transformational power of emotional alchemy. This keeps you stuck in loneliness, because conflict is just a part of human connection that you need to befriend if you ever want to feel truly close to someone - yourself included.

The ashes give rise to the phoenix. The strike of a meteor brings new resources to a formerly closed off sphere and changes the whole game. You are cutting yourself off of a immensely valuable resource. I am not asking you to go on a killing spree - I am asking you to bravely admit to your humanness. With yourself, and in front of others.

Your affirmation is:

When I cultivate a spiritual connection I can trust the Universe no matter what.

Pile 3

The Lovers, Death rx

I see an open invitation being ignored in your aura. Someone is trustworthy and flexible, but you stick to rigid beliefs around the situation and assume the worst. They have hit you where it truly hurts, and you are so ashamed of having tender sports, you rather tell yourself being stuck with a villian instead of facing the truth: You are dealing with pain inside of your soul after this interaction. As long as you deny this, you can't receive the blessing of being truly seen and cared for. You ignore your hopeful and optimistic parts out of fear they will set you up for failure if you take them into account.

You are taking normal human imperfections as indicators for fundamental untrostworthyness. You do this to them and yourself alike. You refuse to see how the current situation is different from the past experiences that were actually hopeless. There is a happy end waiting for you. A realistic one, not a perfect one.

I understand this is concerning trauma you had no other means to deal with in the past but denying it and acting like an unscathed person. Habits born out of survival are tough to shake. But this one begs you to loosen your grip just this once. You won't suddenly turn into a helpless punching bag without any of your skills just because you dare let someone see your wound. And this person isn't just anyone. You having gotten scared, and hiding out of reflex, can totally be a topic of gentle discussion once the time is right to talk again. I'm sure they will understand.

Your affirmation is:

When I live and act from a place of spiritual alignment, I can trust that everything is working out for me, even if I don't know when or how it will happen.

Pile 4

3 of Cups rx, 3 of Wands

You had to experience your own limits, and your aura reflects your disappointment in yourself. You are being way too harsh. What you deem lost is merely dormant for now. Zoom out of the current moment and realize that you are way more than your worst days. Training this kind of perspective willl form beneficial associations everytime you dare to try it. Don't expect ecstacy as a result, more a timid sibling of hope saying you might not be utter trash after all. This is more than enough for now. Build on it step by step.

Really, cut yourself some slack. Have grace. Have compassion. You were completely overwhelmed by the circumstances, and now see yourself falling back on habits you thought you had gotten rid of once and for all. You think you have let people down irreversibly, but this is just not the case. If you can, communicate you having a hard time right now, that you can see the non-optimal influence you had on the situation, and then take the time of isolation you so desperately crave.

There will come brighter, more joyful days. The kinder you are to yourself right now, the quicker you will feel up for it again. Relief and comfort are your number one priority right now. This too shall pass. You will return to your healthier set of skills once you yourself are healthier. You got there once, you will get there again.

Your affirmation is:

Feeling good will bring me far more than whatever I thought I needed.

[kimmiessimmies]

On the story and other things

Hello to all who read this. I received a very sweet message from someone saying she misses my story ❤️. You know who you are, and I thank you for your message. I promise to reply to it personally, too. Though she might be the only one who feels this way, just in case more people have noticed it's been a while since I last posted a story update, I thought I share a bit about what's going on there. First of all, I haven't been able to write as much as I have done before. Because of my children, my mental struggles and, well, life, I can't always find the drive or inspiration to work on the story. But that doesn't mean I have abandoned it. Quite the contrary, actually. We're getting to quite a pivotal point in the story, a part I've been wanting to share for a very long time. And while that should, in theory, make it easy to write, in fact, it makes it more difficult. This part of the story has been circling my mind for so long, playing in my head like a movie, that finding the right words and creating the completely right images is especially difficult.

That said, another reason it's taking so long this time is -spoiler alert-that I'm working on something of a "double bill", so to speak. When I post again, I plan to post two chapters, following each other quite quickly.

The first is called Unexpected. This one is actually done. It's written, shot, and completely put together. If I wanted to, I could post it tomorrow. But I won't. The main reason is that it ends with such a cliffhanger that I felt I could then leave you waiting for a little while, but not for another month. ;) So, I also started writing the next chapter, Catharsis. But that is a BIG ONE. For this one, I need that house I showed a few weeks ago, and building it obviously also took some time. 'Catharsis' is still in the "being written" stage, but I'm slowly getting to the end of that part of the process. Then, I will still need to shoot it. I'm not entirely sure yet how fast or slow that will be.

However, I think I can realistically promise there will be a story update from me before November is over. ;) And to everyone whose stories I always follow and who may not have seen any love or comment from me in a while, or a little bit but not the way I used to respond, please know that it's not you; it's definitely me. I've been a bit Tumblr-overwhelmed. But I do think of you and your stories, and I really do hope to find the headspace to sit down and read up on all I'm missing out on soon.

For now, have one little preview picture for 'Unexpected' and feel free to decide for yourself what could be happening here. :)

Thank you for reading yet another Kimmi-essay! :)

[stjohnstarling]

Hello! Love 'What Manner of Man'! It inspired me to make my own vintage gay story myself!

But I'm having an issue with outlining, since outlining a novel feels more close-ended than a longer-form serial novel is.

Do you have any advice? Or resources, etc?

So you have no way of knowing this, but I am actually obsessed with story structure. It’s maybe the part of storytelling I’ve spent the most time consciously working with, so sorry in advance because I’m about to go on a dubiously helpful monologue. It’s a bit tricky for me to answer about resources, since the things I used when I was learning have been lost to the sands of time. That being said I have a couple pieces of advice:

If you don’t know what you’re doing, don’t be afraid to find a template. I wish I could link you a good one but I don’t have any on hand. When I was first learning to write novels, I actually found a few different standard novel structure templates and used them to outline a bunch of novels I never intended to write, as practice. Bad and silly ones that were just fun to play with, where there was no pressure to write anything I’d ever want anyone to see. My background is in music, so my instinct when I don’t know how to do something is to isolate that element and practice it on its own, and it’s never steered me wrong.*

But more than that - what you’re feeling as closed-ended is that you’re trying to write a story with structure, as opposed to one that is mostly improvised. I remember feeling this too, when I first started exploring writing novels, but this is one of those cases where limitations are actually what gives you freedom.

Structure is part of the artistry of storytelling - just like poetry has forms like sonnets and sestinas, and songs have verses, bridges, and choruses. You know intuitively the structure of a pop song, and that heightens the pleasure of listening to one as you anticipate the build up to the chorus. Stories are like this too. The structure is an important part of the audience’s enjoyment of the final piece, whether they know it or not.

I’ll give an example. Season one of AMC’s The Terror is a piece of fiction that is structured with some serious artistry, above and beyond just good craftsmanship, its structure is a crucial part of how it creates meaning. As a result a lot of what its fans do is analyze it for parallels in its storytelling. I don’t think many of them would articulate what they enjoy about it as “this is a well structured story,” but the structure is actually one of the main things the fandom engages with.

More than any writing resource, the best way to learn is to study and analyze stories you admire - why things are put in a certain order and why events fall at the points in the story that they do. When are you anticipating, when are you experiencing catharsis, where in the story do those things happen? Explore widely! You don’t have to limit yourself to novels! Movies are great for getting a basic understanding of how you can structure a story because the time and space requirements they’re subject to mean movies tend to be very rigidly structured. There’s no time to mess around like there is in long forms of fiction like novels.

I encourage you to embrace structure as a part of the art and a potential tool for expression and beauty! I can’t tell you how rewarding it is.

*I am aware that this advice does not work for a lot of people, so if it doesn’t work for you that is also perfectly fine! Everyone is different.

[ellescastleglow]

🩰🍳🌿 Daily Life Aesthetics 🌿🍳🩰

What do you do when you can't motivate yourself to do things without a moodboard, but you don't want to look at a screen? Print the moodboards out of course! These will be going into a binder along with some troubleshooting notes so I can get things done even when my executive dysfunction is an issue. I highly endorse making these, the process was so fun.

Morning Routine

light stretches, the clean feeling of having just brushed my teeth, sesame turkish bread with hummus, reading with bleary eyes, chai lattes, the certainty of knowing exactly what I'm going to do that day, upbeat music, fresh air through the windows, saying good morning to my cat, picking out a cute outfit.

French

the sound duolingo makes when you get 10 in a row, nasal vowels, repeating phrases under my breath, understanding a new sentence for the first time, writing a ç by hand, watching french movies with french subtitles, studying the republican calendar to learn new nouns, understanding cooking and ballet terms instinctively.

Studying

the ritalin kicking in, getting 100% on a quiz, write now edit later attitudes, marginalia, a cup of tea slowly cooling next to my laptop, messy desks, flashcards, today's study schedule on the wall, feedback from professors, watching online lectures at 1.75x speed, going to a cafe to think.

Leaving the House

the sun on my face, buying flowers for the house, the smell of a secondhand bookshop, museums, getting a little treat, sitting in the shade, reading on a park bench, farmer's markets, the sound of rain hitting an umbrella, picnics, finding a cool record, seeing people wearing pretty outfits (and telling them that).

Exercising

winning badminton, feeling not exhausted but satisfied after a game, seeing my muscles actually move when I flex them, happy baby pose, better posture, laughing through the pain when doing bicycles, going on a walk, connecting with my sibling through pilates, high reps on the lightest weight possible.

Going to Therapy

the catharsis of crying, the ache in my chest fading after years of heaviness, allowing myself to be a kid again, feeling more whole, finding parts of me I thought were gone forever, knowing I can handle whatever life throws at me, laughing with my therapist about serious topics, curling up in a safe corner of my room.

Working on my Book

designing characters, research, writing rich descriptions of settings, planning out illustrations and page layouts, bringing imaginary conversations to life, watching over someone's shoulder as they read what I've written, finally getting a frustrating sentence right, dreaming about children who will see themselves in my writing.

Housework

a little nudge from the robot vacuum, the smell of steam coming out of the iron or dishwasher, exhausted satisfaction after finally getting the fitted sheets on, laundry in the wind, everything in its place, a clear mind in a clear space, rinsing the dust off the damp duster, the smell of fresh laundry.

Planning my Week

neat rows of binders, colour coded spreadsheets, calendars with everything in place, vision boards, grocery lists crumpled in a hand, knowing exactly how this week will go, step by step guides to each task, feeling safe in case of emergency, a messy journal and a neat wall calendar, time blocking.

Personal Finance

putting away 50% of my income into savings, being surrounded by beauty, a comfortable sinking fund, transferring money between sub-accounts, getting everything I've ever wanted, investing in things I'm passionate about, creating stability for the future, being debt free, being able to get a little treat with what I've saved.

Participating in my Religion

a cheekful of wine, the presence of g-d in the room, candles on ornate candlesticks, tikkun olam, the cycle of the year, awe as the ark opens, ripping challah apart, the grounding points of the magen david when I squeeze my necklace, playing with tzitzit, praying sounding like birdsong, the dusking of a new day.

Cooking

mise en place, the smell of garlic and spices, bubbling pots on the stove, the whole house warmed up, chatting with my dad, fresh vegetables, mountains of parmesan cheese, the chime of the pressure cooker, pretty plates, sitting down to eat with family and friends.

Showering

double cleansing, feeling literally squeaky clean, gourmand scents, leave in conditioner making my hair feel like seaweed, the tingly feeling of glycolic acid, burberry her mixed with cocoa and coconut, scented candles to set the mood, listening to self improvement podcasts, smooth skin.

Nighttime Routine

cookies and chamomile tea with my family, watching tv, calling 'goodnight' down the stairs, overheads off and warm lamps on, teeth feeling so clean after an everything toothbrush, reading in the faint light, filling out my journal, nighttime yoga, daydreaming about the future, an easy slip into a deep sleep.

[st-el-la-luna]

Okay but like, what's with fandoms and their recent obsession with "purifying" themselves and the content in them?

It's one thing if a content creator is outed as a pedophile or a racist or a xenophobe.

What I'm talking about is this newfound hatred towards dark fics and dark subject matter in general. It's like people don't understand that it's fiction. Fiction is not reality. Even if the writing is disgusting or amoral, it's not real. And you don't have to read it.

People have been writing weird shit for ages. So how come we only ever see these purity enforcers attacking fic writers or fan artists in fandoms?

Like, in the COD fandom I've seen a bunch of people getting hounded for posting or consuming dark content, I've also gotten a couple messages about it. And, like, hey buddy? Who really cares.

Fiction and reality are two separate things.

Also, why are you attacking me, a 20 year old who lives with their mom and writes for their ten consultant followers and not, oh, I don't know...

Stephen King, who has that whole underage sewer orgy scene in It.

Or the e creators of call of duty for creating literal propaganda. Because, hey besties, yes, that's what COD is. Propaganda. They want you to see it and be like, "yay, guns and the military!" And that's the thing about fiction. It's allowed.

The issue at hand is, in my mind, an issue of deeper reading comprehension or complex thoughts. And a lack of understanding of catharsis.

No one is saying these things are good. But these things exist in the world, like it or not. And in my mind, it's better to portray them in fiction than not at all. Because at least in portraying it awareness can be spread.

And again, if you don't like something, if it triggers you, just don't read it. It's simple. Like if you're watching a movie and can't stand blood so you cover your eyes not to see. You aren't going to go after the director are you? No. You're going to take steps to protect yourself against content you don't want to see or consume.

I think it's an issue of separating fan works from "real" works. Those who say fan art isn't real art or fanfiction isn't real writing. So perhaps in those people's minds, fan works, not being "real" means that they shouldn't portray things we see in reality.

All this to say here's a non-definitive list of novels with dark/disturbing content that these people would want to oppose:

It by Stephen King: The kids having an orgy in the sewers, child abuse, sexual abuse

Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov: pseudo-incest, hebephilia

The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Attwood: Women being stripped of rights, education, loss of bodily autonomy, forced breeders (at the hands of a government)

The Wasp Factory by Iain Banks

The Road by Cormac McCarthy: People keeping other people for food, people keeping women as breeding stock (at the hands of bandits in a post-apocalyptic world)

Flowers in the Attic by V. C. Andrews: child neglect, child abuse, forced isolation, incest, rape

1984 by George Orwell: totalitarianism, government surveillance, insignificance and weakness of the individual

The Stand by Stephen King: sex, rape, ableism, abuse of handicapped people, violence and killing

Maus by Art Spiegelman: depiction of violence, concentration camps, Nazis, Nazi imagery, dehumanization, starvation, mass murder

Frankenstein by Marry Shelley: human experimentation, grave robbing, necromancy, technical necrophilia, murder, revenge, suicide

In the Miso Soup by Ryū Murakami: pedo/hebephilic relations, sex industry, murder

Blood Meridian by Cormac McCarthy: graphic depictions of violence, use of slurs, child abuse, infanticide (? Been a while since I read it so I might be misremembering), pedophilia, rape, sexual assault and violence

Tender is the Flesh by Agustina Bazterrica: cannibalism, forced breeding, objectification, slave trade, people being bred and sold for meat

A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess: sadism, sexual violence

The Girl Next Door by Jack Ketchum: captivity, torture, torture at the hands of children, violence, sexual violence, based on a true story

Lord of The Flies by William Golding: shows the truth of human nature, dissolution of society and it's rules, violence as a basal instinct

The 120 Days of Sodom by Marquis de Sade: sex, sexual violence, rape, sex trade, pedophilia, incest, abuse, literally just the whole book

Trainspotting by Irvine Welsh: mental illness, drug use/addiction, infant death

American Psycho by Brett Easton Ellis: violence, gore, rape, murder, torture, misogyny, sadism

A lot of these books, though considered scary and disturbing and gross, are also seen as classics.

It's not the fault of the author or the media they create, but that of the consumer.

You can find it icky and gross after reading or watching such things. Most of the time you're supposed to. That's a good thing, it means you're human. These things make you think and feel and emphasize.

To control what can and cannot be written is censorship. To control how certain things are portrayed is censorship.

Be aware of the media that's out there, because these disturbing things are real issues out there. And if you can't stomach it, don't consume it.

Simple.

[aspd-culture]

Hey do you have any advice for what to do when you're angry? Not at anything in particular but your just so mad and not doing anything about it makes your feel like it's being ground into dust. I hope I made sense, I don't know if this is an ASPD thing or not but I figured it's worth a try.

I do, though none of it is super effective without a bit of prep outside of the situation and also knowing your particular experience of this because the anger that has no target can come in a few different forms from what I've noticed.

There's true no cause, where nothing triggered you at all and it comes on seemingly out of nowhere. For me, this is usually a part of a symptom flare, either the peak of it or right at the beginning. Either way, this is usually how I notice it. This usually comes with the impulsive desire to break things/hurt people/similar. For this, I have a post where I've gone into it, but basically you want to have prepared some sort of thing you know will help in this situation because having to do any prep in the moment is going to make it fail. For some people, they can go things like go to a wreck room (place where you can break pay usually not too much to break stuff in a space where you don't have to clean it up) and that will be enough for them. For others, it can't be in a sterile room like that that's *made* to have stuff broken or it isn't the same. In that situation, you'll want an impulsive option that can be organic. Some people own cheap plates purely so they can go in a room and break them and worry about cleaning it up later. For that to work, you either have to live alone or live with someone who knows you have ASPD and are okay with this - or who are just super chill and won't be freaked out. Hear me out - that isn't for their sake. It's for yours. It will make it so much worse if during the thing you're doing to calm yourself, someone makes an issue out of it because now that anger *will* be targeted now - at them. That's not going to help bc now there won't be a safe way to get out the anger anywhere near as easily as if it wasn't targeted.

For that type, the biggest thing is allowing yourself to have symptoms and taking a harm reduction approach vs a total control approach. Total control there will not be easily achievable and you'll probably just p*ss yourself off worse n the process. So if you have things around you're okay with taking out anger on and a safe place to do it, then that's okay as long as it's your own property and no one is getting hurt (including intimidated, again just so that it doesn't escalate). I would avoid much external interaction when it's violent urges specifically bc it will upset you having to put in all that effort not to take it out on them.

Then there's the anger that technically had a cause at some point, but has moved past its cause. So kind of the "it's been a terrible day not because of any one thing but because of the combination of everything" situation? Similar to that anyways. For this, it's gonna be your basic symptom management techniques. Interact with violent media if that calms you down - true crime, the news, violent video games, action movies, horror/thriller movies, etc. along those lines. If that doesn't help you, maybe you have a music playlist that helps you feel good. It'll help to have that prepped too, bc the lull of finding another song will probably suck in that mindset. Something I call parallel distraction is helpful for this - where you're distracting yourself, but not forcing your brain to completely ignore it. You're angry and you let yourself feel that, but give it a direction to go in that's through catharsis rather than taking the actions yourself.

Those are the two I can think of at the moment. I know there's probably more but they are escaping me at the moment. If you/anyone has any explanations of the anger you're feeling/what symptoms and feelings are associated with it, I can probably give advice tailored a bit more to that if I've experienced it.

Any anger without a cause or target can acquire a target realllllyyyy easily because that makes more sense to your brain. The human brain doesn't like feeling something and not knowing why, so if it can make up a reason that is exactly what it will do. Your roommate comes in and tells you to turn the music down? "Ah, well I sure was trying to calm down but now? Now this anger is your fault and I'm not gonna waste energy calming down again when you messed that up for me." Because of that, you ideally really want to find coping mechanisms that you can do without having to cause unwanted interactions. For some people, specific people can help but you want to choose that. In general, in an ASPD anger flare - whether it's from something specific or not - you want to keep as much control over the situation as you can because unexpected things can push you over the edge past coping.

I apologize if this isn't as helpful as usual or there are typos; it's very late here at the moment.

Plain text below the cut:

I do, though none of it is super effective without a bit of prep outside of the situation and also knowing your particular experience of this because the anger that has no target can come in a few different forms from what I've noticed.

There's true no cause, where nothing triggered you at all and it comes on seemingly out of nowhere. For me, this is usually a part of a symptom flare, either the peak of it or right at the beginning. Either way, this is usually how I notice it. This usually comes with the impulsive desire to break things/hurt people/similar. For this, I have a post where I've gone into it, but basically you want to have prepared some sort of thing you know will help in this situation because having to do any prep in the moment is going to make it fail. For some people, they can go things like go to a wreck room (place where you can break pay usually not too much to break stuff in a space where you don't have to clean it up) and that will be enough for them. For others, it can't be in a sterile room like that that's *made* to have stuff broken or it isn't the same. In that situation, you'll want an impulsive option that can be organic. Some people own cheap plates purely so they can go in a room and break them and worry about cleaning it up later. For that to work, you either have to live alone or live with someone who knows you have ASPD and are okay with this - or who are just super chill and won't be freaked out. Hear me out - that isn't for their sake. It's for yours. It will make it so much worse if during the thing you're doing to calm yourself, someone makes an issue out of it because now that anger *will* be targeted now - at them. That's not going to help bc now there won't be a safe way to get out the anger anywhere near as easily as if it wasn't targeted.

For that type, the biggest thing is allowing yourself to have symptoms and taking a harm reduction approach vs a total control approach. Total control there will not be easily achievable and you'll probably just p*ss yourself off worse n the process. So if you have things around you're okay with taking out anger on and a safe place to do it, then that's okay as long as it's your own property and no one is getting hurt (including intimidated, again just so that it doesn't escalate). I would avoid much external interaction when it's violent urges specifically bc it will upset you having to put in all that effort not to take it out on them.

Then there's the anger that technically had a cause at some point, but has moved past its cause. So kind of the "it's been a terrible day not because of any one thing but because of the combination of everything" situation? Similar to that anyways. For this, it's gonna be your basic symptom management techniques. Interact with violent media if that calms you down - true crime, the news, violent video games, action movies, horror/thriller movies, etc. along those lines. If that doesn't help you, maybe you have a music playlist that helps you feel good. It'll help to have that prepped too, bc the lull of finding another song will probably suck in that mindset. Something I call parallel distraction is helpful for this - where you're distracting yourself, but not forcing your brain to completely ignore it. You're angry and you let yourself feel that, but give it a direction to go in that's through catharsis rather than taking the actions yourself.

Those are the two I can think of at the moment. I know there's probably more but they are escaping me at the moment. If you/anyone has any explanations of the anger you're feeling/what symptoms and feelings are associated with it, I can probably give advice tailored a bit more to that if I've experienced it.

Any anger without a cause or target can acquire a target realllllyyyy easily because that makes more sense to your brain. The human brain doesn't like feeling something and not knowing why, so if it can make up a reason that is exactly what it will do. Your roommate comes in and tells you to turn the music down? "Ah, well I sure was trying to calm down but now? Now this anger is your fault and I'm not gonna waste energy calming down again when you messed that up for me." Because of that, you ideally really want to find coping mechanisms that you can do without having to cause unwanted interactions. For some people, specific people can help but you want to choose that. In general, in an ASPD anger flare - whether it's from something specific or not - you want to keep as much control over the situation as you can because unexpected things can push you over the edge past coping.

I apologize if this isn't as helpful as usual or there are typos; it's very late here at the moment.

[writingquestionsanswered]

Hello! I think you had a post about this before but I can't find it. Not really sure though. I have this probelm with picking ideas? When I work on a story I usually explore many different ideas for the plot but find myself stuck in choosing one. I quickly grow bored of what I came up with and start creating more... in the end I have too much, and can't decide what fits my story best. Then I procrastinate because I have too many notes to process and get overwhelmed...

Overwhelmed After Story Evolves Too Many Plots

Stories shouldn't naturally evolve through several different plots. If that's happening, there's probably one of the following goin on: 1 - You don't have a good grasp on how stories work. Stories aren't a random exploration of things happening. Stories are a cohesive sequence of related events through which the main characters react to and often resolve a conflict. That conflict may be internal (within the characters), external (within the characters' world), or both. The particular events and sequence of events in your story (story structure) depends on the type of story you're writing. Most stories (longer fiction in particular) follow basic story structure:

If your stories often evolve through multiple plots, it's because you didn't have a clear and solid conflict to begin with, or you didn't know how to explore your conflict effectively (via story structure) and you burned through it too fast. (See: Plot & Story Structure master list) 2 - You don't know why you're writing the story. There's always a reason we start writing a story in the first place. Nine out of ten times it's because we're hit with an idea and are inspired to follow it. But, believe it or not, most of the time there needs to be a greater purpose there. If you have a cohesive conflict and well developed plot, your story has a purpose in terms of what the characters get out of it. But what about what the reader gets out of it? Do you just want them to have a rip-roaring good time? Do you want them to feel like they've been sucked into the mystery with your investigator protagonist? Do you want them to feel less alone as someone whose experienced the same thing as your protagonist? Do you want them to feel seen or represented? Do you want them to walk away with some deep meaning or moral lesson? And what about you? What do you get out of this story as a writer? Are you writing it to explore an aspect of life, society, or a particular dynamic that is fascinating to you? Are you hoping of catharsis as you do a deep dive into an experience you yourself have lived through? Are you hoping to deliver a moral message that you feel is important to spread? Knowing not just what your characters get out of the story, but what your reader and yourself as the writer get out of the story is an important part of staying on track and staying motivated.

3 - You're chasing waterfalls, so-to-speak... meaning that rather than staying on track, you're leaving the plotted course in pursuit of prettier, more exciting things. Most of the time when this happens, it's because you're giving into the dopamine rush you feel when a new idea strikes. Now, ideally you would write the idea down someplace safe, put it out of your mind, and put your focus back on your story. We do this every single day in life, because if we didn't, we couldn't go to school, have jobs, date, have social lives, raise children or animals... being a responsible human requires us to choose to do the thing we need to do rather than chase the sparkly fun things. If you have to leave for class in ten minutes but your favorite movie just started on TV, you have to make the choice to turn off the TV and go to class. You choose to stay on course rather than go off-track and do the fun thing. However, many of us have a difficult time with these types of decisions for various reasons, such as neurodivergence, chronic illness, depression, mental illness, stress, and exhaustion. So, it's not always easy to make that choice, even when it just means taking the new and exciting idea and writing it down for later. One thing you can do in that case, though, is leave yourself a note in the current story about where you're headed next. What's the next moment, scene, or event you're going to write? Then, save it and set it aside and follow the new idea for a little bit by starting a new story. That way, you're not grafting this idea onto a story that already has its course plotted. 4. You need to be a "plotter". If you start out with a solid plot and story structure, you know what you want to get out of the story, and you're not letting yourself chase waterfalls, but you STILL can't keep your story to one plot, this is a pretty good sign that you need to be a "plotter." Now, there tends to be a little controversy over the whole "plotter" vs "pantser" thing, and that's mainly because everyone things their way is best and often forget there's actually a whole spectrum between plotting and pantsing. Either way, they're both a real thing, because some writers need to intricately plot their story down to timeline, scene list, glossaries, and bios, while others can just "write by the seat of their pants" and let the story develop as they right. Then, of course, there are writers who fall every which way in-between.

Some writers are inherently plotters or need some level of plotting in order to execute a story from beginning to end. Some can write with little to no planning at all. For some writers it depends on their phase of life or what they're specifically writing. But, if you find that your stories are always going off-track even if they're solid in your mind, you may need to do some solid plotting. Start by having a beginning to end written summary of the story and see if that's enough to keep you on track. If not, next time try the summary as well as a timeline of events. If that doesn't work, try the summary and timeline plus a scene list. And just keep adding things until you find the right amount of planning to keep you on track with your original idea.

Happy writing! I hope something here works for you!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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[arokel]

10 questions for 10 writers

thank you so much for the tag @strangethings-everywhere ! secretly I've always wanted to do one of these

1. Is writing a hobby or a way of life?

Way of life for sure; I'm basically never not thinking about it. I start to feel awful and purposeless if I go too long without writing at least something.

2. A journal full of notes or a clean completed manuscript?

Clean completed manuscript, unfortunately. I wish I could be less persnickety about my first drafts but so far that hasn't happened. I do sometimes make extensive outlines though and those are always by hand, but they're usually pretty clean too :/ no scribbly scribbly for me

3. Who or what inspired your writing?

I've been writing since I was five years old and telling stories since I could talk, so I guess I'll say that when I was first reading chapter books I asked my parents why books always have a few blank pages at the end and they said it was so you had space to continue the story yourself if you wanted. They made it up on the spot and they don't remember saying it at all, but it's always stuck with me.

4. Which is worse: Someone you ‘idolize’ reading your first draft or listening to you sing?

Listening to me sing, 100%. I post my barely-edited first drafts on ao3 all the time lmao. But I also feel like with a first draft it's easy to say hey this is a first draft, if there's stuff you don't like I'm happy to hear criticism! Whereas with singing, that's just your voice. You can practice the song but at some point whether they like it or not just comes down to something about you that you can't change. (Although I am a hashtag classically trained singer so my feelings of needing to live up to that might not be universal.) (Don't ask me to sing opera for you because I don't actually like opera.)

5. Has writing from someone else’s POV changed your perspective?

I think most of the perspective changes that have come out of stories have been from reading for me? Like the first time I was really exposed to the idea of transness was a Harry Potter fic (suck on that, JKR) and that obviously really stuck with me. But I think the desire to write from queer povs really helped me come to terms with my own sexuality, maybe more than actually doing it. I guess writing narrative essays, which I do less frequently than straight up fiction, is usually a way for me to explore things I feel about myself and about the world.

6. Tumblr, AO3, LiveJournal, or FFN?

AO3 foreverrrrrrr. I was on ffn in my misspent youth and Very briefly on lj, but ao3 has been my home since 2014 and it would take a lot to get me to move.

7. AO3 word count? And are you satisfied with it?

646,046, and soon enough it'll jump another 100,000. Honestly not sure how I feel about that.

8. What movie/book gripped you irrevocably?

I will never not love Tamora Pierce's Tortall series. I know they're kind of dated and don't hold up in some places, but they've been in my bloodstream so long that they're basically a part of my understanding of the world. They shaped so much of my ideas on literature - how to create compelling characters and relationships, what makes a world believable, what fantasy even is - and honestly I think they're responsible for about 50% of my sense of humor and at least a quarter of my relationship to gender. They were my first fandom and in the end I'll always come back to them.

9. What’s the highest compliment you could ever be given, and have you been given it?

One of my plays deals with a very difficult emotional subject and is quite frankly pretty depressing the whole way through, and after the premiere a friend of mine came up to me and said "it was so so funny; I was laughing the entire time." That's what I always want my writing to do, not so much in fic but out in the world - I want to give people catharsis, and I hope they leave the reading or viewing experience feeling a little better than they did going in. And also I want people to laugh at my jokes.

10. What defines your writing style?

Can I say inconsistency? No but really it's definitely dialogue. I struggle with descriptive prose sometimes, but I never have to work at dialogue. I think it's my strongest area and people always tell me it's snappy (thank you Tamora Pierce). Other than that uhh... too many commas probably.

tagging @violasmirabiles @fregata-magnificens @kjxlll @borealopelta @uwu-dowoon @teaforarteza @icegreyrose @shadowquill17 @ris-d-deridex and using my 10th tag for anyone else who wants to participate!

[roselightfairy]

End of Year Fic Recs!

Recommend up to 5 series or multi-chapter fics from 2023 that everyone should read (multi-year WIPs count, if the last update was in 2023).

Recommend up to 5 single chapter fics/one-shots (long or short) from 2023 that everyone should read.

Recommend up to 5 fics NOT from 2023 that everyone should read (oldies but goodies).

Recommend up to 5 of your own fics (completed or WIP) from 2023 that everyone should read.

(Thank you, @tathrin, for the tag!)

I think the fandoms here will be kind of all over the place, because I've been in three different places this year (though one of them for the majority of it, sorry about it!). I'm also really having to go through my history - being in rapid consumption mode makes one forget things here and there! Also this turned INCREDIBLY long, so putting it under a cut.

5 series or multi-chapter fics from 2023:

all that it touches to wonder by cynassa (LOTR, Legolas/Gimli) - I've been seeing this fic around for some time and finally got into the right LOTR headspace for it yesterday and it is absolutely WONDERFUL. Politics, pining, cultural exploration, letters, gifts, public spectacle . . . mmm. The kind of fic that's so good it makes me mad.

Mine to Bear by pen_ultimate (Dungeons & Daddies, Henry/Darryl (and others) - a fic that takes the cringe of early-season Darryl and leans SO HARD INTO IT that it is sometimes painful to read but so so so worth it. A no-Forgotten-Realms AU in which Darryl's desire to understand Grant's sexuality leads him to (painfully, reluctantly) explore his own. Unstoppable force (Darryl's repressed urges) meets immovable object (his own stubborn refusal to deal with them). Also this Henry portrayal (and interpretation of his relationship with Mercedes) is amazing.

Catharsis (series) by Diotima_Philosopher (Star Wars, Qui-Gon/Obi-Wan) - This series hits a very specific urge I used to look for in Legolas/Gimli fic but never quite found, and I suppose it makes sense that I'd find it here - in a relationship that is textually (or non-textually) transgressive, a story that takes it to the absolute limit of that transgression. Sometimes you want to rationalize away the taboo elements of your pairings; sometimes you want to create a situation to avoid them entirely; other times you want to push them to the limit: the notion that the relationship in question is seen as not only odd but deviant, absolutely revoltingly taboo in its society. And then just - dive into that and explore the complexity of it, the impossible situation the characters in question face, the twisting line between right and wrong. This story does that deliciously.

if you're on a mission, you've got my permission by allowaykirk (Cody/Obi-Wan, but mostly Obi-Wan/EVERYONE) - This story had me in STITCHES. The thing that struck me in watching the movies, but also mostly the Clone Wars, was how much intense chemistry Obi-Wan has with . . . everyone? But mostly with a bunch of the antagonists? This fic takes that to its logical conclusion and says, well, what if Obi-Wan is regularly sent on missions to seduce information out of various people? For the war effort, you know. The Ventress chapter in particular had me HOWLING. (And them, too.)

By a Sleep to Say We End by @katajainen (LOTR, Legolas/Gimli) - this one became multi-chap this year, and somehow even more devastating in the second one! It's frankly unfair that katajainen has the ability to hurt me like this, but also I want her to never stop doing it. Zombie apocalypse, technically, but this one deals with much more intimate interpersonal challenges in the lead-up to it. Warning for suicidal themes, but if you are okay with reading that, this hurts so so good.

Five single-chapter fics from 2023:

offer it a soul by @willowcrowned (Star Wars, Qui-Gon/Obi-Wan) - This fic ruined me. It was one of those stories that's so upsetting yet so good you're thinking about it for days after and making an absolute mess of yourself in the comments section. There is this emptiness that just echoes throughout a story that is so full - of worldbuilding, of repressed emotion, of feeling. I was a raw nerve all the way through. It's not a happy story, but it is an incredible one.

Soon Enough - by LuvEwan (Star Wars, Qui-Gon & Obi-Wan) - This fic was one of those incredible little moments that makes perfect sense within the canon but that you don't necessarily think about happening! What about people who were related to Jedi, who lost family members they never had the chance to know? And how do you deal with being a Jedi, with someone for whom this lifestyle is well known and expected, and yet you also have people you love within the system whom you also will eventually lose? This was such a quiet little moment, breathless with discomfort and pain, and I loved it.

Look Back, My Love, Look Back At Me! by @tathrin (LOTR, Legolas/Gimli) - I'm such a sucker for myth retellings with these two, and this is an Orpheus/Eurydice imagining - with a twist! I gasped at the end. Tathrin is killing it with these two this year and I'm going to have so much to catch up on when I'm back in main LOTR headspace again.

this is what it feels like, now by @thetimesinbetween (Star Wars, Qui-Gon/Obi-Wan) - Just. The most intimate, emotional, incredibly steamy smut. With feelings! And like - one of those things that acknowledges the nature of the teacher-student relationship without pretending it isn't there, but also lets that be part of the appeal rather than a detraction. I. Um. Read it.

Snowbind the Stars by katajainen (LOTR, Legolas/Gimli, Legolas & Gimli) - Love, love, love a queer-ambiguous portrayal of these two, and katajainen's prose is such a dream, as always. The loneliness of homecoming when something you never knew you needed is missing . . . but the promise of finding it again, eventually.

Five fics NOT from 2023:

Okay, this one was hard, because again - I've had a whole fandom's worth of fic to catch up on this year! It was hard to narrow it down to just five, but I'm going with some that really stuck with me:

Desert Bloom by canis_m (Star Wars, Qui-Gon/Obi-Wan) - This fic is everything I could possibly want from a Force Ghost-roommates premise, an absolute gem of a fic that is perfect in every way. Vignettes from Obi-Wan's time in the desert and his training with Qui-Gon to release his own consciousness, in which he has to reveal some of his own feelings that have lived with him all the while. I find it incredibly in-character and plausible and such a gentle, slow unfolding and healing.

Crystallize by torch (Star Wars, Qui-Gon & Obi-Wan, a very little ship implication at the end) - This is such an atmospheric fic, quiet and slow as the remote snowy world on which it takes place. It is also a fic that fully solidified my understanding of Obi-Wan's relationship with the concept of relationships, a very married-to-duty sort of thing which precludes romance as a matter of course. This fic is just a slow meander through various aspects of Jedi life and expectations, the nature of love, and the ways that a master and padawan can learn from and with one another in the most personal ways. And yes, there's a slight turn to shippiness at the end, but only in the mind of one character and not in a way that detracts from the revelations unfolding throughout the story.

A Duel With Fate by psocoptera (Star Wars, Qui-Gon/Obi-Wan) - Speaking of fics that RUIN me. This was my first understanding of what a time loop fic can look like and how it can be absolutely devastating. This story left me feeling off for days, and I mean that as a compliment. Proceed with caution, but also - guh. Do proceed, if you can. I can't even rec it well because of how good it is.

How to Grow Vegetables and Alienate People by Meggory (Star Wars, Qui-Gon/Obi-Wan) - Add me to the list of zillions of people who loved this story, but it caught me in just the right place. I've been feeling the void a lot in the last several months, downtrodden by work and expectations of life, and this fic STARTS with the premise of one character being forced to take a three-month leave of absence from work? And then getting into gardening and connecting to the world and falling in love? The most glorious escapist modern AU I've read in - maybe ever? I made @thevillainsmustache read it, too, even though it's not her ship, and now we both sigh over it regularly at home.

Into a Dozen Pieces by Temve (Star Wars (Master and Apprentice), Qui-Gon/OC, Qui-Gon/Rael) - So many canon authors love to do this thing where they imply a love interest in a character's past. Generally I don't love it, and for all my adoration for Master and Apprentice, I didn't love it there, either - but Temve took those brief mentions and spun them into an absolutely enchanting story of young gentle Qui-Gon falling head over heels for the first time and having his heart broken by the Jedi Code - but healed, at least a little, by the others within the Jedi who are there for him. Highly, highly recommend.

HA PSYCH I'm doing an unauthorized sixth! A Thing of Flesh and Shadow by MlleMusketeer (Star Wars, Qui-Gon-centric with some background relationships) - This fic is only barely not 2023, so I dunno if it counts as an "oldie," but I think everyone should read it! It's an amazing Qui-Gon AU, in which Dooku resurrects him during the Clone Wars and tries to manipulate and abuse him into becoming his new apprentice, all while Qui-Gon slowly realizes what's going on and struggles to escape. It's got gorgeous philosophy, incredibly well-written emotional and physical hurt, and I just love every second I spend in this Qui-Gon's head. I'm praying there will be more, eventually, but even if there isn't, the fic is a wonderful standalone.

And now . . . 5 of my own fics from 2023:

Only Through Surrender (Star Wars, Qui-Gon/Obi-Wan): Qui-Gon lives, and the whole timeline changes.

Lessons in Intimacy (Star Wars, Qui-Gon & Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan/OC): Exploration of Obi-Wan coming into his sexuality, and what romance and sexuality might look like in a Jedi context.

Driven to Do (Star Wars, Anakin & Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan/OC): More sexually liberated Obi-Wan and scandalized (legally married) Anakin.

Anchor (Star Wars/Clone Wars, Ahsoka/Rex): The follow up to the absolutely devastating Clone Wars finale.

The Unassisted Physical Training and Self-Defense Circle (Qui-Gon & Obi-Wan): The one in which Qui-Gon's participation in an illicit padawan fight club leaves him with a lasting physical reminder.

This was so much fun! (It also took me more than an hour to do, but I enjoyed every minute of it.) Tagging @katajainen, @deheerkonijn, @unnamedelement, and anyone else who wants to do this!

[mythology-void]

catharsis

___

I like sad music.

Even when you're not sad?

Yes.

Why?

I'm not sure. But I feel drawn to it.

Do you feel seen by the tragedy?

In an uncanny way, yeah.

Maybe you view yourself as a tragic character.

Well, I think that's normal.

How come?

Because. We know all of our stories will end in death.

Okay...

And like any tragedy, we fear it happening to us. But the knowledge that someone else feels the same grief...

Is comforting.

Yes.

And you seek that comfort?

Yes.

That sounds...masochistic.

Well, the grief itself is cathartic--

Sure...

But grief is normally predated by trauma, so it's undesirable. But with music, you can feel those emotions--

Without having to go through the trauma yourself.

Exactly.

Well, what about happy music?

It's similar.

Okay.

But it doesn't resonate the same way.

Why?

Maybe it has to do with the emotions themselves.

Go on...

Grief and fear are much more commanding emotions than joy.

So...they present themselves more intensely.

Mhm. Creating a discomfort...

That can be comforted with company.

Right, but not a physical company that comes with questions or judgement.

Passive company. Like music.

Music, movies, TV shows--

Art.

Yeah. It lets you be alone, but not isolated.

That...can be a dangerous loop.

Why?

Does Misery love company? Or do you need company, so you seek misery?

I'm not sure. I just...

No--it's okay. You don't have to explain. I think I get it, anyway.

I--well, no...

Here.

Why the headphones?

You like sad music.

[mermaidsirennikita]

What are your favorite saddest historical romances? The books that make you want to cry and not pretty cry like actually ugly sob

Oooh publishing because good question! I find it kinda hard to cry with books (and movies, TV) because of my weird compartmentalization thing, but! These made me cry, or at least made me *want* to. Not all of them are like, wholly sad, but they do have a good chunk of sadness at min.

The Scoundrel in Her Bed by Lorraine Heath. This has one of the only scenes that made me cry without having to sit and think about it; like, I didn't realize I was crying until I was crying, and it was a full, "breathe out and wipe at your eyes" situation. The situation in this book does hit home for me personally, but I also found it to be one of those horrible things where it's like... the only solution is to basically undo something that can't be undone. And it sucks because the thing wasn't done by the characters but to them--but it doesn't mean they can make it so that it didn't happen. OOF.

Waking Up with the Duke by Lorraine Heath. I always get really emotional when Ainsley and Jayne part as he brings her back to her husband, because it really has that like.... kind of cinematic, "the movie is ending and they're giving up" feeling. The way Lorraine wrote it feels so final, even though you know you have like 40% of the book left or something. It's rough.

A Rose at Midnight by Anne Stuart. This book is quite intense, and quite dark, and it really vividly describes the pain the heroine suffered in her past. I mean--just true horrors. It's that, and this really intimate catharsis she has with the hero, who she's hated for most of the book, at the end. This is a book about trauma and guilt and the parts of yourself you won't ever get back after something horrible happens, and what you do with what's left.

The Duke's Perfect Wife by Jennifer Ashley. The scene where Hart and Eleanor go to the tombs of his wife and baby son, oof. Like, the emotion over the baby really gets me. I also love a scene where the heroine like fully embraces the hero's love for people who came before her--romance can be kinda meh on that front sometimes, but this book does it very effectively. There's also a scene later in the book where Ian and Hart reunite and it's like--Ian never though they wouldn't find each other, and he's so upfront about it, and it's because their bond is so strong??? Truly I'm a sucker for a sibling bond.

In general, I really like that those core four Mackenzie brother books deal with some pretty heavy shit? Like they're funny, they're adventurous, they're super sexy. But you have Ian in his book struggling to communicate in a world that won't listen to him, and these gestures of love between the brothers that don't do what they need to, and Cameron's intense trauma from his marriage and him doing his best to be a good father while being imperfect; and Mac and Isabella dealing with the reality of being truly in love but not truly right for each other at the time. It's GREAT.

Thief of Shadows by Elizabeth Hoyt. Dude, everything to do with Isabel's infertility in this novel. Like, her trying to shake Winter off by dropping that bomb on him, and Winter being like "no it is a loss, I would've loved to have had babies with you, but I want you more than imaginary babies"--like, the acknowledgment that he loves her more than hypothetical kids, but IT DOES SUCK THAT THEY CAN'T HAVE BIOLOGICAL KIDS. Like, it's so real for him to acknowledge that they will be okay but this situation sucks and it's not okay. Her breaking down over her inability to have a baby, her bond with her husband's illegitimate child that is just so tenuous, the big scene at the end, the fact that there is no magic baby. It's a lot.

OH DUDE. And there's a scene where Winter has to make a really tough call for this kid who he has like, pseudo-adopted... and he's making the right decision for the kid, but it's very painful for Winter personally, ESPECIALLY when set against the backdrop of a plot that basically is about how Winter and Isabel won't be able to have a baby together. Lol so much of this book is hammering home how Winter and Isabel are such good parents, essentially, but they can't have a biological child. It is ROUGH. When Winter says goodbye to that kid, I CRY.

When the Duke Was Wicked by Lorraine Heath. Dude, when Lovingdon uncovered Grace's secret... And the way it makes him confront his trauma over losing his wife and child and his fear of loving someone and losing them??? GOD.

Lorraine Heath is also really good at writing a book that's like "life isn't guaranteed, you've gotta just love and live boldly despite that" which is a complete callout.

A Lady for a Duke by Alexis Hall. The moment when Gracewood recognizes Viola by her freckles. That is a fucking LOT, dude. Overall this is a lighter, romp of a book, which I think is important because it's basically meant to give us an old school adventurous historical with a trans heroine... But it luxuriates in a type of sorrow at points that isn't at all about Viola being trans, but about the time she lost with Gracewood, the survivor's guilt and physical and metaphorical pain he's suffered from since they last saw each other. It's a lot, dude.

The Dragon and The Pearl by Jeannie Lin. There's a despairing love confession following a very intimate scene, and everything feels like it's just not going to be resolved? (And they discussed this a lot in a recent episode of Fated Mates, but--to me, a lot of the best romance novels give you a "how is this going to end in an HEA???" moment.) And it's so quiet and intense and I love it.

Indigo by Beverly Jenkins. The grand gesture at the end of this book. It's so meaningful. It did have me crying a good bit. Don't wanna spoil, it's too good. I mean, this book is about a woman who was born into slavery working with the Underground Railroad.... it's sad. But it's also so optimistic and full of joy.

[kpopfanfictrash]

Not Another Holiday Romance (Teaser)

Posting Date: Saturday, December 24th at 6:00 PM EST

Part of: the Snow Falls Collaboration with @underthejoon and @suga-kookiemonster

Genre: Director!Y/N, Town Historian!Namjoon, One Night Stand!AU

Author's Note: This story will be told in alternating viewpoints between Y/N and Namjoon.

Synopsis: You, a perpetually alone (and utterly cynical) movie director, are sent to the town of Snow Falls, Middle-of-Nowhere for your latest film assignment. Stuck in holiday hell until the new year, you’re determined to get in and get out with minimal damage to your Grinch reputation. That is, until a ridiculously gorgeous (and young?!) town historian is assigned to help with your film. Suddenly, you find yourself the heroine of one of those corny romances you direct – and are discovering they might not be so corny after all.

Estimated WC (Total): 30K

Rating: 18+

Preview WC: 2,021

“But I don’t care what they think,” insists Matt, stepping closer. “I’ve spent my entire life hearing about what I should and shouldn’t do and right now, I don’t care about any of it. I care about you. On Easter,” he adds, blonde hair shining underneath the bright lights.

Bunny – because yes, the character’s real name is Bunny – smiles up at Matt, blinking away tears. Except – hang on. No. Bunny is actually crying, which isn’t in the script.

Exhaling loudly, you push yourself to stand. “CUT!” you call, ignoring the groans from the crew. “Amber, the script says, ‘eyes glistening,’ not full-on waterfalls. Matt’s telling you he wants you, not going off to war. Let’s do it again!”

Dropping her dewy expression, Amber Carmichael (the actress cast as Bunny) turns, squinting against the lights. “You sure?” she calls, raising a hand to her brow. “I thought it added something to the moment! You know, like catharsis.”

“The only thing it added,” grumbles Matt – both the name of the actor and character, “was confusion.”

Ignoring him, Amber flips long, dark hair over one shoulder. “Alright,” she says, unconcerned. “Let’s go again!”

Trying not to sigh, you sit down in your chair. Hiding laughter, your assistant director, Abby, ducks behind her green binder.

“This is gold,” she murmurs as the crew resets. “If this movie weren’t already terrible, Amber’s acting would get it there.”

“And why does that make you cheerful?” you ask. “I’m the director and you’re the assistant director. Our names are tied to this.”

Shrugging, Abby flips a few pages. “Hey, I enjoy my job. We’re making content for people who just want to relax after dinner. An important job which keeps 74.6% of bored housewives from killing their husbands. It’s true – look it up.”

You, of course, do not bother to look it up because Abby is known for making up statistics to suit her purpose. Most are rooted in a semblance of truth though, and you know that people watch Mallhark – your employer – for a reason. Basic escapism if nothing else.

You just aren’t sure an Easter romcom was what they had in mind.

Matt and Amber are currently acting before a greenscreen, the rolling green hills to be added in later. Abby might see this as glass half-full but from where you’re sitting, things look pretty dismal. The main character of your movie is named Bunny, for crying out loud.

Once upon a time, when you were first promoted to director and tasked by Mallhark to make the holidays magical, you took great pride in your work. You stayed up until morning making edits, pouring over screen tests, and searching for locations but lately, you can barely drag yourself to set. Lately, everything has felt stale, and you aren’t sure how to recapture the magic for yourself, let alone someone else.

Pulling your lower lip between teeth, you shove this aside to concentrate on the moment. Magic or not, you need to finish this film today. Your flight out of here is tonight and Mallhark doesn’t take kindly to schedule delays.

“All set?” you yell, waiting for the crew to respond. Once they do, you nod. “Okay. Three… two… one…” You signal to start, settling back in your seat.

Brian, your main camera operator, zooms in to frame the shot. A second operator, Siying, works a hand-held for close-ups. Everyone on set feeds off one another – one of the few things you still appreciate about movie making. Even the cheesiest, cheapest films necessitate a tremendous crew.

Amber and Matt start their scene from the top, with Amber perched on a rock to stare at the (fake) sunset.

“BUNNY!”

Matt runs into frame, startling Bunny into falling sideways, nearly into his lap. The two confess, laying their insecurities out between them. Like a grocery list, Bunny rattles off her fear of commitment, of abandonment and Matt wholeheartedly accepts her as her leading man.

Watching this, you feel a slight twinge in your chest. It’d be nice if real life could be that simple. In your experience though, men tend to run the moment flaws are unearthed.

“I care about you. On Easter,” Matt blurts, ending his monologue.

Bunny stares up at him, starry-eyed. You have to hand it to Matt – as a Mallhark veteran, he really knows his stuff. Cheating his angles, he gives the camera crew the shot they need while continuing to gaze into Bunny’s eyes.

Amber isn’t quite as good, staring back with her lips parted. Maybe it wouldn’t seem so provocative if she hadn’t just come from amateur porn. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but the angles and facial expressions are wildly different here on Mallhark.

Abby must be thinking the same since you catch her scribbling a note in her binder. Possibly edit out porn sigh during ending?

“Oh, Matt,” Bunny says. “I love you.”

“And I love you, Bunny.” Matt gathers her to him, and you close your eyes to brace yourself for the next bit of dialogue. “I’m hop-lessly in love with you.”

The two of them laugh, only sounding slightly strained, which is the best you can hope for. Matt presses his lips to Bunny’s, and you wait an appropriate time before you yell cut.

“That’s it!” you call, standing from your chair. “Thanks, folks!”

Amber and Matt break apart, the crew loudly applauding the successful take. Sagging in your seat, you hear Abby close her binder with a snap.

“So,” she declares. “That was fun.”

Rather than respond, you lower your head and start to rub your temples.

Abby makes a tsking noise. “You’re becoming cynical, Y/N. How can you not love this channel? Come on, think about it – the meet cutes! The banter! The romance! The bunnies!”

“I’m allergic to rabbits,” you mutter.

“Huh.” Abby tilts her head. “Well, bad luck getting assigned to the Easter movie, then.”

“And besides,” you exhale, looking up. “Let’s call a spade a spade, Abby. We’re not solving world hunger. These movies are thinly veiled Christian propaganda that’s being spoon-fed to the viewer. I’m surprised we don’t do blatant product placement, too. Really lean into the consumerist angle.”

“Damn.” Abby snorts. “Who spit in your peppermint mocha this morning?”

“And that’s another thing,” you gripe, jiggling your empty cup. “This mocha was terrible! I should be at least able to taste coffee, right?”

“Depends. Most people who order peppermint mochas just want the chocolate.”

“Ugh. I’m sorry,” you sigh, knowing you’re being unfair. “I’m just in a crappy mood today.”

“You’ve been in a crappy mood for a week,” Abby says, standing from her chair. Stretching both arms overhead, she leans side to side. “Don’t shoot the messenger, but as your best friend I feel obligated to let you know.”

Stomach sinking, you follow her lead and stand. Abby is right. You’ve been generally terrible to be around, and it isn’t her fault. Trailing her throughout the set, you wave goodbye to the crew on your way to the door.

Normally, you’d stay and help clean, but time is of the essence if you want to make your flight. Mallhark, in true capitalist fashion, has scheduled your films back-to-back. You’re even missing the wrap party, which tends to be a trainwreck but in the fun kind of way.

“I know,” you sigh, pushing open a door. “The worst part is I don’t have any right to be a grump. I mean, I have a good job. I’m directing, which is what I want to do. I have a nice place to live. I have food on the table, I have friends –”

“Friend,” Abby corrects, then waves a hand. “Continue.”

Your glare at her is half hearted because once again, she’s correct. “Anyways,” you say, pushing through a second set of doors. “I have everything I need, so I don’t know why I’m in such a funk.”

“Hm,” Abby says in a tone which says incoming monologue.

Stopping at your trailer, you turn around to face her. “Come on,” you say, gesturing with one hand. “Out with it.”

Abby innocently blinks. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Tell me the thing you want to say.”

“It’s just.” She shrugs. “It’s basic science.”

You stare at her for a moment. “Okay, I’ll bite. How is this science?”

“95% of people aren’t happy with what they have.”

“Is that so?”

“Yep.” Abby nods, dark hair flying. “Okay, so I may have made up that number, but it sounds right, doesn’t it? What I mean is – it’s all Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. Sure, all your physical and safety needs are met but what about the rest? Are you satisfied and proud of your work? Does having only one friend” – Abby gives you a long look – “fulfill your quota on love and belonging?”

Whatever retort you had dies in your throat, unable to suitably respond. Abby has a point. True, you have it better than some, but it doesn’t mean things in your life are that great. Especially given the email you received last week.

Exhaling slowly, you stare at a point above Abby’s head. “I got the casting list for our next movie,” you mutter.

“O-kay.” She frowns. “Not sure how this ties into our conversation, but okay.”

Dropping your gaze, you look at her. “Nico was cast as the male lead.”

Her eyes widen. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.”

“Fuck.”

“Uh-huh.”

Abby falls silent, clearly struggling to come up with a positive response. You should tell her there isn’t one – you’ve been sitting with this for over a week and have nothing.

Nico Taylor, aka The Ex. Also known as Mallhark’s leading man/heartthrob from many a 00’s movie. He had a brief action career before stepping from the spotlight to ‘sort things out,’ or attend serious therapy to undo the effects of childhood stardom. Now, he’s reemerged on the Mallhark scene.

You met him last fall, had a whirlwind romance where you experienced love for the first time and then, come January 1st, you found yourself dumped. It was brutal, fast, and made all the worse by the fact that you both work for Mallhark.

Thus far, you’ve been able to avoid working with Nico, but it seems your good luck has run out. Typically, directors are involved with casting decisions. Your next film though, is a Christmas movie being shot on location. That means permits, logistics and specific timelines. Because of this, your film schedule changed abruptly and overlapped with your current film. Casting was delegated and now, look where you are.

On the one hand, it’s a sign of Mallhark’s faith in the script to assign such a big star. On the other hand, you’ll be trapped in a remote location with your ex-boyfriend for a month.

Abby slowly shakes her head, her mouth a round o. “Well.” She pauses. “Shit, Y/N. I don’t even know what to say. Let’s go and get drunk at the airport?”

You can’t help but laugh; it’s such an Abby response but for once, you agree. “I mean, yeah. Let’s do it,” you say, pulling open your door. “I’ll grab my bags and meet you out front? We can call an Uber.”

Abby nods, waving goodbye as she heads for her trailer. You’re halfway inside before realizing something and poking your head back out.

“Abby?” you call.

She stops, jogging in place as she turns around. “Yeah?”

“Where are we headed?”

A delighted grin spreads across Abby’s face, which should be your first warning. Stomach sinking, you deduce it’s somewhere suitably cheesy.

“Snow Falls,” she says, clapping both hands together. “Isn’t that adorable? Sounds like something out of a Christmas story!”

“Dear god,” you groan, pulling your head back inside. “I’m going to need more than the in-flight wine to get me through this.”

Zipping up your bag, you place this on the ground and look around your trailer. No personal effects, which is just how you like it. Fewer things to pack means fewer things to repack when the stint inevitably ends.

Five weeks, you remind yourself. Only five weeks until you can repack again.

© kpopfanfictrash, 2022. Do not copy or repost without permission.

Teaser #2: definitive ranking of sluttiest male sweaters

[quinloki]

hello, sorry if this is too real of an ask if you're not feeling too well recently, but I've been meaning to ask if you have any advice when it comes to tackling really dark topics in fanfics?? I've been meaning to write a darkfic with the Kid pirates main 4 as slasher movie villains (think Jason Voorhees vibes) with a touch of yandere tendencies, so there's not gonna be a lot of comfort/fluff in this fic. this is naturally gonna be hard to write especially when it comes to wanting to write dark and disturbing scenes without wanting to glorify or romanticise abusive behavior or stockholm syndrome, not to mention not wanting to upset or trigger survivors, especially as one myself, so any advice would be lovely. thank you ^-^

I’m going to start this off with what I think should be your most important takeaway from this:

It’s okay to romanticize abuse in fiction.

It’s okay to romanticize horror, murder, etc. etc. in fiction.

Fiction is where we can do the really uncomfortable stuff. Where we can explore the darks part of existing, because it’s good to be able to go “I connect with this and I should consider why.” Or “this brings me comfort, how can I break that down?” Stuff like that.

Sometimes it helps us realize a view or understanding we had that we thought was good is inherently flawed. (I am reminded of viewers being very angry when they realized the character in The Boys they connected with was *not* a good guy and did not get redeemed.)

What we have to be careful about is not condoning such themes in reality.

Horror movies and books go into deep dark territory all the time, but often hobby writers can be held to odd standards by comparison, which gets a bit frustrating at times.

How to avoid that AND present dark fic properly?

On Ao3 and tumblr just tag your story - character death, gore, stalking, Stockholm syndrome, abuse, toxic relationship, dubcon, noncon as applicable, excessive descriptions of blood and gore, etc.

You don’t have to get specific - you don’t have to say who dies/survives. You can admit to “this has a bad end” if you want - I had a webcomic warn me about that and it was NOT kidding.

Some responsibility is on the writer for dark fic, yes, but honestly that’s just in terms of being sure you label it well. Avoiding and heeding those tags is solely on the reader - as long as you didn’t, say, write about disarticulation in exacting detail without warning “excessive descriptions of blood and gore”.

You can put additional warnings in the summary, or even as a heads up before a particularly intense chapter.

And, you’re not going to be perfect. If someone says “hey can you add [x] tag?” Be open to it - but don’t add any and every tag requested - sometimes people can be demanding in tag requests and you have the right to decide where the line really is.

For example someone might ask that you add a tag involving eye-trauma. It’s a squick of mine, people getting injured on, in, around their eyes, and I wouldn’t be upset with a heads up - but I also think it’s covered under warnings of gore.

Someone might ask that you tag a specific character’s death - personally? I wouldn’t. “Character death” is enough. “Slasher/horror” honestly should really be enough cause even though I don’t watch horror movies I have a keen understanding that you do not get attached to characters in a horror story.

As long as you hit the broad strokes, I think that’s enough. The idea is that no one wants to walk into a slasher when they were expecting fluff.

As for taking care of ourselves as writers while we write dark content, that’s harder to give advice on. I really have to be in a steady frame of mind to write dark stuff, but if I know there’s vindication in there somewhere it’s much easier. (There’s a stalker in A Light Touch that gets his due and as someone who has had more than 6, it was cathartic to write.)

But sometimes there’s catharsis in the bad guy winning too. You’ve got to understand those lines for yourself - I can’t really give you advice cause it’s so different for everyone. But listen to yourself.

If it feels like a slog, leave it.

If it’s not getting out of your mind, write it.

You’re not “weird” if you write your darkest shit when you’re happiest, or vice versa. What you need to do is just keep an eye on yourself - there is no world in which you should suffer in order to write “good dark content”.

For better or worse, that’s the best advice I have - I hope it’s helped ^_^

[coldresolve]

A huge part of the whump being torture apologia discussion comes from the fact that people exoticize torture. It's foreign. It's something you see in spy movies and read about in thrillers. It's a pain that most people can safely distance themselves from in order to experience emotional catharsis or simple enjoyment. The thing is, some people don't get to have that distance.

It's hard for me to describe the sheer grief that comes with it all. I know a man who was tortured in prison. People who faced abuse from family so severe that it amounted to torture. Someone whose torture was to watch their friends be deliberately hurt. I wish whump writers could learn to have compassion for these people as well, even if their lived experiences are not exceptionally common or openly spoken about.

If an author portrays domestic abuse in their writing, it's generally considered necessary and responsible for them to either write the abuse in a realistic way or to state outside their writing that their portrayal of this very real issue is unrealistic. This respects people's lived experiences with abuse and prevents creating a culture of normalizing and glorifying abusive behavior.

It's most definitely not too much to ask of whump writers to uphold those same standards when writing about torture.

you have no idea how nice it is to get someone well spoken and well thought out in my inbox every once in a while. uh im on like hr 30 of being awake and kinda struggling piecing my thoughts together right now, so forgive me if i dont make a lot of sense, but i wanna say sth

the tone of your ask for some reason really hit a nerve for me. like getting slapped in the face, kind of. i think its the fact you come across really compassionate and just. calm, thoughtful in this. kinda puts my approach into perspective lol

i think im just angry about this topic. like ive got a passion for wanting to get it right, but its driven by anger and frustration. having ppl nitpick the fuck out of everything i say instead of actually having the sorts of conversations that should be had about the topic. i know me being angry edgy tantrum controversial oh whats he gonna say now guy and all that, turns people away from listening to me but i dont know how else to approach it sometimes, i don't want to make excuses for people who i feel should know better. i dont have that kind of patience i guess, at least not right now

i think that anger is like a manifestation, symptom. im angry about the people this happens to, and how catastrophic it is. angry at the people who let it happen. the systems that are built around it. people don't see how systemic torture can be. im angry that the fucking war on terror media frenzy was so effective, because your average person still fucking believes in all the bullshit. or the idea of torture survivors being "broken" like its a personal failure, like its the result of their own shortcomings when they're some of the strongest people you can meet. just all these unfair ideas about it that are everywhere. and people still somehow find it necessary to keep spreading those ideas, even if they know theyre wrong. when it doesnt add anything of value, youre not saying anything about it, youre not actually adding something to the conversation by going along with the bullshit, youre literally just entertaining yourself

i dont know how to not be angry about it, i think. thats the growth goal for me i guess, cause i know this isnt the sorta thing thats gonna fix itself tomorrow. and i dunno your ask just made me think about that, like how i handle this on a personal level. and i think itd be healthy for me to step away from the discussion for a couple days at least and just. accept that i tried to reach people this round, maybe it didnt really work, thats fine, ill try again some other time. also i am writing all this very slowly cause my skull is kinda collapsing in on itself so to speak and maybe that has something to do with me being sorta hopelessly frustrated lmfao. apologies