#How to Become a Screenwriter

[leftluminarytragedy]

    How to Become a Screenwriter Mugafi

A screenplay writer or a Screenwriter is someone who writes scripts for mass media such as films, television, series, or games. It is more than just writing scripts. It involves all the details such as lighting, staging, sounds, direction, and a lot more things along with the dialogues. It is, basically, framing the entire movie or a scene exactly like it would be presented. Usually, the film screenwriters work closely with the directors and produce the movie together, whereas the television screenwriters are independent and have more control over the creative process.

Becoming a screenwriter is not a piece of cake but it also does not require very high qualifications. There is no specific degree required but it is better to have completed at least a bachelor’s as it improves creative thinking and offers great exposure to the world.

Step-by-step Guide to become a Screenwriter

The following are the procedure to become a screenwriter step-by-step.

Step-1: Start Writing

Just like any other career would require daily practice and consistent efforts, Screenwriting also asks you to be eager to learn each day and keep writing. Start working on that first draft of your first short movie or a television series.

Step-2: Learn how to write

Screenwriting is not just a set of dialogues, it is much more than that. And for that, it is important to learn how to write and frame the story. Read as many screenplays as you can and then watch the accompanying movies to understand how it works.

Step-3: Know the Business

After you know how to write and what you write, you must also know ‘what sells’ in the market. Subscribe to the publications that are in this business and understand what is the market’s demand. Also it will be better to check out the work that sells and learn from it.

Step-4: Get into the Industry

After everything, the best addition to enhance your knowledge would be to gain the necessary exposure. Join the industry. Start at any level, Intern, part-time or full-time. The more time you spend working with people from your field, the more will be your learning.

Step-5: Networking

Networking has the power to help you rise to the top much faster than you can imagine. Especially in an industry like this, where the right person could have life-changing powers, it is very important to build connections that last and provide you with potential opportunities.

Step-6: Participate in the writers group

Working with people with similar backgrounds provides a lot of learning opportunities. Every person has a different mindset, a different story, and a lot of experience to offer. Plus it is also a great platform to discuss and debate the show ideas or even plan something for the future.

Step-7: Build a Portfolio

So that every time you find a person who is interested in your work, you have something to present to them. Write query letters and synopses for your projects. This shows your passion and is usually impressive.

Step-8: Sell your work

There are many ways to showcase your work to the targeted audience. Share your screenplays with your connections on IMDB pro. You can also upload your work on public platforms like InkTip where many executives and directors come searching for their fit. You can also submit your projects to Film festivals.

Read more: Top 5 Screenwriting Books Every Screenwriter Should Read

What is the Standard Screenwriting Format?

There is a specific screenwriting format to be followed when writing. It is a 90-120 pages long document that is written in the 12-point Courier font size. To be specific, 8 1/2’’ x 11’’ bright white three-hole punched paper is used for the screenwriting.

The margin width is also with respect to each side of the page, i.e. 1.5 inch on the left side and 1 inch on the right, top, and bottom of the page. Each page consists of around 55 lines in total where the dialogue block starts from 2.5 inches on the left side of the page.

Also, the names of the characters must be in the uppercase and should be positioned at 3.7 inches from the left side. The page number is placed in the top right corner with a 0.5-inch margin from the page top where each number is followed by a period. The first page shall not be numbered.

Elements of Script Formatting

There are 8 elements of a script which are as follows:

Scene Heading– This helps the reader to distinguish and identify the story’s geography. It is used to break up the physical spaces in screenwriting.

Action– This is the description in brief of what is going to happen in the scene. This includes the visible and audible actions.

Characters– When introducing a character in a screenplay, his name is written in uppercase. Then the screenwriter describes his age, looks, personality, and other traits.

Dialogues– For each character, their dialogues will be set underneath their name. It does not require much formatting in screenwriting.

Parenthetical– These are used inside the dialogue to show small actions or changes in mood or a habitual thing without having to start another action.

Vital elements of Screenwriting

A few fundamental elements that are required in a screenplay areTheme, Character, and the Plot. These three elements when kept in sync with each other can give you a perfect story to tell.

In simple words, the theme drives the character through the plot. It might sound simple but it is not easy.

Right from the start, it is important to keep these three parameters in mind. Screenwriting is the most important creative aspect of a motion picture and people need to understand its value. Because if the story is not good enough, it will lose its value and importance over time.

The AV Script

The Audio/Visual script is a part of screenwriting that involves breaking down a script into its audio and visual parts. It is the most nerve-wracking part of this creative process as one has to jot down the details as it would be every minute of the story. These are used when a script is not visual enough and more detailed information about these effects is needed.

Conclusion

Screenwriting is the most important phase of production and thus requires the most amounts of knowledge and experience to fully understand and deliver a good screenplay. Hopefully, the above-mentioned points will be helpful in getting started and improving each day. Work hard, look for inspiration around you, and do not forget to reward yourself.

READ MORE...AI Story Generator Tool, Script Screenplay Writing software | Mugafi

[alkeneater]

Guys I'm so curious

Am I the only one who likes S1 Abe more than S2&3 Abe?

I'm too tired to elaborate and argue, but newer abe was lowkey ooc. And still I see people that started liking him only after season 2. That confuses me so much... just tell me, are you for real? 😭

no hate seriously i'm just genuinely interested what people think

[jellogram]

I think every American should be given a free gov-mandated trip to Hollywood, California because if 100% of the population had seen how disgusting and lame that city is and stopped romanticizing it, I think the entertainment industry might actually have to start trying

[ladyloveandjustice]

Okay, so ZENSHU is a new anime that FINALLY does something actually cool and meta with the isekai concept, following an animator named Natsuko who get's isekai'd into her favorite flop anime movie, which is destined to end in total tragedy for all the characters. She discovers she can do a magical girl sequence and animate something that will save the day (like the God Warrior from Nausicaa) in exchange for having to sleep however long it would have taken her to animate IRL (three days, usually). She starts saving the characters and and starts changing the narrative that way

This leads to possibly the best character arc of all time, where she meets the hero's love interest and the movie's quintessential damsel in distress, who is destined to get in trouble all the time and fridged at the end of the movie. (Her name is Destiny that's how destined she is).

...Only then Natsuko animates a cerval cat pro-wrestler to save the day, and Destiny is SO ENAMORED by it all she decides to get INCREDIBLY RIPPED and become a prowrestler herself, leaving her destiny as a love interest behind, her skimpy fanservice outfit transforming into a skimpy cerval cat pro wrestler outfit. She and Natsuko become friends, and she breaks off from this hero to forge her own path.

The story also kind of playfully interrogates how Destiny was underdeveloped and granted no agency by the narrative. She mentions having no friends and being lonely. She's notably awestruck when Natsuko says she's going to live and dress however she wants (in response to her baggy sweatshirt and cousin It hair being mocked):

And when she chooses to embrace her pro wrestling love, she echoes these words.

Destiny has this whole thing going where she's nobly forcing herself to marry this gross guy to open this orphanage, and Natsuko points out to her that this subplot makes no sense because she could just open the orphanage herself:

The narrative always framed it like Destiny couldn't do anything on her own, so it doesn't even occur to anyone until Natsuko brings it up. But once she realizes it, Destiny does decide to live how she wants and open that damn orphanage herself.

The show could have just had Natsuko hate Destiny (since she clearly also likes the Hero) or made fun of her and treated her as useless and awful, but instead it's made clear she IS a very sweet person, she makes friends with Natsuko, the show treats it as a thought experiment on "what if the classic Damsel in Distress fated to be Fridged learned she had agency and developed her own interests with the help of another woman?" It's a really light hearted take on the subject, but that's what makes it so fun.

Anyway ZENSHU is really good stuff so far, one of the few modern isekai that has rights, and finally one that plays with classic tropes in an actually interesting way. The director and screenwriter, Mitsue Yamazaki and Kimiko Ueno, are some cool ladies who've previously worked together on one of my faves, the Gekkan Shoujo Nozaki-kun anime, and their talent really shows here.

[selenepsyche]

Placements That Could Indicate Being a Great Author

Mercury Dominance

Mercury rules writing, the mind, communication, and storytelling. So you may automatically have a strong writing ability if you have a lot of Mercury-ruled placements (Gemini, Virgo) or Mercury aspects. Mercury in Gemini can give you quick thinking and strong writing abilities that's especially great for conversational or journalistic writing. Mercury in Virgo can give you a great ability to edit writing and write precisely. Having Mercury in the 3rd represents short-form content, daily writing, and journalism, while having it in the 9th represents publishing books, essays, or novels.

Mercury-Neptune aspects give you poetic, imaginative, and symbolic writing. You could write more fiction, fantasy, sci-fi, or spiritual writing. Mercury-Pluto aspects can give you the ability to write about darker and complex topics. You could write more thrillers, mystery, horror, or be an investigative journalist.

3rd, 5th, or 9th House Emphasis

The 3rd house is the house of communication, language, writing, speaking, and stories. Having multiple planets here can indicate writing and communicating being a big influence on your life. The 5th house is the house is creativity and self-expression. Having planets here can give you the talents of writing poetry, screenwriting, fiction, or children's literature. The 9th house is the house of higher education, publishing, philosophy, and truth-seeking. Having planets here could indicate writing nonfiction books or spiritual and philosophical essays.

Neptune Influence

Having strong Neptunian energy in your chart can bring a vivid imagination. It can bring you a lot of creativity and ideas for any type of book you're gonna write. Neptune in aspect to Mercury or the Moon adds emotional and symbolic power to your writing. It helps you channel stories and write story ideas that just come to you easily. Neptune in the 9th or 12th house suggests being a spiritual author or writing from your dreams or intuition.

Pluto Aspects

Having a good amount of Pluto aspects in your chart can intensify your writing. Moon-Pluto aspects can give you emotional courage. You might write based off of personal wounds, or write about lesser known topics with great empathy. Venus-Pluto aspects are perfect for dark fantasy and dark romance novels. You could be great at writing about complex and obsessive relationships, and stories with revenge plots. Stories about female rage and self-worth can also easily be written.

Uranus-Pluto aspects are great for dystopian fiction, activism-driven essays and stories, and experimental writing. Stories that evolve around freedom, control, trauma, and change are common with this aspect. You could also be interested in writing science fiction or futuristic stories.

Saturn Influence

People always talk about how Saturn is a difficult planet, but let's not forget how rewarding it is. It can bring stability through hard work, discipline, and major blessings (a bit more than Jupiter in my opinion and experience). Having Saturn in the 3rd, 9th, or 10th house can indicate being a serious writer that develops your voice and writing style over time. You could face early setbacks in writing and communicating, but you can gain recognition through perseverance. You could become a published author that's respected for your knowledge. Saturn-Mercury aspects could indicate being a slow but powerful thinker. You may be methodical and careful with your words. You may prefer refined and minimalist writing. You could struggle with self doubt early on, but become a true master of form and clarity.

Personal Planets in Air Signs

Having Gemini, Libra, or Aquarius as your Sun, Moon, Rising, Mercury, Venus, or Mars can help you excel in mental stimulation, research, and communication. Gemini helps you become versatile, a great multitasker, quick thinking, and natural writing abilities that are perfect for any type of writing. Libra helps you be polished, poetic, refined, and write with a great tone and pace. Aquarius helps you with unique story ideas, be innovative, idealistic, visionary, truthful, and write more about topics that can benefit entire communities and groups of people.

Jupiter in 3rd or 9th House

With Jupiter in the 3rd or 9th house, you could have a passion for sharing ideas, knowledge, and stories with the world. You could write large books or create a series of books and novels. It may be easier for you to get published, gain an audience, and attract mentors and people to work with.

Thank you so much for reading this! If you have any questions, let me know!

dividers: @saradika-graphics photos: Pinterest

© selenepsyche - All Rights Reserved

[narcjsistx]

slightly suggestive, but nothing so big </3 ; actor kaiser au!!

✶ 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!

actor!michealkaiser who almost wanted to burst into tears when he discovered that he would become the male protagonist of a dark romance, he who has always been extremely famous for his action films. he didn't even know how he got the role, since he hadn't auditioned... but maybe they took him because of his fame

actor!michealkaiser that as soon as he discovered his co-star, he seriously thought about leaving the project. you, who up until that point had never had a significant role in cinema, only an extra in a few films or minor roles. how did you manage to be the female protagonist of this film?!

actor!michealkaiser who at your first meeting on set, made fun of you for arriving 2 minutes late. this, for him, demonstrated your incompetence

actor!michealkaiser that reading the script for the first time with you by his side, he was surprised to see the myriad of passionate kissing scenes he would have to shoot. he knew it was a dark romance film, but he expected much less from the screenwriters... he was surprised

actor!michealkaiser that no matter how great his acting skills were, you couldn't get along with him. he annoyed you, he often scolded you for scenes, according to him, where you seemed "dead" and not a young girl in love with the boy who almost tried to kill her as a child

actor!michealkaiser who often stopped scenes just to tell the directors to change actresses, while you were still on set with your character's line on the tip of your lips, ready to say it

actor!michealkaiser who was seriously curious to see how you would shoot the scene of your kiss, your very first one with him. in the script it was described as a scene full of passion, almost liberating for both characters who until that moment did not know the truth about the protagonist's mother... but would you have been able to do it? you who did nothing but insult each other on set?

actor!michealkaiser that, at the first chiack, you didn't even manage to get to the kissing scene. you were too embarrassed, he was too in a hurry, wanting to finish the scene as soon as possible and go home to rest after 17 hours on set

actor!michealkaiser who, exasperated, slammed you against the wall of the set waiting for the director's approval. his hand on your waist, the other on your neck "either it works this time or seriously I'm going to start screaming in exasperation. use your damn tongue if it gets you more into character"

actor!michealkaiser that when the director finally gives approval to begin, it crashes onto your lips for the first time. surprisingly, this time you feel calmer, less rigid and much more professional... it's almost as if now, for the first time, you were both on the same level. he pushes his knee between your legs, as his character should do, but he feels so suddenly caught up in the scene that it's such a strange feeling

actor!michealkaiser who has no qualms about leaving red marks and bites all over your neck, perhaps a little out of character. his hands lift your thighs, and even if that's not in the script, you wrap your legs around his waist, cupping his face

actor!michealkaiser who suddenly almost forgets the people around, more amused by ruining you with his kisses and bites. both you and him hear the staff talking in hushed tones, but you don't listen either, too caught up in the moment and wondering why your body is suddenly reacting this way to him. why, suddenly, is it like you feel absolutely off set?

actor!michealkaiser who, throughout the scene, feels as if both your soul and your body are his. as if you were his. and damn, he likes it

actor!michealkaiser who is almost annoyed when the director says the scene is perfect and they can stop. you remain still in his arms, your heart still having to return to its normal beat as the other writers come closer "it seemed so real, as if you were really a couple. they made a great choice, when they cast you in the roles"

actor!michealkaiser who, when you're off set a few hours later, comes over and fixes your scarf "the way you responded to my gestures was interesting. you seemed so caught up in the moment" he says smirking, almost as if it were a joke. you take his scarf, pulling him to your height “i can say the same about you”

actor!michealkaiser who, as he sees you leave getting into your taxi, realizes that maybe you are more interesting than he thought

actor!michealkaiser who, during the end of filming, can't wait for more of your passionate scenes. and you seem as taken by him as he is by you, every time you stay a little longer than normal on his lips. and even he has to admit that he always grips your skin a little tighter

actor!michealkaiser that at the movie premiere, he can't help but admire your beauty, you dressed in a tight navy blue dress, which is seriously threatening to drive him crazy. if he had the chance to get back in the limo you arrived in, he would, so that he can finally make you truly his

actor!michealkaiser who throughout the evening doesn't let you be far from him, always an arm around your waist or shoulders. and you don't seem bothered by his behavior, while answering questions from fans and journalists

actor!michealkaiser who, when fans and journalists ask him if you are dating, does not deny or confirm their theories. while you try to say that you are simply very good friends and have good chemistry, he almost wants to say that it's your fault, because if you weren't so stubborn he would have already shouted to the whole world that he loves you. but it can wait a little longer

actor!michealkaiser who can't help but illustrate you to journalists as the most talented co-star he's ever worked with, he who has always had actresses who are decidedly more famous than you in his action films. and you can't help but embarrass yourself in front of the cameras

he leans in close to you, his hand still on your back "looks like you're popular" he says, a hint of possessiveness in his voice. you nod, ignoring the little shivers down your spine "if you don't stop acting like this the crowd will actually believe we're lying about our relationship" you say knowing that only he can hear you. he chuckles quietly, his grip on you tightening just a bit: he knows you're referring to his possessive behavior, and he can't help but find it amusing "maybe i want them to believe we're lying" he whispers, his voice low "would that be such a bad thing?"

actor!michealkaiser which throughout the evening, does nothing but demonstrate that you have more than just good chemistry. and you, stupidly, give other signals that confirm it: you covering your mouth while speaking in his ear, him lowering himself to your height and remaining a few centimeters from your lips...

actor!michealkaiser who, after the end of the premiere, gives you a bouquet of red roses in front of the whole audience. you know perfectly well that he has never done it with any of his other actresses, yet now in front of everyone he has done it. for you. and damn, that almost makes you dumb for him

actor!michealkaiser who, once in the limo, can't help but throw himself on your lips, letting the little noises coming from your mouth drive him crazy. you tighten your arms around his neck, wondering if you're actually making the right choice, even though you're so damn happy. it's that he's so famous, and you're not... who gives you the confirmation that he really likes you and isn't just playing with your heart?

actor!michealkaiser who, having arrived at the hotel rooms, finds themselves spending the night in yours. and god, he can't help but be happy to finally let his thoughts come true, he who doesn't believe in love at first sight but suddenly finds himself thinking he could spend his whole life with you. he has already been in other relationships, but with a simple scene you managed to make him crazy, that means it's definitely a sign

actor!michealkaiser who the next morning, tired and with a few more scratches on his back, takes his phone while with his other hand he massages your shoulder, while you are still asleep. he opens his socials, noting how everyone both appreciated the film and appreciated you, all convinced that you are much more than friends, that your behaviors are not those of someone who simply has good chemistry, but of someone who hides too many things. and he can't help but be so happy with everything he's reading

[cherrystaineddoll]

𝓽hings to do instead of scrolling ౨ৎ

summer is here, school is over and you have way too much free time on your hands. so unless you want to spend your whole days with your eyes locked on a screen, here's an in- depth guide on what to do this summer, or whenever!!

learn a new language - trust me, speaking more than one language is a skill that everyone should have, and it always comes in handy. you can watch tv shows, movies or youtube videos in your target language, read beginner books, use apps (not duolingo though.. ) and even just listen to music!! just expose yourself to the language as much as you can, even better if you know anyone you can have conversations with. you could also learn sign language!!

journal or scrapbook - writing down your feelings really helps understanding your own self more. you can try doing shadow work to really dive deep, or just write whatever you feel in that moment. it doesn't have to become a chore, and remember, write for yourself and not as if someone else was going to read!! as for scrapbooking, just print out some nice photos and decorate the pages with stickers, drawings, fun colored paper.. whatever you want, just be creative!!

make art - it doesn't have to look perfect, remember that all art is beautiful in its own way. even if you think you're not good at it, just create, it will help you feel better & you'll also get better with time!! you can draw, paint, sculpt, do pottery, etc. you don't have to follow any guidelines, just buy a random sketchbook, bring out your inner child and do whatever you feel like doing

learn how to play an instrument - this can be a bit expensive, but if you have any instrument in your house that you've never used, it might be a great time to start learning it!! you don't necessarily need to take classes, you can easily find tutorials on youtube, even though it might be harder to learn by yourself. but making music is a really fun activity & good for the soul

reading and writing - i will never recommend reading enough !! everyone should read. it helps you learn new things, understand different perspectives, expand your vocabulary, and so much more. i know books can be expensive, but you can always try to buy them at flea markets, or ask a friend/family member to lend you some. and just in case, there are always some sites where you can read books online for free, like zlibrary!! you can read before going to bed instead of staying on your phone (which is sooo bad for your sleep), at the beach while tanning or outside while getting some fresh air. and if reading books inspires you, you can try to write something!! i'm not saying you have to write a 600 page book, but you can try to write small stories, or poetry, and who knows, someday you might actually write a book! if you want to get published, there are some small literary magazines you can find on social media that publish the works of small writers, it can be a great way to start. you can also always post your works here on tumblr, substack, or any social media platform!! you could also try to write the story for a movie and start screenwriting, if you're into cinematography

research interesting topics - now that school isn't forcing you to study things that maybe you don't care about, you can study whatever you want !! remember, knowledge is power, and with the internet, you basically have the world in your hands. you can watch a youtube video, read a book, or simply research on websites (make sure they're reliable though). you can also take online courses!! i might make a post on ideas for what to research??

start a new hobby - your life can't only be made of school/work, sleep, and a screen. you need hobbies that you actually like and that make you feel good. some of these can be: baking and cooking, crocheting, knitting, embroidery, jewelry making, nail art, makeup, photography, editing, blogging/vlogging, coloring, candle making, soap making, perfume making, modeling, origami, sewing, making diy stuff, chess, puzzles, acting, singing, flower arranging, meditating, lego building, trying new hairstyles or outfits, doing animations, discovering new music, sudoku, the things i previously wrote, and probably a million other activities i can't think of right now

stay active - moving you body is good for both your physical and mental health, i'm sure we all know that. you can go on walks or runs in the nature with your headpones on, or do any sport that you like- some ideas: swimming, dancing (ballet, hip hop, modern, ecc) , tennis, martial arts (judo, karate, taekwondo, ecc), volleyball, basketball, athletics, gymnastics, football, archery, fencing, table tennis, boxing, surfing, rowing, hockey, horseback riding, softball, golf, biking, figure skating, rollerblading, skating.. you don't need to do it competitively (unless you want to), as long as you're having fun and moving your body. you can also do workouts, like yoga or pilates, at home or outdoors, or go hiking.

watch movies, tv shows, or documentaries - it can always be a good learning experience, or just something fun and relaxing that isn't mindlessly scrolling. a bonus: after you've watched something, write a very long, detailed and in-depth review in your journal. you can also post it wherever you want (like letterboxd, to fight all the one liners)

hang out - with friends, family, or even by yourself !! (i know, i know, it can be scary). you can do anything, as long as you're with the right people everything is fun, but here's some ideas: have a picnic, go to the beach, go to a water park, have a baking contest, do temporary tattoos, go to a concert, go out to eat, do a one day trip, go on a road trip, take a walk in the nature, go hiking, go to a trampoline park, go to an amusement park, visit a museum, go thrifting or shopping, have a board games night, try out a new cute cafe or bakery, do an escape room, have a karaoke night, have a movie marathon, and so much more!!

i hope this helped!! ♡

[spadesolace]

about you - sophia laforteza x fem! writer! reader

synopsis: childhood best friends with their life somehow already built for them, one made for the stage while the other is made for building those stories said for the stage. unspoken feelings and unsent messages soon came to bite them after years of acting like it’s nothing.

spade speaks: it took me about 3hours to sit down, start and finish this in one sitting. happy pride month, here’s some angst (or fluff)

it was no surprise when you heard the news that sophia had participated in a survival show in order to debut. two years of her living in los angeles, you had thought she would have already been planning to debut or something.

this was your childhood best friend, having been forced into one space when your mother was a screenwriter while sophia’s mom is an actress. two quiet souls, sophia was always humming or trying to copy her mom whenever there was no babysitter for her when her mom would go to work. the same way for you, sometimes your mother is so engrossed in work that she forgets to ask your cousins to take care of you.

with your respective mothers working together all the time, it was bound to happen - sophia had slowly become a constant in your life, the very same girl who would sing to musicals while you read the script and understand how such words could be used as instructions to make something come to life. from the age of 6, sitting next to each other backstage with shared headphones, doing assignments in the same space, even showing skills that would slowly lead to where you two are.

by the time you two were 13, sophia had been reading lyrics and dissecting them as well as learning multiple instruments to keep up with her musical theater background. you, on the other hand, are always buried in books, learning to write stories and using the right metaphors for such stories. although, you both needed each other; asking sophia how to say something that sounds a bit more flowery while she asks you to make a line that seems to have a huge impact in the musical makes sense to your young minds. the closeness was hard to explain, because with every soon to be singer or musical performer there is someone closely tied to them that writes everything in such a vague yet intelligent way. 

she never knew when it shifted, how every song she has written was drawn from you as the muse, with every small performance she would hold in the dressing room of her mother, you’d sit there and applaud her. maybe unaware of the fact that those songs have always been about you, a secret that isn’t so private and is being yelled out to the world.

it was the same for you, every poem, prose, short story, sophia was your muse. the way you’d describe her laugh, her smile, and her voice - anyone would just assume it’s some girl but to those who knew the close relationship; it had always been about sophia.

“whatcha writing?” sophia peeked over your journal, all of which is a mess. scribbling out ways to describe the girl next to you as you tried to dismiss it.

“just something, keep thinking of a line but i don’t know how to work around it.” it was true, you’ve thought of something that could possibly tell her everything that is running in your mind but you had to stop yourself. after two years, sophia was finally back home - back to you.

“mind telling me?” you shook your head, closing your journal as you stuck your tongue out in a teasing manner.

“uh no? you won’t even tell me what your debut track is. so this is how you treat your best friend?” it was a joke, you and sophia grew up teasing each other without any lines being crossed, but this time. somehow sophia would want to remove that title of ‘best friend’ to something more.

“it literally is called ‘debut’ that’s all i can say.”

“boooooo! at least tell me something juicy.”

sophia rolled her eyes, shoving you as she stood up and headed towards the kitchen in her family’s house. you basically live there, her family loves you dearly as they invited you when the finale of dream academy was happening. “chismosa ka talaga”

“says the one that asked me for updates when she was in the states.” all harmless fun, following sophia behind as you gently reached for her waist holding her as you looked at the contents of the pantry. the singer in your arms stiffened, face flushed as she tried to not think of it as such. looking at the assortment of snacks as you placed your chin on her shoulder.

in sophia’s mind, you considered everything as material; maybe its for the novel you’ve been writing during your spare time, understanding the feel and how to convey the emotions and describe it without telling much.

for you, maybe it’s a bit overstepping to hold your best friend in such an intimate way when you’re only browsing for a snack. not in an opportunistic way but a writer’s instinct to preserve what hurts, lingers, and let everything slip away unnoticed. maybe it was selfish, or foolish. when you reached up to pick your snack in the cupboard, arms brushed and sophia didn’t move, nor flinch or shift, clearly something was off.

“an angel like you, darling, you’re not perfect nor easy…” the line you’ve been stuck on trying to work around with. pulling back as you opened the small bag of chips in your hands. letting it slip past your mouth before you could stop them, a whispered dialogue that was covered in unspoken feelings that is used to convey the emotions of one of the character’s in her novel.

“huh?” sophia turned to face you, furrowed brows, eyes sharp as the tension between you two grew thicker as the seconds ticked by. you could only clear your throat, reaching over the glass of water which you assumed to be yours (it’s sophia’s).

“it’s the line that i’ve been stuck on… i think i know what could follow next to it.” sophia hates how you said it so nonchalantly as if all you think about is your work. she could only nod, taking a chip from you as she took the same glass of water.

“you write about angels now?”

“metaphorically.” you pulled your phone out, writing the line in one of your notes with a title that is so you and sophia understands it immediately.

“give me some input?” sophia didn’t answer right away, instinctively reaching out for your phone as the note, with that title. you’ve let her read a few chapters and lines every once in a while, back when you only started to polish out the plot and tried to make sense of it.

“input on what exactly?” finally looking at your phone screen, seeing some of the random lines and moments you have as if to try and make it fit into your novel.

“where it goes? the dialogue? it’s clear that there’s tension between the two characters but does it convey that.” that was the problem, you always said everything without really saying anything, hidden between metaphors, flowery words that could make anyone romanticize whatever it is you’re writing. yet, this one felt raw, vulnerable as she read the single line on your notes app.

‘an angel like you, darling, you’re not perfect nor easy. But no one would dare tell me you’re hard to love.’

since when did you start to write straightforward yet use metaphors to convey someone’s innocence and purity within your eyes. her throat went dry as she sneakily scrolled up and read a few more other lines you’ve written down.

‘to have someone as beautiful as you to have fallen for such deceitful words and actions…’

nothing new followed, but if she could get some answers, some sort of clue on who your muse is, maybe the ache in her heart would lessen each time she’d read your works. still, sophia ever so kind doesn’t let her emotions get the best of her, the same way her mother has taught her whenever she’d be on stage to convey her emotions for a role,

“maybe turn it into a monologue, it sounds like a confession more than a dialogue itself.” her response calculated, with her tone cool and critical. sort of asking you to say it as it is rather than beating around the bush. she watched you bite the inside of your cheek as you took your phone back. “let the confession flow without any disruption, but also not giving the whole thing in one full sweep.”

“show it without saying it as it is… that’s kinda sad, don’t you think?” there was something about sophia’s response that made you stop and not think of the novel but rather your feelings that have always been perfectly hidden. sophia wasn’t talking about the novel anymore, you knew that and she knew that you knew.

“you like angst, right?” she walked past you with your shoulders brushing to make you notice the sudden shift between you two.

[...]

it’s been days since that line, since the late night snacks, the shared glass of water that wasn’t yours to begin with, and the silence that felt like a door was closing. yet, things are fine.

you and sophia are fine. this has happened way too many times that you could simply brush it off and talk about it some time after.

she still rolls her eyes whenever you write a cliche, you’d steal her fries because you always forget to order for yourself, and she sends you drafts of her half-finished songs that would always play through your headphones. embarrassed to admit you play them on loop even if it made no sense to do so, like the weight of each line doesn’t hang in your mind long after the last note.

neither of you have mentioned that night. somehow it’s better to keep it that way.

sprawled on her bedroom floor, laptop open typing away with your back against her bed while she sits cross-legged on her bed with her guitar. her room still smells like lavender and vanilla, not in a way that would make you nauseous but one that will always remind you of her. it’s warm, safe, and feels like home.

her humming is the only thing that keeps you focused while typing away, her fingers gently strumming the strings of her guitar as she breaks the silence.

“i finished the song. wanna hear it?” it was casual, getting ready to play it because she knows you’ll say yes regardless.

“the allegory one?” sophia didn’t answer right away, her gaze on the fretboard as her fingers hovered over the strings. you expected a joke, a pun, but she started playing and all you could do is place your laptop down and listen to her.

her strumming is slower than you remembered, as always her voice is steady, but the lyrics were where you focused your entire attention. still wrapped in metaphors and a bit of reality as it seems, still not fully aware of the message if its regards to someone else or a movie she had recently watched. but no.

every beat, every rest, every word she left unsaid from a few days ago was slowly coming back to light. she’s a genius when it comes to songwriting and conveying her emotions in the music; probably why a lot of people voted for her back in dream academy. still, sitting there and trying to decode the message, interpret it the way sophia wants to because you’ve always managed to pinpoint what the exact message is but this time - you can’t.

you don’t want to assume, sophia taught you to never assume something just so you won’t be disappointed. you don’t look at her, you can’t so you sit there still like a stone and hope that maybe the moment won’t change and she won’t bring up what had happened a few nights ago.

sophia sets her guitar down beside her, you can feel her looking at you, waiting. not for a reaction, or praise, but for you to be honest with her. and this time, you don’t know if you can brush it off.

“it’s great… hearing it live is much different from hearing it through voice memos.” clearly it was forced as you gave her a small smile that didn’t reach your eyes. you’re stupid to believe you could brush it off by complimenting her godly talents and skills. you don’t know what to say or do in this scenario because you don’t even know if she feels the same way.

sophia doesn’t say anything right away, she’s used to you doing this. the deflection, the way you’d praise her, say the message as it is portrayed by her but this time you can’t. her gaze towards you is unreadable, you can’t decipher it like before and it pains you.

she hates how practiced you are when it comes to pretending that nothing happened a few days ago. you hate how she isn’t calling you out for it.

you think about telling her the truth on how her song felt like you’ve been gutted in the quietest and subtlest way possible. how a part of you assumes it’s about you and how you wanted to believe that it meant something, more than whatever it is that you two have going on since you were thirteen in the dressing room of sophia’s mom when you started to share your works with each other.

but the words don’t come out.

what if you’re wrong? that you’re read into it too much like you always do and it’s just another metaphor; you’re the only one giving meaning to it. similar to the times sophia would hug you a second longer, always choosing the sit next to you when there’s a bunch more to choose from, and how sophia would always pick the longer route as if to extend her time with you before she goes back to los angeles to prepare for a comeback.

instead, you look at her, compliment her once more with a soft laugh to accompany it. god, you sound robotic.

she hums, not in agreement or amusement but… acknowledgement.

“yeah, it came together when i just let it flow and wrote whatever seemed fitting and just worked around it by phrasing it differently.” you freeze, turning to look at her as she had her gaze on you all this time. it made your throat dry as you opened your mouth to say something. some sort of agreement or acknowledgement but nothing.

“well, enough about that, how’s your writing?” right, your novel - the very same one that you’ve been working on since she was in los angeles for training and development. you’re almost done with it, journal entries turned into a novel to convey the emotions that you’ve long harboured for the girl looking at you with such icy cold gaze.

“almost done, just finishing up the final chapter and probably read through it once more after a few days.” she doesn’t push nor ask to read about it, whenever you’re close to finishing she gets the first read. this unspoken dance, you’ve done this before; too many times to count but this time it doesn’t feel right.

the silence that follows makes you uncomfortable that you repositioned yourself on the floor. it isn’t the usual comfortable silence that you both were accustomed with when growing up. you feel like standing at the edge of a cliff, something real that if you fall could either make or break your friendship.

neither of you is taking the leap of fate, not yet at least.

[...]

the laforteza year-end parties are always fun because it’s sophia’s birthday for the first half until the clock strikes midnight and you’re screaming happy new year and making a bunch of noise.

sophia’s birthday is as you expected, there’s a theme and this time she had asked it to be more so a black tie event. were you surprised to hear her say she had managed to get you a suit that would go perfectly with her dress? no, because sophia always tries to match your clothes during social events, and it’s no surprise that she has done it again.

“so purple dress for you and a purple suit for me?” you two still act as if there’s no tension between you two that happened right in her bedroom. 

“you act like it’s the first time.” she straightens your suit jacket, then with precise fingers sophia adjusts your necktie almost as if choking you. “matching on such events is our tradition.”

you cough up a bit, shooting her a half-hearted glare as you loosened up your tie. “strangling me on your birthday? you got something to say, laforteza.”

she rolled her eyes, flipping you off as she does the finishing touches of her hair and makeup, making sure she looks presentable for the guests downstairs. a soft smile on your lips as you watched her through the mirror.

“you’re already beautiful, sophia.” how can a simple compliment from you make sophia feel so weak on her knees, turning around as she gave you a soft smile followed by a wink and a flying kiss.

“always the smooth talker.”

the party is exactly how you’d expect it to be; formal, loud, a carefully curated playlist that shows the type of genre sophia likes but also not enough to make the elderly have a heart attack. it’s warm, colorful, and hers. moving through the entire party with you by her side like always.

no one knows that sophia sang you an original like before, that there is underlying tension between you two as you tried to brush it off like its nothing. not even sophia knows that you’re holding onto each line of those lyrics like a lifeline.

you’re pretending everything is fine and so is she.

next thing you know, the countdown comes fast; everyone is screaming at the top of their lungs as you reach over and hold sophia’s hand. ten, nine, eight - your other hand cupping her cheek, taking a deep breath. maybe it’s the alcohol from the amount of champagne and secret vodka shots you’ve been doing with sophia that gives you the sudden urge to be bold. before you could do anything, the clock strikes midnight, screaming ‘happy new year’. like the rest of them with glasses clinking, confetti popping, and someone pulls her into a hug. it’s her mom and you don’t have anything against it when sophia is hugging her back while you’re handed a sparkler by her younger brother.

cheeks flushed from the alcohol, the noise, and how you almost took the leap of fate.

you didn’t stay much in the party, walking out towards the balcony on the second floor, watching the last remaining fireworks from the distant go off. the sparkler long gone with your empty champagne glass. guests slowly leave one by one, some remain tipsy and curled onto the couch as you just stood there with an empty champagne glass and the chatter from the living room.

slender hands take away the glass from you, handing you a bottled water, chilled as you took with gratitude. sophia’s barefoot now, heels long forgotten as her hair is still luscious despite sweat on her forehead from dancing.

“thanks..”

“no worries.” she leaned onto you, arm around yours as you continued to watch guests leaving and waving at you two goodbye. soft smiles and unspoken words as you pinched the bridge of your nose.

“i left my gift for you in your bedroom.” sophia looks up, tilting her head to the side as she tried to recall seeing something out of place in her room

“what is it?” you bit your lip, just guiding her to her bedroom where the paperbag is placed right on sophia’s study table. she doesn’t look at you, only the bag as you slowly hand it over.

enchanted. by y/n barretto.

sophia looks up at you, not sure what to say as she flipped through the pages not yet registering that you had finished the manuscript. her hands close around it gently, her name on margin of the chapter title. it wasn’t printed, but handwritten in your old green journal. it’s intimate, and holds a lot of sentimental value.

“you finished it… when?” you shrugged, not really recalling the time and date when you had finished writing it all when you had written most of it digitally but each one held the original draft on how you wanted to convey each emotion in each chapter.

“i don’t really know… time started to blur when i was nearing the end but… you should probably read the ending first.” the weight of it hits her, was she right all this time and she wasn’t reading too much into it when you made the love interest have such distinct features that resemble her? she can’t remember the last time she read your drafts, mostly undone and messy.

sophia flipped through the pages, the ending didn’t really have much to say. you took sophia’s advice, let the emotions flow without any disruption as she read the same line you had uttered that night in the kitchen.

“you don’t have to read it now-”

“shut up? you wrote an entire manuscript for what exactly?” she wanted to ask you if this is a confession, if it’s real but she knows better.

sophia knows how you speak when it comes to writing, that sometimes you don’t have to think too much about it because actions alone tell you everything you need to know. you’re not one for declarations, but in the subtlety on how you could convey your emotions for sophia after all these years.

instead, she places the manuscript down on the table, reaching out for your hand, not to ask you anything but to give you the silent answer you had long wished for.

[...]

sophia is a fast reader. she always has been and annoyingly so. you remember lending her books years ago and she’d go through them within a day or two, it is was just a compilation of short stories, she’d be done in hours.

it was no surprise that she’d go through the manuscript to understand and decipher every single metaphor in it. from the moment she had woken up from the new year’s party and her birthday, walking around with her hair a mess. until she fell asleep, she didn’t put the manuscript down. not a single greeting from her the entire day and night as you watched her through the call because she told you that she wanted to read it without you cringing at it.

she was writing in a separate notebook every single thing that even when you tried to stop her from reading, she’d hiss at you like a cat.

“did you just-”

“yes, i did,” she flipped through the page, a soft smile as she wrote on her notebook once more. ”now i’m almost done, so please shut up.”

you let her be, ending the call and doing your own thing as she was in her room reading through the manuscript, until the very end of it.

every so often, sophia would mutter something under her breath and she’d text you about what chapter and tease you about it before going back to it as if your heart isn’t being toyed with.

then you get the call, late at night, around 2 in the morning.

“i finished it.”

“good evening to you as well, sophia.” you bantered, stifling a yawn as you pressed the phone to your ear as you tried to stay awake.

you could hear her take a breath, shallow but steady. “i knew by the way, even before reading this, but to have it laid out written in a novel… you normally hide your feelings in your writing but this one just, throws it all out there.”

“well… it’s the original draft. everything i have thought of and written about is in that journal.” sophia hummed, you could hear her walking around her bedroom when you were about to fall asleep.

“i’m coming over.”

“what?! sophia, it’s two in the morning!”

“then come over.” her voice was a bit pleading, as if she can’t handle it anymore. “please.”

that’s all it took for you to get your car keys and head on over to the laforteza household in your pajamas. sophia didn’t even end the call, waiting for you to arrive so that you wouldn’t knock or disrupt anyone else at home.

once you’ve parked your car with sophia standing right there in front of you, holding the manuscript in hand. taking a step towards you, no performance, no teasing, as she stopped close enough that you could feel her body heat radiating; the unspoken words still hanging between you two, heavy as ever.

“i spent years writing songs about you because i was too afraid to tell you what i truly felt. god, i even have a song called ‘this song’ that i had been waiting to use because we’re both terrible at this.” sophia didn’t mean to tease you with the truth but it is what it is; you’re both bad when it comes to admitting your romantic feelings for each other as you held her hand. letting a soft laugh slip through your lips as you took a step closer.

“a part of me kinda assumed that every song you wrote was about me. it only made complete sense that maybe i was right a few days ago.”

“cocky as always.”

“and you love it, sophia.” your hand slowly reached up to cup her cheek, pulling her closer as you could only whisper between the small gap before any of you could close the gap.

“let me be clear; i love you and not just in the things i’ve written nor the silence we’ve lived through for years… i love you, sophia laforteza.”

“you’re so cliche, but i love you too.”

you let out a breathless laugh, the kind that just slips out when something finally stops hurting. letting the gap between you close as sophia pulled you in for a kiss, one of many to come.

[therealsaintscully]

The year is 2025, and here I am, still very troubled about BBC Sherlock. Now, it's been a while since I wrote any Sherlock meta, but there's something that's been bugging me, and I’d love to get people’s input and thoughts.

I'm a screenwriter—not a professional one, but an autodidact. I haven’t had anything produced, but I have written several original screenplays. One of the most basic things you learn as a writer in general, and especially in screenwriting, is the concept of the character arc. It’s the art of starting a character off as one thing, taking them through a process of deconstruction or challenge, and letting them emerge as something different.

An exercise I enjoy is watching films or TV shows and analysing a character’s arc. I try to spot hints of how a character will change by the end of an episode, a season, or the entire series. That’s part of why I particularly love Michael Schur’s shows—Parks and Recreation, The Office, Brooklyn Nine-Nine. In the Michael Schur universe, character arcs are blatantly laid out for you in the pilot episode. There’s absolutely no need to philosophize or guess: the characters often state it themselves, or it’s clearly expressed through others.

Take, for example, Michael Scott.

In the Office pilot, he’s genuinely a terrible boss and a trashcan of a person. But we’re immediately shown his arc via one simple prop: a coffee mug. “World’s Best Boss.” That’s his journey—to become that boss, if not in the world, then at least in Dunder Mifflin.

Or take Jake Peralta. In B99’s pilot, Terry introduces the squad to Captain Holt with:

“Jacob Peralta is my best detective — he likes putting away bad guys, and he loves solving puzzles. The only puzzle he hasn’t solved… is how to grow up.”

From that alone, you know where Jake is headed. By the end of the show, he’ll still be the squad’s best detective, but he’ll also be a grown-up: a dad, a partner, someone who takes his job seriously and earns the respect of his captain.

In the Parks and Rec original pilot script, Leslie outright declares that she’ll be America’s first female president. In the aired pilot, the message is softened a bit when Leslie says:

“You know, government isn’t just a boy’s club anymore. Women are everywhere. It’s a great time to be a woman in politics. Hillary Clinton, Sarah Palin, me.”

There it is: Leslie’s arc will involve her rising through the boys’ club of American politics and becoming a truly great public servant (and maybe—even if it’s never clearly stated—the first female president).

So now that I’ve set the scene a bit—understanding how a character arc is seeded in a pilot—let’s talk about Sherlock.

What are we told about John and Sherlock in the pilot that sets up their character arcs?

Let’s start with Sherlock, because that one is spoon-fed to the audience—by none other than Lestrade. In response to John’s question, “Why do you put up with him?”, Lestrade says:

“Because Sherlock Holmes is a great man. And I think, one day, if we’re very, very lucky, he might even be a good one.”

That’s it. That’s Sherlock’s arc. The writers are telling us outright: here’s a brilliant but emotionally disconnected man. And the journey ahead of him isn’t about intellect, but about goodness. About connection, humanity, compassion. Becoming not just great, but good. And, if I might add a bit of Johnlock, not just to anyone—but through John, with John, and ultimately because of John.

Now, John’s arc is a little less obvious in my opinion, though just as important—and it’s given to us by Mycroft, who says:

“You’re not haunted by the war, Dr. Watson—you miss it.”

To me, this says: here is a traumatized soldier who never fully came back from war. He’s unmoored, disconnected, half-alive. "Nothing ever happens to me." And the arc we should expect? A man who, over time, things happen to him and he finds peace. Who finds meaning in his civilian life—back in London, in friendship, in purpose, in (perhaps) love. Who, by the end of the series, no longer misses the war.

That’s the setup. That’s what we were promised. Or at the very least, that's what I feel I was promised.

Only… whatever I feel was promised never actually happened.

In fact, Sherlock ends up delivering the complete opposite. In Seasons 3 and 4, the show leans into Sherlock as a mythic, near-supernatural figure—the “adult who never was a child.” This directly contradicts the idea of humanising him. The sudden introduction of Eurus shifts the focus from internal growth to external spectacle. His evolution becomes a reaction to trauma, not a conscious transformation toward goodness.

By the end of The Lying Detective, Sherlock is still fundamentally isolated and emotionally unavailable. Despite supposedly learning to “connect,” he doesn’t share emotionally in any meaningful way—not with John, not with Eurus, not with Molly. The “I love you” scene is a puzzle to be solved, not a moment of genuine vulnerability. John and Sherlock’s confrontation at the end of TLD achieves absolutely nothing in terms of their openness or intimacy.

Sherlock's arc—of becoming a good man—is never achieved. Now, we can argue about that, because Sherlock is a softie at times. He is kind. And don’t get me wrong—when Michael Scott leaves Dunder Mifflin, he’s by no means a perfect boss. But he’s loved by Pam, he’s missed by Jim, and the Dunder Mifflin team has learned to respect him in their own way.

I know some of you are itching to shout that Sherlock's arc won't be complete without S5 and in theory, I agree! But! Lest we forget, Lestrade’s “prophecy” (supposedly) comes full circle in The Final Problem:

"No, he’s better than that. He’s a good one."

This, supposedly, is the great moment of The Payoff. Here stands Sherlock, A Good Man™.

Which… always makes me scratch my head.

Is he, Lestrade? Really? What is it, exactly, in those last few days that convinces you of that? What moment between The Six Thatchers and The Final Problem gives you that impression?

Nothing. Really—nothing. This, for me, is absolutely zero character arc payoff.

Now, what about John—who was supposed to come back from the war, or at most, get his adrenaline kicks chasing criminals with Sherlock through the streets of London?

Mary’s death completely hijacks John's growth as a character. Rather than showing John finding stability in his marriage and family (or with Sherlock, in whatever shape that takes), the show strips it all away. And worse, it distances him from Sherlock once more—throwing him into another spiral of guilt and rage, effectively rebooting his trauma rather than resolving it.

The finale gives John no closure. We don’t know where John is emotionally by the end of The Final Problem. Is he at peace? Are we supposed to believe that a happy montage fixes everything? Does he still crave danger? Does he still feel violent impulses toward Sherlock?

I can’t even begin to think when or how Mycroft’s seed of John’s arc—“you miss the war”—comes full circle in The Final Problem. Unlike Lestrade’s line about Sherlock, there’s nothing that brings that theme to any kind of resolution. It’s as though Moftiss forgot to give John a conclusion altogether.

I’ve sometimes wondered if Sherlock’s words to John in TLD—“We might all just be human”—were meant to gesture at John’s arc. But… why would it?

John never struggled to understand that he was human. That wasn’t his arc. That wasn’t his flaw. He knew he was human and he always craved for that humanity from Sherlock. So what, then, was that line supposed to resolve?

I can play devil's advocate here. Character arcs can be negative. A character doesn't always have to have a happy ending, and had Moftiss boldly done that, I would have appreciated it. But they hadn't- they give us a weird ass montage with John and Sherlock happily giggling at Rosie. It's just feels like there's absolutely no conclusion for John, whether negative or positive.

Adding insult to injury, Mary’s 'speech' during the final montage is actually dismissive of their "growth":

“There are two men sitting arguing in a scruffy flat. Like they’ve always been there, and always will.”

Which completely negates the idea that they’ve changed. At that point, they’re not like they’ve always been. John's quite possibly worse than when we met him.

“The best and wisest men I have ever known.”

Again—what’s with the John erasure? Let’s say, for the sake of argument, Sherlock is better now—what makes him wise? And John’s arc was never about becoming wise, so what does that even mean?

“My Baker Street boys.”

Are they? Are they still the Baker Street boys (I hate that nickname)? We’re never told if John and Rosie move back in. In fact, in a Q&A Moftiss declare John does not return to Baker Street.

And that’s just it, isn’t it?

The Final Problem finale doesn’t fail because it was mysterious or ambiguous or hilariously bad or tragic. It fails because it abandons the emotional contract it made with its viewers in the very first episode. It forgets the arcs it promised, the healing it hinted at, the people these characters were meant to become.

We didn't need a happy ending. But we did need a real one.

[joshujin]

adore u

🔞 18+, minors do not interact • masterlist • submit a request 🚨 minors and blank blogs will be blocked

after a career drought full of dead end positions, you finally land a job you can be proud to include on your resume—prestigious company, room for growth, and most importantly, a salary that will allow you and your boyfriend, soonyoung, to breathe a little easier. what you don’t expect is the discrimination and vitriol you’re met with on the job. as office life gets harder and harder for you, soonyoung finds it increasingly impossible to sit back and watch you repeatedly get hurt like this. so he dusts off a mask he never thought he’d use again, and when your colleagues start dropping dead one by one… well, that’s none of his business.

♫ i did something bad taylor swift

pairing: ghostface!soonyoung x fem!reader wc: 23k 🤨 tags: horror fic (kinda not really), scream fic, established relationship, alternating povs, normal (used loosely lol) lovers to crazy psycho lovers, screenwriter!soonyoung, corporate slave!reader, “he hates everyone but her” trope except make it “he hates and brutally murders everyone but her” ┐(￣ヘ￣;)┌ a/n: the platinum blonde spiky hair ghostface soonyoung brain rot had me in a chokehold. this all started just bc i saw a gifset of him looking soooo early 00s fuck boy pop star and immediately my brain was like “ghostface hoshi.” so here we are. i do watch horror but like. i’m here for a good time not a critical time LOL. i am no expert on horror movies! i just like watching the more digestible ones, and if there are inconsistencies with the reasoning for becoming a killer or the relationship between killer and lover of killer or how realistically easy it would be to catch the killer… well, just pretend there aren’t :) i’m just trying to eradicate this ghostface hoshi brainworm :) so enjoy it :) or don’t :) this is more for me than anyone else :)

warnings READ ALL OF THEM!

content: murder… obviously (it won’t be overly gory, but it is described, so be careful. it won’t be anyone in svt), he’s a psychopath (again… obviously), blood, knives/stabbing, torture, domestic violence (not between mcs), traumatic brain injury, misogyny, daddy issues, eh mommy issues too why not, male use of the word “whore” and “bitch” against a woman, workplace harassment (bullying, hazing, finance tech red pill bro culture), sexual harassment in the workplace (inappropriate comments, sexualization of reader by male coworkers, etc. but no physical sexual assault takes place), no physical description of reader but she’s called a diversity hire by her harassers (whatever makes her diverse can be up to you), murdered people could possibly share names with idols idk but if they do, that’s a coincidence bc these are just random names, protectiveness to insane levels, possessiveness, codependency, jealousy, toxic and unhealthy relationship, reader is also crazy smut: marked at beginning and end if you’d like to avoid, unprotected piv, creampie, roleplaying (kinda? like, is it roleplaying if they’re roleplaying as themselves but one of them doesn’t realize it’s themselves?), squirting, kink exploration, mentions of bondage, mentions of blindfolding, mentions of choking, mentions of degradation, mentions of knife play, light breeding kink, shower sex, oral (both receiving), face fucking, fingering, spitting, uh horniness supercharged by murder so… whatever tag that is, dirty talk except make it about murder, honestly don’t look at me

🎞️ a portion from an early draft of the script for cult classic horror movie, “adoration,” by renowned screenwriter kwon soonyoung

IN AN APARTMENT

a man (jake) dressed in a disheveled suit returns home late at night presumably from work, though from his mannerisms, he seems drunk.

he takes his jacket off and lets it fall to the floor. he is grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge when his phone rings. the number is private. he declines it. when it rings again, he fumbles to hit the right button for several seconds but eventually answers, swaying drunkenly as he does.

JAKE hello? (he hears loud breathing) hello? (no answer) who is this? (hangs up and mutters to himself) fucking weirdos.

his phone rings again, and he watches his cell vibrate on the counter. he closes the fridge door and answers the phone, obviously ready to yell at whoever it is, but he is cut off by a raspy male voice.

PHONE STRANGER hi, jake.

jake freezes, too flustered to speak.

PHONE STRANGER oh come on, don’t be rude. where are your manners? this is where you say hi back. go on, try it.

JAKE who is this?

PHONE STRANGER that’s too easy, don’t you think? and too easy is never any fun.

jake seems to deflate, his exhaustion too potent to argue with a stranger. he hangs up once more. the phone rings again. he answers it in an almost violent fashion.

JAKE leave me alone!

PHONE STRANGER hang up on me again and i’ll take that pretty, little butcher knife (jake’s eyes dart to the knife block on his kitchen island. camera changes focus to knives) and run it down the entirety of your torso until the floor is slick with your blood and organs.

jake looks around the apartment, understanding there is a large chance he is being watched.

camera angle changes to a shaky shot farther away from around the corner in a dark hallway, suggesting whoever is watching is already in the apartment with him. goes back to jake in kitchen.

jake inches forward, wrapping his fingers around the very same knife he was just threatened with.

PHONE STRANGER hiding it won’t help you, jake. and neither will using it. i promise.

jake’s fingers immediately let go and he takes several steps back in horror as he realizes he is definitely being watched.

PHONE STRANGER good boy! (sounds genuinely excited) so you do listen after all. now. let’s start over. hi, jake.

JAKE hi. (voice cracks, clears his throat) what do you want?

stranger clicks tongue in disapproval.

PHONE STRANGER jake, jake, jake. didn’t we talk about manners already? (jake inches toward the front door, stranger laughs) eh, i probably wouldn’t go that way if i were you. (jake freezes, eyes flitting around the room wildly) what do you want to try next?

camera briefly shifts to a dark corner closer to jake now. goes back to kitchen.

JAKE who are you?

PHONE STRANGER my name is hoshi. (jake is very obviously surprised) didn’t expect me to tell you my name, did you? thought i’d keep that a secret? you don’t have to ask either; that’s my real name.

JAKE why?

HOSHI why what?

JAKE why are you telling me your name?

HOSHI well, it doesn’t matter if i tell you my name. it’s going to die with you anyway.

jake quickly takes the phone away from his ear and begins to dial the police. being drunk, he mistypes several times.

HOSHI i won’t try to talk you out of that. someone needs to find your body after all. i do want people to know you’re dead. i want her to know you’re dead. that you’re never going to hurt her ever again. so by all means, call the police. but i assure you. they won’t come in time.

JAKE (in a shaky voice) yes they will.

HOSHI no. they won’t. and you know how i know?

jake finally gets the call going, phone automatically putting hoshi on hold.

HOSHI i know because you’re a dumb ass and you never even put me on speaker.

camera focuses on jake’s face front on as his eyes widen and he freezes. audience hears dispatcher answer the line.

DISPATCH what is your emergency?

hoshi appears behind jake in a white mask, face contorted into a permanent scream, and a black tattered robe. audience hears a squelch as jake’s mouth falls open in pain and he stumbles. his phone falls out of his hand, ending the call.

camera angle switches to side view, where audience can see a hunter knife buried in the middle of jake’s back. hoshi slowly slides the knife out of him, letting him fall to the floor, where he’s immediately crawling away.

hoshi makes no move to follow him yet. simply watches him kick and struggle to stand.

HOSHI i knew you were dumb, but i didn’t realize you were this dumb.

he slowly walks after him, watching as jake pathetically tries to make it to the front door, blood trailing behind him. he crashes into most of his furniture as he stumbles past.

hoshi reaches him and kicks him in his stab wound, causing jake to fall back to the floor, screaming in agony.

JAKE god, why?! WHY?!

HOSHI question of the night, huh?

JAKE (sobbing, turns over and pulls himself away enough until he’s slouched up against the back of his couch) i don’t even know who you are!

hoshi squats down in front of him, forearms on knees, eye level. he keeps his bloody knife threateningly close to jake’s face.

HOSHI but i know who you are. oh man, i know exactly who you are. i’ve heard all about you, jake. more than i should’ve ever had to hear about you.

jake sobs harder as hoshi runs his knife gently across his neck, leaving his own blood on his skin.

HOSHI you couldn’t just be the quiet coworker who came to work, minded his own goddamn business, and went home, huh? you had to be the red pill loser.

JAKE (weakly) what…? i don’t… huh?

HOSHI you hurt her, jake. and when you hurt her… well frankly, you hurt me. and i don’t let anyone get away with hurting me.

JAKE who’s “her”?! who are you?! i don’t even know what you’re talking about, dude. please! please! i promise i won’t tell anyone! i’ll do whatever you want! i’ll give you whatever you want—just let me live!

hoshi doesn’t say anything for several seconds. resembles predator watching prey. when jake starts blubbering and begging, he sighs.

HOSHI what if what i want… (tilts his head menacingly at him) is for you to die… (wipes his knife along the length of his sleeve, cleaning it of blood) an incredibly slow and painful death? hm? what if that’s what i want? will you still give it to me, jake?

JAKE i don’t get it, please, i don’t get it. who are you? what do you want?

HOSHI god you’re a fucking moron, i literally just told you what i fucking want.

he drives his knife into jake’s thigh. when he screams, hoshi backhands him to shut him up.

several seconds pass as jake tries to catch his breath.

JAKE why are you doing this?

hoshi removes his knife from his thigh, just to plunge it into his abdomen. jake doubles over, blood spilling past his lips.

hoshi lets go of the knife, leaving it buried inside jake. he tries to reach up and remove it, but hoshi gently presses a single finger to the hilt. jake screams and lets his hands fall away. hoshi removes his finger.

HOSHI (casually) honestly, it’s kind of futile explaining this to an idiot who gets off of shitting on women.

jake’s breathing is labored as his screams subside.

HOSHI (comically scratches his head) like, how do i even explain love to a greasy little incel like you?

JAKE (incredulously, while stuttering) love?

HOSHI yes, jake. love. you know, it’s so funny. i really, really hated that word for most of my life, and then… one day that just… changed, i guess.

JAKE you’re killing me because… you love… me?

HOSHI (sputters/laughs) what?! are you fucking—what?! (backhands him again) i can’t even fathom how fucking stupid you are! what the fuck? (jake groans) no, you jackass, how could anybody love you? you’re like shit on the bottom of my shoe. (mutters again) what the fuck?

JAKE i don’t get it.

HOSHI (sighs) i know you don’t, dimwit. that’s why i’m not going to bother explaining why you’ll die tonight. you’ll never understand what it’s like to love someone the way i love her. i fucking adore her. 

he watches jake carefully, head tilting to the other side like he’s studying his looming death. or enjoying it.

HOSHI and jake (just barely skims one finger from where the blade disappears into flesh, up the hilt of the knife) one thing about me?

jake’s eyes go up to meet the black holes in the mask, breathing coming out in short gasps now.

HOSHI my adoration is killer.

without warning, hoshi grabs his knife once more, other hand holding jake’s shoulder down as he pulls the knife up his torso with alarming force. he makes good on his promise to cover his floors with his own blood and organs.

your life has become a sad routine of miserably crying monday through friday, suffering an emotional hangover on saturdays, and spending the entirety of sunday shaking with anxiety over the mere thought of having to go back to work and do it all over again the next day.

your job, for the most part, is predictable. you expect to come in and endure catcalls, unprovoked insults, glares, and lewd gestures all before you even reach your desk. you expect to have your work—as flawless as you know it is—ridiculed and mocked, just for someone else to copy it word for word, claim it as his own, and receive endless praise for it. you expect your boss to sheepishly shrug and tell you boys will be boys and to be a “team player.” you expect to be told you’re useless, you’re just a diversity hire, and all you’re good for is something nice to look at.

as the only woman on an all-male, all-asshole team, you expect pure torment.

what you don’t expect is to be corralled into the company auditorium with hundreds of other employees first thing in the morning, where you’re all informed that jay, the psychopath you share a cubicle with, was not just playing hooky and skipping work like you and all his buddies assumed, but that he “tragically” passed away earlier this week. you’re in a daze as they tell everyone grief counseling is available and that those close to jay can take bereavement effective immediately if they have to.

what you also don’t expect is to return to your desk, google his obituary, and be met with several articles detailing a gruesome murder that took place in his apartment building. jay isn’t directly named, but you don’t need him to be to know it’s him. the executives were too dodgy about the announcement of his death for this to be about anybody else.

your eyes scan over words like “stabbed,” “bloodied,” “screams,” “ripped,” and “spilled.” the journalist describes it as the most grisly homicide to take place since the “prank call killings”—even goes as far to make connections between jay’s murder and the string of deaths that took place years ago, in a small town not far from where you are.

both involved victims with multiple stab wounds.

both were indicative of a frighteningly large hunting knife with unique serrations used as the weapon.

both ended with the torsos being carelessly cut open down the middle—while the victim was still alive.

the one difference is that police found no evidence of calls made to jay’s phone before his death.

this begs the question: after nearly a decade, has the prank call killer made their return, or has a copycat ascended their throne?

the closing line sends a chill down your spine, but you’re not sure it feels bad.

in fact, there’s one last thing you don’t expect that comes of today: as you turn in your seat to look at jay’s desk, exactly how he left it, you find that you don’t feel horrified about his death. contrarily, you find yourself feeling relieved. elated, even. and that’s what horrifies you.

as the team that housed jay, your boss releases you all from work for the rest of the day, some for the whole week. not you, though—never you. you are expected to return first thing in the morning to begin sorting through jay’s work and figure out where you can fill in and what you can split amongst your coworkers. but you know that won’t be happening; no one on your team would lift a pinkie to help you even if you were on the floor dying. everything jay left behind will be your responsibility now, not that that’s much of an issue. the man was already pawning all his work to you anyway.

“baby?”

soonyoung’s voice filters through the noise of the coffee machine as you close and lock the door behind you. a head of blonde, spiky hair pokes out from around the corner. your boyfriend’s eyebrows are raised, mouth puckered into a cute, surprised o.

“hey, what are you doing back?” he asks as he completely exits the kitchen and walks around the corner. his hands are immediately pressed against your forehead and neck when he reaches you, eyes running up and down your body like he’s checking for injuries. “are you okay? do you have a fever? are you sick?”

you don’t even have the energy to playfully slap him away and roll your eyes like you normally would at his overly worried behavior. you just shake your head slowly.

“what’s wrong?” he mutters, letting his hands fall to snake around your waist. soonyoung watches you so closely and so attentively, you almost swoon enough to forget why you’re so distraught.

“i…”

soonyoung doesn’t urge you to speak, patiently waiting for you to find the words you want to use. you shake your head again.

“jay’s… jay is dead?” you announce, sounding unsure and confused even though it’s literally just a fact now.

soonyoung snorts. “that would be a dream. how would he die? what’s the most satisfying way to imagine it? hit by a bus? fell into an open manhole? choked on a—”

“no,” you interject, gripping his forearms and squeezing. he moves to let go of you but you keep him where he is. “he’s actually dead, soonyoung. like… dead dead.”

he raises an eyebrow, still obviously hesitating. “okay, i want to say you’re joking… but your use of my government name is telling me you’re not…?”

“i’m not!” you insist, slapping his arms away now.

“hey.” he pouts.

“why else would i be home right now?!” you point out. “park told us to take the day off.” you toe off your shoes and push past soonyoung, further into the home you share. “something about grieving.”

you go straight to the couch, flopping onto it face down.

“oh my god?” your boyfriend murmurs in a daze as he follows you, brows furrowed into a deep frown.

he sits on the small sliver of couch you’re not occupying, automatically arranging you so that you’re laying face up against him between his legs. his arms find your waist once more.

“what… what happened…?” he asks, obviously trying to tread the topic carefully. he knows how much you hated jay—hell, as your biggest supporter, he hated him too. but for him to die? you’re full of complicated feelings. “is that why he’s been skipping work?”

you nod. “and it’s not just that… park and the other execs didn’t say this, but… i looked up his name to see if i could read the obituary.”

“mmm,” he hums, nodding. “tracks for a nosy girl like you.”

“not the time!” you whine, already pulling away. he tightens his arms around you, keeping you from moving.

“okay, okay! sorry! i’ll be serious—i swear! i’m sorry!”

you huff and relax against him once more.

“so you looked up his obituary…” he encourages you to continue, voice lower as he tries to be serious—a feat for him, honestly.

“i… i think jay was murdered.”

you whisper the words without meaning to, like you’re scared of giving life to them. like if you say them loud enough, the prank call killer—or their copycat—will come bursting through the door and shred you and the love of your life into ribbons of blood and flesh.

soonyoung remains quiet and you can almost hear the gears in his head turning as he tries to find the correct thing to say. you bet he’s trying to scour his brain for anything that isn’t an inappropriate joke.

“murdered…?” he asks in a small voice. “why… how…?”

you rest your hands over his on your stomach, pressing even further into him as you retell what you read.

a victim was found in his own apartment, stab wounds to his back and left thigh. it was clear he was attacked in his kitchen and that his assailant let him make it halfway to his front door… before they cornered him against his own couch. then, they gutted him—from lower abdomen to sternum, where his bones wouldn’t give any more way for the knife. they didn’t name him. they didn’t even describe his appearance. all they said was that he was 28, and he lived alone.

but you knew, and from the way you spoke, you were confident soonyoung wouldn’t question you about it. he was good at trusting you and believing in you.

“that’s… fucking barbaric…” he breathes out after you recount the story. “i mean, the guy was a fucking asshole, but… that’s… i mean, it’s… i—”

“i feel happy.” you blurt out the words that have been brewing in your head since you left the office.

to his credit, your boyfriend has taken most of this information well despite the poorly timed jokes. but at this new revelation, his entire body tenses against yours, and you immediately regret being honest.

“you think i’m a monster, don’t you?” you ask quietly, ready for him to gently remove you from him. to admonish you. maybe even leave. “you think—”

“i don’t think you’re a monster.”

he says it with so much conviction, you believe it the first time he says it. soonyoung repeats it anyway.

“i don’t think you’re a monster, baby. please don’t say that. i’m just… surprised. i mean i’m definitely not mourning the guy, but i know how these kinds of things can upset you.”

you know he’s referring to all the times news headlines made you cry, or the times bleak documentaries pushed you into a weird episode of feeling like there was no meaning to life and everything was pointless. you’ve always been easily affected by the world around you, so it’s fair for him to be surprised that being this close in proximity to a victim of such inexplicable violence doesn’t send you straight into a panic attack.

“he just… he made my life so hard, soonie,” you say, not expecting the tears that fill your eyes. your voice cracks on your boyfriend’s name and he immediately rests his lips against the crown of your head and whispers his love for you.

“i know,” he says after he’s told you he loves you at least a dozen times. “trust me, i know.”

soonyoung actually knows best because he’s the one who’s picking up the pieces when you come home broken and inconsolable. he’s the one who calms you down enough to explain what happened this time.

jay purposefully knocked your coffee over a report that took you a week. jay took credit for a project you were forced to collaborate with him on—a project you ended up doing all by yourself. jay was telling everyone you were a ditzy bimbo that couldn’t do her job right. jay went out drinking with the boss and spent the whole night talking shit about you. jay wouldn’t stop trying to convince you you were only hired because you had a pair of tits. that those tits are all you’re ever going to be worth.

he’s the entire reason the team is the way they are around you now. he’s the one who emboldened them to treat you the way they do.

and day after day, week after week, for almost a year now, soonyoung has had to endure all your rants—rants that were exactly the same because you didn’t know how to stand up for yourself. the only thing you knew how to do was “be a team player” in the hopes that you could find a promotion into another team or even better, a new job altogether.

being the best boyfriend there is, soonyoung never complained about your venting. even on nights he had to abandon the latest script he was working on, even on days he had to call in sick to the writers’ room because he had insisted on staying up until the sun rose, consoling you—he never complained or even hinted that he was tired of you. not once.

even more meaningful to you, he never chastised you for being unable to find the strength to speak back or enforce your boundaries, something you were already plenty embarrassed about. he never made you feel less than; he knew you already had enough of that from the men in your work life.

soonyoung was the gentleness and softness you craved and needed so desperately in your life. he was safety and love and warmth and he was what continuously healed you as your job tried over and over again to break you.

he knew all of this. he knew how much you hated it and how much you hated jay, and it comforts you to know that he doesn’t think you’re a monster for being happy he’s dead. it gives you the courage to be even more honest with him.

“i’m relieved,” you tell him, wiping away your tears. “i’m so relieved he’s gone, and that it’s over. that maybe now… maybe now, i’ll be safe.”

his hold on you tightens and he leaves more kisses in your hair.

“and… i feel like a terrible person saying this…”

“whatever it is, you’re not. so don’t.”

it’s the push you need.

“i’m glad he suffered,” you admit, feeling lighter as soon as it’s out of your mouth. “i’m not just happy he died… i’m glad he died in the most heinous way. and i’m glad his killer made it hurt.”

once the words are out, you can’t take them back. and soonyoung doesn’t make you feel like you should. after a few seconds of silence, he just sighs and leans forward to kiss your cheek.

“then i am too, baby. if you’re happy, then i’m happy.”

he says it like you didn’t just tell him the grossest thing you’ve ever said in your life. and when you look up and catch his reflection in the window opposite of you, unbeknownst to him, you find him smiling into your hair almost like he’s pleased with you. you believe that he really is happy when you’re happy.

and honestly, you love him even more for it.

“i love you, soonie.”

“i adore you,” he says, his favorite way to express his affection for you—even moreso than “love,” though he learned to return the four-letter word once you expressed how important it was to you. “endlessly.” he pauses briefly before promising: “i’ll love you forever.”

it takes just one week, when everyone returns from their bereavement, for you to realize you aren’t safe—that jay’s death just put his friends on edge and made them more dangerous than ever. that for some fucked up reason, they felt that torturing you was the best way they could keep their sick friend’s memory alive.

and it makes you wish they were all dead too.

🎞️ a portion from an early draft of the script for cult classic horror movie, “adoration,” by renowned screenwriter kwon soonyoung

as hoshi stands over his bed, clean of the blood he shed just hours ago and watching his girlfriend sleep, a montage of traumatic events from hoshi’s childhood begins flashing—switching between his memories and their bedroom until his memories win out.

FLASHBACK

a very young hoshi screams as he throws his tiny body against his father’s uselessly. his father has his hands around his mother’s neck, choking her mercilessly. 

YOUNG HOSHI stop it! stop! get off my mommy! (begins punching but makes no headway) stop! please!

DAD you think i wouldn’t hear about you coming around to that dead beat’s house under the guise of asking for sugar, you fucking whore?!

YOUNG HOSHI please! mommy!

hoshi’s father removes one hand from his wife’s neck to shove his son aside. hoshi stumbles several steps before falling and hitting his head on the corner of the table and blacking out.

memory moves to hoshi’s recovery, when he is back home with a bandage around his head. blood blooms on the back of it. he is freshly woken up, in his pajamas, and his mother is changing the dressing on his injury.

there is something eerily blank about his face.

MOM (in a hoarse voice) let me know if it hurts, sweetheart.

YOUNG HOSHI okay. (pauses in what seems to be thought, though his expression does not change) will you let me know if it hurts too? 

camera follows his gaze, focusing on the bruises around her neck. his mother’s hands still on his head before she continues in silence.

hoshi does not urge her to answer him, his eyes almost glazing over as he stares at her bruises. his mother finishes up changing the bandaging.

MOM you don’t worry your cute, little head about mommy, okay? in fact—

she pauses to put the medical supplies away into the first aid kit resting on the nightstand and smooths her dress before crouching in front of hoshi’s bed. she takes his hands in hers.

MOM mommy doesn’t want you interfering like that ever again, okay? (hoshi’s face remains blank as he meets her eyes now) when you hear daddy or mommy shouting, i want you to stay right here, in your bed, with the door shut and locked, and i don’t want you to come out until i come get you, alright?

YOUNG HOSHI am i in trouble?

MOM no, no sweetie. you’re not in trouble. but daddy will be home soon. in the next day or so. and mommy needs you to be safe and healthy, so will you promise me that you’ll stay out of it?

YOUNG HOSHI why does daddy hurt you?

MOM daddy is… he’s sick, sweetheart.

YOUNG HOSHI if someone is sick, is it okay for us to let them hurt us?

despite hoshi’s blank stare, his mother recognizes this will be a pivotal moment that informs the way her son sees the world. she blinks rapidly as her thoughts go into overdrive and she tries not to cry.

MOM (whispers) no. (she pauses, shaking her head and quickly wiping away her tears before returning her hand to hoshi’s) no, it’s not okay. you don’t let anybody hurt you, sweetheart. not you. no one hurts you.

YOUNG HOSHI why do you let daddy hurt you?

MOM i… i love him, hoshi. i love your father. and he loved me once too. maybe he will again. but either way, i will still love him. he gave me you.

hoshi’s blank stare breaks at this, like the idea of any part of him being from his father bothers him. like he realizes he might be the only reason his mother stays with his father.

YOUNG HOSHI you love him… (his mother nods) i never want to love someone then.

memory moves years forward, when hoshi is 17. they remain in the same home, but messier and much sadder. colors are cooler than the past warmer memories audience has seen before. 

hoshi is seated on the edge of a bigger bed now, in the same position as the previous memory, this time without his mom. 

hands grip the comforter tensely. works his jaw anxiously as he stares, expressionless, at the door.

sound is muffled as camera zooms in on door. audience hears high-pitched whining sound as shots quickly flash between the door, hoshi on the bed, and the blood that spread on the floor from his head injury when he was young.

the whining gets louder as all the memories that flash now focus on young hoshi’s traumatic brain injury (blood, his mother screaming, blood, cops, stitches, bandages, blood, blood, blood).

the sound comes back full volume as the flashing comes back and stops on his closed room door.

MOM i’m sorry! i’m—

his mother’s pleas are cut off with her own scream as the walls shake and boom with the force of her body being thrown against them.

hoshi relaxes his fingers and smooths the comforter where he wrinkled it. he stands calmly, making his way to the door. his hand hovers over the locked handle.

flashes back to his conversation with his mom.

MOM will you promise me that you’ll stay out of it?

young hoshi’s face is blank but the way his eyes search his mother’s face in a way audience did not see before now implies that he possibly could’ve been weighing his options, even as a child.

YOUNG HOSHI why does daddy hurt you?

back to 17-year-old hoshi.

HOSHI (mutters to himself) you never promised.

audience sees he made it to the kitchen during the flashback. he faces the doorway from the kitchen to the living room.

camera focuses on door. mother is thrown across the living room, father stalks after her. the sounds of punching are heard but they’re beginning to muffle again.

flashes back.

MOM you don’t let anybody hurt you, sweetheart. not you. no one hurts you.

flashes back to memory from beginning of film.

MOM (both sprawled across grass on a sunny day) you and i, we’re one, hosh. you’re made of me, and i’m made of you!

YOUNG HOSHI i’m you and you’re me?

MOM hm. not quite but sure, yes! and we’ll always have each other.

flashes to conversation after brain injury.

YOUNG HOSHI why do you let daddy hurt you?

MOM i… i love him, hoshi. 

we come back to teen hoshi in the kitchen. his mother’s voice is still there, but as muffled as the rest of the sounds are.

he walks forward and calmly retrieves the biggest knife from the block on the counter. 

MOM (muffled voiceover) i love your father. and he loved me once too. 

he weighs the knife in his hand and flips it so he’s holding it blade up. he holds it like someone who’s practiced this before.

he turns back toward the living room, walking to the doorway that separates it from the kitchen.

MOM (muffled voiceover) maybe he will again. 

he watches as his father punches his mother wherever she can’t block him. as he takes a step forward, the high-pitched whining returns, the camera begins to shake, and the house seemingly starts to crumble around him as he walks forward.

scenes once again flash between hoshi approaching his father, the conversation on the bed, and the blood pooling from his brain injury.

MOM (voiceover, warped by the whining) but either way, i will still love him.

the scenes flashing now show bits of hoshi reaching his father amongst the rubble of their home, grabbing him by the shoulder and yanking him off his mother and onto his feet.

whining and shaking reaches a fever pitch before going eerily silent and the scene shows sunlight filtering through leaves.

MOM (clear voice) he gave me you.

camera comes back to hoshi and his mother sprawled across the grass. the memory is different this time. 

MOM (said less warmly, more an order now) you and i, we’re one, hosh. you’re made of me, and i’m made of you.

as dialogue progresses, sun disappears, covered by dark clouds. hoshi sits up and narrows his eyes at the sky. when he turns toward his mom, he sees they are now both in the living room, the house completely in tact again, and she’s holding his small body—the younger version of him, limp in her arms as he watches from across the room. she’s covered in his blood, and so is the floor and coffee table.

MOM (blankly with no urgency) you and i. we’re one. someone hurts me, they hurt you. and what did i tell you?

HOSHI (voiceover as camera begins to follow the trail of blood gushing from young hoshi’s head) no one hurts me. 

complete silence, camera still following young hoshi’s blood as it flows across the hardwood floor.

the flow joins the massive pool around two pairs of shoes, both facing each other. camera stays there for a few moments, before his mother’s screams pierce the silence.

camera slowly travels up hoshi’s legs from behind, until it reaches his head, where it looks like his dad is embracing him.

something heavy falls into the blood (presumably organs), creating a splashing noise, and shortly after that, hoshi shoves his father. it’s clear he had simply died and collapsed onto him.

his mother starts screaming and sobbing over his body for several minutes, but hoshi finds that he feels relieved, his face breaking out into the smallest smile for the first time since he hit his head.

when his mother gains her senses, she grabs his face between her hands, her own face bloody, puffy, and bruised.

MOM go! you have to go! they won’t understand, they’ll take you to jail, hoshi! you have to leave!

HOSHI (frowning) but we’re safe now.

his mother freezes. 

HOSHI he’s gone. we’re safe now.

MOM (she swallows and nods shakily) we are. but i can’t let them take you to prison, sweetheart. 

his mom begins leading him through the house, quickly forcing him to change out of his blood-soaked clothes, gathering important belongings and food, finding years’ worth of hidden emergency cash she never found the courage to use, stuffing it into his backpack.

HOSHI mom… what… i…

his mother brings him to the back door, weaving his arms through the backpack and smiling unconvincingly. she takes his face in her hands once more and kisses both cheeks as her tears start to fall.

MOM you be safe, okay? 

HOSHI are you mad at me? do you hate me?

MOM what? no, no, sweetie. no. (said forcefully. pauses to think) i’ve only ever felt adoration for you, hoshi. adoration and nothing else. i’m sorry i let this happen. i’m sorry i subjected you to this.

HOSHI mom—

MOM but you need to go now, okay? the neighbors will have heard all the screaming. take the cash, go far away, and whatever you do, don’t come back.

HOSHI but—

MOM go!

she all but shoves him out of the door. she lingers there for a moment, trying her best to let the last memory of his mom be one of her smiling. she whispers an i love you before slamming the door shut.

PRESENT

we return to present-day hoshi, who is now seated on the edge of his girlfriend’s side of their bed. he strokes her hair away from her face as she breathes softly, still asleep.

he smiles, obviously, genuinely in love. 

HOSHI (whispers) adoration.

you’re back at work the next day, much to soonyoung’s chagrin. he had been hoping you’d get the rest of the week off, and maybe he could get out of going into the writers’ room and keep you company at home. but he knows that was wishful thinking, especially with how set your team has been on not only working you to the bone, but ruining your life. but at least you enjoy the rest of the week since no one else is there to bother you.

for the first time since jay entered your life, you start to look light again. you start to smile more freely, joke more, and come home with bright eyes. it brings him hope that this is how it will be now—that he did the right thing.

though, he already knows for a fact he did the right thing.

soonyoung can’t describe the pure ecstasy that ran through his veins the moment you admitted you were happy that jay was dead—not only that you were happy he was gone, but that you were glad the killer made it hurt. you didn’t say it, but he heard it loud and clear.

you were proud of him for what he did. you adored him for the way he punished jay, and he would do it again. no matter how many times it took—how many lives it took—he would spill gallons and gallons of blood for you, and he would do it happily. no one would ever hurt you again. not with him around, and he planned to be around until you were both buried six feet deep.

there wasn’t anything that could beat this feeling, he had decided the moment you bared your heart to him—so naked and vulnerable, and still trusting him to hold it gently. you weren’t horrified by his means of protection. you weren’t running the other direction. you were grateful. and he doesn’t know why he thought you would be any other way. there’s a reason he’s with you, after all.

if there’s anything even remotely similar to a soulmate, that’s what you are. you’re meant to be his—made to be his. and he was made to be yours—to serve you, to keep you safe, to kill for you. it doesn’t matter that his habit started long before he ever even met you; now, his talents are only reserved for you.

and it made excitement bubble under the surface of his skin knowing you liked it. you didn’t even know he was jay’s murderer—hell, you didn’t even know he was the prank call killer—and you still admired his work anyway.

“what are you smiling at?” 

he startles and looks up to see jihoon peering at his laptop screen, still only half a page full although they’ve been in the writers’ room the whole day. his colleague and friend frowns.

soonyoung sighs. “just daydreaming, man,” he says. it’s not dishonest. he shuts his laptop and stretches in his seat before standing and drawing the attention of the small handful of writers left. “going to head out now, everyone. got a pretty lady waiting for me at home. don’t stay too late, okay?”

he gets the usual playful eye rolls and smiles and cooing from the others as he slaps jihoon on the back and promises to get dinner with him soon. at work, he’s only known for three things: the exceptional writing that got him his lead position on the show, his fixation on horror movies, and his “obsession” with you. he liked it—the idea that when people thought of him, they immediately thought of you too. they know you belong to each other, and that’s exactly how he wants it.

soonyoung barely has the car started and in reverse when you call. he answers immediately.

“hey, baby, i’m just lea—”

“soonyoung?”

his heart stops at the sound of your voice. it’s clear you’ve been crying. for how long, he doesn’t know, but your words are still thick with tears. you sound exhausted and broken and worst of all, defeated. you sound like the day you came home and he decided he was going to kill jay—the first person he’s killed since he graduated college almost 10 years ago.

he puts the car back into park, clenching his jaw for a moment so that his first response to you isn’t tell me his name and i’ll have his head in front of you in an hour.

“soonie?” you whimper. “are you there? i’m sorry to call, i know you’re at work. i—”

“y/n, where are you?” he asks as calmly as he can. 

“i’m home,” you answer, voice so small, it makes his rage burn hotter. 

the fact that you’re home gives him at least some relief. 

“i was hoping you’d be here,” you tell him, voice shaky. “i just need someone to talk to. i had…” you whisper your next words like if you’re any louder, you’ll completely break down. “i thought work would be better. fuck, soonie, i thought work was going to be better.” your words devolve into devastated sobs as you repeat yourself.

soonyoung’s instinct is to race to you, to hold you until your tears stop, and to put you to bed and make sure that every time you wake up from a nightmare, he’s still there, arms tight around you, unyielding. protecting you and in turn, protecting himself.

but his mask, robe, and knife are still in the trunk from his visit to jay’s last week, and right now, he thinks that paying a visit to whichever idiot you’re going to tell him about is the best way he can help.

he forces himself to turn the engine off.

“tell me everything,” he says softly, though his body feels so tense, he thinks he might pop a blood vessel. 

“you’re not busy, are you?” you hiccup through your tears. “i can wait until you—”

“i’m not busy, love,” he says, eye inadvertently twitching from using the word. 

soonyoung still struggles with it. he tries not to because it’s an affection that makes you feel comforted and, well, loved, and he’ll do anything to make you feel that way. still, he doesn’t know how to keep it from feeling like an insult to you. 

love was what his father gave his mom. love was what made his mom stay with a monster. what he has for you isn’t the same; it’s leagues beyond it. he doesn’t think there’s a word for what he feels for you at all.

“go on,” he encourages you. “i’m listening. tell me.”

and you do.

soonyoung used to think he never had a control issue with his habit. it wasn’t something he craved or thought about the way he read that other serial killers did. no, his murderous tendencies only ever reared its ugly, useful head when he needed a solution for an ugly, useless lowlife.

the first was his father. something about cutting his stomach wide open, feeling the warmth of him rush over his hands, hearing the sound of him fall to his feet in pieces—he decided that would be the way it happened each time. he wanted to see a man who didn’t know how to treat a person right—and he wanted to feel the life flow right out of him. without meaning to, it became his M.O. 

he found himself hopping city to city after being forced from his home, and there was no shortage of men who needed correction—or, eradication. it was simple at first; he’d see a horrible interaction between lovers or a father and a child or classmates or even strangers, he’d follow the offender until they were alone, and he’d gut them like a pig. he didn’t think about hiding or burying the body, leaving it in plain sight to humiliate his victims further. he didn’t even have his mask yet, and in retrospect, he’s not sure how he didn’t get caught because he was careless in those early days.

he took it as a sign from the universe that he was doing exactly what he was supposed to.

soonyoung was smart with the money his mom left him and picked up part-time jobs until he had enough to put himself through school. university was crawling with losers begging to be killed, but he was a little older and a little wiser, and he knew a serial killer on campus would draw too much attention. so he forced himself to focus on the worst of the worst. and that was when he realized his M.O. was evolving.

it started with a frat president rumored to drug and take advantage of girls at their house parties. soonyoung watched him for a whole semester, taking note of his schedule, his routes, his haunts, his friends. then, he started calling him. nothing more than heavy breathing at first. but when he could hear the man’s nerves fraying—and that didn’t take long—he started talking to him. he found that he liked psychologically torturing him as much as he’d tortured the girls he’d hurt.

hi, allen.

who i am isn’t important.

i hear you can’t get a woman to consent to having sex with you. what’s the problem? is it small? well, even if it is, that isn’t really an issue—just gotta know what to do with it, right? 

well, i mean, why else would you resort to drugging and assaulting women? 

don’t lie to me. i see everything.

one night, weeks after he’d started calling allen, soonyoung had one last phone conversation with him, one where he was no longer bluffing. he actually was seeing everything, standing in the dark corners of the kitchen in their fraternity house—this time in full disguise—while allen and his brothers got drunk in the backyard.

oh, allen, it’s a bad night to be drunk, buddy.

why? because i’m going to free this campus of you tonight. gonna cleanse the floors of this horrid fucking house with your blood.

it’s too late for “sorry,” allen. besides, i’m not the one who needs to hear it.

the frat president tried to stay with at least one person at all times after the call, but as his brothers got drunker and drunker and started stumbling off to bed or passing out, allen found himself alone. and in the morning, his brothers found him the same way, except this time, with his insides all over the outside.

soonyoung killed two more people while in college, and even though they were far enough apart, he still got dubbed the prank call killer, a name he found childish and dumb. besides, he didn’t want a name; he wanted men to be scared. at least scared enough to try to be decent.

then, college ended, he packed up to follow the shows he wanted to write for, and it led him to you. and he didn’t have time to think about anybody else, let alone plot their demise. soonyoung was occupied by you, your smile, your laugh, your scent, the way you made him feel normal—the way you made him feel at all, something he struggled with since his accident as a child. and once he actually had you? it was over. he knew there was no possible way he’d ever be able to let go of you ever again. 

and the killing just… stopped. with you, he learned how to make friends—made a ton of them. he learned to enjoy other people and their company. he learned how to love, even if it sometimes made him want to plunge a knife into his own stomach. but he did it for you because he adored you, and nothing was more important than you.

so no, he didn’t think he had a control issue. it was largely easy minding his own business and refraining from stabbing men left and right when he had you next to him. 

but then, you started this stupid fucking job. you met jay and all his little cronies, and soonyoung realized it wasn’t a matter of his control; it was a matter of your safety and happiness. because now that you were the center of his universe, you two were one. if someone hurt you, they were hurting him. 

and the way he sees it, his only job is to make sure no one hurts him. no one messes with what’s his.

it’s not about control. he has none now. it’s about you.

by the time you finish telling him everything that happened that day, he has a strange calmness about him he hasn’t felt since before you. he can’t do anything but stare blankly forward, watching as employees of the studio walk to their cars and pull away.

“i’m so over it,” you grunt, having passed from sad to angry fairly quickly. “i don’t think i can do this anymore, soonie. i know money would be tight and i don’t want to put that stress on us but—” 

“no, don’t be silly,” he says, feeling like he’s on autopilot. “please quit, baby. i’ve wanted you to quit since the first day; i just… didn’t want to be that boyfriend.” he means every word and yet, he can’t feel any of them as they leave his mouth. “we’ll figure it out. please quit.”

there’s a heavy silence between the lines until you sigh deeply. “okay, love. i will. i’ll do it.”

he thinks he should feel relieved. he doesn’t and he knows he won’t until he kills them. “yeah? you will?” he asks, hoping he sounds excited enough. “you promise?”

your smile is loud and clear as you speak. “yes, i promise, soonie. i’m going to march in there tomorrow and quit without notice, and i’ll tell them i hope they all drop dead—no!” 

you gasp and correct yourself. 

“i’ll tell them i hope the prank call killer comes for them just like they did for jay!”

soonyoung feels something then. he doesn’t know what; he can’t define it, but it quickly grows into something bigger the more you speak. it pulls both his spirits and the corners of his lips up. it kisses him and fills him with light. it makes him feel alive, more than a shell for a soul he isn’t even sure he has.

“i don’t even know if any of them realize what really happened,” you think aloud before sighing like you’re daydreaming. “ugh, what i wouldn’t pay to see them on the news like that. ‘grisliest murders since prank call killings plague corporate hell’! that would be nice, huh?”

soonyoung smirks. that, he can deliver.

“yeah, baby. it would. a headline like that… i’d die happy.”

“me too,” you agree before telling him: “no one gets me like you do, soonie.”

his heart soars. 

🎞️ a portion from an early draft of the script for cult classic horror movie, “adoration,” by renowned screenwriter kwon soonyoung

after he’s done gagging howard—so tightly, the fabric is cutting into his skin, a punishment for the earlier kick to the head—hoshi stands in front of the two men, leaning up against the pool table and watching them.

they both have cuts and bruises on their faces, from the struggle to get them into the dining chairs, but hoshi’s knife is still nowhere in sight.

HOSHI (begins mindlessly and slowly pacing in front of them) i bet you want to ask me who i am… what i want… why i’m doing this, right?

howard glares at him but chris is already crying.

HOSHI and usually, i’d entertain the questions because prolonging the hope that you’re going to survive makes this more fun for me, but… (stops facing away from them) i’m tired. and i think i’m beyond having fun tonight. (turns head toward them and chris flinches at the mask) i think… (fully turns toward them with hunting knife in hand, catching the light) i just want to wipe you two off the face of this earth and be done with it.

howard’s glare falters and chris urinates on himself. hoshi snorts.

HOSHI (walks up to chris, who cringes away from him) chris, right? (leans down so chris is face to face with his mask) i asked you a question.

chris nods obediently and quickly, gag soaked in his own tears.

HOSHI so you’re the one who called my girl a bitch, hm? (chris frowns but he doesn’t seem to know exactly who hoshi is yet) called her a bitch in front of the whole office… told her she’d be better sucking your dick under the desk than trying to assign you work?

howard’s eyes widen as he realizes exactly who hoshi is talking about. chris starts sobbing loudly, begging for his life incoherently through the gag.

HOSHI (looks down at chris’s soiled lap, points his knife at his crotch) you want her to suck this dick?

chris’s begging becomes more desperate, thrashing in his seat as he realizes what’s about to happen. 

HOSHI (looks up at chris briefly and huffs a single laugh) what dick?

he shoves his knife into chris’s crotch. chris screams in muffled agony and howard starts shrieking and flailing in an attempt to scoot his chair away from the other two. 

camera is focused on hoshi’s upper half and audience can see his arm jerking quickly back and forth as chris’s screams continue and howard finally starts crying. then, there’s a dull thud on the floor, and hoshi straightens back up and takes a step away, knife disappearing in his robes as he tilts his head and views his work.

HOSHI looks like there isn’t a dick to suck there, chris. shame. 

chris’s wailing continues as hoshi looks to howard now, who begins shaking his head and crying through his gag.

HOSHI and you, you annoying little fuck. (crouches in front of howard) it wasn’t enough that you’re making her life a living hell, you wanted to piss me off even more and kick me in the head, huh?

hoshi rips his mask off, revealing his face to howard. there’s already a bruise spreading across the top of his left cheek. he smirks.

HOSHI my name is hoshi, if you’re wondering. and yeah. i’m her boyfriend. and as her boyfriend, she tells me all kinds of things. i’m sure you can imagine. 

he stands up and walks back to the pool table, resting his mask against the felt before turning, leaning up against it once more, and crossing his arms.

HOSHI and today, she had a lot to tell me. she told me that jake’s two closest idiot friends were trying to continue his legacy as biggest asshole in the office. do you know how jake died, howard? won’t bother asking mr. no-dick, over there. seems busy. 

camera goes to chris, who keeps fading in and out of consciousness, face soaked with sweat, tears, and drool slipping out of his open mouth.

HOSHI no guesses? (a gagged howard looks at him incredulously) okay, fine, fine, i’ll tell you. i killed him. 

even though his tone sounds prideful as he speaks, his face is blank. he stares at howard with soulless eyes, and it unnerves him further.

HOSHI i snuck into his apartment while he was out drinking with you guys. (howard makes a noise of surprise) yeah, that’s right. you two were the last people to see that moron alive. i should probably thank you. (tilts his head up at the ceiling like he’s reliving the memory) his inebriated state made it a lot easier to tease and kill him. not a lot of fight in that one. surprising, don’t you think? (head remains tilted at ceiling, but eyes flash down to meet howard’s) that someone who tormented a woman’s life the way he did would die so easily… so quietly… so… pathetically.

chris regains consciousness and starts screaming and sobbing again, head hung over where his member used to be

HOSHI (brings his head down and looks at chris now) how will you two die? (eyes slide over to howard) will you beg for your life the way jake did? will you… offer me meaningless apologies and promises? will you… tell me that you’ll give me whatever i want? 

he brings out his knife again and wipes it against howard’s pool table, smearing chris’s blood against the green felt. he inspects it like he’s making sure it’s sharp enough. camera focuses on hoshi’s reflection in the blade.

HOSHI (shrugs, puts knife down) i guess we’ll see in a few moments—how similar you are to jake. i will say, (pushes off the pool table, taking his mask with him) you two seem to be even worse than that deadbeat. do you agree, chris?

chris screams at the mere mention of his name, convulsing as hoshi walks closer to both of them. he stops just a couple of steps away from them, right in between the two.

HOSHI jake was a demeaning, narcissistic misogynist. and i tore him wide fucking open. let his intestines spill all over his own floor. made his living room a shallow sea of red.

both howard and chris beg through their gags.

HOSHI can you imagine what i’ll do to you if i think you’re even worse? (puts his mask back on and looks at howard) can you imagine what i’ll do to the man who told the whole office that he was gonna fuck the ambition and fight out of my girl, whether she liked it or not? what do you think i’ll do to that man if i made a massacre out of the dumbass who said a few mean things? 

howard desperately shrieks excuses against his gag, no success in saying even one understandable word. 

HOSHI (sighs like he’s come to a decision) yeah, i’m beyond having fun tonight. (quickly slashes chris’s throat, shallow enough that it will take a long time for him to bleed out. howard screams) at least with him. but with you? (crouches in front of howard again) the night has only started for you, howard.

IN THEIR HOME

TV NEWS ANCHOR authorities are doing their best to calm increasingly panicked citizens as fears that a serial killer is rampant on our streets spread. last week, 29-year-old jake lee was found brutally murdered in his downtown apartment (camera view switches to hoshi’s girlfriend as she tidies up around their living room. she looks pleased upon hearing that sentence), stabbed multiple times. last night, police answered multiple calls to 911 reporting the screams of a man in their high-rise apartment. 

she stops tidying, turning to look at the news broadcast from where she stands. her eyes are wide and her mouth hangs open in surprise.

TV NEWS ANCHOR upon entering, they found 27-year-old howard wang and 25-year-old chris vu’s bodies in the former’s apartment. authorities have not yet released details of the crime, but sources report that the nature of their deaths is comparable to that of jake lee’s. we have maya on the scene, reporting.

the tv turns off as she sinks into the couch, obviously in a dazed shock. the camera focuses on her from straight ahead, slowly zooming in on her for several, silent seconds until only the lower half of her face is visible. after a few more moments, she smiles.

you watch soonyoung carefully as he washes the dishes, something he insisted on doing since you cooked tonight. you think it’s the least you can do for the sole earner of the household now that you’re unemployed, but he refused to let you do it yourself.

from where you stand, you have a clear view of his sharp profile. the bruise he says he got from falling down the stairs at work earlier this week has become a deep purple, spreading across his cheekbone and toward his jawline. you suppose he could’ve gotten that in a fall. a fall that took place the same night hayden and charles were murdered. the same night you told him you wished jay’s killer would come for them next.

you want to say your boyfriend would never do something that insane. you want to say your boyfriend doesn’t have the kind of temperament required to commit vengeful crimes like these. but after almost ten years together, you think there have been enough signs to make you take pause.

soonyoung almost never got visibly jealous—never paid any attention to men who looked at you a little too long or sent the server to deliver you a drink. he was confident in his trust in you. it should’ve been comforting how unbothered he was by the attention you received, but sometimes, you felt offended that he wasn’t at least a little bit jealous.

these thoughts were vanquished immediately when one night, someone grabbed you at a bar. it wasn’t even inappropriate; the man just took you by your forearm and yanked you toward him in an attempt to keep you from getting crushed by a drunken patron who had zero spatial awareness.

you’ll never forget the rage you saw in soonyoung’s eyes when they landed on the stranger’s hold on your arm. he didn’t do anything—simply threw the hand off you and led you away, but the look stayed with you. it was a raw, all-consuming, unadulterated, and unchecked rage you don’t think you’ve ever seen with your own eyes before. 

the kind of rage you think could be capable of murder, given the right circumstances.

it should’ve scared you. just like the idea of soonyoung murdering your coworkers one by one should scare you. but it didn’t, and it doesn’t now. exactly like back then, it gets you wetter faster than foreplay itself.

soonyoung turns the faucet off and wipes his hands on the towel. when he turns, he’s so startled to find you standing so close to him, he stumbles back.

“oh shit,” he breathes, laughing a little. “i didn’t realize you were so close. you move so quietly.” he notices the way you stare at him intently. like it’s second-nature, he wraps himself around you and pulls you into his chest. “what’s up, baby?”

“i want to try something,” you say softly, a little hesitantly. 

you know what you’re about to ask for is depraved and worrisome and… inhumane. but you can’t bring yourself to care right now, not when your panties are this soaked at the thoughts flying wildly around your head.

“okay,” soonyoung says, laughing a little. “can you be more specific?”

“i want… to roleplay a little,” you say, gaze going down to soonyoung’s neck, then his chest. your fingers trace the edges and dips of his collarbones and his pecs.

his grip on you tightens. “is that right?” he says, smirking. “and who do you want us to pretend to be? are we strangers in a bar?”

you shake your head. “no, not strangers in a bar.”

“okay,” he acquiesces easily. 

soonyoung is always eager to give you whatever you want, and it bolsters your confidence to ask this of him. he leans down to graze your ear with his lips.

“am i your sexy sidepiece you’re cheating on your boring ass husband with?” he whispers, running his hands down to your ass and gently squeezing, pressing your hips against his so you can feel him already hardening from this conversation alone.

you smile, eyes fluttering closed as he nips at your lobe. “nope, not that either.”

“tell me who you want me to be, and i’ll be whatever it is, baby.” he subtly grinds into you and you try not to moan. 

“you promise you won’t judge me?” you whisper.

“i would never,” he promises, leaving open-mouthed kisses down your neck now. 

“i want you to be him,” you say as he starts to bite and suck. “i want you to be the prank call killer.”

he completely freezes in your arms, mouth still against your skin. for a horrifying minute, you think you’ve crossed the line. of course soonyoung is going to think you’re a freak for asking something so debauched and immoral of him. you have little to no evidence that he would ever enjoy something like this.

you’re about to push him away and start groveling for forgiveness and promising to seek therapy, when he grabs you by the face with both hands and envelopes your lips roughly with his own. his kisses are hot and wet and his tongue is in your mouth before you can ask if this means “yes.”

he presses you up against the kitchen island, and you can feel his entire length against your thigh, fully hard now and begging to be inside you. you groan just thinking about it—thinking about the murderer that took your tormentors off the street fucking into you viciously and relentlessly.

“and who are you?” he asks, breaking away from the kiss and lifting you so that you’re sitting on the counter. 

soonyoung’s voice is rough and raspy with desire you haven’t heard from him quite like this before, and you feel the wetness between your legs grow knowing he’s willing to do this for you.

“i’m exactly who i am right now,” you say, feeling a little shy, but when he moans at your words, you feel bold enough to be honest with your fantasy. “i’m your girlfriend,” you inform him, hands diving under his shirt and caressing the muscles there. “and you’re going around killing all the losers i fucking hate because you adore me so much.”

“fuck, you’re so goddamn hot,” he mutters as he takes both hands and rips your blouse open, buttons popping and fabric ripping. you gasp and he smirks at the sound, slipping the ruined piece of clothing off you. “shhh, don’t be scared, baby. you’re the one person in this world i would never hurt.”

the sentence undoes you.

“oh god,” you breathe, diving forward and capturing his lips again. 

soonyoung makes quick work of your bra, throwing it somewhere behind him once it’s off. he massages your breast for a few moments before taking your nipple between his fingers and tugging.

you break the kiss to tilt your head back and groan, and he takes the opportunity to bite and suck at the space where your neck meets your shoulder.

“rougher,” you breathe. “c’mon, you’re a murderer.”

soonyoung laughs a little at that, his love bites turning into gentle pecks up and down your neck. 

“and you think this killer… he’d be rough with you?”

your eyes blink open a few times, staring at the ceiling and losing yourself in thought. in the days following your colleagues’ deaths and your own resignation from work, you’ve had a lot of time to think—and touch—about this. when you envisioned soonyoung as your murderous protector, you saw him as vicious and wrathful and cruel. but when it came to you… his need was desperate and carnal, but always softer. gentler.

you realize it’s probably not so different from the way soonyoung already likes to fuck you: like you’re the only person in the world he cares about.

“how about…” soonyoung presses one last kiss to your neck before his hands are suddenly up your skirt. he pushes your panties aside and abruptly plunges his middle finger into your heat. your body jerks into his in response. “you let me take the lead here, and if you don’t like something, you just let me know, hm?”

every word you’ve ever known escapes you as he fucks you with just one finger, the wet sounds of your arousal embarrassingly loud as he moves in and out. his thumb lands on your clit when you let out a particularly filthy moan for him, and you lean back on your hands and open your legs wider for him for better access. he gives you another finger as reward.

“oh, soonie,” you breathe. “yes.”

“so warm, so wet,” he rasps, other hand landing on your chest and flicking your nipple. “so beautiful.”

“babe,” you whine, rolling your hips onto his fingers in frenzied movements. “tell me… tell me about—oh my god!”

“hm?” he hums before the sound of more fabric ripping fills the kitchen. 

you frown and look down in time to see soonyoung bringing your panties to his nose. you have half a mind to scream at him to stop but his fingers are still inside you, rendering you absolutely speechless as he presses the lace against his face and inhales deeply. your instinct is to feel self conscious—to snap your legs closed and grab your ruined underwear back. but you watch as his eyes roll back into his head and his lips twitch up against the black lace, and you realize he loves it. he breathes in again, and this time, you feel the excitement it causes through his fingers. they move with renewed fervor, like they’re thanking you for the gift you’ve given soonyoung. 

“smell so fucking delicious,” he all but growls as he balls the panties up and pockets them.

before you can say anything back, he’s bending down to let his tongue taste your clit briefly before pressing his thumb back against you. your hips jerk and you can’t help when your elbows give, making you collapse and lay all the way down on the counter. 

his fingers pump in and out of you faster now, and he completely replaces his thumb with his tongue, guzzling and drinking you up so intensely, his face quickly becomes covered with the stickiness of you.

“taste perfect,” he moans into you, tongue lapping you up eagerly. “tastes like mine.”

it pushes you over the edge quickly, and your back is arching off the island counter as your orgasm seizes you. the room is filled with your boyfriend’s name as you ride out the pleasure on his fingers.

“what do you want me to tell you about?” soonyoung asks once you come down, thumb going back to your clit. he keeps his face close to your pussy as he speaks, nose occasionally slipping between your folds and inhaling as he does. “should i tell you about how i disembowelled that ugly, little douchebag, jay?”

your cunt spasms at the words and soonyoung huffs a laugh when he feels you clench around his fingers. he curls them inside you, easily finding the spongy spot he’s been purposely avoiding up until now. he slows his movements, rubbing you patiently and carefully.

you sigh at the sensation, unsure if it’s because you feel so good or because you’re frustrated he’s eased up.

“i ran my knife up his body until his bones wouldn’t let me butcher him any further,” he whispers, moving so that his mouth is over your stomach, tongue slipping out to trace patterns on your skin between words. “and i made him bleed, baby. fuck, i made him bleed so much.”

“soonie.”

“i made him bleed for looking at you, for breathing near you, for ever thinking he could make someone as perfect as you bend to his will,” he whispers, breath hot as it fans over your skin, fingers still working you to a second orgasm. “i painted his apartment red. and i made it hurt. i made sure to make it hurt. just… for… you.”

he pushes roughly at your spot as he says that last word, eliciting a lewd moan as the beginnings of your next orgasm start to settle over you. soonyoung smirks against your skin.

“as for charles, i cut his fucking cock off,” he tells you. 

you gasp at that even though you know he’s just making shit up for the sake of roleplaying. still, you find it in yourself to hate how much you love the idea of soonyoung doing that to someone who told you to get on your knees and suck his dick. someone who wasn’t your boyfriend.

“he cried like a bitch,” he says, kissing your clit before straightening back up so he can properly watch you writhe under him. “cried all the way up until i slit his throat.”

you smile at soonyoung then, reaching for his free hand—the one not currently buried two fingers deep inside you—and bringing it over your tit and holding it there. he looks at you like you’re the reason he’s alive. like you’re the only good thing in the world. 

he massages you, just as gently as he did when this first started.

“but my favorite…” he says, eyes heavy-lidded as he takes you in. all his. all the time. until the end of time.

he removes his hand from your chest and shoves his sweatpants down just enough for his cock to spring out. your hips immediately start to buck at the sight, but all soonyoung has to do is shake his head at you once for you to immediately stop moving. there’s something so demanding and powerful about his presence right now that you’re not willing to push the limits of his patience. the pleased look on his face makes your emptiness feel worth it. he takes himself in his fist, pumping a few times as he speaks.

“my favorite was hayden. do you know why, baby?” he asks, moaning when you start playing with your nipple and breathing his name. “can you imagine the shit i did to the loser who thought he could fuck what’s mine?”

“i am,” you sigh, nodding desperately. “i’m yours.”

soonyoung pumps even faster now, but his fingers never falter inside you, intent on getting you to another high. and it’s close. you can feel it building almost painfully in your lower abdomen.

“i cut that ugly tongue of his out of his fucking mouth,” he grunts. you clench hard around his fingers. “and i started chopping him to fucking pieces—”

“soonyoung, i’m going to cum!” you half-shout, twisting under him uncontrollably. 

“i cut him up, and the entire time, i only thought of you,” he fucks into his fist harder as you start to lose yourself to your climax. 

“soonyoung!”

“and i thought that i’d kill the entire fucking world if i had to… just to keep you mine.”

you cum harder than you ever have in your life, near-screaming as you squirt all over soonyoung’s hand. the feeling reaches every, single corner of your body, making you convulse with pleasure.

“holy shit,” you hear from somewhere above you.

you don’t have time to gather your senses, though, because immediately, your body is being dragged down to the edge of the counter until you’re flying right off it. your boyfriend catches you, standing you up and kissing you full on the lips as he shoves your skirt down enough for it to slip off you and pool at your feet. you take the opportunity to tug his shirt off too, hands all over his naked torso once it is. 

“let me cum in you?” he asks without leaving your lips.

“god, please,” you whine, feeling the wetness soonyoung caused sliding down your thighs.

he wastes no time after that, turning you around so that your hips are flush against the kitchen counter. you feel the fabric of his sweatpants glide down the back of your thighs as he removes them, and that’s the last thing you remember before the darkness overcomes you.

your eyes squeeze shut as soonyoung slams into you in one go, giving you zero time to adjust as he starts to immediately rut into you from behind. it burns and hurts so delectably, having him stretch you like this. usually, he takes even more time than he did tonight, making his way up to four fingers sometimes, but having him fuck you like this—like if he waits even a second longer, it’ll be his ruin—it threatens to violently shove you into an abyss of pleasure you fear you’ll never get out of.  

soonyoung makes sure to hold you up, one arm across your chest with his hand on your breast, the other on your neck, forcing you to tilt your head back and rest on his shoulder.

you feel his eyes on you, his breath fanning your cheek as his gaze rakes you top to bottom, and you know he looks like a god, but you can’t open your eyes to save your life right now. you think if you do, you might explode into a million little pieces, forever disappearing into the ether. 

you feel his lips rest against your ear as he sloppily whispers, “do you like it? knowing i’d do anything for you?” his voice is hoarse as he fucks you rougher than he ever has, the debased sound of skin slapping against each other filling the kitchen. “that i’d kill anyone without a second thought if it meant keeping you forever?”

you moan loudly, eyes pathetically rolling when you attempt to open them. you give up, keeping them shut as you reach up and grab soonyoung’s hair. he groans as you tug.

“soonie,” you sigh, shoving your hips back to meet his and making him curse. “i love it. i love it so much.” 

you don’t know that you’re playing a role anymore. the idea that soonyoung would do any of this for you is so titillating, you feel drunk off it.

“feel so safe with you,” you say in broken gasps, your boyfriend’s rhythm making it impossible to say more than two words smoothly. “know you’ll always protect me, soonie.”

soonyoung curses loudly and bites into your neck to keep from getting any louder. his hips snap to yours at an increasingly unforgivable pace.

“and i’ll always protect you too,” you tell him. 

you don’t care if this is something you wouldn’t be able to double down on when his cock isn’t buried to the hilt inside of you; it feels like the right thing to say. it feels exactly like what you want to do for him too: everything and anything. just to keep him yours.

“i would do anything for you, soonie,” you whisper.

without warning, there’s a burst of warmth inside your cunt, and soonyoung’s hand briefly tightens against your throat before immediately relaxing again, nothing but his moans and your name taking up the air in the room. he comes inside you hard, hips gluing to your ass like he’s trying to keep every, tiny drop inside you. 

the feeling of his dick pulsing against your walls, pushing his seed into you, claiming you as his—it pushes you to your third orgasm, a slow and rolling one, not as intense as the others, but impossibly more satisfying. because this one not only brings you pleasure and an endless well of love for soonyoung; it brings you clarity.

because as you finally open your eyes moments later, soonyoung whispering sweet affirmations, vows, and affections in your ear as he keeps his softening cock warm inside you, you realize with startling lucidity that it wasn’t just a little fantasy.

the idea of soonyoung covered in blood and gore on your behalf was the stuff made of your dreams—or, arguably, nightmares. the idea that you had someone who adored you so deeply, he would play god like that made your heart grow tenfold. and now that soonyoung has fucked the fantasy deep into places inside you you couldn’t reach, you didn’t have it in you to feel ashamed about it.

you’re happy those three are dead.

and you’ll be even happier when the rest of them are too.

🎞️ a portion from an early draft of the script for cult classic horror movie, “adoration,” by renowned screenwriter kwon soonyoung

HOSHI (leaning forward on the table) what’s your favorite scary movie?

YOUR ALIAS hmmm… (she buys herself time by taking a sip of her coffee) maybe… “saw”? why? are you big on scary movies?

HOSHI (shrugs) i like ‘em. probably more than other genres, yeah. (laughs nervously) what, um, do you like about “saw”?

she looks at him like she’s endeared by his nervousness.

YOUR ALIAS i mean, it was a really lengthy and roundabout way of doing things, but i guess i just enjoyed the idea of someone delivering retribution to people who deserved it but escaped it, not that i agreed all the victims chosen should’ve been chosen at all. just enjoyed seeing a few assholes die.

HOSHI (nods slowly) you like karma.

YOUR ALIAS (pauses with coffee at lips. she nods, maintaining eye contact) i do. (sips coffee) what’s your favorite scary movie?

HOSHI i like any slasher movie with a good final girl. if i had to pick, i’d probably say “halloween.”

YOUR ALIAS ahh, laurie, the final girl of all final girls.

hoshi visibly lights up at the comment, smiling widely at her.

HOSHI you know more about horror than you let on.

she nods, smiling back.

YOUR ALIAS just a little. i wouldn’t say i’m knowledgeable but i’ve watched a lot of the classics at least once. i’d call it a green flag that you root for the final girls. laurie’s a good one.

HOSHI i’ll take it. (obviously pleased) but humor me. why is it a green flag?

YOUR ALIAS (shrugs) when done correctly, final girls are the perfect mix of vulnerability—

scene suddenly and almost startlingly flashes to memories of hoshi’s mother for a brief second, accompanied by what sounds like a loud gust of wind. the memories are happy ones between hoshi and his mom.

YOUR ALIAS —and strength—

the memories become times his mother endured his father’s beatings.

YOUR ALIAS —and don’t subscribe to traditional gender roles and ideals. i’m not a huge fan of some films making it so that a lot of final girls are, like… holier than thou virgins, but i think the trope has come a long way. 

hoshi nods, seemingly satisfied with her answer. she laughs and adds:

YOUR ALIAS unless you like final girls because you like to see a woman struggling against a violent serial killer. then red flag.

hoshi forces a laugh and shakes his head, looking down at his coffee and tracing the mouth of his mug.

HOSHI no, no. definitely more in line with the first one. i, uh… (looks up at her and seems to search for something in her eyes. whatever it is, he finds it and has the strength to be vulnerable for the first time in his life) my dad was abusive. with my mom.

her face falls and reaches forward to hold hoshi’s hand. the feeling is foreign and odd but he lets her hold it, even curling his own fingers closed around hers.

YOUR ALIAS i’m so sorry.

HOSHI she made me get out. she forced me to leave and never come back so i don’t really know what happened to her. i guess i just hope she’s a final girl.

she takes her second hand and closes it over the top of his and rubs it comfortingly.

YOUR ALIAS she must have loved you so much. (hoshi visibly bristles at that but doesn’t pull away) to be able to give you a better chance at life even if it meant never seeing you again… she absolutely is the final girl.

HOSHI (smiles) i like the way you described it. vulnerability, strength. 

YOUR ALIAS (smiles back) tell me more about her.

the two talk until the cafe closes and kicks them out, and the audience sees a montage of the couple going on their second date, third date, until they are moving in together, and planning a future together. hoshi is the happiest the audience has ever seen him, and it seems the side of him that kills has been quieted, though we know that to be untrue from the murders happening present-day.

the montage moves into a scene where she comes home from work in tears. hoshi consoles her, but eventually, that same blank stare we first saw after his head injury comes back.

once she’s asleep, hoshi visits a storage unit he rents a few miles away. he reels up the door, revealing just one trunk in the unit. he walks up to it and opens it.

inside, is a mask, a robe, and a knife.

sex with you after that night in the kitchen has become twice as intense as it ever used to be, and soonyoung knows it’s because a big part of him isn’t holding back anymore—he’s bringing his whole self into bed with you, not bothering to pretend he isn’t completely eviscerating anyone who even looks at you funny in his spare time.

he tells you everything you want to hear, which funnily enough, is just the truth. 

two more deaths to add to the list at your office, and he tells you exactly how he did it. he tells you what they said, how they begged, how he made them pay with their lives. between all of that, he never forgets to tell you he would do it time and time and again for you. he would do anything for you. kill anyone for you.

and the way you moan and gasp and cum at his words every time without fail is so goddamn addicting, he thinks he might die whenever he’s not inside you. 

it’s dangerous, he knows that. as you start to tell him more stories you didn’t bother to when you were still working there, the itch to go annihilate that entire office becomes overwhelming, and he knows if he doesn’t control it soon, it’s bound to draw unwanted attention; he doesn’t know how it hasn’t already, with five dead bodies—all on the same team at the same company.

so for a few weeks, he doesn’t do anything about the mental list of names he has in his head, letting the headlines and panic die down. 

you go out interviewing for jobs, he goes to work, you both come home and fuck each other’s brains out, and he stifles the voice in his head telling him to go murder every last person on that team.

but then, you ask for something terrifying.

you’ve been exploring your kinks ever since you first asked him to roleplay, and you’ve found the things you like and dislike—all things he agrees with so far. you like being tied up, you like blindfolding him, you don’t like calling him daddy (he absolutely fucking hated trying that one), you loved when he spit in your mouth, and he loved when you spit in his. 

and while he was open to all your suggestions, there were some things he hesitated with. you asked him to choke you and though he initially agreed, he couldn’t, immediately getting soft when he tried to. you asked him to degrade you—call you a bitch, a slut, a whore—and he figured it was your way of coming to terms with what you experienced at your nightmare of a job. that maybe if it came from someone you loved and felt safe with instead of the asshole in the next cubicle, you’d slowly chip away at your trauma. but he couldn’t do that either.

you always handled his rejections gracefully, assuring him that you could do missionary with zero kinks involved for the rest of your life, and you’d be “on your knees thanking him for blessing you with his dick either way.” and you do your best to prove that to him, taking kinks off the table for a while and seemingly giving him a break. the only thing that stays constant is the “roleplaying,” though that’s probably more at soonyoung’s insistence than anything else. the intimacy he experiences from being himself in bed with you—truly himself—is unparalleled. 

until one night, you ask him to use a knife on you during sex, and the panic attack it incites—the first soonyoung has ever experienced—is so massive, you almost call 911. he calms down enough to convince you not to, and the rest of the night is spent in your arms as you cry and apologize profusely for suggesting something like that when you know how his parents raised him. he tries to find the strength to tell you it’s okay, and that he understands, and that there’s no harm in asking, but each time he tries, nothing comes out of his mouth. he spends that entire time staring at the wall, and for the very first time, he experiences it: an undeniable thirst to plunge his knife into someone. 

soonyoung isn’t sure why, especially since he just suffered the most exhausting mental breakdown over the measly idea of even holding a knife anywhere near your vicinity. maybe it’s to take his mind off the gruesome, nauseating thoughts of his hunting knife sinking into your flesh—images that flooded his mind against his will the moment you asked that of him. maybe it’s a need to recalibrate his brain, like if he kills another one of your tormentors, it will remind him of his devotion to you.

whatever it is, it nags at him day and night for the rest of the week until he accepts it’s something he needs to give into, no matter how callous and unwise it might be. in an attempt to convince himself it’s okay, he says this will be the last one; regardless of the handful of names left, he’ll do this last one, and he’ll move on. as such, he makes his last victim the one person who could’ve put an end to all of this from the start: your boss. 

daniel park is a man of routine, soonyoung learns over the next few weeks. he leaves his home at a sharp 7 a.m., stopping by the same coffeeshop near his obnoxiously large house in the suburbs. he gets to the office around 8 a.m., a full hour after he required you (and no one else) to be in the office when you were still his employee. now that you’re gone, park is usually the first of his team in the office. he locks himself up inside his corner office doing fuck all while everyone else does his work for eight hours. he leaves the office exactly at 4 p.m., and from there, he either goes out for dinner and drinks with his team (something you were never invited to), meets equally old and ugly buddies for drinks, or goes to a bar alone for drinks. either way, the man is drunk by 6 p.m. every day. 

then, around 10 p.m., he’ll make his sorry way home—driving drunk while at it—and he’ll stumble into his home, paying no mind to his already sleeping wife, who took care of the home and their child the entire day with no help from him. 

soonyoung decides to be reckless one more time. it’s his last one, anyway. he wants this one to matter. he wants this one to be the one you think about for the rest of your life—enough to hold you over even if he never kills again. 

he waits for a night when park drinks alone, usually around wednesday or thursday, when he’s gotten tired of his team and wants time alone with whatever stupid thoughts he has. soonyoung watches him from a corner booth at the bar, knocking back whiskey after whiskey like they’re shots. and when he stumbles out of the establishment, he easily guides him to his own car instead of park’s with little protest from the drunk. 

he drives him right back to the office building that took so much energy and life out of you, using his badge to get them into the floor. he’s patient with park, letting the man nod off for an hour as he ties him up and prepares for the rest of the night.

when park finally blinks his eyes open, soonyoung is fully dressed in his usual disguise and standing before him in the darkness, only the moonlight filtering in from the windows to his left illuminating his shape. the way your boss startles so violently is deeply satisfying, and it takes everything in soonyoung to refrain from laughing in his face. park jerks his limbs, horrified to find them tightly bound to his own chair, wheeled out of his office and brought to the front of the team floor, where park keeps a whiteboard for their daily stand-ups. 

“good morning, sunshine,” soonyoung says from beneath his mask. 

“who are you?! what kind of sick joke is this?!”

“none of you were raised with manners, huh?” he grumbles. “all of you skip straight to your stupid questions. why don’t any of you know how to greet a fellow human being?”

he stills in the seat. “‘all of us’?” 

soonyoung nods slowly, taking his knife out of his robes, freshly cleaned and polished the way it is before and after every single death. he feels a jolt of dread twist in his stomach when he looks at the blade, picturing it buried in your stomach. he shakes his head to free himself of the thoughts, and thankfully, park doesn’t notice, too busy blabbering all kinds of questions. 

“shhh, shhh!” soonyoung shushes him, waving his hands erratically. “quiet, shut up, i’m irritable tonight and if you piss me off on top of that, i’ll make this ten times slower than it needs to be.”

his mouth clamps shut at that and he presses himself back into his seat. 

soonyoung usually pretends to inspect his knife at this point just to intimidate his victims, but he couldn’t guarantee that he wouldn’t throw up looking at his own weapon right now, so he lets the arm holding it simply fall to his side. 

“all of you,” he repeats. “jay… charles… hayden.” he walks to park slowly, menacingly. “leo, ian.”

your boss’s eyes widen as he hears all the names of his slain employees from the last several months. 

“daniel,” soonyoung finishes his list. “you.”

“wh… what…?” he sputters, shaking his head in confusion. his words slur and this close, soonyoung can smell the alcohol on his breath even from under his mask. “you were actually targeting this office?!”

soongyoung scoffs. “well, yes. the only victims have been from this office.”

“b-but authorities! they said there have been a few others that could’ve been—”

park cuts himself off with his own scream as soonyoung’s knife pins his hand to the arm of his chair. 

“oh my god!” he screams at the top of his lungs, entire body jerking against his restraints. “oh my god, you stabbed me! you fucking stabbed me! oh my god!”

“i told you to be quiet, right?” he reminds him. “are you going to be quiet… or not?”

your boss stops screaming, though his whimpering and sobbing is almost just as loud. he does his best not to look at his own hand like it helps him pretend it didn’t just happen. he stares up at the ceiling, taking shallow breaths. 

“do you know what all of you have in common?” soonyoung asks. 

“no,” park breathes, still blinking furiously at the ceiling. 

“y/n,” he states easily. “that’s what you have in common.”

park’s eyes come down to soonyoung’s mask, wide and filled with tears. 

“yeah, you know exactly why i’m here, don’t you?”

“i—i—” his mouth opens and closes several times before he says, “i’m sorry.”

“whatever for?” soonyoung asks sarcastically, pulling someone’s chair out from their cubicle. 

he notices a light blanket on it, yanking it off and throwing it over his shoulder before he sits down. he slouches, bringing one ankle to rest up on his knee and cradling his chin in his hand, elbow on the armrest. he tilts his head in mock interest. 

“for it all!” he shrieks. “i swear, i’m sorry, i know i should’ve done more! i’m sorry! i’m a fucking coward, okay?! please! i know what they did to her was horrible!” 

“do you? know that?”

“yes, yes! i swear!”

“name them.”

“what?”

“if you can name everything they said and did to her,” soonyoung says, watching the way his blood drips from the armrest and stains the carpet below. “maybe i’ll make this quick. stab you in the heart and be done with it.”

“what?!” he protests. “what about you let me live?”

soonyoung scoffs exaggeratedly. “oh no, daniel. no. that’s cute, but no. the only way you’re coming out of this building is in a body bag. it really is just a matter of whether or not this will be quick and painless or… well, y’know… the alternative.”

he’s bluffing. he already knows exactly what he’s doing with park. he just likes giving him the illusion of control. when he rips it away from him, it’ll be all the more gratifying. 

“you have a minute. i’d start listing if i were you.”

“they, uh, they bullied her!” 

soonyoung rolls his eyes beneath his mask. 

“they catcalled her! they took credit for her work! they made her do all of their reports! they, uh… they—”

“tick tock.”

“they made sexual jokes about her! talked shit about her during dinners! uh, they—um, they spread rumors about her!”

“okay,” soonyoung says, waving a hand and nodding. “good run.” park seems to sigh with relief. “how about you, though?”

“what?”

“how about you?” soonyoung repeats himself, and even though he’s still slouched casually in his seat, his change of tone makes your boss flinch. “what are some things you said and did to her?”

“i… i didn’t…”

“uh-uh,” he laughs, wagging a finger at him. “i already know everything, daniel. don’t try to lie to me.” 

it’s another bluff. you told soonyoung you told him everything, but something about the way you said it never convinced him. he knew you were leaving something out, and if this was his last time with any of your vile colleagues, he might as well try to see what it was you were hiding. 

“what’s it going to be, boss man? are we going slow or are we making it painless?”

“i passed her up for every promotion!” he shouts immediately, wincing when his enthusiasm jostles his hand against the knife. “she was the most qualified and i passed her up every time!”

soonyoung motions with his hand boredly. “okay… and?”

“i told her to suck it up! that boys will be boys! i told her if she wanted to move up, she needed to get used to it!”

soonyoung glares at him from beneath his mask. 

“i—” he swallows hard, tears flowing down his face. 

soonyoung sits up, sensing the revelation he’s waiting for on the horizon. he plants both feet on the ground, stands, and stalks over to park until he’s towering right over him. he whips the blanket off his shoulder, balling it in his fist before he rests his hands on your boss’s forearms and leans forward to meet his eyes, ignoring the way he gasps at the pain the movement causes. 

“you what?” he asks calmly. 

“i… oh god, i…” he swallows nothing again. “i’m sorry…”

“what are you sorry for, daniel?”

“i… i told her if she did want a promotion… she could do me some favors.”

soonyoung’s blood runs cold in his veins. that’s not something you ever mentioned to him, and he can imagine why. he wouldn’t have just gone on a murderous rampage; he would’ve blown this entire building up. he thinks he might break his own teeth from how hard he clenches his jaw. after a few moments, he forces himself to release the tension and open his mouth once more.

“what kind of favors, daniel?” he asks quietly.

“oh god, please don’t make me sa—SEXUAL!” he bellows when soonyoung presses a hand to the hilt of his knife, pushing down another inch. “SEXUAL FAVORS!”

“ah, there it is,” he grunts, nodding. 

he stands back up. soonyoung unceremoniously yanks the knife out of park’s hand, flips it so that it’s blade up once more, and without hesitating, he brings the sharp side down on all four of park’s fingers. before the man has a chance to scream, he shoves the blanket into his open mouth, muffling any noise he planned on making.

“shhh,” soonyoung mutters almost soothingly. “shhh, you’re fine. it’s just a few fingers. you don’t need them where you’re going anyway.”

he pats park’s head condescendingly two times before hitting the same spot with the blunt end of his knife. 

“you’re all just fucking assholes, aren’t you?” he asks as blood starts running down your boss’s temple. “is that on the job listing? ‘requirements: must be a misogynistic pervert’?”

he grabs a fistful of park’s hair, yanking back so that all he could see was the ceiling. 

“i’m sure you know exactly what happened to the others,” soonyoung says, speaking so close to him, his mask presses up against the side of his face that isn’t bleeding. “i’m sure you know all about what i did to them.”

park sobs through the blanket, drool escaping the corners of his lips the harder he tries to speak through the makeshift gag. 

“i bet you didn’t count on her having someone who adored her like this, did you?” he asks, voice low. “didn’t think someone would come punish you for hurting the person they love most in this stupid fucking world?”

“no. he didn’t.”

soonyoung freezes at the female voice that cuts through the floor from behind him. your boss starts to thrash with renewed hope that someone has caught him red-handed. his fist tightens around his hair, yanking to shut him up. painstakingly slowly, and without letting park go, soonyoung cranes his neck to look behind him, heart stopping when he sees you there, standing in the moonlight looking as breathtaking as ever. 

he doesn’t dare say a word. under his mask, soonyoung frantically searches your face for any sign that you’ll run screaming from him, leaving him alone, never to see you again. he doesn’t find anything other than your usual, soft smile—“resting lovely face” he would call it on his especially sappy days. 

you’ve pretended to be a murderer’s girlfriend dozens of times by now, but soonyoung had no reason to believe you thought any of it was real—that you suspected him of all the heinous crimes he’s committed for you. as you let the large bag hanging on your shoulder slip off and fall to the floor and you start walking toward them, he weighs his options. 

he could run, but then what? leave you with a crime scene you’ll take the blame for? absolutely not. he could throw himself to the floor begging you for forgiveness, begging you to not turn him in but more importantly, begging you to stay with him. there’s a tiny, ugly voice that suggests he could also kill you. he shudders, shaking the thought away. if he resorted to that, he would have to follow right after. that had to be his last option. 

you reach them, and soonyoung knows he’s run out of time. whatever you do or say next will dictate the rest of your lives. 

when he forces himself to meet your gaze, though, he sees nothing there but absolute fondness and veneration. you rest a palm against his back as he continues leaning over your former boss. 

“mr. park,” you say, turning your attention to the man bound to the chair now. soonyoung follows your gaze back to the man, who’s still being forced to stare at the ceiling. he releases his grip on him, allowing him to look at you. his eyes widen in what soonyoung suspects is fear. “nice to see you again under these circumstances. really nice.”

soonyoung feels his heart skip a beat. he straightens up to his full height now, eyes on you as you continue speaking. your hand snakes from his back to his arm, and down, down, down, until your fingers are intertwined with his. 

“have you met my better half?” you ask him. “this is kwon soonyoung.”

he feels like his heart jumps into his throat at that moment, and he fights to keep from choking on nothing. you must feel the way he stills in your hold because you bring his gloved hand to your lips and kiss it gently. 

your boss starts sobbing twice as hard, throwing what looks to be a restrained tantrum. 

“i’m sorry,” you say, faking a wince. “you must have thought i was here to help you, huh?”

soonyoung’s mouth twists into what he’s sure is the largest, most insane smile he’s ever had the pleasure of smiling in his life. the adrenaline and dopamine that suddenly releases in his system makes him feel invincible in a way he never has before. because if you, the adoration of his goddamn life, know who and what he is and you still love him… then nothing will ever be able to stop him ever again. nothing stands between him and the entire world now.

“my bad,” you sigh. “i’m just here to watch you die.”

soonyoung takes that as his cue, lifting his knife toward park. but before he can do anything, your hand comes to his forearm, stopping him. he looks down at you, tilting his head in question. you look up and shake your head. 

“i want to do it,” you whisper. 

he doesn’t know why he doesn’t want to talk to you while his mask is on. whatever it is, he can’t say anything as you try to take the knife in your own hand. 

sensing his hesitation, you smile and nod. “you’ve done so much for me, soonie. will you let me be my own final girl now?”

without a second thought, the tension in his arm dissipates immediately, completely surrendering his weapon to you. you hold his knife in your hand, and seeing it in your grip demolishes whatever last walls he had up between the two of you. you stare down at it like you’re holding a relic, and it takes him a moment to realize you’re imagining the men he’s killed in your name with it. 

he reaches out, wrapping his hand around yours and tightening your grip on the hilt. your gaze flick up to him and his other hand briefly caresses your cheek. your eyes flutter closed, smile widening for a short moment. when your eyes open, there’s a fire in them he’s seeing for the first time, and he knows that whoever he walks out of here with is going to be a completely different person than the one he woke up next to this morning. 

you give him a small nod before turning away from his hold and facing the man who’s made your life a living hell this entire time. 

soonyoung decides he doesn’t want to watch park’s face as the light leaves his eyes. instead, he walks around the chair behind him, holding it from behind to keep it still for you, his eyes trained on your face and only your face. 

the smirk that graces it now is glorious, and it takes everything in him to keep from falling to his knees and kissing the ground you walk on. 

“sorry, nothing personal,” you say, obviously reciting something he’s said to you before. “girls will be girls, right?”

soonyoung barely hears the muffled screams that follow. all he can hear is his heart singing as he watches the life, light, and joy this job stole from you come back to you all at once. he’s never been more in love. and he thinks he understands now. this. this is love. 

it was clear to you that something was escalating inside soonyoung for the last few weeks, and you knew he was gearing up to commit his last crime—you were sure of it. 

you had your suspicions when you asked him to roleplay with you, but it was the week after that you became confident in your intuition. the week after, when authorities finally released the circumstances under which hayden and charles died. 

you shouldn’t have been surprised when you read the dirty talk soonyoung used to get you to cum over and over again practically word for word in the article that detailed their murders. there was no way he would have been able to know all this information before the public did, and lucky guesses were out of the question, especially when every, last thing he told you was listed.

after that, two more of your ex-coworkers died, ones that made particularly lewd comments at you, something you noticed angered soonyoung more intensely than any other kind of offense. it made you feel more flattered than it should have—how possessive and jealous he got because of these assholes who thought they had any kind of entitlement to you or your body. 

soonyoung had ruined you for anybody else long before you knew this truth about him; he had no reason to feel jealous. still, it made you feel so special, and you didn’t stop to question the toxicity and unhealthiness of everything you’ve been feeling in the last weeks—in the last year.

for the first time in so long, you felt good and you felt safe, and you had no intentions of changing that. you’ve been all in on soonyoung since your first date. this changed nothing. 

so as he started escalating, you started watching. instead of attending job interviews like you claimed to be, you were following him. most of the time, it was just to the writers’ room, but a few times a week, it was to watch him tailing your ex boss. 

between following him around and snooping through his things, it didn’t take long for you to piece together what he was planning, and with how erratic soonyoung’s behavior had gotten since you made the stupid, thoughtless, grave mistake of suggesting knife play in the bedroom, you knew he was going to be prone to mistakes. so you started preparing right alongside him. 

when his gear disappeared from the creaky floorboard he kept it hidden under, you knew it would be time to act soon. then, today, as your boyfriend kissed you goodbye in the morning, he told you not to wait up; the writers room was going to run late to meet deadlines for next week’s episode. 

you’ll give it to him; soonyoung was a really good liar. after all, he has kept this secret from you for a good amount of time. and if he’s so comfortable doing this, you imagine it isn’t his first time killing either. who knows how long he’s been lying to you? 

but now that you were looking for the signs, it was easy to tell. he maintained eye contact too well, like he was actively telling himself to refrain from looking away and seeming suspicious. he smiled a little too hard. offered one too many details if you asked a simple follow-up question. 

“oh okay, what time do you think you’ll be home?”

“fuck, not sure, this episode has a lot of rewrites because one of the actors is throwing a bitch fit about his lines, and they want us back at the drawing board—well, writing board—with, like, three new options for this asshole by tomorrow morning, so. who knows how long that will take. i’ll text you when i’m on my way, though, okay? i love you.”

as soon as he was out the door, you were moving.

you made a trip to your old workplace under the guise of needing a copy of your last paystub from HR, which happened to work right next to your team. while you were there, you made sure you were seen on every camera in the lobby, made sure to say hi to several people—even if some of those people were assholes you wish soonyoung would waste too. you allowed stray hairs to fall from your travel hairbrush. you scratched wildly at your skin. you coughed openly. you gave a valid and proper excuse for your DNA—and trace amounts of soonyoung’s DNA—to end up here other than for a murder.

and when no one was looking, you helped yourself to a jay minion’s cubicle while he was away from it. alex. you pocketed his badge, which he had a bad habit of walking around without, and you scheduled an email from his account addressed to your former boss, knowing full well that a lazy idiot like him would not be noticing a scheduled message in his account.

if soonyoung couldn’t kill him, life in prison was a good alternative. 

once you were done with your part, you went home, dropped your phone off so that it couldn’t be tracked anywhere but home tonight, and packed a bag of extra clothes. then, you followed your doting boyfriend from his job, and once you saw him tuck your drunken former boss into his own car, you raced back to the office, where you were 99.9 percent sure he would be bringing him back. you scanned in using alex’s badge through the backdoor, where there were no cameras, you made your way to your team’s floor, and you waited. 

not long after, when a tall, lean person dressed in the gear you’d found under your boyfriend’s creaky floorboard, walked onto the floor, practically carrying park on his shoulder, it took everything to keep from shrieking and giggling at how well you knew your own boyfriend. 

you watched as he methodically and carefully tied him to his chair, rolled him to the exact spot he wanted him. you watched as he polished an already incredibly clean knife, shuddering uncomfortably a few times as he did. you wondered if it still bothered him—taking life. if maybe he wasn’t as seasoned as you thought, and the act still took something precious from him. 

you hated the idea that something as generous as ridding the world of vermin like your ex-teammates could affect soonyoung like that. 

what you hated even more was how turned on you were watching as he walked back and forth in his disguise, the muscles of his arms and his back still prominent through the tattered robes. but before you could debate jumping out of the shadows and convincing him to just leave and go home with you so you could ride him until dawn, your dumbass boss was waking up again. 

you honestly didn’t know when you were supposed to step out, but the more soonyoung’s love for you shown—the clearer he made it that he truly would do anything for you, the less you cared about staying hidden. 

and before you knew it, you were holding soonyoung’s very own knife, standing in front of a very dead daniel park, covered in his blood and laughing so hard, you thought maybe your nervous system was broken. but when the giggles died down and you didn’t burst into tears the way you expected you would, you knew you were perfectly fine. better than fine. you were thrilled. 

“finally,” you breathe, reaching forward to yank the blanket out of your boss’s mouth, wiping the knife on a cleaner corner. “here you go.”

you hand it over hilt first toward your boyfriend, who’s still standing behind park, splatters of blood all over him too. he gently takes the weapon from you, tucking it somewhere within his robes. you watch him carefully, wondering what his face looks like, wondering what he’s thinking. instead, all you get is that permanent scream on his mask as it stares blankly back at you. 

does he think i’m crazy? does it turn him off? would he rather be the one doing the saving?

you don’t voice any of your insecurities, though. you’re far too happy and relieved to ruin this moment with those thoughts. instead, you take the blanket you’re still holding and you dip it in one of park’s stab wounds until it’s soaked in his blood. you walk to the whiteboard behind his body and swipe at it in broad strokes, stepping back to view your work when you’re done. 

you look back to your boyfriend to see him looking at the whiteboard. 

FINAL

not for park or any of the other men soonyoung obliterated like a hurricane passing through, but for you. the final person standing, with the help of a man who loved you enough to make sure it ended this way. you hope he gets it and that he’s appreciating it the way you are.

while he continues staring at the board, you take the time to reach into the pocket of park’s jacket, fishing his phone out of it. because he treated you like his executive assistant, you knew most of his passwords, and you were banking on it being the same. 

when his phone unlocks, you breathe a sigh of relief. you navigate to his email, pleased to find alex’s email in his inbox just like you planned for it to be. 

to: daniel.park@loomis.com from: alex.cho@loomis.com subject: ! emergency situation, action needed body: mr. park, we have a dire situation at the office that requires your attention. a few of the other team members and i will be working late into the night to remedy this; please stop by the office when you can to discuss next steps.

once you’re sure the message is marked read, you wipe the phone free of your prints with the blanket before tucking it back into his pocket. when you’re done, you let the blanket fall to the ground, eyes going back to your boyfriend, whose gaze is back on you now.

soonyoung still doesn’t say anything, simply walking to the duffle he left in the far corner. he removes his shoes, replacing them with a disposable shoe cover on each foot, before removing yours and doing the same for you, an act that feels so intimate, you’re tempted to take him right here, in the middle of this gore, effectively ruining all your efforts to keep him from getting caught. 

he puts the shoes into spare trash bags and tucks them into his duffle before standing and holding his hand out for you to take. your fears that he’s mad you came here dissolve, and you take his gloved hand in yours. 

he leads you away, picking up your own bag off the floor for you as you pass it. you think he’s leading you out of the building, but instead, you both end up in the showers, an amenity usually meant for commuters or people who went to the gym and worked out in the middle of their work day.

soonyoung sets both of your bags down on one of the benches in the locker room before nodding toward the showers. you follow him wordlessly, heat pooling in your stomach as you do. 

he leads you into a shower stall, turning on the hot water and letting the water hit the both of you fully clothed. he turns around to face you, his mask wet with blood and water as it stares down at you. you hesitantly lift a hand up to rest on the jaw of it. you look up into the black holes of its eyes, hoping he understands you’re asking if you can remove it for him. 

when he doesn’t stop you, you push up on the mask, lifting it completely off his head. the first thing you notice is that soonyoung’s platinum blonde hair is matted to his forehead with sweat, all of his visible skin slick with it. and when you meet his eyes, you’re immediately rooted to the spot, robbed of all air. his pupils are blown, making his eyes darker than you’ve ever seen them as they bore into yours. his mouth is parted, chest heaving as he breathes like he’s been running for hours. 

without giving you a chance to think of your next move, he grabs the mask and chucks it somewhere behind you before wrapping his hand around the back of your neck and roughly pulling you to him. he cranes down to envelope your lips with his, wasting no time parting them and fervently shoving his tongue into your mouth. 

it doesn’t take long for him to get the both of you naked; you’re not even really sure when it happens, but suddenly, he’s kicking your soiled clothes away from the both of you, his hands going from cradling your face to softly running across your shoulders, your back, your ass, and you realize he’s rinsing the death off of you, all while peppering you with feather light kisses as he does. 

you hang your head, resting it against his shoulder as you watch red swirl down the drain, until it’s pink, until it’s clear. you sigh deeply at the sensation of the water pelting your skin and soonyoung’s fingertips dancing across every part of you. he presses his erection in between your thighs at the sound of your breath, and it quickly turns into a moan.

you reach to grip his cock in your hand, fisting it tightly. his breath hitches, and you decide it’s time to thank him for everything he’s done for you these last few months. you lift your head up off his shoulder and reach up to press your lips to his once more, gentle and chaste. 

“thank you,” you whisper. he runs a hand across his face to get water out of his eyes. 

“for what?” he asks, voice husky around the first words he’s said to you since the night started. 

“for loving me like this,” you answer, pumping your first slowly as you speak. “for doing all of this for me… and for letting me be a part of it too.”

soonyoung closes his eyes, resting his forehead against yours, nothing but the sound of the water and his labored breaths as you stroke him filling the room. 

“i love you, y/n,” he says in a voice you haven’t heard from him before. it sounds small, vulnerable, and emotional, and when he opens his eyes, you aren’t surprised to see tears gathered there. “i love you so fucking much.”

you don’t think he’s ever said that to you like this. getting him to even use the word “love” was like pulling teeth in the beginning of your relationship. now, he says it like he’s free of the trauma he’s tied to the word over the years of his childhood. you tiptoe to kiss the tears out of his eyes. 

“i love you,” you return. “and i adore you. forever. now… let me show you.”

you kiss every bit of skin you can on your way down his body, until you’re on your knees. you look up at him one, last time, melting a little at the affection he stares at you with.

“don’t hold back, okay?” 

he curses under his breath before nodding. he reaches one arm across the shower, planting a palm on the wall behind you to steady himself as you take his entire length into your mouth.

“fuck.”

you hollow your cheeks as you slide away, tongue swirling on the underside of his shaft and dragging across the veins of his cock. you wrap one hand at the base tightly before sliding him back in, knowing that taking his entire monster length wasn’t going to be sustainable for you or your throat. you blow him like this—pumping and twisting at the bottom of his shaft with your hand, your other one massaging his balls—for only a few moments before soonyoung absolutely loses it.

and ever eager to please you, he follows your instructions and holds nothing back. he palms the back of your head with his free hand and without warning, starts fucking into your mouth roughly. tears stream down your face, mixing with the hot water of the shower and the precum leaking out of soonyoung. the back of your throat starts to burn early on, but still, you want more. 

your hands grab soonyoung’s ass, bringing him impossibly further into your throat on every thrust. he groans loudly, cursing in between shouts of your name. 

“y/n,” he breathes, slowing his movements after a few minutes until his hips stutter to a full stop. you frown, looking up at him when he pops his cock out of your mouth. “i don’t want to cum in your mouth, baby.”

“why not?” you ask dumbly. 

he laughs, obviously not expecting the question. instead of answering, he pulls you up and onto your feet, steadying you when you realize they’ve fallen asleep from the lack of blood flow. he presses you against the wall, caging you in and pressing his thigh between your legs to keep you standing as you regain the feeling in your legs. you gasp when his quad rests against your clit. 

“there are better places to cum,” he finally answers, just barely moving his thigh against you.

the tiny movement is enough to coax another moan out of you, though. his fingers come down to dive in between your folds and trace your slit teasingly back and forth, gathering your arousal. he brings his fingers up to his mouth, shamelessly taking them in and tasting the way he makes you feel. his eyes close as he savors the taste.

“mmm,” he hums fondly like your lust is a five star meal. he opens his eyes, smirking at the way you’re staring at him. “want to taste?”

you nod eagerly. at this point, you’d take whatever he wanted to give you. you reach forward to kiss him, but he pins your shoulder to the wall with a hand, making you squeak in surprise, and when his other hand comes up your neck and grabs your jaw, tilting it up toward him and forcing your mouth open, you realize what he means and what he wants. 

you fight your own smirk as you open your mouth wider, letting your tongue hang out as far as it will go. he presses his cock against you at the sight, cursing before he takes your face in both his hands, leans over you, and aims, spitting straight into your mouth. you whine pathetically when you feel it hit the back of your throat, immediately grasping both his arms and grinding down against his thigh while it’s still pressed between your legs.

“soonie, please,” you mewl, desperately and messily grabbing at whatever you can at this point just to get him closer to getting inside you, including his hair, his neck, his arms, his hips—anything.

he grabs your wrists when you won’t stop, holding them tightly in between your bodies with one hand, the other cupping your ass and guiding one leg to wrap around his waist, the tip of his cock already teasing your hole. 

“behave,” he hisses, squeezing your wrists until they hurt. you don’t dare wriggle against his hold. “are you going to be good?” you nod. he immediately releases you, guiding one hand to his shoulder to keep yourself steady. 

when both of your hands are wrapped around his shoulders, he takes your other leg and wraps it around his waist too, lifting you up and pinning you between him and the wall. he kisses you harshly and recklessly, tongue wrapping itself around yours as his cock starts to push into you.

he doesn’t wait until he’s fully buried in you the way he usually does. no, tonight, he can’t seem to help himself when he breaks away from you to remind you: “you’re mine.”

you nod, resting your head back against the wall, nails digging into his shoulders as he pushes in further. “yours,” you gasp. “always.”

“god, i love you,” he says for the third time tonight, making the burn feel all the better as he bottoms out. “you’re so perfect,” he breathes, adjusting to the feeling of your cunt around him. “so fucking tight.”

“fuck me, baby” is all you have the energy to whisper. and he delivers. 

he easily bounces you on his dick in time with his own thrusts, the corded muscles of his arms hard, wet, and glistening as he holds you up against the wall. you don’t care how loud you are, letting your screams out as they come. at this point, you’re not sure you even care if the police catch you like this and arrest you. 

all that matters is how soonyoung feels inside of you, how his mouth burns everywhere they press against you, how his fingertips dig into your flesh so hard, you think it’ll bruise. he rests his forehead against yours, holding unwavering eye contact with you as he fucks you like it’s simultaneously the first and last time. 

“marry me,” he whispers suddenly. “fuck. marry me, y/n.”

you gasp as he thrusts hard, tip kissing your cervix. “a-are you s-seriously asking right now?”

he smirks, kissing you quickly before thrusting even faster and harder. the sounds that come out of your mouth are a pitch higher and nastier. “i’ve had a ring for a year. i can’t fucking wait anymore. marry me. god, please marry me.”

you don’t have to think twice. “yes,” you half moan. “yes, soonyoung. yes, i’ll—fuck! i’ll marry you!”

the thought does something to the both of you at the same, exact time, and you’re both shouting warnings at each other as you reach your highs. his teeth sink into your collarbone as he comes inside you, your fist closing around the hair at the nape of his neck as you reach your own climax on his dick too. 

you stay in the same position for a few moments, both trying and failing to catch your breaths. 

when you finally do, you tap soonyoung’s shoulder to let you down, but he refuses, stubbornly staying inside of you. you frown. 

“what are you doing? we should shower and leave,” you point out, remembering there’s an incredibly deceased man outside.

“the longer i stay here, the longer my cum stays inside you, and the greater the chances i just got you pregnant,” he says cheekily. 

you glare at him. “soonyoung, i’m on birth control.”

he glares right back.

“okay, fine,” you relent, laughing. the sensation makes soonyoung wince as you clench around his overstimulated cock a little. “kinda hot, though—you wanting to get me pregnant.”

he raises an eyebrow at you. “oh? another kink of yours?”

you blush, knowing you’ve been somewhat of a sex fiend since discovering your fantasy of having a murderous boyfriend—your reality now, you suppose. “maybe,” you murmur. 

soonyong grins, kissing the pout away from your lips. “good. i’m going to keep trying.”

“okay, well, maybe we should try when we’re not in active danger of going to prison for life?”

“right.”

you both shower quickly, bagging the soiled clothes and changing into the outfits you both packed separately. you watch in awe as soonyoung takes out a blacklight and some kind of cleaning agent to get rid of any blood you both tracked into the shower. most of the evidence, it turns out, is right there in the stall, where his cum leaked out of you. 

when he’s done cleaning, you both head to your cars, each parked in different lots, agreeing to meet at home after you pick up drive-thru dinner and he goes back to work to pick up his phone. and when you do get home, you find that soonyoung beat you there, the apartment dark save for a handful of candles. he’s on one knee when you enter, a small box open and turned toward you, the ring he claimed he got a year ago right there, staring you in the face. 

“i love you,” he says. “i’ll spend the rest of my days loving you the way you deserve to be. adoring you with everything i have. will you allow me the honor of doing that as your husband?”

you don’t know how many times you scream yes at him as you drop the bags of fast food and throw yourself into his arms, the two of you collapsing into a pile of giggles and kisses.

TOP STORY • 2 MIN READ

Copycat serial killer sentenced to life in prison on three counts of torture, six counts of first degree murder

By Gale Weathers

Police investigating the torture and murder of Daniel Park, senior vice president of marketing at Loomis, Inc. two years ago.

Two years after a spree of murders rocked the local community, Alex Cho, former Loomis, Inc. employee, has been sentenced to life in prison, despite pleading not guilty to all charges.

Dubbed the "copycat prank call killer" for the similarities in mutilation amongst victims, Cho was found guilty on all counts of torture and first degree murder for the deaths of six fellow Loomis, Inc. employees, including his boss, Daniel Park, former senior vice president of marketing. Arrested just days after Park's murder, Cho was the authorities' main suspect since day one, according to a statement made by Police Chief Macher following the sentencing.

"Cho's name was on the board since the tragic murder of our first victim, Jay Lang," said Macher, "but as his spree escalated and became more frenzied, he became careless. The evidence against him became insurmountable after the death of Daniel Park."

Though evidence left behind by Cho at the previous murders still has not been disclosed by authorities to this day, his involvement in Park's torture and murder is clear. On the night of Park's death, Cho lured him to the office after-hours under the guise of a work emergency. Once there, Cho ambushed and tortured his boss before stabbing him almost 30 times and leaving his body to be found by other employees the next morning.

Police were able to arrest Cho early on, thanks to his email trail and the use of his badge at the Loomis, Inc. headquarters, just minutes before Park entered the building himself.

When asked about the sentencing of their former employee, a Loomis, Inc. representative told TOP STORY:

"Even two years on, we continue to mourn our tragically lost employees. As such, Loomis offers all our associates ongoing mental health resources and grief counseling. We also honor these victims with annual donations to various campaigns, including cancer research, LGBT support, and anti-bullying—all causes our former SVP of marketing Daniel Park championed. As for the sentenced individual, Loomis declines to comment, but ensures you that we are taking extra precautions and measures to vet all new employees, with annual mental evaluations of all existing employees. We are committed to the safety of our people, our clients, and all of our stakeholders."

As far as his "copycat" reputation goes, Cho denies drawing inspiration from the "prank call killer," though he continues to deny his involvement in the crimes at all. As of the publication of this article, the "prank call killer" remains an at-large, inactive serial killer, with the last victim dating back over 10 years ago.

Cho will be transferred to a maximum state prison later this month, where he will serve his life sentence with no chance of parole.

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🎞️ a portion from an early draft of the script for cult classic horror movie, “adoration,” by renowned screenwriter kwon soonyoung

HOSHI (clicks out of video news story of andrew's arrest) i can't believe you did all that for me.

YOUR ALIAS (smiles, scratching his scalp comfortingly with her left hand, eyes admiring the ring on her finger as she does) i told you, i would do anything for you. you protect me, i protect you, right?

HOSHI (smiles, leaning forward to press his lips to hers) always.

fades into black. credits roll.

...

POST-CREDITS SCENE

a long while later, audience finds hoshi and his wife in the kitchen of a much larger home now, seemingly as in love and as playful as they always were. they are interrupted by their teen daughter running into the room, with her backpack still on, screaming and crying. both of them immediately tend to her.

YOUR ALIAS baby, what's wrong? what happened?

DAUGHTER (shrieks) it's tiffany! she's going around telling everybody i'm sleeping with the entire baseball team! i've never even had my first kiss and she knows that!

hoshi stills, face becoming eerily blank. you both exchange a look.

YOUR ALIAS you're only 15... why on earth are they talking about those kinds of things?

DAUGHTER (throws mom an incredulous look) all of them have already lost their virginities, mom!

YOUR ALIAS (pinching the bridge of her nose) dear god.

DAUGHTER she gave my number to a bunch of dudes and now they're calling and texting and blowing up my phone asking me when i'm free to do... gross things! (wails)

YOUR ALIAS we'll change your number, baby, don't worry. and i'll meet with your principal and make sure she knows we won't tolerate this behavior, okay? are you alright if i talk to tiffany's mom?

DAUGHTER no, please don't, she's so vindictive. i know it'll just get worse.

hoshi exhales slowly.

HOSHI okay, we won't do anything you aren't comfortable with, but... you're also not going to let her treat you like that, do you hear me?

it's clear their daughter is a daddy's girl when her crying immediately stops and she nods.

HOSHI no one hurts you, understand?

YOUR ALIAS nobody.

DAUGHTER (whispers, still sniffling) nobody.

HOSHI if you won't let us talk to tiffany's parents, we're going to have to show you how to defend yourself, baby. how to stand up for yourself.

YOUR ALIAS (smiles) your daddy is really good at that. you'll let him help, right? (daughter nods) good, go get cleaned up and i'll order whatever takeout you want.

DAUGHTER (immediately) thai.

YOUR ALIAS thai it is. go on.

their daughter retreats from the kitchen, still sniffling as she goes up to her bedroom.

YOUR ALIAS we aren't going to stoop so low as to kill a teenager, are we?

HOSHI (snorts, wraps one arm around her waist) no, we aren't. but kids like that only learn behavior like that from one place.

YOUR ALIAS their parents.

HOSHI mhm.

YOUR ALIAS you have the key to the storage unit?

HOSHI mhm. (plants one kiss on her cheek before grinning and nodding to the front door) i'll drive.

cuts to black with the sound of a piercing scream.

a/n: credit for the news story photo goes to unsplash. all other photos taken from pinterest, ctto. okay bye, i don't want to talk about how crazy i feel LMFAO.

[omentaker]

one thing i noticed immediately after becoming a radfem is how FUCKING ANNOYING and off-putting it is to hear "creative" men talk about women...i used to love so many musicians, artists, screenwriters etc that talked about "women" as a monolith, as a subject...as an "object" of desire. now it just gives me the fucking creeps. cool that you're making money off of singing about us while still exploiting us and missing us...ok

[summerofofelia]

Ahem

I have to talk about the KimKenta scene with Alan. Not only did it deliver quite possibly my favourite moment of the series so far, but this tiny little scene also did such a great job at showing us just how far Kenta has come individually and how much Kim and Kenta’s relationship has developed. Seriously, Pit Babe has been doing a really good job at the “show don’t tell” screenwriting rule.

First of all, I love seeing that Kim is still someone in Alan’s (and, as an extension, X-Hunter’s) life. Alan’s angry and upset and who does he turn to? Kim. The resident Sensible Guy. I just love that Kim is clearly like this beacon of sanity that everyone seems to gravitate towards.

Next, look at this picture.

Kenta actively joined Alan and Kim. He’s not hiding in his room. He’s not avoiding them. At the beginning of season two Kenta was this dark figure lost in a plume of smoke, just looking to vanish after he told Pete Tony was alive. But now? He’s wearing slippers, sipping on tea and feels comfortable enough to join the conversation. The sheer domesticity of it all makes me want to scream.

I also think the fact that it’s just Alan also says something. Alan, the guy that always seems ready to give out second chances and collects strays and gives them a home. Mr Found Family himself. I truly believe Alan barged into Kim’s apartment and just treated Kenta like he’d always been there, which immediately put Kenta at ease.

And he’s concerned! As soon as Alan hurts himself he jumps up to help him. He beats Kim to it! He’s not passive. He’s an active participant in this scene.

Also I love this quick shot of Kim watching Kenta.

Like I just love how we’re seeing Kenta become a whole person outside of being Tony’s guard dog. And again, the writers/director/Garfield are doing a great job of showing, not telling.

In all the fan fics I’ve read, they always focus on Kenta being broken, and he is, and I love reading stories that explore that. But I also love seeing these other pieces of Kenta come into focus. Yes, he’s broken but he’s also someone that has an enormous capacity to care.

And then he catches this wild stray from Kim

And in the split second before he gets the phone call you can just see him eyeing Kim like, “exCUSE ME?”

Great stuff. No notes.

[glowettee]

do you have any posts abt decentering your life from men? i think i rely on male validation wayyyyyy too much lol. love your content btw ✨

✧˖° how to stop centering your life around men (because you have way better things to do)

(a guide to decentering men, breaking free from male validation & making yourself the main character for real this time)

so you’ve noticed it... the way your mood shifts depending on whether or not he texts you back, the way your confidence is high when you’re getting attention and low when you’re not. maybe you catch yourself subtly performing when guys are around, or maybe you find yourself molding into the kind of girl you think they’d want.

and honestly? same. we’ve all been there. society trains us to believe that being wanted is the ultimate achievement, that our worth is measured by how desirable we are to men. but that’s a lie. your life was never meant to revolve around them. you were always meant to be the sun, the main event, the entire storyline.

i really hope this post can help you understand you were never meant to revolve around them. love you - mindy

✧˖° step one: start seeing them for what they actually are

listen, it’s time to be so for real with yourself. ask: do I even like this man, or do I just like the attention? do I actually think he’s interesting, or do I just want him to think I’m interesting? do I want him, or do I just want to be chosen?

because half the time? the men we obsess over are painfully mediocre. and yet we assign them so much power. letting them dictate how we feel about ourselves, letting their validation (or lack of it) determine our worth.

take a step back. stop romanticizing them. start seeing them as human beings. flawed, regular, not the prize. the real prize? is you.

✧˖° step two: detox from male validation (yes, a real detox)

you don’t realize how much male validation fuels your self-worth until you cut it off. so let’s go cut. it. off.

for the next month, no:

dressing for male attention (dress for you instead).

posting just to see if he will like it.

checking who watched your stories.

replaying conversations to see if you sounded cool enough.

instead, every time you feel the urge to seek male validation, replace it with self-validation.

take pictures just for yourself.

romanticize your own opinion of you.

remind yourself that your value doesn’t shift based on their perception of you.

✧˖° step three: become the most interesting person you know

a lot of us center men in our lives because we have nothing else filling that space. so fill it. with things that actually excite you.

start a niche hobby that makes you feel alive (pottery, screenwriting, blogging (girlblogging to be exact), literally anything).

go to cafes alone, sit in the prettiest spot, and enjoy your own company.

build your dream life piece by piece, your wardrobe, your routines, your vibe.

when you’re truly obsessed with your own life, the need for male validation just… disappears. because suddenly, you’re so content, so full, that their attention feels like an afterthought.

✧˖° step four: unfollow the pick-me content (yes, even the guilty pleasure stuff)

what you consume matters. if your feed is filled with “how to make him obsessed with you” content, if you’re constantly absorbing media that glorifies male attention, you’re subconsciously reinforcing the idea that men = purpose.

so let’s cleanse. unfollow the pick-me content. mute the male gaze influencers. instead:

fill your feed with confident, self-sufficient women.

read books by powerful women who own their narrative.

watch movies where the female lead’s story isn’t about a man.

you are not the supporting character in a man’s story. start consuming content that reminds you of that. you are a goddess, an angel, the main character of YOUR story! please remember that <3

✧˖° step five: enforce the highest standards (with zero guilt)

decentering men doesn’t mean avoiding relationships, it just means refusing to settle. it means knowing that you don’t need male validation to be worthy. and that means setting real standards:

if he’s inconsistent? he’s gone.

if he makes you question your worth? he’s out.

if he needs you to shrink yourself to fit into his life? bye.

your love life should enhance your life, not become your life. you don’t need to be chosen. you need to be cherished. there’s a difference.

✧˖° mindy’s personal tips ✧˖°

some little things that helped me fully break free from male validation: ➝ talk to yourself like you’re the love of your life - hype yourself up in the mirror, take yourself on cute dates, write love letters to you.➝ wear perfume, do your hair, and put effort into your looks even when you’re alone. let your beauty be for you, not for male approval. ➝ when a guy doesn’t text back, shift your energy immediately. instead of spiraling, get up, put on music, do something fun. do not make him your focus.

✧˖° homework: shift your energy back to you

for the next week, every time you catch yourself seeking male validation, pause. redirect that energy inward. do something for yourself instead. and watch how your entire aura changes.

because when you stop chasing their approval? you start living for real.

love you <333 so sorry this reply was sooo late

xoxo mindy

[ladyloveandjustice]

Yuri Manga for New (AND Not-So-New) Readers

I was talking on discord about some good yuri for beginners, and figured I'd repost here.

I get way more detailed some of these recommendations in this post, and there's great recs from another person too! Check it out!

I'm doing this accounting to various tones and tastes, so what works as a beginner yuri for one person might not for another, just read the info to figure out what your jam is.

I'll put a star by the ones about adults (which is the majority of them) since I've found that's always something people want.

Goodbye my Rose Garden (Victorian yuri w/ beautiful art, just beautiful all around)*

How Do We Relationship? (messy adult relationships and lots of actually realistic intimacy)*

She Loves to Cook and She Loves to Eat- (A woman loves to cook but doesn’t have a huge appetite, only to find the woman next door to her does! She cooks for her and they really start to bond over food and the trials of being working adults. Yes, this is the one where the woman googles lesbian. It's really good)*

Bloom into You- a common go-to yuri for beginners for a reason, about a girl who believes she can't fall in love meeting a girl who wants to date her specifically BECAUSE she can't fall in love. Find out more about it and hear my thoughts here. It has a gorgeous anime that doesn't cover the complete story.

Doughnuts Under the Crescent Moon (sweet office lady romance, ace rep) *

Catch These Hands! (These two women were delinquents and rivals in high school, they meet up again, one reveals she was always into the other, she challenges her to a fight on the condition that if the other woman loses she'll date her. Lots of slapsticky fun and great for any lover of girl delinquents)*

Run away with me, Girl (there's some abuse shown in this one, but it's a story about healing, the premise is these girls dated in high school, but one of the pressured herself "normal" and marry a man, that man turns out to be abusive, so when the former lovers reunite, they decide to run away together. It's got beautiful art and a well done story)*

The Moon on a Rainy Night (absolutely spectacular, explores the relationship between a hard of hearing girl and her closeted classmate, the characters are complex and the writing is so good!)

Kase-san And...- Starting with Kase-san and the Morning Glories, this is a very fluffy and sweet high school romance. It also has a short movie. (as the manga goes on they become college students, too)

The Two of Them Are Pretty Much Like This (slice of life about a voice actress and anime screenwriter who live together as a couple. Unfortunately the ending is a bit abrupt (and likely premature) but I love their relationship)*

My fave Otherside Picnic is great for scifi and (mild) horror lovers. It's Scifi creepypasta adventure yuri. It's a slow burn but does truly spectacularly deliver on the gay. Has an anime, it's not great, you should start with the novels. Wrote an article here. https://www.animefeminist.com/how-otherside-picnic-masterfully-uses-horror-to-explore-abuse-and-show-healing-queer-love/ *(v young adults, college students)

The Guy She was Interested in Wasn't a Guy at All: (A web manga about a girl who works at a record shop. Her classmate , Aya, wanders in but doesn't recognize her because she has her hair hidden with a hat and is wearing a face mask, and Aya assumes she's a guy. They bond over music and slowly start to get closer...and Aya's finds her heart is fluttering not only over this mysterious boy, but her female classmate that seems a lot like him...) It's got a physical release too!

This Monster Wants to Eat Me: (A depressed girl who's been searching for death gets approached by a mermaid who wants to eat her...but the thing is, our monster mermaid is a gourmet who wants her to be as delicious as possible, which means she's going to make her happy first (as apparently that enhances her flavor), and fight off all the other monsters who want to kill her. This is TOP TIER yuri horror and a must read for any lover of monster girls, especially monster girls drenched in the blood of their enemies, it's so good)

I Married my Best Friend to Shut My Parents Up (girl and her friend get married simply so her parents will stop bugging her about being single. You can probably guess where it goes from there) *

I Married my Female Friend (similar premise, except no parents involved, it's a platonic marriage they both agreed to with the promise they'll divorce if one of them falls in love. But one woman has decidedly not platonic feeling for the other that she's hiding from her, so things start turning a bit romantic...the ending is a little rushed but good)*

Whisper Me a Love Song: (A girl named Himari sees her upperclassman, Yori, perform with her band and falls in love with her music. She confesses her love of Yori's music, and Yori mistakes it as Himari confessing to being in love with her. Yori falls head over heels at first sight. (if you don't like miscommunication, dw this is cleared up fairly quickly and new drama ensues) Has an anime covering early material)

Monthly in the Garden with my Landlord* (it didn't really hit with me but I might give it a shot again, it's solid despite the terrible title, a woman moves into a house and finds she'll be cohabitating with an idol) (Some more titles I haven't fully read that could appeal: Still Sick*, Cheerful Amnesia*)

Hana and Hina After School: (a cute three volume about a gyaru and shy girl working together at a shop after school and catching feelings)

After Hours: (A cool punk girl meets a girl who's been abandoned by her friend at the club, and she introduces her to the world of DJ'ing...and romance!)*

My Cute Little Kitten (two roommates adopt a cat...and maybe fall in love?)*

I think all of those work as solid intro- though it does depend on what flavor you're looking for!

This article also covers some of these recs and some manga I didn't mention due to not having completely read it. so check it out: The Beginners Guide to Yuri Manga.

Here's some titles to try when you're a little more familiar with yuri (or you can try them now! I'm not your boss!)

SHWD (action yuri that's taking forever to come out over here physically, featuring extremely muscular women fighting monsters. I think it was forced to end prematurely too)*

Kiss and White Lily for my Dearest Girl: (The main storyline is about two academic rivals, where one is determined to rank first in class, and the other is an effortless genius who becomes intrigued at the possibility of someone beating her. Honestly they have the kind of messy combative sexual tension I wish we'd see more often in yuri because it's so good. The story follows other couples too. However, big warning for some nonconsensual kisses in early volumes, and a storyline in volume 7 that has implied incest and an age gap, though the older sister doesn't go through with it onscreen).

Sweet Blue Flowers/Aoi Hana- (This one is a little bit dated, and boy is the ending weirdly paced, but a lot still holds up imo. A painful and sweet coming of age tale, it also has an anime that's good but ends too soon.

One teenage characters backstory involves some very heartbreaking statutory rape/csa that's also incestuous (older cousin). The perpetrator is extremely manipulative and she even pulls the "oh no did I turn you gay? thing" but it's definitely framed as a bad thing.)

The Summer You Were There: (For tragic and doomed yuri lovers. A deeply depressed girl starts her journey to healing thanks to a girl who courts her and enjoys her writing. Unfortunately, said girl is terminally ill. The manga is a heart wrenching meditation on grief, redemption, and how being sick doesn't mean you can't still be loved).

Yuri is My Job- a story about messy lesbians in a yuri-themed cafe, and how their real relationships differ from the personas they put on. Read more about it here. Big warning for sexual assault of a minor (by an adult villain) in volume 12. Has an anime covering early material.

[thesweetnessofspring]

I've been thinking about this quote from co-screenwriter of the two Mockingjay movies said about a conversation regarding this scene he had with Suzanne:

And yet again, Collins provided a key insight that helped Craig unlock what keeps drawing Katniss back to Peeta. "I remember a conversation with Suzanne, [about how] towards the end, when they're ready to make their final push towards [Snow's] mansion, Peeta's the one who has to really convince her that all of this is worth it, and he has to be the one who really speaks to her," Craig recalled. "Because over the course of all four of the movies, he's really the only one who's been through everything she's been through, and he's really the only one who understands the completely unique position she's in."

This conversation with Peeta pushing Katniss to assassinate Snow was important enough that Suzanne discussed it with one of the screenwriters. In all honesty, the mission at that point did seem a bit of a waste for how dangerous it was to risk losing Katniss. The Capitol was losing and clearly they would execute Snow anyway. But I think that, given the fact Katniss is symbolically deciding her worldview through her love interests, and Peeta is representative of a diplomatic approach to politics, it was important that Peeta be the one to support Katniss assassinating Snow, essentially saying that there is an importance in ensuring Snow dies. Those words "reach" Katniss when all of her other allies do not. And after, when Katniss learns what Coin plotted and what violence she is willing to perpetuate, I think some part of her remembers Peeta's words. "They followed you because they really believed you could kill Snow." Katniss decides going through with her mission is the way to "repay" those who died on the mission.

Katniss did not kill Coriolanus Snow, but she did what Peeta encouraged her to do: she killed the one who would become the next Snow, killing what her friends and sister died for themselves. "For Prim." For the sister who fought and believed in a better world, too.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

hii!!! i dont know if this questions goes with your blog's usual tips, if it's not, dw, just ignore this ask. but do you have any tips to write 4th wall breaks in theather plays, aka for live public? thank you!!!!

Writing Notes: Breaking the Fourth Wall

Fourth Wall - An imaginary wall that separates the story from the real world.

This term comes from the theatre, where the 3 surrounding walls enclose the stage while an invisible “4th wall” is left out for the sake of the viewer.

The 4th wall does not exist in such a set but is suggested by the proscenium—the implied plane that marks the “edge” of the onstage action.

The audience sits just beyond that 4th wall.

The 4th wall is the screen we’re watching.

We treat this wall like a one-way mirror.

The audience can see and comprehend the story, but the story cannot comprehend the existence of the audience.

In a Hollywood film or TV show, the 4th wall is where the camera stands. Most of the time, the actors in a scene do not acknowledge the camera or audience; they carry on as though the scene were real life, and they treat the missing wall as if it were there.

If you break that wall, you break that accord. This is called “Breaking The 4th Wall.” It can also be described as the story becoming aware of itself.

Breaking the Fourth Wall - Typically, theatre productions, films, and television shows allow audiences to follow the action of a story with a degree of remove. Viewers drop in on fictional worlds as voyeurs, observing characters from “outside” the story. Yet sometimes playwrights, screenwriters, and directors will upend this suspended reality by having characters address the audience.

When plays, television shows, and movies break the fourth wall, they acknowledge the existence of the audience and speak to them directly.

When they do this, the fictional world gives way to the literal reality of the medium: A group of actors is putting on a performance for a live audience or a camera.

The actors may step out of their imagined reality and address the audience watching them.

When this happens, they break the fourth wall.

IN THEATRE PLAYS. How to break the fourth wall & some tips:

Turning and speaking directly to the audience in a play is one way to step over the invisible line to connect with the audience.

Audience participation is another method of breaking the fourth wall. An active relationship between actors and patrons can include an interactive or immersive component that defies the fourth wall. Rather than asking the audience to be passive observers, interactive theatrical experiences give them an active role that impacts the outcome of the narrative.

Establish intimacy by speaking directly to the audience. It adds a level of insight and vulnerability—it sparks an immediate connection beyond the world of the story. It can make the audience feel more sympathetic or empathetic to your character’s plight.

Break the fourth wall for comedic effect. The audience can elevate the joke if they are in on it. Wisecracks, a punchline, or referring to specific conventions (such as advertising) in a knowing or ironic manner gain more laughs. Quick reactions directed toward the camera/audience while the other characters are in the dark also injects levity.

Relay information because extra details always help the story unfold. Briefly stepping outside the world of the performance can break down complicated language in layman’s terms while bringing in more comedy or intimate elements.

Unsettle your viewers. Comedy may be the showcase for breaking the fourth wall, but scary material also taps into this technique to provoke an unnerving effect.

Be extreme. Break the fourth wall all the time, or very rarely. You don’t want the audience to question your decision, or for them to think you were never really sure that wall breaks were the right idea for your story in the first place. Breaking the fourth wall needs to come across as intentional. Anything “middle of the road” will fall into an unwelcome, and frustrating gray area.

Be thoughtful. Consider opportune scenes and moments within the scene for wall breaks. Ask yourself: (a) Should I break the fourth wall before a scene to share key intel? (b) Break it in the middle of a scene as a sort of joke, or aside? (c) Break it at the very end of a scene to punctuate the moment? If you can find a way to break the fourth wall that enhances your scene, you’ll have something special. Can you do it without a word of dialogue? Even better. When you break the fourth wall, you creep into the secret mind of a character. Ever notice how many times it is used with psychopaths?

Be controversial. Don’t waste your big decision with an underwhelming 4th wall break. Controversial doesn’t mean you have to be crass or rude. It means you’re doing something big to get the viewer’s attention. Everyone notices when you break the fourth wall. You cross a line. If you’re going to do it, you need to make it count. Otherwise, why do it?

Sources: 1 2 3 ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

Hi, this is perfectly fine! Here's what I found for you. Such an interesting topic for me. You can find more information in the sources. Hope this helps with your writing!