#and also finding my own identity and joy in writing again ever since the traumatic experience that happened to me-

[honeykyeom]

hey! please don’t do this!

[kasienda]

The Five Minute Adventures of Snake Noir: Ch 6 - Miraculous Abuse

Chapter 1: I Want It To Be You

Chapter 2: Best Friends

Chapter 3: Best Laid Plans

Chapter 4: A Thank You

Chapter 5: Unwanted Revelations

Chapter 6: Miraculous Abuse

If Adrien had avoided using the snake before, he now was operating on the other extreme. Ladybug had told him to abuse it, and he’s not sure she would have meant it quite so literally, but well… he and Nino had come up with a list. 

It had started with his homework. If he could finish his homework in far less time, he’d  have more time to visit Nino and Marinette. Not that it took a lot of time to visit Marinette as it was usually a loop, so even if he spent hours with her, it never took longer than ten minutes as far as the rest of the world was concerned. 

He unfortunately couldn’t do all of his homework in a time loop because that would leave whatever he had completed in the last five minutes erased. But he could do all the reading, researching, planning, and studying in a loop. Anything that didn’t require him to write anything down. 

Nathalie had only walked on him transformed once. 

“Yes, Nathalie?” he had asked, without looking up from his textbook. He hadn’t even thought about it. 

She stood stock still and was dead silent. He glanced towards her with a frown - her eyes were comically wide, but that was the only sign that she was shocked. He glanced down, and remembered he was transformed at Aspik. 

Read on Ao3

“Oh shit!” 

But it had been easy enough to fix. He just reset, destranformed, waited for Nathalie to come in and deliver his schedule changes for the week and leave, and then he transformed again. 

And then Nino had realized if he could pack all of his studying into the space of five minutes, Adrien could surely squeeze in some well deserved leisure time as well. 

It only took 71 loops to read a hundred thousand words, and Adrien had long ago discovered the joys of fanfiction, but he had never really had time to read more than a bit here or there. Now? With unlimited time and an entire endless library of things to read based on his favorite games and anime? Let’s just say his current power set brought a whole new meaning to the phrase, “Just One More Chapter.” 

And a season of anime was only 119 loops. Hell, he had gotten through all 981 episodes of One Piece in 4532 loops, which was still nothing compared to his time as Aspik, and honestly, far less traumatizing. 

He had felt slightly guilty about it. He was literally using the powers of time travel to watch anime. 

But when he mentioned it to Nino, his friend had just rolled his eyes. “Dude! You’re thinking about this all wrong. You’re a hero and we need you to be okay. This is about avoiding burnout as much as it is about having a good time. It’s so you get enough of a break and enough sleep to be a competent hero that we all need!”

But eventually the stories and shows hadn’t been enough to hold his attention. And he took another of Nino’s ideas and started paying visits to several of his friends. 

He had gone to Kagami first. He had no expectations of healing things with her, but he had always wanted to be able to explain so that his apologies might mean something.

“Chat Noir? Is there an akuma?” she asked by way of greeting. 

He rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Ah, no. I wanted to talk to you about something, but I also have to erase your memory after the fact to protect identities. Are you okay with that?”

Her eyebrows rose in surprise. “You have piqued my curiosity. You may proceed.” 

He nodded. He had already activated his power before he had landed in her bedroom that was definitely as lavish as his own if not quite as spacious. 

“So… more than anything I wanted to apologize to you?”

She frowned. “I’m unaware of anything that you have done that would require an apology.”

“Kagami, I’m Adrien.”

Her eyes went wide for a second. “Ah, I see.” Then, she nodded. 

“That’s it?” 

“No, it makes a lot of sense.” And then she did something he never would have expected. She smiled. And most of his tension released. 

“I just wanted to explain now that I had the ability to. That I wasn’t ever lying to you or running from our dates because I wanted to.” 

“You had to sacrifice your own desires for a higher calling.”

“Yeah, that’s it exactly.”

She smiled at him again. “I appreciate you coming to explain and I understand completely why I can’t remember. May I ask you a question?” 

“Of course!” 

“Were you never in love with Marinette?”

“Well, I… uh… it was hard to see Marinette when I was completely enamored with Ladybug, but…”

She shook her head. “Are you in love with both of them now?” 

“I mean, sortve?” He knew Kagami hated when he ended every sentence as if it was a question. “They’re the same person.”

Kagami sighed. “How disappointing.” 

“Disappointing?! She’s amazing!” 

“I know, but if she’s Ladybug and you’re Chat Noir, I have never had a chance with either of you.” 

He felt like he had been thrown off a cliff. “What? You had feelings for Marinette?” 

She grinned. “Well, she is amazing, as you always say. At least I know that I have really good taste.”

“Well, I’m sorry to have ruined all your prospects.” 

“I will survive. Neither of you define me as a person.” 

“You’re pretty amazing, too, you know,” he told her sincerely. 

She nodded. “You honor me.” 

He laughed. “Kagami, please don’t get all formal on me. I’m still just me.” 

“Well, I hope you know that I appreciate all that you and Ladybug do for the city,” Kagami told him, ignoring his request.

“Thank you, Kagami. That means a lot coming from you.” 

She nodded in acknowledgment and he knew he was being dismissed, and then he slid the switch on his bracelet and he was on the roof of her family’s manor once again his heart a little lighter.

He had gone to Alya after that. He had been nervous since she was the one who tended to push him aside as Chat Noir. But his fears proved to be completely unfounded as for the most part she could never stop laughing whenever he revealed himself.

“Wait! You’re Adrien?!”

She burst into cackles immediately. 

“Why is that so funny?!” He has demanded the first time. 

She had just grinned, shaking her head and still chuckling. “I wish I could explain it to you, sunshine.” 

“I already know Marinette is Ladybug,” he said.

“Oh good! Then I don’t have to be panicked about accidentally slipping!” And she went back to rolling on the floor laughing. 

“You wouldn’t happen to already know Marinette’s other secret would you?” she asked.

His eyebrows scrunched together under his mask. “Umm… that she’s in love with me as Adrien?” 

Her face lit up. “Oh see!! You do get it!” 

He shook his head. “I do not get it.” 

“The two of you managed to get yourself in a love square. You’ve been chasing each other around like two cute little hamsters in hamster balls.” 

He sighed, far less amused than Alya at the current state of his Marinette’s relationship. “I’m really glad someone is getting some joy out of this.” 

“Hey!” she objected. “I’m only going to know this for another three minutes! Let me have my fun!”

He held up his hands in surrender, and he was smiling in spite of himself. Maybe some time in the future, after he and Marinette could be together, it would be funny to him, too.

“God! This is why it feels like I’m third-wheeling during akuma fights,” she exclaimed.

“You feel like a third wheel?!” he repeated in disbelief. “Have you seen the chaotic energy that is you and Marinette coming up with a plan together? I am definitely the third wheel in that situation.”

And then she was cackling again. “I’m sorry,” she wheezed. “Nino says I can be a bit of a bulldozer when I’m trying to find a solution to something.” 

“That’s putting it mildly,” he said dryly.

All the mirth fled her face and she looked at him in concern. “Hey, you okay?”

He nodded. “It’s not like I’m allowed to be anything else.” 

“No, don’t say that! You’re allowed to be upset with me! I deserve it sometimes.”

He shook his head. “I’m never going to hold your ability to defeat an akuma against you. I just… have felt a little unneeded lately,” he admitted.

She stared at him for a second and then she burst into laughter again. 

And despite still not getting it, he found himself chuckling, too. Her laughter was just that infectious. “Why do you find this so funny?” he asked. 

“Because you’re a literal superhero and a model with more money than god, and a heart of absolute gold. You work with her as Ladybug so well I have to deal with crazy conspiracy theorists on the Ladyblog  who think the two of you must be telepathic aliens!” 

“What? People don’t think that.” 

“They do! And it’s annoying. But my point is you’re the real deal, Agreste, and she’s crazy about you, and you know it, and yet you still manage to doubt yourself.” 

“I’m glad my struggles and hang ups are so amusing to you,” he said with a pout. 

She sat up and fist bumped his shoulder. “Aww! Sunshine! I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant, your insecurity makes you seem sweeter and cuter. And it makes you seem more human. I don’t mean to mock you in any way.”

He searched her face and only found open sincerity.

“Thanks, Alya.” 

“So, does she know that you know?” 

“I mean, she doesn’t right now. But I’ve told her. Many many times, but it was just like this and she doesn’t remember.” 

She softened. “That sounds difficult.” 

“It’s apparently better than the alternative,” he said, going for nonchalance, but he didn’t fool her if her scooching to sit right next to him was anything to go by.  

“I wish we could all fix it for you, Adrien.” 

“Yeah, me too.” 

“How are you?” 

He shrugged. “I’m okay at the moment. Some days are worse than others. Nino… Nino has been a godsend.” 

She smiled. “He is pretty amazing. He knows outside of a loop?” 

“He does.” 

“I’m glad you have that, Adrien. Marinette was falling apart at the seams before she told me.” 

“Does he know about Marinette?” Adrien asked. Sometimes, it seemed like Nino knew more than he was letting on. But maybe his friend was just really respectful of secrets and didn’t ask questions.

“Not from me! And he hasn’t told me about you being Chat Noir either.” 

Adrien glanced toward the window. 

“Does it bother you that there are secrets between the two of you?” he finally asked.

“No, not these ones. They’re not our secrets. They’re yours, and they’re Marinette’s, so they’re not ours to share.”

“I'm jealous,” he admitted.

She offered him a sympathetic smile. “Someday, you won’t have to be anymore.”

The Snake beeped it’s first warning. “Time’s just about up.”

She offered him a fist bump and then a hug. He reciprocated both. “I’m glad you stopped by, Sunshine. You’re always welcome any time you think my particular brand of company is something that would help you.” 

He grinned. “Thank you, Alya.” 

“I look forward to the day when all four of us can just be open about everything,” she said. 

He snorted. “You and me both.” 

His went to his bodyguard next. 

“I just wanted to apologize to you for always running off. I don’t mean to make your job harder or get you into trouble. I am literally running away to save the city.”

His bodyguard didn’t say anything. He never said anything. He had just let out a resigned sigh and then patted Adrien’s shoulder. 

Adrien took that as forgiveness and reset the loop. There was no sense in sitting there in awkward silence for another four and a half minutes. 

When he had told Nathalie one afternoon at her desk outside her office, she looked horrified - frozen as still as a statue trapped in Medusa’s gaze. 

“Nathalie?” 

“I… all this time?” she whispered.

“Yeah. I know it’s a lot. I know it causes you a bit of grief when I disappear.” 

She waved away his concern. “Right now, we’re in some kind of time loop and I won’t remember?” 

“But you will,” she said. It wasn’t a question.

“Yes,” he confirmed anyway. 

“Adrien, I need you to listen to me.”

He nodded. 

“I can never find out. Your father can’t either. If you need something because you’re hurt or cornered, or…” she trailed off.

Was she crying? 

She cleared her throat. 

“Go to your friends. Their parents. Just… not your father, okay? Or me, because I’d have to inform him.”

His brows furrowed together in confusion. “Okay?” It wasn’t hard to to agree despite how weird she was being. He knew Paris needed him and he also knew that his father would never let him continue. Especially if he was seeking help due to an injury or something.

That’s what Nathalie was referring to, right? 

She patted him on the shoulder. It was even more awkward than when his bodyguard had done it. 

“Adrien, you’re quite impressive as a hero.” 

“Thank you,” he said with a smile.

And then there was Marinette. He had learned that it was impossible to tell her he was Adrien without making her cry, which was frustrating because she was also so much more open and affectionate once she knew. 

“How do I get you to not breakdown when I tell you this?” he asked her seriously.

She laughed through her tears. “I’m sorry, kitty. I have no idea. It’s just… it’s not fair.” 

He smiled. “That’s what Ladybug always says,” he told her casually. She didn’t know that he knew this go around.

“She’s right! You deserve so much, and life… it’s not fair!”

He turned to her seriously. “I don’t need life to be fair, Mari. I just… don’t want to have to wear a mask all the time.” And then he smiled. “I’m glad that you’re okay with me doing this.” 

She nodded tearfully. “Anytime, Kitty. Anytime.”  

Then during a regular patrol at one point. He had just realized he wanted to make her laugh. So he spent another few hundred loops figuring out which jokes made her laugh the hardest and which ones were absolute duds. Then, on a day when she was having a hard time, he showed up on her balcony and gave her the best one hour comedy of her life. 

Her unrestrained laughter was so explosive she had literally fallen out of her chair. Totally worth it. 

“Thank you, kitty,” she said wiping the tears induced by her laughter. “You have no idea how much I needed this.” 

He hadn’t argued. “Of course, princess. I am always at your service!”

Then, he started working on the perfect confession. He was trying to see if he could get her to kiss him as Chat Noir without revealing his identity because, you know, that always made her cry. 

“Can I use the snake to ask you a very important question?” He has asked Ladybug on patrol. 

She nodded, and he activated it. 

“What do you think it would take to get you to kiss me?” 

She laughed. “Are you serious right now? That is your very important question?” 

“It is,” he nodded, but offered her a huge grin so she could take it as a joke if she wanted.

“Why? You haven’t been able to be successful yet?” she teased.

“Oh no! I’ve been super successful. All I really have to do is tell you my name.”

She scoffed.

“No, I’m serious!” he boasted with a huge grin splitting his face knowing she only half believed him.

“So, why don’t you just do that?” she asked seriously. 

“Because you always cry! And I don’t want to kiss away your tears. I want to make you smile.” 

She got quiet. “You know, we can’t be together right?” 

“Yeah Marinette,” he whispered. “I know that really well.”

 It was silent.

“How long have you known?” she asked softly.

He had no idea how to answer that question. Because time was now very weird for him. In one sense he had only known for a few weeks, on the other he had literally spent so much time in loops that it had to have been at least twice that at this point. Maybe more.

“A while,” he said. “But we’ve already talked about that to death. I’d much rather figure out how to get you to fall desperately in love with this half of me.” 

She raised her eyebrows. “You want me to fall desperately in love with you in five minutes?” 

He shrugged. “We have a solid foundation of trust and friendship. I’m not starting from nothing. Plus, I’ve fallen in love in less than five minutes before.” With her. He didn’t think he needed to say that though.  

She actually smiled. “Yeah, I’ve fallen in love pretty fast before, too.” 

And it occurred to him that he had no idea what had made her fall in love with Adrien. He probably could ask her, but that was one more memory that he wanted her to remember having told him. 

He could probably just show up on her balcony as regular old Chat Noir and just say something like, “So, Adrien Agreste, huh?” She’d probably tell him, and she’d even remember it. But she wouldn’t know that it was him she was telling. 

How the hell had his life gotten so complicated? 

“There’s no way I would start crying just from knowing your name though,” she said. “You have to be making that up.”

He just turned to her and raised his eyebrows. 

The expression probably didn’t work as well with his transformation covering them. 

But she still hesitated. “There’s no way!” she exclaimed, but then she got a thoughtful look in her eyes. “Unless…” 

And then her eyes started welling with tears.

And he almost laughed. But he managed to hold it back.

“Oh, come here, bug,” he said instead, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her to him. And he just held her as she shook silently. 

“It’s not fair,” she whispered. 

“I know,” he said, and then kissed the top of her head. “I know.”

“Do you see my problem now?” he said after another pause. 

And she laughed through her tears, which had been his intention, and he smiled.

She pulled away. “I’ve thought about it before, you know.”

“Thought about what?”

“Letting myself fall for Chat Noir?”

He hugged her tighter. “Yeah?” 

“It never seemed like it would be that hard. I think if it hadn’t been for Chat Blanc, it would have happened after New York.”

He laughed. “Really? New York was when I thought maybe I should ask out Marinette.” 

She looked up at him in horror. “Oh my god! We’re just perpetually screwed, aren’t we? We’re just going to keep missing each other over and over!”

He kissed her hand. “No m’lady,” he assured. “That can’t happen because now I know, and I can’t forget.” 

And then she was crying again, harder. “I don’t want to forget either.”

“I know,” he told her, kissing her hand again. “I promise it won’t be forever.” 

“I love you, Adrien.” 

“I love you, too.”

And that time, of the two of them, it was he who was stronger and able to slide his fingers across the reset. 

And he might have stayed in that loop far longer than he should have trying to figure out the way to the heart he had apparently already won.

He learned that she did enjoy his flirting whatever she said to the contrary, but the moments where he was vulnerable and genuine were the ones that seemed to move her the most.

But none of it was quite enough. If he wanted a kiss, he always had to tell her his name. 

But despite his failure, pulling himself out of that loop was the hardest thing he had ever done.

And that’s how he knew he was in trouble. 

… 

“Nino, you have to take this away from me,” Adrien said, holding out the snake miraculous. He had just arrived and released both his transformations. 

Nino took it, his eyebrows pinched together. “What? Why?” 

“Because I’m scared I’m going to go into a loop and I’m never going to come out of it.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Look! Being here with you, with you knowing everything, is amazing. It’s the only time I feel like myself, unless,” he held up the bracelet, “I’m using this and… it’s getting harder to pull myself out of the loops.” 

“Your visits to Ladybug?” 

“Yeah,” Adrien admitted. “She told me to go every single day so I would remember what it was like to be loved,” he paused for a second, trying to swallow the sudden lump in his throat. “The problem is I really really like being loved.” 

And then he couldn’t hold the tears back anymore. 

Nino pulled him by the arm down to the ground and sat right next to him shoulder to shoulder.

Adrien buried his face in his hands. 

“For the record, dude,” Nino whispered. “You are loved even outside a loop with Ladybug.” 

Adrien threw his arms around Nino. “I honestly don’t know why you put up with me at this point. I feel like you have to put up with a lot.”

Nino grinned. “Hey! I happen to like hanging out with you! This shift has been awesome because I get to see you way more often.” 

“And I’m not like messing up date night with Alya or anything, am I?” 

“Nah!” Nino waves away his concern. “Alya and I hangout in the mornings and during lunch. Lately Marinette has monopolized her evenings.” 

Adrien managed to keep a straight face at that. “If you and her ever do need a day away from the children, I’m sure Marinette and I can figure out a way to take care of ourselves for a day.” 

Nino burst out laughing. 

“What?! I’m a big boy and Marientte’s a big girl. We can take care of ourselves.” 

Nino just shook his head, still snickering. 

“Maybe all four of us could do something some time,” Nino suggested, his eyes sparkling.

Adrien narrowed his eyes. Did Nino know? He knew he couldn’t ask without giving it away, and he had just handed over the snake. 

“That sounds really nice,” Adrien said, knowing he wouldn’t be able to handle going on a double date that he had to pretend wasn’t a double date. But someday. 

He wanted to cry again, but his eyes remained dry. 

“So, you just want me to keep it?” Nino asked, holding up the bracelet. “Should I hide it here in the room? Or wear it?” 

“Wear it,” Adrien said. That was the only way Nino would know where it was at all times. “But don’t use it. Not even for an akuma.”

He didn’t want Nino to ever experience a loop on the battlefield. Not if he could help it. 

“I reserve the right to come save your ass if necessary,” Nino said as he slipped the miraculous around his wrist. 

Adrien laughed. “Okay, but please don’t unless you absolutely have to. I don’t need Ladybug pissed at me for giving away a miraculous.” 

Nino frowned at him then. “Why are you giving this to me, instead of back to her?” 

Adrien’s answer to that was complicated. Partly because he didn’t want Marinette to know that his loops with her were hurting him even as they gave him hope, and he definitely didn’t want her to know that he had fallen to the point of being borderline addicted. 

But there was also a strategic element to his choice. He could approach Nino in either form, and Nino would know to trust him. 

“You know who I am,” Adrien finally said. 

“Will you be okay without it?” Nino asked.

Adrien shrugged. “I don’t know. But I’m definitely not okay with it right now.” He paused, then looked at Nino. “I might be texting and calling you a lot over the next few days.” 

Nino laughed. “I can’t promise to answer right away all the time, but you can always do that, man. Always.” 

Adrien let his head fall onto Nino’s shoulder. “Have I ever told you that you’re the absolute best?” 

“I could stand to hear it a few more times,” Nino said. 

Adrien grinned. “Noted.”

…

Chapter 7: The Five Minute Adventures of Ananta

[thatwritingho]

I gotchu anon. This one hits close to home😔but tbh was pretty therapeutic to write

If you ever need someone to talk to about it, my dms are always open.

⚠️Obvious trigger warning for child abuse below the cut⚠️

You hated it, how even after all these years, just a string of words, a smell, a nightmare, anything that reminded you even slightly of that time could send you spiraling; amp up your heart rate, disrupt your breathing, force tears to your eyes, and steal your ability to speak. 

It was rarer, these days, for that all consuming feeling of dread and fear to overtake you. Time would never heal this, but it was easier to push it to the back of your mind, to go through the motions of your day to day like a semi-functional human being, with the trauma of days long gone buried securely behind multiple thick walls.

So rare, in fact, that you had never brought it up to your lover. Its not that you didn't trust them, far from it. Your conversations had merely never turned in that direction, and there was never a right time to just bring that up. You kept telling yourself that it didn't matter, that it was long in the past and you hadn't even had an anxiety attack in ages anyway. 

But now, here you were, curled up in your bed, blanket wrapped tightly around your shoulders in an attempt to hold yourself together.

Your door opened and fear shot through you like cold fire, for the briefest of seconds you were that same scared little child again, expecting to see your abuser as your eyes shot to the source of footsteps. Relief washed over you like a warm wave as you saw it was not them, but your lover, their eyes full of barely concealed concern as they rushed to your side, taking your hands in theirs and searching your eyes.

"Whats wrong?"

You opened your mouth, but no words came, only a choked sob as tears spilled down your face. Your tongue felt like lead in your mouth, your jaw wired together by anxiety. Their grip on your hands tightened. 

It was time. You needed to tell them. You wanted to tell them. And so you took a deep breath, and told your story as best as you could.

Itachi:

Listens to you calmly and patiently, though inside his heart is breaking for you. 

He's almost relieved, in a way, that you're opening up to him

It explains so much, and he's kicking himself for not realizing sooner, for not seeing the signs, certain aspects of your behavior, for what they were and putting two and two together

Feels like a terrible boyfriend for not noticing and leaving you to deal with this on your own

But you're not on your own anymore

he may not totally understand your situation, but he's no stranger to traumatic childhood events himself

Makes it clear that he is going to support you and support you hard, making sure you know you can talk to him about this any time

He never brings it up first, but is always ready to listen

All in all yall already know he's perfect boyfriend material and this is no exception

Kisame:

Similar to itachi tbh

But even better

A great listener but also somehow knows exactly what to say???

"You have every right to be upset." 

"You're not defined by this."

"I'm proud of you for being so strong, but you're not alone anymore. I'm here to support you now."

Here king you dropped your crown👑

You will feel so much better after opening up to this man I swear it

He has def had to comfort someone close to him in this way before, maybe a sister or team mate

He's just too good to not have

But we all know his heart is just as big as his sword so its no surprise that he's like this

Has always been understanding when you're having a more difficult day, but now that he knows the cause of some of your actions is trauma, he knows just how to calm you down and ground you

100/10 marry this man or I will

Deidara:

Is stunned, tbh

Like he never fucking suspected

Feels like shit honestly, what kind of boyfriend is he that he couldn't even tell his lover was struggling with something so big?

Knows he shouldn't be making this conversation about himself, though, so he doesn't say any of that

His hand mouths kiss your palms to try to comfort you

Pulls you into a giant hug when you finish speaking and kisses your tears away

Oh shit but wait maybe you don't want to be touched right now? Thats a thing right?

Doesn't have any knowledge on this but he's trying ok

Is very open to any changes that come to your dynamics because of the new found news

Maybe a bit too open

Like completely stops initiating sex because he doesn't want you to feel pressured

And just all in all starts treating you like you're fragile

Its sweet, his heart is in the right place, but that isn't what you want of course

So you have to sit him down and tell him that you're still you, and he's still him, and that you don't want your relationship to change because of something that happened before you even met

That finally makes it click for him, and he goes back to his normal self pretty quickly

And he is always, always there if you want to talk about it. He may not understand, but he loves you and will do whatever he can to help you feel less alone

Sasori:

He done been knew

Well, he heavily suspected. I head canon him as an abuse survivor himself, and he recognized the signs

Knows how difficult it is to talk about, so he was just waiting for you to feel comfortable enough to bring it up

Lowkey relieved, because even though its horrible, having someone else who understands that particular brand of trauma is rare

Especially for him since he's never opened up to anyone else like he has you

But he's also fucking furious

We all know Sasori views people as possessions 

And even though he loves you more than anything else in the world, he still feels that way about you too, to a smaller extent, but its there

So the thought that someone did that to something of his?

Oh he mad

But he has enough wherewithal to not let you see that burning rage while you're upset and confiding in him

He listens attentively, and gives you as much comfort as he can until you calm down

Finds some way to weasel out the identity of your abuser without upsetting you(ya boi is manipulative af)

Later has one of his spies hunt the person down and capture them, and then sneaks off and takes his sweet time to make them regret ever even looking at you

Might tell you about his own abuse sometime in the future. Maybe. 

Kakazu:

Its not often that Kakazu feels the need to put effort into holding back his anger

But this is one of those times

Because he is livid

He has always taken extra joy in collecting the heads of child rapists for bounties

He may be immoral in regards to most things, but that is a line that should not be crossed

And to think about that happening to you makes him want to kill

Makes a vow to himself as soon as the words leave your lips, that he will find the scum that did this and destroy them. Slowly. Painfully.

But for now he listens, holding you hands with as much gentle care as he can muster 

Kakuzu is at a loss for how to handle delicate, emotional situations like this. But he tries, for you.

Wiping away your tears and holding you softly, allowing far more cuddles and gentle affection than he normally would that night 

He feels that acting different around you after would be an insult to your ability to handle a problem you've been dealing with for years

But he can't help but be a little easier on you, letting you get away with more back talk or general acts of affection than usual

He may even surprise you with a few small gifts

That necklace you were eyeing in the last town? That new album by that group you like that just dropped? A collectors edition of your favorite book? 

As much as he hates spending money, he just can't help himself

Afterall, the fact that you trusted him, him, with this information makes him feel a bit squishy inside

Hidan:

Another one for team "I'll fucking kill them!"

But much more upfront about it

Unlike Sasori and Kakuzu, he does not have the sense to not let his rage be know to you while you're telling him

But then he sees how you shrink, how you curl further into yourself, how you start crying that much harder

"Fuck, baby, I'm sorry. I'm not mad at you."

Once you calm down, you have to explain that him being angry and aggressive does not help when you're fighting off these memories

He feels like shit for upsetting you further

Go easy on him. You're the first person he's ever cared about. He's emotionally stunted but hes trying

Kind of just shuts up and let's you talk after that

Is lowkey amazed that you were hiding all these awful feelings this whole time

Is also lowkey amazed that you were able to function and seem so normal with them

Holds you close when you finish, and in the most serious, calm tone you've ever heard from him, promises that no one will ever hurt you like that again, and that he will make this person pay

They aren't worthy of being a sacrifice to Lord Jashin.

But you best believe Hidan will make them suffer 

Konan:

Sad girl is sad

Also not surprised, she knows how common it is for these things to happen

She's dealt with sexual harassment hersef

But her heart aches for you

Holds you tight, letting you cry into her shoulder and cling to her as much as you want

Soothingly stroking your back or arm or petting your hair as you let it all out

She can relate to many of the feelings you share

Is literally the only one who thinks to ask if you have any triggers

Not quite as supportive as Kisame, but still validates your feelings

"Its ok to be angry."

"You've been so strong."

"Be gentle with yourself."

Doesn’t let it affect your relationship 

But she is more understanding if you get in a mood

If you're being especially irritable or pushing her away, she may ask, "are you ok?" and give you a look

Its frustrating but also helps ground you

10/10 wifey I love her

Nagato/Pain:

Poor baby is devastated 

Also concerned

You've been hiding this pain from him all this time… why?

Do you not trust him?

Do you not think he could handle knowing?

All he wants is to take your heart ache from you, even if it means it becomes his

Lovers should share everything, including pain

And so you tell him, though teary eyes, that no, no, of course not, that's not it

Its just that every time you wanted to tell him, you just…  couldn't

How the trauma would cause your body to physically prevent you from speaking about it, even when you wanted to

You both end up crying 

He wants to know everything about how it affects you, physically, emotionally, all of it

The more he knows, the more he can do to help

Lowkey might have Konan pick him up a book or two on the subject, just to get a better understanding 

You already know he’s gonna obliterate the person who did this to you

Obito:

This man i swear

He's worse than Deidara

Finding out something so terrible happened to you, seeing how deeply its hurt you, has him crying right along with you

Feels helpless that he can't make it better

"I should have been there to protect you."

"Obito, we didn't even know each other."

"That's irrelevant."

Is super comforting though, kisses your fingers and plays with your hair and tells you how much he loves you

Very eager to do anything in his power to make you smile

"Is there anything I can get you, baby? Do you want a glass of water? Tea? Sake? How about some ice cream? A foot massage? New kunai? A private island? Want me to kill all the world leaders tomorrow?"

He's excessive but its cute and makes you laugh

Is the only one considerate enough to actually ask if you're OK with him killing your abuser

If you say yes, he'll also ask if you want to watch

There won't be anything left of the person after Obito is done with them. No blood. Not a scorch mark. Not even a stray skin cell. Nothing. He completely erases them from existence.

If you say no though, he's probably still gonna do it anyway, but make it look like an accident. He just can't let that person live after what they did to you. 

But hey, at least he asked first right?

[huckleberryheadache]

I used to have a blog as a kid.

Not like tumblr blogging, I had a wordpress and avidly began posting to it in the late 2000's, early 2010's, writing what fit blog formats at the time and imitating my favorite blogs' writing styles as I developed my own. Eventually I started to add my own stories in addition to the posts about last week's field trip, how I felt about my parents divorcing, strange feelings over this and that. Personal posts, pointless posts, passionate posts.

Soon I started to post the more...romantic stories I'd written. The worst thing to happen in these fanfiction-styled writings of a 12 year old was the trope of only one bed. However, I didn't have sexual impulses, didn't understand sex as a concept, and the first time I'd try touching myself wouldn't be until after my eighteenth birthday. Sexual thoughts just weren't something that ever came with my first jaunt through puberty, and so when I began writing and posting romantic fiction it was with an honestly asexual approach. My own identity was unfolding, but with sexuality being taboo I was afraid to identify as anything but cishet. So I wrote what I longed for. Romance with clothes, nothing beyond a passionate few kisses. It may also be worth mentioning I had no sex ed in my education, and by the time I was 14 I still hadn't seen a penis outside of artwork or knew what the word orgasm meant. Actually, I thought the word orgasm was a curse word at first, but a terminally online teenager did eventually figure the whole sex thing out. One of the Green Brothers on YouTube taught me what sperm was, pop-up ads showed me what dicks looked like, and fanfiction taught me a million incredibly intimate, tender words to describe lovemaking.

I felt freedom and joy and burned with anticipation when a good idea had to stick around my mind until my fingers found the keyboard, rhythmically tapping experiences into existence. There was also the giddy anticipation of my mother's approval- she followed my blog and read every single post, commented, left thumbs-ups that became hearts as the platform aged. I was a child, I wanted to be a writer like my mom. I accompanied her to board meetings, conventions, special conferences she often spoke at as the president of the area's writers group. Published, looked up to, admired. My mother's approval was everything.

One day I wrote a short story I had become particularly fond of, yet for the first time found myself apprehensive to post. Nervous, bordering on scared. The characters I'd written about this time were both male, and a hug from behind is followed up by a passing tummy touch and barely wet kiss on the neck. Knowing gay characters were bad I omitted pronouns and used a masculine and androgynous name instead, so that I wouldn't get in trouble for writing about two boys kissing; something I'd started to get curious about, discovering for the first time I could feel attraction of the nature I'd been trying to write about. (Of course we now know this as foreshadowing my prolonged and delayed coming out.)

The thing is, a 10-14 year old kid who learns about sex exclusively through the lens of the internet and smut fanfiction, does not truly understand what sex is or what leads up to it. Let alone why anyone would want it in reality, as at the time I truly couldn't understand why other kids my age were sneaking out to go at it. Sure I was from the sticks, but why was that girl I knew pregnant at 15? In my mind, my upbringing, I felt only pity for the girl who didn't keep it, thinking she was going to die forever.

Back to the story. I post it, finally, and as anxious kids tend to do I found something to distract myself and promptly forgot all about the story I'd posted.

"We need to have a talk."

Those were the first words out of her mouth when I came out of my room that evening, unshowered and unslept, bright as ever and full of mischief as kids often are. The cold wrapped around my bones then, head dropping so that she knew I was submissive. You should always be submissive to mother, for your own good. Talking back to her makes it worse, even if you don't understand why, it just does. Defending yourself doesn't work. You're never right, even when it feels wrong. Your mother is always right. She knows what's best for you. Always. She birthed you. She knows you better than you know you.

"What about?"

"What you posted."

She proceeded to explain that what I'd written, a hug from behind, neck kiss, and belly touch before the characters said goodbye, was what led up to sex. And writing about these things was inherently wrong, and not only was I in trouble for writing what I did, I was also in trouble for being so clearly sexually starved and desperate for sexual attention online. By posting what I did, I was letting everyone know I was ready for cybersex at the very least.

"When you write characters like this," Mother slung both arms around herself, eyes growing at least thrice their original size. "Wrapped up, making out, inappropriate touching- it leads to sex! Don't you get it? Don't you understand? You just want sex. Everyone is going to see what you've posted online and they're going to hurt you. They're going to see a little girl writing about kissing and try to rape her."

These were not, could not, be her exact words in the exact order at the exact moments they were told. But they are her words, stretched over time, over lecture after lecture, all a bit the same and all just as shattering.

"But I didn't know. There wasn't going to be more, there never is, they just want to hug and hold hands and kiss sometimes-"

"You do know. You know exactly what you're doing. You always know what you're doing. You're sneaky. You lie. I don't trust you or believe you. Think about what you've done. You don't have to stop writing what you are if you don't want to, but you can't ever show it to anyone else. I hope you make the right choice."

I haven't had confidence in myself since I had memory. "But I gave you everything." You gave me nightmares and made me believe I was going to die forever because of a hug from behind, and you didn't even know they were gay. What would you have done to me then?

The only lasting memories I have with my mother as of this time of writing this post, are the ones I fight every day to recover from. Do you understand how traumatizing your parenting style was, mom? Did you think it would turn out well when you told your child you wouldn't ever trust them again unless they worked their ass off to gain your trust back? A child shouldn't have to feel responsible for the integrity of their relationship to their parent. A child should be able to trust their parent without fear, not because of it. I put blind trust in my mother until it almost killed me down the line, relying so heavily on her approval that I haven't had my own thoughts until about a year ago.

I was a sneaky kid. I'd sneak on the computer past bedtime, I'd play my DS under the sheets, sometimes I'd even sneak off the back porch and play in the woods by moonlight. I lied as a kid. About what I was doing online, mainly. I hid computer activity like a madman and it only made my life a very routine, tidy sort of hell.

Now I was past the interest of blogging (it should be noted that the aforementioned aftermath of the secret gay story is what put an end to my interest in blogging), and had become good at hiding my creations. Only I didn't write anymore, I lost the spark for it. Instead I played online games, posted to forums, and had a few art accounts across different sites. But I never again posted whatever I wanted because I wanted to, and never again did I feel excitement or pride when I did. Each submission came with the weight of knowing She could find it and I'd be dog water. Thank God I'd moved out by the time she discovered furry art had been buying the groceries the last two years.

But I digress. No explanation was ever given for why we had a bedtime and why we got in trouble when we stayed up past it, not until I was an adult and she decided to tell me why without prompt. Because our dad would get up at strange hours, and being an addict, mom didn't want us to get hurt. Unfortunately just because we had a bedtime didn't mean we didn't have traumatizing experiences after it. One night my dad sat in the middle of the floor holding my cat- a raggedy old persian who vomited exclusively on the rug -and explained to me why she was miserable and why we needed to get rid of her. I knew he was not dad in that moment, but I couldn't face him. I lay with my back to the room, pillows and plushies squished against my racing chest. No one was there to help, and the one that should've above all others was the one causing such pain. Not answering even once I pretended to sleep, still as death, until eventually my father sighed and put the cat down, hearing his footsteps before the door closed. A door I wasn't allowed to have a lock on. For my safety. Now, was it to protect me from being locked in a room with him? Or was it to prevent me from having true privacy?

When we moved away years later, after dad had died and religion wasn't jiving, my room became the renovated garage. But I didn't have a door for the three years I lived there, not even a curtain. I asked. Many times. Offered my own funds. Never did I try putting something up myself, for the fear that came with that suggestion gripped me so thoroughly I couldn't possibly do it without permission from Her. When she got a boyfriend he and all following significant others would always comment on my lack of a door, eagerly offer to install one to prove himself a capable man who cares about his girlfriend's kids, and miraculously never come through. Why? When mother wants something done it's done within three days of her wanting need. So why didn't I have a door for three years?

To remedy this I simply moved out. Now my door is mine, but she insisted on a spare key that I've never seen again, and have truly never felt at peace because I know she has a key to my house. She's moving away in two days. She's taking my brother with her. I hope I feel like my privacy is truly private then.

Sharing things is difficult. Being open is difficult. Privacy is all I've known, what I've fought for my whole life. Just a space to feel like myself, to feel unjudged, to create in peace. Perhaps having my confidence and self worth broken by the only adult in my life until I myself was almost an adult has had unfortunate outcomes for me in some areas. But on the bright side I really don't give a shit about what anyone thinks because nothing anyone says to me will ever be as heartbreaking as what She has said to me. I will make a small amendment however in stating that any person I've allowed into my heart automatically and quite instantaneously gains the ability to shatter it into a million tiny pieces because right now I'm still learning how to be human.

One of the greatest guilts I feel is over my secretive nature, one I developed especially to hide from my mother. It's still taking a long time to creep out of this web and I'm still too terrified to show it to anyone but myself and whatever strangers may coincidentally stumble over this tumblr blog post.

All I want is to be able to share every facet of myself with my partner, and while I'm making good progress, I can't help but feel frustration and disappointment when there are moments I hide.

[thefaeriereview]

LAST GIRLS ALIVE Jennifer Chase Crime Thriller

Half-buried in the muddy earth and surrounded by puddles of water lies the naked body of a beautiful young girl. Her pale skin looks like porcelain in the early morning light. Her fragile arms bent and crooked like a broken doll.

When Detective Katie Scott is called to the discovery of a young girl buried on the grounds of a former children’s home in Pine Valley, California, she’s hopeful it’s the end to a devastating cold case she’s been working on. No one has seen Candace Harlan since she ran away from Elm Hill Manor five years ago. Her death will be a tragedy, but it will also bring peace to those who miss her most. But the girl in the ground is not Candace.

The victim is almost identical to Candace in every way, but fear grips Katie as she takes in the black ink that decorates the girl’s back—a terrifying message tattooed on her skin after she drew her last breath.

Forcing down traumatic memories of losing her own parents, Katie is certain someone mistook this poor soul for Candace, and that this crumbling home for lost girls is at the heart of this terrible crime. She sets to work digging into the tragic history of the owners who lost so many children of their own and tracking down the last six residents and the staff who cared for them—but no one wants to talk, let alone remember.

The next day, as second girl’s body is found down by the creek at high water, the same words etched into her skin. Katie’s worst fear is confirmed: someone is picking off the last of the Elm Hill girls one by one. But what does the tattoo mean? And what monster would target these innocent girls who have already been through so much?

Katie must dig deep to confront her own fears and protect the vulnerable—but as the body count rises further, will there be anyone left to save?

An absolutely gripping, dark, and totally unputdownable serial killer thriller that will keep you racing through the pages all night long. Fans of Lisa Regan, Rachel Caine and Melinda Leigh will read in one sitting!

  5 out of 5

Last Girls Alive is a gripping mystery. This book is like a good bag of chips - you can't stop once you start. Katie is such a compelling heroine, she has her rough spots, but her heart is in the right place and her perseverance is second to none. You'll be just as keen as Katie to find the killer and put a stop to the murders before you reach the end. A must-read for mystery lovers!

"This novel is about Detective Kati Scott, Kati is a detective for the Pine Valley department. Her and partner work on solving cold cases together.  Kati hasn’t had an easy life but things will be getting worst for her before getting any better.  Kati has a lot of anxiety but she makes it work.  She and her partner are put on a case where a girl from the past is found on the property of a former children’s home in Pine Valley. and it’s up to her and her partner to figure out who the killer is.  This novel was so good. I was hooked from the start, I couldn’t stop reading I just need to find out what happens next with Katie and the case. Katie is a total badass. She is one strong lady. She is a very good female lead.  I loved the story soo much it was full of suspense and mystery.  I loved how it wasn’t very predictable. Things could change at any time and the ending was perfectly full of action. I really enjoyed this book. The writing was perfect and it flowed very well. This is my first Jennifer Chase book, I will definitely be looking for more. This book had everything I like action/mystery/romance/ suspense."

– 5 Star Review NetGalley

“A nail biting, suspense packed action crammed thriller that keeps you on edge…”

– 5 Star Review Amazon

Amazon → https://amzn.to/3nQSoAe

“Hurry,” Candace whispered urgently as she disappeared down the wooden staircase and into the pitch-black basement.

“Wait,” was Tanis’s breathless reply as she slowed to glance behind her. In just a flimsy yellow nightgown, the damp air from below chilled her bare arms and feet. She shuddered.

The padlock Candace had picked open swung precariously from the latch, ready to drop and awake the rest of the sleeping house. This was a bad idea.

“C’mon,” urged Candace from somewhere down in the abyss. “Hurry up!”

They were going to get caught.

The consequences would be merciless.

Shifting her weight on the wooden landing, Tanis pushed herself onward and pressed her foot onto the first wooden step. And then another. Each footstep creaked beneath her slight weight. She clutched the loose railing and clumsily made her way through the dark until her feet touched cold cement.

Hands fisted at her sides in fear, she frantically blinked her eyes, straining to see through the darkness—to the unknown. It left her powerless. There had been no time to find a flashlight, but it would only capture unwanted attention anyway.

A hand grabbed her arm.

“C’mon, we’ve got to go now.”

Candace took Tanis’s hand and pulled her toward the end of the basement and around a sharp corner to where a dim light from outside allowed her eyes to begin to focus.

The girls moved as fast as they dared through the maze beneath the old house.

Tanis could only see Candace’s long hair flicking from side to side as they ran. At one point, she closed her eyes and relied on her friend’s strong will and instinct to get them to safety.

They stopped abruptly at a storm door, the only thing standing between them and freedom. Panting in the darkness, a creak from upstairs lifted both their heads in fear—someone was awake.

Candace lunged forward and grabbed the large bolt locking the door with both hands and pulled. It gave way with a loud clunking sound, and she pushed the bulky door open to reveal the half-moon outside.

Cool air whipped inside, wrapping itself around Tanis’s shivering body as she watched her friend take the final two steps—to a new life.

With the moon behind her, and with her arms outstretched in joy, Candace resembled an angel in her white cotton nightgown, her dark hair blowing all around her. “C’mon,” she urged again.

Tanis froze. It was as if her feet were cemented to the basement floor. Doubts about running away from the foster home plagued her mind.

They would never stop searching for them—ever.

She and Candace knew too much about what went on at Elm Hill.

How would they survive without any money?

She realized that she just couldn’t do it—not now, not like this. She would soon be eighteen and then things would be different—the home would no longer be her prison. She would be legally free. No one would care anymore.

“What are you waiting for? This is our chance.”

“I can’t… I can’t do it. It’s just another year,” said Tanis. “Not even that long.”

“No, we’re doing this together. We have each other,” said Candace adamantly, shaking her head. “I’m not going to leave you here. We escape together.”

“You have to go. You can’t stay…”

Candace ran to the side of the house and retrieved a duffel bag, which had been carefully packed and stashed for their escape. Unzipping the top, she pulled on a pair of jeans and slipped on a pink sweater. It was her favorite color, always matched to her nail polish.

“Hurry.” Tanis changed her tone. She wanted her best friend to escape the abuse of the home—the authority and focus was always more concentrated on her anyway. Tanis knew that she could endure another ten and half months, but Candace couldn’t.

“No…”

“Yes, hurry. I can help misdirect the she-beast and the cops. You’ll be safe.” Tanis heard the rustle of branches in the distance and looked toward the edge of the property, near the hiking trail, and saw the outline of a man. She had never met Ray, had only seen him from a distance, but he was their ticket out of here. At least, that was how Candace had described him. “Go. We’ll meet back in ten months and three days at our secret spot. I promise.”

“I will come back for you.” Candace’s voice faltered. It was clear she wanted to stay, but as she looked to the south she saw Ray waiting; that was all she needed to push forward.

Tears welled up in Tanis’s eyes. She knew that she’d made the right decision to stay behind, but that didn’t make it any easier. One of them had to stay. It would soon be over. It all would be over.

Candace hugged Tanis tight. Whispering in her ear, she said, “I love you and I’ll be back.” She gave her a long look before she turned and ran.

Tanis watched her friend move quickly into the shadowed night—and soon disappear altogether.

I love you and I’ll be back.

    Jennifer Chase is a multi award-winning and USA Today BestSelling crime fiction author, as well as a consulting criminologist. Jennifer holds a bachelor degree in police forensics and a master’s degree in criminology & criminal justice. These academic pursuits developed out of her curiosity about the criminal mind as well as from her own experience with a violent psychopath, providing Jennifer with deep personal investment in every story she tells. In addition, she holds certifications in serial crime and criminal profiling.  She is an affiliate member of the International Association of Forensic Criminologists, and member of the International Thriller Writers.

WEBSITE & SOCIAL LINKS:

Website: https://authorjenniferchase.com/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/JChaseNovelist

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorJenniferChase

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Tour: Last Girls Alive https://ift.tt/3m5JdcK

[bibliopolisblog]

Glendy Vanderah (‘Where the Forest Meets the Stars’) and Luka Pejić, translator for the Croatian edition — Q&A

Glendy Vanderah is the author of the bestselling novel Where the Forest Meets the Stars—the story of Ursa, a peculiar girl who claims to have come to Earth from the stars to witness five miracles amongst humans so she can “graduate” on her own planet. Where the Forest Meets the Stars is a brilliant, heart-warming, poignant novel in which tragedy collides with triumph, intolerance with love, the mundane with the magical, factual with fantastic. It is a stardust-woven story that lures the reader in, grabs them, and drives them to the last page, where they realise how much they’ve fallen in love with the story and its characters.

Glendy’s debut novel is also my translational debut: Stilus, the publishing house, kindly offered me the job of translating from English to Croatian. It’s been a year since—and even if I never translate anything again, I will remember this magical adventure with starry eyes and nostalgia, with love. Of all possible books, I will not regret being given the honour of translating this masterpiece.

“I’m touched,” I wrote to her when I received the answers. “I didn’t expect this to be so… heart-to-heart, because rarely does an author open up like this. The readers will have to feel the connection with you and your characters once they’ve read the novel and all this, like I do—now even more.”

“Yes, I’m honest about my background in interviews”, she replied. “Where the Forest Meets the Stars was closely tied to the emotions and memories of my childhood. If I hid that I’ve struggled with adversity as a child and depression as an adult, how would that help my readers see a better future?

Croatian edition of ‘Where the Forest Meets the Stars’  by Glendy Vanderah (Stilus, Zagreb, 2019)

Ms Vanderah: firstly, I must say that I’m thrilled to be speaking with you, and I’m immensely grateful to you for agreeing to answer a few questions for your Croatian readers.

Thank you for that great introduction, Luka, and for providing this opportunity to talk to my Croatian readers.

I’ll start with the simplest—probably the first from everyone: What inspired you to write Where the Forest Meets the Stars? How did the idea come to you? Was it cunning, so to speak, approaching you little by little, or was it a surprise, overwhelming you all at once?

The story came to me in parts. I had been writing fantasy for a few years (first for ‘fun,’ then trying to get published) when I decided to try contemporary fiction. I’d have to say the setting came first. I’d always wanted to write a book set in an isolated research house I lived in for a few years while I was working on avian research projects. The real house was similar to its description in the book. It was in the woods, next to a creek, and at the end of a rural road. There was even an old graveyard next to the house. The main idea for the book came to me after I saw director Guillermo del Toro’s fantasy Pan’s Labyrinth. I felt affinity with the idea of a child using fantasy to escape the violence and evils of war. As a child growing up in an unstable home, I used the nature of my wild-grown backyard to escape the traumatic events that were happening in my family—it was almost like a fantasy world for me. When I felt those deep connections, the book started to burst out of me!

Did you know what the novel would be like when the idea was still in the embryonic stage, or did it change as you wrote? What did it look like at its conception? What was at its centre? What came first—themes, and the shadow of the story that would soon be written, or the characters that would inhabit it?

I never know precisely what my story will be like at the end. I don’t use detailed outlines. When I get a story idea, I first create characters and their motivations, then I imagine what event would stimulate my plot. At first, I only rough out the storyline, though I generally know the ending. As I write, the plot usually changes—sometimes dramatically. And as the characters become real in my mind, they develop personality traits and backstories that are often a surprise even to me! For example, some of Gabe’s background surprised me as I wrote. For me, this story started out very much about how children deal with adversity, but it became so much more as the story progressed. The duality in Ursa’s alien/human self-perception mirrors Jo’s before/after cancer identities, as well as Gabe’s pre/post discoveries about his father. Those themes evolved as the story progressed.

What can you tell your Croatian readers about Ursa's genesis? Is our genius little alien girl based on or inspired by a real person? Someone you know? Or did she just pop in your head the way she is written?

Ursa is certainly an outgrowth of how I remember my own difficult childhood. I decided her self-perception as an alien in a human body was an interesting way to show how children often feel when they experience trauma or abuse: the isolation, the sensation that they are standing apart from a ‘normal’ human world they can’t join. Some of my readers see Ursa as an actual alien, some see her alienation as a metaphor.

Many ideas for Ursa’s traits came from my three children. For example, one of my sons read words backward from a young age as a way of dealing with an excess of mental energy. Children are a lot more aware of what’s going on than many adults realize. I know this will sound biased, but I never ceased to be amazed by the brilliance I saw in my kids at young ages! Ursa is an amalgamation of all children I’ve ever known, including myself.

Which authors have influenced you as a writer? Which works have impacted Where the Forest Meets the Stars? Also, I can’t help but ask… William Shakespeare is Ursa’s favourite writer. Is there any special reason it's him? Which Shakespearean play is your favourite and why?

Since a child, I’ve read eclectically—fantasy and sci-fi, contemporary fiction, scientific nonfiction—and I can’t really say one or a few authors strongly influence my writing. In fact, I don’t want them to!

As for Shakespeare, I think his writing is brilliant, especially for his time. I like to put references to his plays in my stories because his plots often hinge on strange or unlikely quirks of fate, and I’m intrigued by that: how one decision, or a few seconds of good or bad luck (an accident, a crime, a meeting) can change a person’s whole life. Putting Shakespeare’s plays in the story resonated with me because Forest pivots on this theme of fate, on how much control we have over it, and whether we have the strength to overcome tough fates once they’ve been dealt to us.

Shakespeare’s verse is gorgeous, but I think reading the plays doesn’t bring out the magic like seeing them performed. Two favourite performances: a magical production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream I saw many years ago, and a recent showing of Twelfth Night at a tiny playhouse where the audience essentially became part of the play.

In your novel, mental illness plays as important a role as physical. Do you have advice for people—especially youths—who are struggling with depression and anxiety, or mental illness in general? Furthermore, regarding Jo—who beat breast cancer—do you have advice for women, young and old?

Depression occurs on a spectrum from mild to severe. I certainly know what severe depression looks like—my alcoholic mother had it. Mine was less severe, probably more ‘situational’ than ‘clinical.’ Though I wrote Gabe’s depression to be like my own experiences, I received criticism from some readers who felt his illness wasn’t written ‘realistically.’ I think it’s sad some people think all depression is severe and unbeatable. I wanted the story to show another side. Depression, especially milder forms, can improve. Finding joy in biology, nature, and writing, and stability in a loving relationship with my husband, helped me overcome more than I ever dreamed possible when I was child. Perhaps there is no ‘perfect’ happy ending, but there is plenty of hope and potential for healing. That’s the message I want to give readers.

Like most of us, I’ve seen too many family members, friends, and acquaintances succumb to breast cancer. I’ve seen many beat it, too. I don’t have specific advice, other than preventive measures, because every case is different, as are the very personal decisions women make after diagnosis.

Your novel also addresses other serious issues, such as domestic- and child abuse. Do you have a message for the people struggling with such difficulties?

Every circumstance will be different. I believe the troubles of my childhood made me a stronger person, but I know that can’t be the case for everyone. One loving, stable person—a relative, a friend, a teacher, a neighbour—can make a huge difference in a troubled child’s life. Find those good people and trust them. Feeling less isolated is important. If you don’t have anyone you can trust, you must trust yourself. Love yourself. Don’t take on guilt that isn’t yours. Don’t turn to destructive behaviours that will only make your life more miserable (I did that for a few years). You can get through the bad days, and recover, and have a fulfilling life. Don’t ever give up hope. Ursa embodied this idea, that even an eight-year-old, through sheer force of will, can change her future for the better.

(spoiler alert) Now, for those who have read the novel only! Can you tell us what happens with Ursa, Jo and Gabe after the ending? We are desperate for more!

I don’t see the continuation as immediate happiness and sunshine. I think Ursa, Gabe, and Jo still have challenges ahead. But the strength they’ve found in their love for each other will be important for conquering those problems. I’ve been asked if I imagine Jo and Gabe’s wedding in the future. My answer is, yes—and who doesn’t?  

How long did it take to write this seemingly simple yet rather complex novel?

I’m not sure how long because the writing was often interrupted. I have written books in less than 7 weeks, but this one took much longer because I had many issues going on. My dad was dying of advanced Parkinson’s disease and needed lots of care. His partner had dementia. Also, I shattered my arm in an accident and couldn’t write for a long while.

Which, say, five books would you recommend to fans of your work? Some compare Where the Forest Meets the Stars with The Snow Child by Eowyn Ivey—would that be among your recommendations? As a guess, did it perhaps influence your writing?

As I’ve said, del Toro’s Pan’s Labyrinth—a screenplay, not a book—had a big influence. I read The Snow Child by Eowyn Ivey after I wrote Forest—because of the blurb by author Christopher Meades on the front cover of my book. I see the connections between the two stories, but I think they are quite different, too. I read The Language of Flowers by Vanessa Diffenbaugh shortly after my book was published, and I feel that book has more similarities than Ivey’s. The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd is possibly a book people would enjoy if they liked this story. Many readers compare my book to Delia Owen’s Where the Crawdads Sing, so that would be another story I can recommend. I’ll also mention All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr, a story about two youths who battle adversity during World War II.

You are a bird biologist, like Jo. When did you know you wanted to become a writer?

I loved writing poems and stories as a child. My fifth grade teacher once told the class, “Someday you will all read a novel written by Glendy.” That was an inspiring moment for me. Yet my love for nature and animals had a stronger pull, and I chose to study ecology instead of English in college. After I received an undergraduate degree, while I worked as a biologist, I took some writing and literature classes. But I went on to get my Master’s degree in biology. Then I met my husband, also an ornithologist, and we had three kids. I was too busy to do much science during that time. Once the kids were in school, rather than go back to science (I felt I’d been away from research for too long), I began writing. I was honestly surprised that I could write fiction when I first started!

Another big question: Can we expect a film adaptation in the near future? Please say “yes”! Ursa’s fans, including me, would be overjoyed!

The book has had some attention from a Hollywood representative, but so far no word of a movie. We’ll all have to send out some good quarks to make it happen!

What can you tell us about your next novel? Is it in a similar vein to your debut, or should we expect something entirely different? Are you still writing it, or have you finished?

It’s finished, and it has similar themes. It’s coming out in the spring of 2021.

I believe most readers of Where the Forest Meets the Stars thought it to be science fiction throughout; is that something we can expect in the next book? Does it have a title? If so, can you share it with us? (We promise not to tell. 😉)

Where the Forest Meets the Stars has been variously described by readers as contemporary fiction, literary fiction, domestic fiction, science fiction, and magical realism. I think it’s fascinating that the story ‘shape-shifts’ to different genres! My publisher lists the book’s genre as contemporary fiction, and my next book, The Light Through the Leaves is the same genre.

Phew, so many questions… but that's on you for writing such a beautiful novel!

Finally, would you like to say something to your Croatian fans?

A message for my Croatian readers: I hope you enjoy Where the Forest Meets the Stars. I’m certain it must have been expertly translated from the original English, because the translator, Luka Pejić, has written these thought-provoking questions and a beautiful, perceptive review of the book. Thank you, Luka, for all the hard work you have put into bringing this story to Croatian readers.

It’s been a dream come true to see my first published novel translated into twenty-one languages. I’m thrilled that the people of Croatia will have the opportunity to read Where the Forest Meets the Stars. What more could an author want than to know her stories might touch the hearts of many people around the world? I hope to bring a translation of my next novel to you soon! Happy reading!

Source: www.bibliopolis.home.blog/2020/09/14/glendy-vanderah-interview/

[aion-rsa]

Jacqueline Carey Guest Post: Women in Fantasy

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This is a guest post from Jacqueline Carey, author of the Kushiel’s Legacy series. Tor Books is releasing reissues of the epic fantasy series this summer. Kushiel’s Dart and Kushiel’s Chosen are already out, with the reissue or Kushiel’s Avatar set to drop on August 25th.

“Is this a kissing book?”

Everyone who’s seen The Princess Bride, which includes pretty much everyone I know, recognizes that line, uttered by a young Fred Savage to his grandpa, the ever-charming Peter Falk, who’s come to read a story to his grandson. Fred’s nameless character is confined to bed with a nameless childhood illness. Nothing terribly serious, we assume—perhaps a cough and a bit of a fever, not alarmingly high, just high enough that the doctor suggested he stay at home for a few days. 

What we don’t discuss is the—apparently—far more terrifying menace to which the young boy has been exposed: Girl cooties.

As a female writer of epic fantasy, this is a phenomenon with which I’m all too familiar, and the same holds true for many of my female colleagues in the genre. A significant portion of the audience consists of male readers, and a significant subset of that readership assumes that epic fantasy written by women must surely be tainted by girl cooties.

Based on personal experience, my take is that this is shorthand for “romance” and that there’s an underlying assumption, consciously or subconsciously, that fantasy written by women must perforce be romance. Of course, romance fantasy does exist, and it’s surely not my intention to denigrate it in any way. The Kushiel’s Legacy series does contain elements of romance—gloriously, unabashedly, sometimes brutally so. And defining genres can be tricky, because sometimes books—often, in my personal opinion, the best books—span a number of them. When I wrote Kushiel’s Avatar, the final volume of the original trilogy, I thought a lot about the dedication that John Steinbeck wrote for East of Eden. According to Steinbeck, his longtime friend and editor came upon him carving a wooden figure, and asked that he make him a box. 

“What for?”

“To put things in.”

“What kind of things?”

“Whatever you have.”

Instead of crafting an actual wooden box for his editor, Steinbeck wrote East of Eden, and in the foreword dedicating it to him, he stated, “Well, here’s your box. Nearly everything I have is in it, and it is not full. Pain and excitement are in it, and feeling good or bad or evil thoughts and good thoughts—the pleasure of design and some despair and the indescribable joy of creation. And on top of these are all the gratitude and love I have for you. And still the box is not full.”

I find that to be profoundly romantic.

It’s a pity that the word “romance” has taken on such a negative connotation for a large swathe of the fantasy-reading audience. Even the young grandson in The Princess Bride relents by the end to admit, “I don’t mind so much, Grandpa.” All the epic fantasy trappings of farm boys and pirates and princesses, swordsmen and giants and feats of derring-do, magic and torture and quests for vengeance, are in that particular box, but above all, true love.

And yet it’s also a movie written, directed, filmed and produced by men, featuring a predominantly male cast and a heroine with zero agency. 

Over and over, when I see polls on forums listing the best epic fantasy writers, both historical and current, the same names appear, and they’re almost exclusively male—or to be more specific, cisgender heterosexual white male authors. Not to detract from these authors, many of whom I also enjoy and admire, and who have been influences on my own work, but there are always so many female authors missing from the list. It often seems as though the only two woman writers cited are a) Ursula K. LeGuin, because her influence is too significant to overlook, and b) Robin Hobb, because a lot of readers were misled by her gender-neutral pseudonym. 

As a teenager and a young adult, I grew up reading whatever fantasy I could get my hands on—which in the 1970s, 80s and 90s was limited to whatever my local bookstore and library had on its shelves. Many of them were women—Mary Stewart, Anne McCaffery, Patricia McKillip, Julian May, Katherine Kurtz, Katharine Kerr, Kate Elliott. Some of these authors we’ve lost since I discovered their work years ago; others continue to write and publish to this day. When I encounter this absence, it almost feels as though a part of my own formative history has been erased. 

And then there’s the issue of female characters, who are far too scarce on the ground in epic fantasy. Readers or viewers whose personal identity is well-represented in the pop culture medium of their choosing can’t fully understand the effect of its absence. It’s like looking in a mirror and having no reflection. 

It’s disconcerting.

It’s creepy.

Not so long ago, I made that observation to a male friend regarding a fantasy novel he recommended. It was some 500 pages long, and it had one female character in an otherwise fairly extensive cast. Despite being an intelligent and thoughtful guy, my friend had a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that I found it difficult to suspend my disbelief to inhabit a world in which my gender—which comprises at least half the world as we know it—barely existed. Now, if that omission is a deliberate choice on the part of the author, I can respect it. Some narratives operate within a set of constraints for a particular reason. 

But the truth is, more often than not in epic fantasy, it’s not deliberate. It’s just an oversight. 

In another recent instance, I volunteered to be interviewed by two young women from our local high school who were interested in careers in writing fantasy. They were delightful, and we lingered over coffee to chat after the interview. Both of them cited popular recent fantasy debuts by male authors as current favorites. These were books I happened to have read, and again, books which had essentially one female character with any measurable page time. One existed solely to serve as an unattainable object of desire; the other was killed and subjected to the pseudo-medieval equivalent of getting fridged.  In case you weren’t aware, “fridged” is slang for a common trope in which female characters are violently murdered and their bodies are left for the hero to discover in a gruesome manner, which then serves as a traumatic inciting event that drives the hero’s dramatic arc. It’s disturbing that there’s actually a specific term for this, right? 

Out of curiosity, I asked these delightful, smart, fantasy-loving young women what they thought about the fact that there were almost no female characters in these books—and they looked blankly at me.

They hadn’t noticed.

Of all the times and ways and angles from which I’ve pondered the lack representation of women in fantasy as both an author and a reader, that may have hit me the hardest. It pains me to know that the absence of women in this genre I love is so prevalent that well into the 21st century, it doesn’t even register.  Women in fantasy deserve better. As writers, we deserve the right to publish under female-sounding names without fearing the taint of girl cooties. We deserve to be listed amongst our male counterparts in the legacy of the genre. As readers, women deserve a seat at the table in the realm of the fantastic. We deserve female characters with agency, female characters whose actions affect the narrative. We’re not ghosts, we’re not vampires—we deserve to see our reflections in the mirror. We deserve, at the barest of minimums, a society in which that absence is noticeable. We deserve to be part of the warp and weft of the story’s tapestry, not just a single thread. 

The box is vast, and still it is not full. In a genre where there are no limits to the world except the writer’s imagination, women deserve more. 

Find out more about Jacqueline Carey’s work at her website. Find out more about Tor Books’s reissues of Kushiel’s Legacy here.

The post Jacqueline Carey Guest Post: Women in Fantasy appeared first on Den of Geek.

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