[Cross posted from my main tumblr blog, and originally posted on 7 Oct 2018. I don’t plan on this WP blog turning into an exclusively fandom related blog, but certain fanfics have either been instrumental to coping / grieving or Someone has decided to hijack an element, so I’m going to have some fanfic content.]
I know I’ve mentioned my grandfather’s cancer diagnosis but not really gone into it here, but I wanted to explain why it suddenly seemed like the only content I was reblogging had to do with fanfiction or inspiration for WIPs (part of my #writing prompt tag). Honestly, it may not make sense to some people, but I was drawn to reading fics with certain themes or elements when he was first diagnosed, and part of coping throughout the summer and fall included writing.
I was in not necessarily nice, proper, or polite tags on ao3. Rape / Non-con, dubious consent, consensual non-con, Master/slave, sexual slavery and Ownership, and elements where there was a loss of control. Because there’s nothing like a loved one facing a terminal illness and mortality to make you feel like you have no control over anything. There’s nothing like trying to ignore the initial anger and blame  and the fear to make you feel like you need to have control over something.
I came across a Master/slave fic back in April that I liked some ideas from, but obviously, I had some ideas of where I would try to take things in a different direction. The premise is that Harry is emotionally manipulated into a training school for slaves and the trainer he’s involved with will supposedly win his contract at auction, but given that it’s a Drarry fic, it’s not a surprise that the recruiter isn’t his Owner / Master. In my opinion, “Playing with Fire” seemed to gloss over the problems with this dubious training and the fallout for Harry afterwards, and I’m not even sure I can adequately explain why I wanted (needed?) to make it darker.
Some people talk about how writers like to play God, and they tend to go for a motivation by hubris. This wasn’t about pride that I could fuck Harry up more or write some part of the fic “better”. Writing the dissociation, having Harry struggle with stepping away from his body, digging into the anger at the trainer mixed in with the guilt for missing him (or at least expecting his reactions), and interspersing the memories, triggers, and flashbacks comes down to control. Figuring out if I wanted to flashback to a rape scene, only hint at it, and how it might affect Harry now is about controlling the loss of control. I, as the writer, can fuck around with this character’s body and head, and I can choose to leave us in angst or turn the arc a little upwards, and I can get us to a less fucked up place by the end. (Hopefully.)
As I’ve written about recently, my grandfather died at the end of September (a bit over a week ago). I uploaded the first chapter to ao3 last night, and I’m honestly not going to be surprised if this doesn’t get a huge amount of attention. But I’m not abandoning this fic because it’s cathartic, a bit self-indulgent in places, and it’s the closest I’ve been to something that’s not original fiction in a while. Because even as I’ve got Dark shit in the past (that’s not directly or explicitly in the current chapters), I’ve got non-sexual submission / kink, Mind Healing, kintsugi as therapy, and less fucked up shit in the future chapters. (Assuming someone sticks it out until then.)
. . .
 In a post from the time of the initial diagnosis, I talked about the types of cancer (lung cancer + lymphoma) and how it was partially do with an activity my grandfather chose to take part in (smoking). A part of me understands that there were other variables and doesn’t blame him solely, but initially, I did struggle a bit with that.