First Meeting

A writer friend told me something that broke my heart a little bit today; they're going to quit publishing their fanfic.

My instant thought was that they had been trolled or attacked or that something terrible had happened in their life because this person is so passionate about their writing. It wasn't any of that. Engagement with their works has been going down, as it has for many of us. Comments are like gold dust a lot of the time, and just looking through the historical comment counts on old fics on ao3 demonstrates this trend very clearly. It was not simply the comments dropping off which caused them to decide to stop posting, however.

My friend came across a discord server for their fandom (I should point out here that their fandom interest and mine diverged a couple of years ago, we stay in touch but don't currently read each other's posts because I'm not into their fandom and they would rather gouge their eyes out with a wooden spoon than read anything Star Wars) and specifically to share fic in that fandom. They joined, because we all love a good fic rec, only to discover that their latest multichapter fic, which has almost no comments and very few kudos, is being hotly discussed in this server as one of the best stories ever. Not one of these people has bothered to say this to them on the fic. When they asked, none of participants could see the point in telling the author of the fic they apparently loved so much that they love it.

This discovery has absolutely destroyed my friend's love of sharing fic. They share because they love seeing other people's enjoyment, and fic writers do that through comments and kudos/reblogs/likes because we don't get paid. There is no literary critic writing a blog post/article about how amazing the story is for us to copy and keep/frame. There is no money from royalties. All we have are the words of the people reading our works.

Those people on that server could have taken five minutes of the time they spent gushing about how amazing my friend's story was to other people and used it to tell the one person guaranteed to want to hear that praise how much they loved it. They could have taken a moment to express their opinion to the person who spent hours upon hours plotting, writing, editing, and posting those chapters. Instead, they deprived my friend of thing that keeps them sharing their writing, and in the process have killed their love of it. My friend now feels used and unmotivated.

I won't be sharing a link to their fic, they said I could share their experience but not their identity. I know they plan to post one final chapter. I know they intend to express their hurt at being excluded from the praise for the thing they created, and I know they intend to announce that as a consequence they will not be posting for a long while, if at all.

So please, I beg you, don't hide your love of a story from the writer. It's just about the only thing we have.

Angel...

X: Cuántas veces has visto este trend?

Yo: Sí

UGHHH-

Si les soy sincera, no entendí muy bien cómo se usaba la plantilla :')

Hice lo que pude, así que espero que les guste- Necesitaba uno de Ren, Okei? 😔

That one closet scene from day 4 got me gushing

you think just because you're gorgeous that means you don't have to drink water?? pssh, think again, bub. you really thought just because you're smart and beautiful and loved that means you don't gotta drink water. ridiculous.

ren from 14dwy♡♡

I decided to finish this

I think that more fanfiction should be written with the aim to tackle the original meaning of hanahaki. Because when the concept of hanahaki disease was originally created, it was intended to be a metaphor for suppressing one’s feelings.

Your feelings are this beautiful garden of flora inside of your chest. When you express how you feel honestly, you allow for it to grow freely. But when you hide how you feel out of fear of rejection, and try to make it smaller and smaller, the flowers become cramped inside of you, until you choke on your own feelings. Every flower you cough up is something you’ve felt, but refused to say.

The whole “dying” thing is intended to be more symbolic especially. You’re killing off bits and pieces of yourself and how you feel, because you’re afraid to express yourself.

It’s not really supposed to be, “The one I love doesn’t love me back, and I’m dying from it.” Rather, it’s more along the lines of, “Repressing your emotions is bad for you, and it’s better and healthier to express them freely, even when it’s scary.”

Which is to say that, one, the cure for the disease should be telling the person that you are in love with how you feel. How the other person feels about the person afflicted should have nothing to do with it, as the trope is meant to be about feeling your emotions unapologetically.

And that, two, it’s not an inherently romantic trope. Obviously, it has romantic applications, but it can be written for any situation where a character is hiding how they truly feel. This can include a refusal to address a specific trauma, a desire to indulge in something that they’re ashamed of, and even really practical things, like wanting to ask one’s boss for a higher position.

Although (as an aromantic person myself) I don’t agree with this conclusion about the trope, this application would also avoid people calling it arophobic. When the thing killing the character is a refusal to be honest with themselves, rather than an unrequited love, it’s on nobody’s hands but their own to save their life.

There are a ton of ways that this interpretation of the hanahaki disease could be applied in new and interesting ways in fanfiction, and I’d love to read what things people could come up with!

Hi yall I'm still alive if you remember me 💪 here's the Ren Fanart after 1 year

Taken (Part 4/5)

Unedited, as all of these are. If it seems like it ends abruptly that's because it does, I cut out the end to spare you my sad attempt at including sexual tension lol. Ren and above image belong to @14dayswithyou

Summary: Angel comes to terms with their new situation and Ren is a simp as per usual

2.2k words

14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI

Warmth. It’s all I can process as I groggily wake in a bed with black sheets, clearly not my own, with sunshine falling almost spitefully directly on my eyes through a crack in the curtains nearby. As my memory slowly comes back to me, I shoot upright in the bed, Fuck I’m at Ren’s place. My hip flares in pain once again, stubbornly reminding me how I got here in the first place.

I don’t have much time to myself as Ren peeks in, timidly asking, “How are you doing, Angel? I made some pancakes if you want some?” I recall our second date, when we ended up stranded at his place due to an unexpected storm. He made pancakes then too, but the situation is vastly different now.

I stare at him incredulously, “What the fuck, Ren?”

He avoids my eyes, “What- What’s wrong, Angel?”

My eyes sharpen to a glare, “Drop the act. You know what’s wrong you piece of shit. You fucking kidnapped me?!”

He makes an uncertain gesture, “I wasn’t- I didn’t want to! You just wouldn’t listen to me, you were going to call someone. You have to listen to me first.”

My face could not possibly display the extent of disbelief I had at his audacity, “You’re insane. Get out of my room.”

I see his eyes light up just slightly and I guess why, “No- no. I’m not staying here, I’m not living here. It’s mine for now because I don’t want you in it, so I’m claiming it.”

He nods, “What’s mine is yours Angel, you can claim anything you want.”

Frustrated at his contradicting shifts between aggressive and passive, I throw a nearby plushie at his head, watching with some satisfaction as he makes no move to avoid it, and it nails him square in the face.

He tilts his head hopefully, “Do you feel better now?”

I turn to my uninjured side, pulling the covers over my head, “Fuck off.”

I hear his quiet response of, “Okay,” before the door gently clicks closed.

Only moments later, he reappears with a plate of pancakes and a glass water, which he sets down on the nightstand next to me. I glare at him, making full eye contact as I swipe the glass onto the floor like a petulant cat. I immediately regret doing so as the glass makes a loud shattering sound, spilling water, ice, and glass everywhere. I flinch and start shaking as less than pleasant memories from my childhood resurface, triggered by the breaking glass.

Ren reassures me as though I had not fully intentionally broken it, “It’s okay, I’ll clean it up, just don’t walk over here.”

I scrutinize his movements as he returns with a towel and broom, cleaning the mess. The worst part is that he doesn’t seem angry, not even irritated. When he catches me staring at him he just flashes a smile. I fully expected to die at his hands right then, and he’s smiling?

When he finishes, he asks, “Anything else I can do for you?”

Coming from anyone else, that would’ve sounded sarcastic as hell, but he genuinely meant it. I stare at him for a long moment before speaking, “I don’t understand you.”

He shifts his weight from side to side, “What do you mean?”

I pause, considering, “Take your contacts out.”

He picks at his cardigan sleeve, “What contacts?”

I glare, “Do you really think I’m that fucking stupid?”

He stutters, “N- No, sorry, I just- force of habit I guess.”

I nod, “We’re past this soft persona, aren’t we? All bets are off, you went far enough to kidnap me, so I imagine I won’t be leaving anytime soon. Might as well drop the act, yeah? Not like I can break up with you now.”

He shakes his head, “I still want you to be happy Angel, if dressing and acting like this makes you feel more comfortable, then that’s what I’m going to do.”

I glare, “It doesn’t, it sickens me. Stop it.”

He seems taken aback, “Wha- What would you rather have me to do?”

I shake my head, “Goddamnit Ren, just stop pretending. Stop pretending to be someone we both know you aren’t. Y’know, I always suspected, just never wanted to confront you. I didn’t think I could take the betrayal if I was right.” I scoff, “Turns out I don’t have to figure out whether I can or not since I don’t have a choice. Never did, right? This was the only possible conclusion, no matter what I did, the only difference was whether I was here willingly or not.”

Ren avoids my eyes, “I’m sorry.”

I smile at him, speaking in a saccharine voice, “Oh Ren, my love, no you’re not. We wouldn’t be here if you were. Now stop treating me like I’m dumb. You know me far better than you let on, right? If that’s really what you think of me, I’ll be hurt darling.”

Despite my biting, sarcastic tone, Ren’s face still reddens at the terms of endearment, “Angel, I really don’t know what you want me to do, I am who I am, but I’ll change what you want me to change. Just tell me what to change and I will.”

I sigh heavily, pinching the bridge of my nose, “Alright, since you keep acting like you have no fucking free will or personality beyond being obsessed with me, I’ll give you the orders you seem to want so desperately. 1. Take out your colored contacts, 2. Put your piercings back in, 3. Stop covering up your tattoos, I can obviously see them, you’re not slick. Oh and 4. Just fully get rid of the pounds of concealer you wear all the time, it makes me uncomfortable just seeing it, much less having it on. Those are currently the easiest things you’re using to manipulate my opinion of you, but I have plenty more theories.”

Ren hesitates, scratching his jaw uncomfortably, “But- but you prefer-”

I throw my hands in the air, “And stop stuttering, I find it incredibly hard to believe that you genuinely have a stutter. And if you do- well, guess I’m an asshole. The point is you’ve gone far beyond the point where pretending to be my type will appease me. If you start being honest with me now, you might be able to regain a sliver of my trust, but if you keep being deceptive and manipulative – keep in mind I acted oblivious for most of our relationship – all I’m going to do is make your life a living hell. I’m sure I can get you disillusioned with me pretty damn quick.”

Ren smiles fondly at me, “I assure you, you can’t. But feel free to try if that’s what you want.”

I scoff, “Sure, I’ll remind you of that when you snap on me. Only took two months last time, bet I can at least halve that this time around. Also remember that I have next to nothing I actually care about and have withstood psychological and physical harassment for years at a time, so you’re not special, and you will not fucking break me.”

I see anger build behind his eyes as I speak and feel the familiar dread rise in my chest equally, but steel myself against it. I’ve dealt with worse, and I’m tired of being the victim. I will die before I’m chained up again. I hold onto as much determination and righteous fury as I can muster, preparing for anything he can throw at me.

But then he steps toward me, and suddenly I can’t move. It’s like with him all over again, I talk big to get him to back off, but then it backfires, and I just freeze, cowering in a corner and waiting for it to be over. My fists clench the sheets as I will myself to do something, anything. But I don’t, I can’t, helplessly watching as the tall figure looms ever closer, somehow not any less intimidating despite the pastel persona.

He reaches out a hand towards my face and I watch it closely, heart beating faster the closer it gets. Fuck fuck fuck, what do I do? I could bite him, but that would just make him angrier, I could run away, but he’d catch me easily. All I can do is glare and try to hide my shaking as much as possible. So I just sit and wait for the inevitable.

But when his hand reaches me, it’s gentle. Barely grazing my cheek with his knuckles before carefully cupping my face in his hands and guiding it to face his. I see only warmth in his eyes, empathy and understanding combined with an all-encompassing devotion I had never experienced before. Or maybe I had, it felt so distantly familiar…

His voice is as gentle as his touch, but somehow carries more weight, “My angel, I have never, ever, wanted to break you. The only thing I have ever wanted is to be by your side, to support you and make you happy for as long as I am able. I’d sooner break myself than hurt you in the slightest. All I ask is to stay with you and I will become anything you could ever want. I am yours, completely and unconditionally, forever.”

I stare at him in shock as he plants a light kiss on the top of my head and leaves with one last lingering glance behind him. As soon as he closes the door I slump over, my heart racing. Holy fuck, what was that? He was… kind. Creepy and overly devoted, sure, but words don’t mean all that much anyway, I’m sure he won’t be able to keep that up for long. More importantly, he genuinely doesn’t seem to want to hurt me. I honestly can’t believe he didn’t hit me. Even after I broke the- ugh shit, and I was so rude too, now I feel bad.

Wait no- he literally kidnapped me. He’s crazy. Why would he even act so obsessed with me, I didn’t do anything? Does he think it’ll get me to drop my guard? Or maybe… what had he said before? I can’t let you go again, not now that I finally have you? Something like that, right? How long has he been stalking me? What happened before? No, it doesn’t matter, I need to figure out how to get out, or just contact someone. How closely is he monitoring me?

I look up and around the room, looking for cameras. I saw a few suspicious places, but it would probably be better if he didn’t know that I knew they were there, so I couldn’t directly inspect them. Instead, I walk over to the closet, stepping inside and closing the door behind me before crouching in the far corner. As usual, it was a very comforting sensation, the walls of the closet around me as I felt invisible in the dark. A helpful quality.

But it wasn’t long before I heard the door to my room open and footsteps immediately approach my hiding place. So there are cameras, knew it. Light floods the closet and I flinch away from it. Outlined in the light I see Ren, crouching to my level.

He looks concerned, “Why are you in here, Angel?”

I drop my head down to rest face-down on my knees that were drawn up to my chest, “Cause I can. You gonna drag me out like he did?”

His eyebrows lower dangerously, “Like who did?”

I scoff, “Surprised you don’t already know. Guess you didn’t stalk me until after I turned 16 then. Either that or you weren’t very good at it.”

Ren doesn’t respond to that, instead turning and sitting at the opposite end of the closet with me. As my eyes adjust to the light, I see that he actually listened to me. His eyes were the same as that night, and he had two sparkling silver spikes below his lips. He had changed from his usual jeans and double sweater combo to the grey sweatpants and dark green long-sleeve shirt he wore the first time I stayed over at his place. His hair was pulled back into a small ponytail, showing the piercings in his ears as well. He looked self-conscious… and hot. I shake my head, Shut up, no, not the goddamn time.

All of a sudden, I notice something on his neck, “Holy fuck.”

He immediately responds, “What? What’s wrong?”

I crawl slightly toward him, squinting to make sure I saw it properly, “…When on earth did you get my name tattooed on your throat?”

He hesitates, touching the tattoo, or perhaps trying to cover it, “Uh… I dunno, recently.” He sounds defensive, “You told me to get rid of the concealer.”

I shift within arm’s length, “I did, thank you. I do genuinely appreciate you listening to me. But define recently. It’s completely healed, so clearly not that recent.” I reach out, slightly brushing the skin with my thumb to check the texture, confirming, “Yeah, that’s gotta be at least two months old.” I smirk, pulling back slightly, “You’d think I’m the yandere, claiming you like that.”

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