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transgamerthoughts · 8 months ago

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Abandon All Delusions Of Control

this is another cross-post. which is funny because I've paid for a domain name redirect to my tumblr since like 2016.. i never know what site is gonna explode these days. less people follow me here than anywhere but this write ups been passed around so...

I've been playing Dragon's Dogma 2 and while I'd love to talk about gameplay or interesting moments, the game's found itself something of a cultural lightning rod. It is a game with many friction points arising in a cultural moment where gamers are, perhaps more than ever, convinced that "consumers" are kings.

Dragon's Dogma 2 is not readily "solvable" and you can't min-max it. You will make mistakes. You will be scraped and bruised and scarred. Pain is sometimes the only bridge that can take us wher ewe need to go. And gaming culture, fed the lie of mastery and player importance, does not understand that scars can be beautiful. I love this game. I think it's a miracle it came out at all.

I also think in spite of the success it's found… that 2024 might be the worst possible year for it to have released.

Let's ramble about it..

It's easy to feel like Hideaki Itsuno and his team miscalculated the amount of friction that players are willing to endure and while I don't think that's true (he didn't miscalculate moreso stick to his particular vision) it certainly appears that we've reached a point in gaming where players, glutted on convenience, don't really know what to do when robbed of it. I've heard folks complain that they can't sprint everywhere or else balk learning that ferrystones required for fast travel cost 10,000 gold as if these shatter DD2 into pieces. I'm vaguely sympathetic to these concerns but at the same time they seem to spring entirely from a lack of understanding of the game's design goals. Much like how folks demanding a traditionally structured RPG narrative from an Octopath game misunderstand what that team is trying to do, players asking to sprint through the world or teleport with ease fundamentally misunderstand what Dragon's Dogma wants. The world is not a wrapper for a story. It is the story. Dragon's Dogma is a story factory whose various textures create unprecedented triumphs and memorable failure.

It is crucial to the experience to allow both of those to occur and live with whatever follows.

I'm always cautious of talking like this because it can come off as smug or superior but I think ultimately that's the truth of the matter here. This was not a well-played franchise before now and even if it's a AAA title, there's a way in which this game is meant to elide most AAA open world trends. You are expected to traverse. If you want relatively cheap and faster travel, you're meant to find an oxcart and pay the (quite modest) fee to move between trade hubs much like you would pay for a silt strider in Morrowind. Even if you do this, you could be ambushed on the road and in the worst case the ox pulling the cart can be killed. Something being "possible" in a game doesn't always mean it is intentional but Dragon's Dogma continually undercuts the player's ability to avoid long treks. Portcrystals, which act as fast travel destinations, are limited and ferry stones (while not prohibitively expensive compared to weapons and armor) are juuust expensive enough that you need to consider if the expense is worthwhile. Once is happenstance. Multiple times is a pattern. And the pattern in Dragon's Dogma is to disincentivize easy travel. It screams of intent.

Something I could not have imagined playing games growing up is the ways in which even a decade (or two) could lead to radically different attitudes on what games should provide. That's an audience issue to an extent but it's also something games have brought upon themselves. The "language" of an open world game has been solidified through years climbable towers, mini-map marked caves, and options to zip around worlds. When a game deviates from that language, the change is more noticeable than ever.

Hell, even Elden Ring (perhaps the closest modern relative to Dragon's Dogma) allows you to warp between bonfires and gives you a steed to ride. But that's also a much larger game! DD2 is not a large game and the story is not long. Yes, you can spend untold hours wandering about into nooks and crannies but a trek from one end of the world to another is still significantly shorter than bounding through most open worlds and a run through the critical path reveals a speedy game. Not as speedy as the first but brisk by genre standards.

exploration is the glue that binds the combat and progression system in place. Upgrading armor and weapons requires seeking out specific materials and fighting certain monsters. Gathering the funds for big purchases in shops mostly comes from selling your excess monster parts. The entire game hinges on the idea of long expeditions where you accrue materials and supplies on the road and then invest that horde one way or another once you return to town. It's not simply a matter of mood and tone for you to trek throughout the world without ease. The gameplay loop is built around it.

There's another complicating factor that I'm less interested in diving into and it's the presence of certain microtransactions at launch. Principally I'm against MTX in single players games, particularly conveniences of which most of DD2's microtransactions are. But I also think there's been a fundamental misunderstanding of what many of these are. Among the biggest things I've heard (repeatedly!) is that you can pay real life money for fast travel but that's not true. You can buy a single portcrystal offering you one more potential location to warp to. It's a one-time purchase and the only travel convenience offered. This has transformed, partly because of people's lack of familiarity with Dragon's Dogma's mechanics, into a claim that you can pay over and over to teleport around. I think that assumption reveals more about the general audience than anything else.

I think it is worth entertaining a question: does the existence of this extra port crystal signify a compromising of the game's goals regarding travel? That's not a discussion that folks seem to be interested in having—instead opting for more emotional and reactionary panicking—but it is the most interesting question. On face the answer is yes and that raises the follow up question of whether or not the developers had knowledge this convenience (though one-off) would be offered to players. If so, did that knowledge affect how they designed the game? Even slightly? It seems rather clear to me that these purchases are a publisher decision; there's nothing in the game's design that suggest the dev team wants players to have access to an extra portcrystal. As we've established it's quite the opposite!

They want you to haul your fucking ass around and get jumped by goblins, buddy.

Which is many words to say that as much as I care about microtransactions from a consumer standpoint, the way in which they undermine Dragon's Dogma 2's goals is a fair reminder of the ways in which they hurt developers. Ultimately, I do think that these purchases are ignorable and in that sense (combined with the misinformation surrounding them) I'm a little burned by the consumer-minded discussion. Doubly so because of the way it feels, at least in part, tied into a certain kind of rhetoric that's been on the rise lately. Instead, I find myself drawn to the question of the damage they do the devs and if more onerous plans actually would force their hands into undercutting portions of their own designs. The shift of many series into live-service chasing suggest so but even as I entertain these thoughts I don't get the sense that Itsuno and his team were forced to reshape their game world to encourage these microtransactions. The world is as they want.

If it wasn't, they wouldn't make it so failing to act quickly in a quest to find a missing kid stolen by wolves could end with you being too late. They wouldn't make it so buying goods from an Elven shop without an interpreter was a hassle. It's present in Every Damn Thing!

More interesting to consider is why this particular game became such a lightning rod of passion when I'm going to assume that most people caught up in the discussion have no particular fealty to the series. The answer is a combination of factors but there's something about the genre that ignites the panic we're seeing as much as the culture moment we're in. When people try to explain that these MTX purchases are not needed, it's confused for approval of their inclusion but that's not something we need to grant. I don't think anyone wants these things here and when they say "you don't need them" they are referring to the more complex thought that the game is better played without them. But this is not heard because the idea that you'd want to opt into friction and discomfort is not something that the general audience is likely to understand. They're wired against it. They crave ease.

not everyone, mind you. DD2's enjoyed a lot of excited reactions (there's tons of folks who like this game as it is and are happily playing it) but it has faced plenty of folks railing against "bad" design choices but the fact remains that those "bad" choices were intentional.

I'm writing about this stuff instead of, say, the wild journey I took solving one of the Sphinx's riddles because the immediately interesting thing about Dragon's Dogma 2 has been what it's become as a cultural object. It is a game suffering from success. Never designed for a general audience or modern standards but thrust into their hands due to Capcom's ongoing renaissance. Dragon's Dogma is a fine game whose cult status is well earned but the reason DD2 garnered this attention (and therefore becomes a hot-topic game) has as much to do with Capcom's ongoing success rate as anything else. In some ways, it actually IS a good time to release a game like Dragon's Dogma 2. There's certainly a curiousity in place. Partly borne of goodwill and also from folks' genuine desire to try something new.

and yet, we're in a odd moment in games. consumer rights lanaguge, having been fundamentally misunderstood and reconfigured by gamers as a rhetoric for justifying their purchase habits (I'm paying the money! why can't the game do exactly as I demand!?) has stifled many people's ability to have imaginative interpretations of gameplay mechanics. they don't ask "what is this thing doing as a storytelling device" (which mechanics are!) and rather default to "what is this thing doing to me and my FUN and my TIME". which are not bad questions but they also misunderstand the possibility space games have to offer. While we can attribute some of the objections that has arisen to players' thoughts about genre itself and the way in which Dragon's Dogma positions friction as a key gameplay pillar, the fact of the matter is that we would not be having such spirited discussion about these things in, say, 2017. not that things were great back then, but I think the audience is worse now in many, many ways. sarcastically? I blame Game Design YouTube.

Even if there were no microtransactions, we'd still be having a degree of Discourse thanks to a key game mechanic: Dragonplague. It is a disease that can afflict your Pawn companions which initially causes them to get mouthy and start to disobey orders. If you notice these signs (alongside ominous glowing eyes) then your Pawn has been infected and you're expected to dismiss them back to the Rift where that infection can spread to another player. The game gives a pop up to the player explaining this the first time they encounter the disease. However, some players have ignored that warning and found a dire consequence: an untreated Pawn can, when the player rests at an inn, go on an overnight rampage that kills the majority of NPCs in whatever settlement they are in. This includes plot-important characters. The reaction's been intense. Reddit always sucks but man… just look…

I understand some of the ire. It's a drastic shift from your pawn being a bit ornery to instantly killing an entire city. On the other hand, the game does warn of potentially dire consequences if a Pawn's sickness is ignored. Players have simply underestimated the scale of that consequence. Surely no major RPG would mass murder important characters and break questlines! We're in post Oblivion/Skyrim world. Important NPCs are essential and cannot be killed, right? Well, wrong and this is another way in which Dragon's Dogma chases after the legacy of a game like Morrowind more than than it adapts current open world trends. This is a world where things can break and the developers have decided that they are okay with it breaking in a very drastic way. It's hard to think of anything comparable in a contemporary game. We don't really do this kind of thing anymore.

The result has been panic and a spread of information both helpful and hopelessly speculative. Is your game ruined? Well, maybe. There is an item you can find which allows for mass resurrection but that's gonna require some questing. But some players also say that you can wait a while and the game will eventually reset back to the pre-murder status quo. What's true? Hard to know. Dragon's Dogma doesn't show all of its cards and won't always explain itself. We know entire cities can be killed. We know that individual characters can be revived in the city morgue or else the settlement restored (mostly) with a special item. Dragonplague is detectable and the worst case scenario is, to some extent or another, something that the player can ameliorate. Those are facts but they don't really matter.

That's because players issue (panick? hysteria?) with dragonplague is as much to do with what it represents as what it does. Players are used to the notion of game worlds being spaces where they get to determine every state of affair. They are, as I've suggested before, eager to play the tyrant. Eager to enact whatever violences or charities that might strike their fancy. They do this with the expectation that they will be rewarded for the latter but face no consequences for the former. Dragonplague argues otherwise. No, it says, this world is also one that belongs to the developers and they are more than fine with heaping dire consequences on players. Before the dragonplague's consequences were known, players were running around the world killing NPCs in cities because it would stabilize the framerate. They're fine with mass murder on their own terms. they love it!

This is made more clear when we look at how Dragon's Dogma handles saving the game. While there are autosaves between battles, players are expected to rest at inns to save their game. This costs some gold, which is a hassle, but the bigger "issue" is that they only have one save slot. Which means that save scumming is not entirely feasible though not impossible with a bit of planning. What it does mean, however, is that the game is saved when a dragonplague attack happens. you have to rest at an inn for this to trigger. which saves the game. They cannot roll back the clock. The tragedy becomes a fact. It's not the only time Dragon's Dogma does this. For instance, players can come into possession of a special arrow that can slay anything. When used, the game saves. Much like how players are given a warning about dragonplague, they're warned before using this arrow: don't miss.

If you do? that's a real shame. The depth of this consequence is uncommon in today's gaming landscape. Games are mostly frivolous and save data is the amber from which players suck crystallized potentialities. Don't like what happened? No worries. Slide into your files and find the frozen world which suits your proclivities. You are God. In Dragon's Dogma, you are not god. The threads of prophecy can be severed and you must persist in the doomed world that's been created. The mere suggestion is an affront. The fact that Dragon's Dogma has the stones to commit to the bit in 2024 is essentially a miracle.

It's easy to boil everything I'm saying down to "Dragon's Dogma is not afraid to be rude to the player" but that doesn't capture the spirit of the design. It invites players to go on a hike. It makes no attempt to hide that the hike is difficult. But that's the extent of it. It offers little guidance on the path, doesn't check if you're a skilled enough hiker. Your decision to go on the hike is taken as proof of your acceptance of the fact that you might fall down.

This is not unique to Dragon's Dogma. In fact, this is part of the appeal (philosophically) of a game like Elden Ring. The difference being that even FromSofts much-lauded gamer gauntlets (excepting perhaps Sekiro, conincidentally their best work) offer more ways to adjust and fix the world state to the player's liking. Even the darling of difficulty will offering you a hand when you fall. Dragon's Dogma is not so eager to do so. In a decade where convenience is king for video games, that represents both a keen understanding of its lineages and a shocking affront to accepted norms and expectations.

The core of Dragon's Dogma, the very defining characteristics that earned it cult status, are the same things that have caused these modern tensions. It is both a franchise utterly consistent in its design priorities and entirely out of touch with the modern audience. Dragon's Dogma 2 has come into prominence during a time where imaginative interpretation of mechanics is at an all time low and calls for "consumer" gratification are taken as truisms. It is a game entirely at odds with the YouTube ecosystem and the very things that give it allure are the tools that have turned it into a debated object.

This flashpoint of discussion is proof of Dragon Dogma 2's design potency. It's also a sign of the damage that modern design trends have done to games as whole and the ongoing fallout that's come from gamers learning design concepts without really understanding what designing a game entails. And, uh… I dunno respond to that or how to end this. That's both very cool but it also bums me out. Dragon's Dogma 2 is a remarkably confident game but games are long beyond the point of admiring a thing for being honest.

#dragon's dogma 2 #games criticism

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markwritf · 2 months ago

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⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ˚｡ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ vampire au

· cas x kyuhyun x mino · minho’s life was consumed by a face he endlessly painted, a dream made flesh. kyuhyun, tormented by envy, watched as minho’s obsession came to life in cas. for minho, cas was the embodiment of a long-held passion. kyuhyun, caught between desire and jealousy, struggled as minho’s dream unfolded before him.

It was never a coincidence; it couldn’t be one. For years, wandering through the realms of humanity, making contact with a human more intimately than merely drinking their blood was a task that demanded much of Song's energy — an unnecessary energy, according to him. Yet, someone as special and strong as he was, he had a visceral need to engage in activities beyond the endless paintings he had been creating for centuries. Minho could no longer endure the cold, which only ceased when he drank the blood of others, and even then, it was so exhausting, and he wasn't quite sure why. It had been years since Minho had genuinely connected with a human because, otherwise, Kyuhyun was the only vampire who had even minimal intimacy with the younger one, an intimacy built at great cost and with many reasons for them not to be so close. Minho was highly cared for by his clan because he was promised to be one of the strongest and most successful in terms of power. However, in Cho's opinion, Minho was useless, more specifically, a useless being that evoked both pity and envy in him. Kyuhyun wanted to be treated like him, to have the respect that spoiled child received wherever he went; he wanted to usurp Minho. But at the same time, his heart ached so much upon seeing his face that it made Kyuhyun think that perhaps that was Minho's power after all.

Minho was, once again, lost in his drawings and reveries when Kyuhyun entered his room, hugging him from behind, sliding his arms over Minho's bare chest.

"Busy?" he asked, his lips extremely close to Minho's neck.

"He came to my mind again... This person..." Minho said, his voice almost sighing, nearly lost in Kyuhyun once again, staring at his painting in front of him.

Some years ago, more precisely twenty-two years ago, Minho began dreaming of a person frequently, and it became an obsession for him for a long time. At that very moment, they were surrounded by paintings of the same person with the same characteristics: the medium-length hair, the glasses, and the lips adorned the room meticulously, from frames, torn notebook pages, to walls... It was desperate to enter there.

"I've told you, this person only exists in your head, Minho."

"I don't think like that anymore."

"Why not?" he questioned, sitting on one of Minho's legs, looking at him.

"There are too many... coincidences..."

"What?"

"The features. They are always the same."

Kyuhyun didn't understand, but Minho wasn't talking about the physical features of that person; he was referring to his strokes. They were always the same, everything was so detailed, as if they had lived that life before and he couldn't remember.

“Ah~ I’m tired, Minho,” Kyuhyun complained, kind of exhausted from hearing him talk like that.

“You go rest, I’ll go out.”

“Where?”

He didn’t reply.

“Your mom will be mad at me; please don’t go too far.”

He didn’t reply.

Minho disliked the idea of doubt cast upon him, as if he were going insane, even if he truly was. He wanted to shut off his brain for just a second, but it was impossible. It hurt. It hurt deeply.

It was almost a physiological need to be close to something that at least reminded him of that person.

That person.

The chains echoed through the room while Minho was sitting on some type of throne, Kyuhyun by his side, sitting on the armrest. The screams were like a sweet delicacy that they didn’t know yet, but Minho was nervous. Anyone could feel it in the air.

It had been two days since they found that person, alive, living on the south side of their city. It was kind of impressive to see how much time it took to find her. Twenty-two years for her face to look exactly like what Minho would see every time he closed his eyes. Kyuhyun, on the other hand, was really pissed. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was mad at Minho finally having that someone who could indulge his passion and feelings.

Kyuhyun was jealous. That’s all.

— Why do you look so happy? — Kyuhyun said, his hand-fan blowing his face.

— What are you talking about? I’ve waited for this moment for years!

— I just think you shouldn't get so excited about something so stupid.

— Stupid? I don’t think you get what’s happening right now.

— Of course I understand! I've been listening to you talk about this person for years and you don’t even know who they are! Seriously, what is your problem?!

Kyuhyun almost didn’t have the chance to finish speaking because the room was invaded by the servants of that community pushing a wooden board, delicately decorated with a person, their arms and legs stretched and handcuffed against that board.

Minho got stuck.

It was all exactly as he knew it to be, and yet it was a surprise. The face, the hair, the body. Everything was exactly the way he wanted, as always.

He got up, walking towards the art, being able to touch him for the first time.

— It is such a pleasure to meet you… I’m sorry that you can’t say anything right now…

Cas was squirming under the strings, trying to get himself out purely out of desperation. Minho watched it patiently, as if his life depended on it. While this all happened, Kyuhyun was at the back, with some type of anger or equal desperation while watching the scene, which made him get up and walk towards them, still silently.

— Calm yourself down, I won’t do anything to you, darling.. — Minho touched Cas’s cheeks, caressing them. — I adore you more than you think, darling, you don’t have to worry, I won’t hurt you.

— Why are you treating this human like a king, Minho?

— Kyuhyun, you’re really getting on my nerves right now… — He said, dragging Cas to his realm where all of his art and paintings were. — … Of everyone in the world, I thought you would understand how important this is to me.

— Hm…

— Hm..? — He mimicked. Cas was looking everywhere for some place that didn’t have his face painted on it. It was impossible. — Darling, you’ll be there and I'll paint you one more time, looking at you. After that we’ll treat you so right… I promise you.

— Can I do something?

— You can… Help me with the expressions, please.

— I thought you wouldn’t want me to play with your toy just yet. — Kyuhyun said, walking around the scene, his hand fan traveling over Cas’s body, which immediately became sensitized. His eyes became red with the proximity, and suddenly a huge desire rose in Kyuhyun, as if Minho was controlling him to want more and more from the other boy. — Oh, fuck…

— Go for it, you’re allowed.

— By you? — Kyuhyun couldn’t take his eyes off Cas.

— She’s mine now. So, yes.

Kyuhyun didn't need another warning. In fact, it was quite simple, but the feeling of playing with someone you didn't know, better yet, who didn't belong to you, was divine. His hands let go of the hand fan, throwing it away so he could caress the boy's chest, looking at Minho as if asking for approval to continue, receiving a simple look from the boy who was drawing, walking slowly to a good spot so he could bite his neck, with an absurd slowness, wanting to stay there forever. Minho had made him feel like that moment was the best moment of his life, and Kyu hated when he manipulated him like that, but this time, it was more than bearable. It was good. It was amazing. Cas's blood tasted like something he had tasted a long time ago, which he didn't remember well until that moment.

Cas passed out.

Kyuhyun kissed him there.

Minho finished his painting, finally completing his collection of desires, ready for starting the new part of his process.

#✧･ﾟ| to cas

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aroacesafeplaceforall · 1 year ago

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Hi, hello! I have very recently realised I'm on the aro and ace spectrums and I'd like to scream a bit into the void about my experience. It's been confusing and difficult to understand, it took me literal years and and actual relationship to come to terms with it (it didn't help the fact I enjoy the concept of romance, in fiction, and I consume some kinds of erotic contents).

This will probably be long, I'm sorry, synthesis is not my strongest skill and it's the first time I try and piece this all together.

I've quietly being questioning for a long time, quietly because I tried SO hard not to think about the voice at the back of my head whispering something wasn't ok.

I always identified as lesbian but it never felt quite right. It was always a "if I have to choose between men and women then I'll choose women, they are prettier" I never really felt sexual attraction, it's something I understood very recently. Looking at women or men gives me nothing. I don't want to date them nor to have sex with them just because I think they are pretty and it shocked me to understand people actually do feel that way, that's not just some exaggeration you see in films. Also I had some people complaining to me they didn't get laid in months (or more) and I always felt "???? And? Can't you masturbate? Isn't it basically the same?" and apparently it's not. It baffled me to realise it.

I've been in a romantic relationship for 2+ years, it started well I guess but the more time passed the more I felt suffocating. My partner required and (I think rightfully so) demanded a lot of romantic attentions, but for me it was exhausting. I tried and tried to give them what they asked, I did my best but never quite managed to give what was required of me and at the same time my requests to have more space and less romantic interactions where met with confusion because "were together" and the romanticism was expected. Sleeping together (non sexual), holding hands, kissing, were all expected of me and I felt so SO wrong for not wanting or needing any of that. I realized I felt deep affection (I don't know a good english word for what I actually feel) for my partner but not actual love. I know for sure it was not romantic love. And again I felt wrong. I felt ashamed and guilty for not reciprocating. I ended the relationship and started a self discovery journey that lasted a year or so.

I ended up here after realising I may be aromantic and it blew my mind.

I felt seen and understood, I browsed the links on your pinned and I couldn't believe it when I actually found labels that felt right for the first time. I'm not exaggerating when I say I cried. I'm not alone in what I experience and I feel right for the first time in a loooong time. I finally make sense to myself and I'm at peace.

So, after all this long rambling, thank you for your blog and your pinned, for your posts and the awareness you're spreading, it helped me and I'm sure it will help many others!

I wish the best to you and everyone stumbling upon this post 💚

Hey Anon! Sorry for the late reply, tumblr hates me rn.

I have to say I nearly cried reading this, holy fudge anon. You are amazing and you've done so much. I'm so so so proud and happy for you. You're finding yourself and thats about the bravest and most amazing thing anyone can do <3

Stay safe Anon, and remember you are always valid

#asks #best #save #ask #best asks #aromantic #aro #aro pride

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bacarasbabe · 1 year ago

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Hello hello my love, may I please ask about 21, 73 and 76? x

Hello my beloved 💕 I'm so sorry for the late response. I've started answering you multiple times but irl things kept getting in the way and I took a small break from here! Really, I just wanted to give you a serious answer that I took my time with instead of something rushed and not very well thought out. I hope you can forgive me darling.

21 - Do you prefer writing chaptered fics or one-shots?

I don't have very many chaptered fics but as I've been growing and evolving in my writing style I think I've begun to gravitate towords chaptered fics. I find a lot of joy in developing plotlines and characters through multiple chapters. It's an interesting and fun challenge to face, but one-shots will always hold a special place in my heart.

73 - What do you tend to get complimented on the most about your writing?

Hmm, this was interesting to disect but I think I get complemented on my aestetics the most lol.

76 - How do you deal with writing pressure, whether internal or external?

Fyi, I've written the response to this question like five different times now. I think I've settled on an okay respose, but I wanted to take the time to get this right. I know so many fic writers and creators deal with stress, and not all of us come out the other side as creators still. While I'm unsure if my insights will be helpful to you, I hope you can find something valuable in my perspective.

(Full answer under the cut bc it's long.)

We've previously discussed the unique frustrations that fic writers face, particularly on this website. The constant barrage of anonymous asks, only inquiring about more content or the release date of the next chapter, the likes without comments or reblogs, and the limited interactions can wear you down over time. I know that I've felt the weight of these pressures and so have so many countless others. There are numerous other aspects I could complain about, but I am actively working on letting go and trying to move past these things.

It can be difficult when, at one point, fic writing felt like an avenue to engage in commentary, discussions, and the social aspects of the community, rather than merely producing content for others to enjoy. The stress and perceived pressure to consistently create began to erode my love for writing, prompting me to step away. I needed to distance myself from everything, and surprisingly, it turned out to be a positive decision. During my break, I created a side blog using a completely different email address, allowing me to enjoy things without feeling the need to hold myself to any standards or obligations. I granted myself permission to consume instead of constantly create, and to enjoy without worry. Taking that break was a significant step for me, enabling me to establish boundaries, which was exactly what I needed. I realized I had been giving too much, rushing through writing instead of savoring the process.

Now, with a story that I hold dear to my heart, I find myself in a place where I can dedicate myself to it and genuinely enjoy the journey. I am completing the story for myself because I genuinely want to, without the burden of writing other fics or constantly trying to entertain followers. Even with this mindset, I must admit that I don't have a comprehensive answer for you. After being away for over a year, gaining a fresh perspective on things helped immensely. Additionally, the words of a cherished mutual we share had a profound impact on me. They expressed, in their own way, that my fics are already complete the moment I posted them. Regardless of any future chapters promised. It's perfectly acceptable if I never post an ending because the audience is not entitled to one.

Dealing with writing pressure, whether it stems from internal expectations or external demands, requires a conscious effort to set boundaries and prioritize personal enjoyment and fulfillment. Taking breaks, gaining perspective, and finding solace in the fact that your creations are already complete can all contribute to a healthier and more enjoyable writing experience. Remember, your writing journey should ultimately be driven by your own passion and desire, rather than solely catering to the expectations of others. I know that this is easier said than done. I know. But hopefully you can take a piece of this and apply it to your own stess.

#fanfic asks

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mdhwrites · 10 months ago

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Do you think you're kind of a hard to please person? Considering you don't think highly of Owl House, Regular Show, Steven Universe, MLP Friendship is Magic season 4 onward, Gravity Falls, Helluva Boss, and Kim Possible as much as other people do, that does give the impression you're hard to please.

It's not an unfair assessment. The thing is that I definitely am a bit harder to please but I think the bigger issue is that I'm hard to hook. It's hard to make me bother continuing with a show and I can lose interest if it stops matching what I want from it or I'm just not interested in the direction it's going. My Hero Academia S3 was that where I still thought the show was definitely good but the promise of more villains and focusing on them more just had me go "I'm good" because I found them the least interesting part of the show. I liked the Academia more. (Helluva Boss is in here though from the sounds of it... I mean, that's a divisive show for a reason. Also, for anyone curious: I don't have Amazon Prime so I'm not going to hunt down Hazbin right now.)

A LOOOOOT more shows sit in that category than in me actively disliking them. Steven Universe and Gravity Falls are both shows I can absolutely see the possibility in but just don't want to bother watching myself (throw Adventure Time in that pile, though I've liked everything I've seen of it.) Regular Show is also in a place for episodic stuff where I'd never go out of my way to watch it but never complain seeing it as while it's not for me, I actually do think it's good. It's honestly probably one of the best versions of its sort of show out there. It's just not for me. Also Kim Possible could be better than the pilot makes me think and I still think fondly of it, I just didn't decide to commit to a rewatch when I tried (which I could easily see with Danny Phantom too.)

A large part of this is admittedly the problem I've talked about before: I struggle to turn off my brain with scripted content. I really struggle to watch scripted stuff as background noise because I want to take it in properly. Enjoy the craft. I have streams and the like that I enjoy if I just want background noise. That is going to mean that keeping me takes more interest. It's a quirk of how I consume media. *shrug*

But that's also because my brain is always on when watching something. Even with something like Craig of the Creek, I am still evaluating how it's doing things. Mind you, I think that show is amazing because it captures its tone and energy PERFECTLY but even then... I'm still struggling to watch beyond S1 because my brain isn't hooking on it.

My brain doesn't hook on a lot of stuff. Not easily. It's actually really frustrating. So many can move between hyperfixations but it took me like half a decade after I stopped watching MLP to find TOH and I didn't have a hyperfocus between those two. Nothing grabbed me hard enough. The closest were writing sprints when my own idea grabbed me enough and demanded I write.

And I've been trying! Wednesday and My Adventures with Superman were ones I really hoped to have gotten lost in and just... Didn't. Admittedly, Wednesday is just bad mostly. Couldn't tell you as well with MAWS since I mostly have a pacing issue with that one but otherwise really enjoy it.

I'm not impossible to please but also... I don't know what to tell you for how to make my brain happy. That's why I mostly try to be numb against my depression. Keep my brain off because I don't know what it'll do if I wake it up. Almost like there's a reason I don't watch a lot of stuff. *siiiiiiiigh*

#Rambles #Sad #sorry for the vent

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kulemii · 11 months ago

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^^ my past reblog/tags

if you're someone that has read and enjoyed my writing in the past and has come across the things i've reblogged and saw me talking like this and it bothered you, let me just say, if you've never spoken like this toward me or fellow writers then don't take offense to anything i've had to say. but these feelings are some that have built up over a long period of time.

when i tell you people are so, so very cruel and unfair to fandom writers (sure, they are to artists too but i'm talking about writers rn). they "consume" what we make, barely even offer out a thank you when they like it and DEMAND more. then, have the audacity to complain that it didn't cater to THEIR specific needs to the T??? do you understand how fucking frustrating it gets? do people not realize how much time and/or effort goes into writing xreader shit?

having to be mindful of everything all the time so that it's as relateable as it can be (within reason). not mentioning skintone, not mentioning hair, not mentioning weight, not mentioning eye color, trying to avoid mentions of height, anything that's a descriptor- you have to avoid that because you have no idea who's reading, unless you have a full personality reader and even then, you have to be careful of how much personality you give them because people will whine that they're not Like That.

Then, there's gender or sexuality, if you're not deadset on writing for one, another or other-- and god forbid you are because someone will be pissed that you aren't writing for them even though there's probably another writer that is (that could likely nail it better). Or say, you're just not great at writing from one perspective and not very confident but you'll still give it a shot because you want to make another demographic happy-- buuut you get something wrong and whoops🤗- you've pissed them off and now~ you suddenly HATE whatever group you just tried to appease! and wow, congratulations! you're -phobic or -ist of some kind~! 👏🏾

You also, have to be cautious of mentioning clothing because "I wouldn't fucking wear that." even though, "bitch me fucking neither" but sometimes, having your fem!reader wear a skirt is just more convienient for the scene.

before someone misconscrues what i'm saying, i'm not saying it's an issue to have to be aware of any of those things to be inclusive for my readers. Once I found what worked for me, I haven't had many issues but I've been mobbed before. I've seen fellow writers get mobbed. It's not fun. It's not fair and it's almost as if people are forgetting THE MOST IMPORTART PART OF ALL OF THIS:

WE'RE DOING THIS SHIT FOR FREE!

no one is paying us money. hell, you aren't even paying us in engagement these days. just demands.

i really wish those people who do all this bitching and whining- who I am certain are doing NO writing would shut the fuck up and butt out. because it getting frustrating as fuck. it's gotten me to the point where i really can't keep my mouth shut anymore.

and AGAIN, if you've read and appreciated any of my work, i appreciate you. you are not who this post is directed at. humbly, if it doesn't apply, let it fly.

#and if you still wanna be offended i mean we can talk about it #but you might not like what i have to say #i wont be a bitch but i will be honest

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leoraannexx · 1 year ago

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i took a long time, sorry

i sincerely apologize to this site for leaving it on hold for so long. I wanted to express so many things but I am yet to have adjusted with the technology nowadays. now, I have my laptop to put in all my thoughts for some release.

my best friend will be leaving in 2 1/2 months going abroad, and i don't think i am ready for another emotional breakdown at the end of this month. it bothers me a lot and makes me question why do the people i love needed to cross borders and pursue new paths without me. i am nearly being literally alone again.

been also doing some charity works on the side, it's very fulfilling but how i wish i get to do it with someone special in my life too. contemplating if i will be going abroad soon or maybe going to search for the love of my life too.

you know, when in two days you're going to be 30, then you are not getting any younger anymore, it's time to make big decisions for my future self.

these days i've been immersing in reading self-help books, actually, it's not really about helping my mental health, it's about empathizing and telling me straight to my face that i have to make a step for me to see the changes in my life unravel in this lifetime.

i love solitude, but how i wish i have someone to be with me in it.

lately, we had a lot of outings with my colleagues, those mini strolling and dinner days make me feel alive at times, not making me think of things like ending my life or so... i really treasure those memories. however, i still feel truly empty on the inside.

in my work, it has always been fulfilling, it's my grounding management to make me feel connected with people and reminding me of my sense of purpose. a lot of changes happened in the workplace (demands getting higher, inflation gets in the way of saving up, mental stress keeps growing because of needing to do counseling with parents as well ..aside from their children doing therapies with me) but those things don't make me depressed, i am just feeling anxious with the thought of being hyperfocused over fixing their problems that it consumes my leisure time and my own time to venture new paths while being a therapist.

i think this is the most random blog post i ever posted, but i find this site my home and i see the changes happening in my life over the decade. making blogs remind me that i have come this far and that i shouldn't waste my life over my thoughts that have no truth to it all.

right now, i am honestly in autopilot, working and earning, doing chores, having some time to go to mall whenever i can, doing shopping when i can and stuff.. all in a repeated cycle. i am not complaining with whatever is happening right now.

i am fully aware that i am just feeling exhausted and that this pre-birthday sadness keeps getting difficult for me to handle. maybe i needed a vacation but how can i do it when i am not even motivated to begin arranging it.

i am doing yoga/ pilates mostly in the mornings, it has been helping me and also doing my best at night to clean my room, organize my things, listen to music, play games on my gadgets just to keep my sanity each day. it is still working.

this is the most honest and vulnerable state i've been, maybe being 30 is really getting emotional in your adulthood. i still think like a child, adhd sucks, rejection sensitivity dysphoria (rsd) sucks, depression sucks, anxiety sucks, panic attacks suck. i hope i don't get much of those after i get 30. i am feeling the need to be strong.

i am leaving this here. hopefully it gets better.

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piracytheorist · 1 year ago

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hey, read your answer about you being an anime only! i promise i'm not trying to pick a fight, but if you're open to discussing this a little: considering it took endo years to get to this point, it's unlikely we'll be able to get a full S3 next year since there's probably not enough manga chapters. will you be reading the manga then? ps: the manga isn't exactly. spoilers. it's the original story, no?

I don't think I'll be reading it, no. I mean, I can't be sure, my resolve may break at some point and I may indulge, but as I've explained why I'm doing it that way, I plan on continuing watching the anime first and then reading the respective manga chapters.

If I may be a little more personal here, this past year I've been stuck on a job that, while not unpleasant or demanding or exhausting in any way, it was far from fulfilling. This job's contract ends at the end of July and if I'm lucky, I may actually get a much more fulfilling job this September and be more proactive in it in general, so I'll have more time filled with stuff I like. Last fall it was Spy x Family that filled a lot of that hole, and I've been stuck all these months without that nor a job I enjoy. So I'm thinking, if I get that job I want, I'll have less unfulfilled time and thus less dependence on the show (not that I'll love the story or characters any less), so it may be easier for me to wait for ten months again for new content.

As for your p.s., by anime-only standards, yes it is a spoiler. If you go to the cinema to watch a film that was inspired by a book, you wouldn't tell someone what happens at the end if you knew they haven't read the book. That's spoilers. The book is still the original story, the film is still an adaptation, but by revealing a part of the story that a film watcher doesn't know, you're spoiling it for them - and no film watcher is obligated to read the whole book and know the whole content just to enjoy the film. And while Spy x Family is quite popular, it's not common knowledge popular. Saying "Jesus dies on the cross and then gets resurrected" isn't a spoiler for the bible or any film inspired by it because it's a millennia-old story that even many non-Christians know.

When it comes to the manga vs anime debate on what's spoilers and what's not, it can get a little tricky cause you have snobs and purists on both sides, which is why I prefer to stay away from the fandom instead of engaging and then complaining about getting spoiled, because I will get spoiled and it will be my fault. My one request is that, if someone reblogs any posts of mine, to not add any details about stuff that happens in manga chapters that haven't been animated. That's all. But no-one is obligated to read or engage with my stuff, a lot don't even see it, I'm not demanding anyone tag their spoilers on their own posts or complaining to those that don't, I recognize my own responsibility in curating my experience and avoiding spoilers and take the necessary measures to do so. So I don't see where's the problem with me, in my personal blog, referring to stuff that hasn't happened in the anime yet as "manga spoilers".

I understand you wanted a discussion, not a fight, but honestly it's a tricky issue, and I'd really really rather not get into the bad side of a purist, whether they're a manga or an anime purist. And such a discussion can be derailed very easily, so while you're welcome to discuss it with me in a civil manner, I will stop it if I feel it can get out of hand.

I'm not mad or upset at you or anything. I'm just a little wary because I know how toxic fandoms can get, especially when they hold some very passionate beliefs about what's "right" and what's "wrong" in the way other people consume fictional media.

#nette speaks #anonymous #ask and ye shall receive

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cookinguptales · 2 years ago

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I don't know if I fully believe in the concept of NYRs but... idk, I do have some things I've been working on for myself, and I guess it's fair enough to call them NYRs. These issues are a work in progress, and I am a process. lmao

[cut for length and so you don't have to scroll through my personal issues if you don't want to!]

My first two NYRs are ones that I've had on my list for many years. You'd think that means that I'm very bad at them, so I have to keep adding them to my to-do list. But actually, I've had a lot of success with them both, which is why I keep them both on there every year as a reminder.

1. Every time I complain about a bad thing, try to find, create, or promote a similar good thing.

This is the one I've had for the longest. Some times I'm better at this than others, but I always find myself renewing my commitment to the idea this time of year. I've struggled with depression for most of my life and I think at heart I'm probably a pessimist. It's very easy for me to get bogged down in negative things, especially when things have been so objectively shitty for everyone the past few years. In my teenage years especially, I had trouble moving at all without tripping over something that made me angry. And anger can be good! Anger can motivate you to demand better. But better things do exist in this world, and the past few years I have tried to funnel my anger into amplifying those things.

So, y'know, every time I complain about a movie I think sucked, I try to recommend a movie I think was pretty good. When I get frustrated at a narrative choice in a piece of media, I try to think about a choice that I think worked better. When I hear about some fresh new atrocity in the news, I try to find at least one good thing that's happening, too, even if that's just in response to that bad thing. (I find that finding charities to support helps me a lot there.) When I feel like there are ugly things everywhere I look, I try to make something beautiful.

I think I often get frustrated with bad things because I feel that things should be better. So the best way to assuage these feelings isn't to just get angry with the bad things. It's to find those better things -- or make them myself.

2. Consume at least one new piece of media every week.

This can be a movie, a book, a tv show, a video game, anything so long as I haven't consumed any of it before. I've tried those movie-a-week things or book-a-week and it's not a bad idea, but I tend to get a little bogged down. I think I've realized over the years that what I really need is a sense of freshness to keep me going. Otherwise I'll just watch WWDITS and play Stardew Valley 1000 times and stagnate a bit. Stagnation is a real problem for me, so I do a lot to try to combat that. I've definitely discovered that a constant stream of fresh new things helps with that, no matter the medium. I try to keep this river flowing, so to speak. And trying new things is fun!

Now onto a couple things that I'd like to work on in the coming year specifically...

3. Use my resources to make myself happy.

I'll preface both of these upcoming sections with the fact that uh. I was raised kind of weird fundie evangelical, and I have found that unlearning some of that shit takes a lifetime. When you're raised to internalize that joy is sinful if it's not in service to God (...we were neocharismatic, so dancing was okay in a charismatic situation) then it's kind of hard to do things just because you enjoy them, especially if they are "wasteful" in any way.

Like I can justify a hobby that is building me in some way, like an academic pursuit or learning a new skill. I spend... a lot of my free time trying to better myself, which is something that probably requires some self-reflection. lmao. I can also justify hobbies that benefit others, like writing someone a story or doing something for a charitable cause. I can even justify a hobby that might make money. But doing things specifically for me just because I enjoy them and they make me happy... that's harder, especially if they use up resources.

Like... I discovered in high school that I liked working with wax. We did batik in one of my art classes and I loved it. I still haven't gotten myself batik materials (I keep thinking "but what would I do with the cloth?") but I have started to dip my toes back into making wax melts. It's cliche, I know, but it's fun. I really enjoy it. I love making new smells and new appearances and getting really creative with it. It makes me feel like a mad scientist, a little bit. But... I mean, it's not a cheap hobby. And it takes up a lot of my actual physical energy -- which, as someone with a lot of chronic illnesses, really is in short supply. So I've felt oddly guilty about it, especially because I know I should be saving more diligently for my accessible bathroom. Like, obviously being able to shower safely is more important than being able to play with wax molds...? But... you have to have joy in your life, too... And that's not a sin.

(Sin is bullshit anyway! But still.)

I've been kind of offsetting the guilt I feel by giving wax melts to others and by kind of making vague-ass plans to maybe sell my excess one day, but like. I need to reframe the way I'm thinking about this endeavor. It's nice if my hobby can bring benefits to those around me (and make back the price of materials maybe) but it doesn't have to. It's enough if creating a weird little laboratory in my basement makes me happy.

The same goes for some other things, too... If I want to spend fifty dollars on materials for cross-stitch, that's okay! If I want to buy myself a ticket to a concert that I'll look forward to all month, that's okay! If I want to take the train up to NYC to see an exhibit and hang out with a friend, that's okay! There's value in joy, even if it's mine! Especially if it's mine!

I want to spend 2023 experimenting with new hobbies and new experiences and new treats for myself. I'd say I deserve them, but deserving has nothing to do with it. I don't have to deserve it, and I don't have to earn it. It's enough to simply enjoy myself, quietly and exuberantly and in service of nothing.

I had a stint in my teenage years where... honestly, my family lost everything. I couch-surfed at a family friend's house for a few years because we didn't have a place to live. I watched my parents cling to a job with a deeply, deeply abusive boss because it was the only way to keep insurance for my medical expenses -- and back then, there were a lot. Hell, I spent several years in there too scared to tell my parents about my symptoms because I knew we couldn't afford a doctor. So... I probably have some issues when it comes to saving and spending money... but the fact of the matter is that there's no point in having money if you're not willing to enjoy it a little bit, and it's not like I'm spending irresponsibly or refusing to share what I have. I save, I donate, I give gifts, I try to make the world better in at least tiny ways. It's okay if I try to make my own life better, too. ;o;

I keep telling myself that, anyway. Maybe this coming year I'll finally be able to make myself believe it. lmao. It's a worthy endeavor.

4. Allow myself both pride and joy in my work.

I'm a good writer! I'm a good editor! I make lovely things! I make people happy! Writing this paragraph is very difficult for me!

Back under point one, when I said "I try to make something beautiful", I initially thought "I make something beautiful" but then I felt bad. Like I was being arrogant or too up my own ass or inflating the quality of my work. But I didn't want to take it out, either, because I do attempt to make lovely things when I see shit. I think it's important to combat horror with joy, no matter what that means to you. So... I compromised and wrote "I try to make something beautiful", and I hope that next year I am mentally healthy enough to be able to write "I make something beautiful."

How do I put this... My parents were always supportive of my endeavors growing up, and they were never stingy with praise when I did something right. This isn't some weird situation where I'm trying to earn praise that never came. It's just that even as a child, I have never been able to internalize praise, which has had the effect of making me feel like I'm never good enough.

Feeling like you're enough is... I mean, I think it's a struggle for a lot of us. I think that's a very human emotion. But I'm coming to terms with the fact that the way I look at praise isn't exactly healthy, and I do think I've come to pinpoint where a lot of this is coming from.

While my parents were always proud of me, there's always been this idea there that praise should be private, and so should pride. You thank someone in private. You do good in private. You praise someone in private. And you never speak of the good you have done.

Like I said, I grew up fundie. I think my parents were, in some ways, rebelling against "false" Christians (a whole other discussion...) who would do good simply to put themselves on a pedestal later, or worse, who would hold it against others or manipulate them with favors. My grandmother is the QUEEN of this, so I see where my mother's feelings came from. So there was always this drive from home to be good silently and without attention, and that you should never accept praise for it.

That combined with the wider teachings of the church, which again, really emphasized humility -- especially in girls, sigh -- and made us "give it to God", so to speak. I don't do good things. God does good things through me. That sort of situation. It's why my grandmother is so upset that both my mother and I write secular fiction. Our gifts came from God and should be used in service of him -- so, as a tool for proselytization and a weapon against non-believers. :') You know the type.

(Side note: no, my mother has never, ever read any of my fiction even though she has begged. No, I would die. I only started reading hers as an adult once she became one of my clients. It's kind of weird how we both decided to write but never let the other read any of it, haha.)

Anyway, my point is that I have a very difficult time accepting praise which means I have a difficult time internalizing praise which means I have a difficult time ever feeling like I have done something worthy of praise, and I also feel like an arrogant asshole whenever I do manage to feel good about my work. This is obviously less than ideal. I've been slowly working un untangling my negative reaction to pride, especially because I don't actually think I'm bad at things. I just... think I'm a bad person when I admit that I'm good at things. It's a process. lmao

I tend to reread nice comments that people have left me when I'm feeling really down on myself. That's why I've been saving kind replies with the "praise" tag. It's partially so people can block it (I... always assume people will not want to see me accepting praise, HMM) but mostly so I can go back and find it later. I have a much easier time allowing other people to praise me than allowing myself to do it. But I also have a hard time believing it...?

I've had some success with telling myself that it's disrespectful to my readers if I don't trust what they say about my work -- like, am I accusing them of lying to me? Of having bad taste? If it's neither of those things, then the praise must be genuine. That's actually helped quite a bit. I'm slowly coming to terms with the fact that I have talent.

But even just writing that last sentence made me wince a little bit! Damn it! It's really hard for me and I'm trying to just... force myself through it. Tell myself that my work is good and I'm not a bad person for acknowledging that. Sometimes saying my work "makes people happy" is easier for me, especially because... I mean, it's probably that in service to others thing again... but it also puts the onus of preference onto them and not me lmao.

But yes. In 2023 I am going to allow myself to linger over praise and maybe even let myself believe it. I am going to tell myself that my writing is good, and no, this is not going to be the fic that I finally fuck up and disappoint everyone. (And if I do write a fic that no one likes, that's okay, too! It's okay to experiment with what I like! It's okay to write something for me and not for others! Joy for my sake!!!) I am good at this and my writing is good and people like it and I kind of like it too and that's okay. It's not perfect, but nothing is. And there's value in it regardless.

I'd stare in the mirror and force myself to look myself in the eye while I tell myself I did a good job and I should feel happy about that but I don't keep mirrors in my house because they creep me out! I have tiny ones in my bathrooms because they came that way but they're not useful. lmao. At least not for gripping the sink at 2 am and forcing yourself into self-appreciation.

(I'm a nice person! I'm smart! I try my best! I try to be patient with people who irritate me! I write nice things! People like me, damn it! ;o;)

4b. I will be open about my charitable donations.

A corollary to 4. Like I said, we were always supposed to be good in private. I have always marked my donations as anonymous when possible. But I had a charity last year have a little pop-up when I did that, and it told me that I may think that donating privately is the honorable thing to do, but that studies show that donating publicly encourages other people to donate as well. It lets your friends and loved ones see you do it, which gives them the idea to do it. It lets strangers see the name of real people on the page, so they don't feel alone and it encourages them to donate as well. And in the case of things like abortion funds, it lessens stigma to vociferously support them.

And I hadn't thought about it that way, honestly. I still won't talk about like... actual dollar amounts... but I do plan to be more open about the charities that I support and how often I support them.

This year I donated to Immigration Equality, Philabundance, Dysautonomia International, HIAS Philadelphia, a few different local community fridge projects, RIP Medical Debt, Feeding Texas, the Native American Disability Law Center, a few local abortion funds, a gofundme to help evacuate disabled Ukrainians, the Nationalities Service Center of Philadelphia, the National Parks Service, RAICES, the Philly Zoo, World Central Kitchen, and various disaster relief charities. (As in, direct response to temporary disaster relief funds.)

If you'd like to know more about any of those organizations, I would be more than happy to give you more information so you can support them as well. They're all causes I believe in, so I want to help get the word out about them however I can, even if uh. Honestly this might be the part of this post that feels the most awkward for me to write. It really goes against everything I've been taught, but I don't want my need for privacy to outweigh their ability to fundraise. : /

5. I will be better about replying to people.

This one feels self-explanatory. :')

That said, I'm gonna go eat dinner now and... not reply to the asks that are in my inbox now.

(THIS IS HOW IT BEGINS...)

aaaanyway yeah those are the five things I'm gonna try to work on in the coming year! None of them are things that can be fixed in a year and none of them are things that will change the world but like. I want to be happier. I want to let myself be happier. I want to be a kind person, a person who is patient with others' faults, and I think I need to start including myself in that.

:')

#personal post #this was more a way for me to organize my thoughts than anything #it's a very very long post and I don't expect any of you to read all of it!#please indulge me and let me post my long personal rambles lmao #LJ is dead and barely anyone uses DW or pillowfort so this is what we've got now!

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tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang · 3 years ago

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Ngl I kinda want some people to drop the manga especially those fans on Twitter that complain about it ON KEN WAKUI’S TWITTER ACCOUNT

Like I saw so many people complain that Senju/Sanzu/Wakasa(???) wasn’t on the cover for volume 26. Like what are you expecting Wakui to do? Change it? People don’t seem to realize that manga isn’t catered to a Western audience, it's catered towards a Japanese audience since, you know, they’re the ones actually buying the volumes. Most of the people complaining aren’t even going to buy the actual physical volumes so why even bother?

And then you have fans that read leaks and then also complain about it on his twitter account. First off, the leaks are illegal and you could have the leaker arrested. Second by the time a chapter drops Wakui is already several chapters ahead. You complaining isn’t going to do anything especially if Japanese fans are okay with what's happening.

People need to realize that just because you consume a piece of media, it doesn’t give you the right to harass an author/mangaka just because you don’t like the direction it’s going. It's just embarrassing and give the fandom a bad name especially since it's a vocal minority

I've never been more glad to not have a twitter account, like people are seriously doing that??? That just screams of entitlement to me, "I don't like this specific thing so change it for everyone!"

I mean it's ok to not like the direction of the manga or to be disappointed about the covers. I have no problem with people voicing these opinions either, I think it's interesting to see the different perspectives. But to harass the author over it and demand it be changed is just wrong. If you hate it that much then just stop reading it? Can you even call yourself a fan of something if you hate everything about it???

#tokyo revengers #tokrev #tokyo rev

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annabtg · 7 days ago

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*cracks knuckles*

Okay, as someone with a long fandom history behind her, I feel compelled to reply to this.

I have participated in awards since I joined my first (non HP) fandom in 2003, as a n00by 15 year old whose English was still a work in progress and with very much no hope at even getting a nomination.

(That fandom, by the way, released the top 5 nominated fics in each category and only had one voting round. I think the Jilyawards releasing ALL nominations for the first round and accepting self-noms is very indicative of their purpose to celebrate and promote all fic, rather than encourage competition.)

The awards are just a fun way to celebrate the fic you have already written and would write anyway. You're meant to read the list of nominees and go boink your friends with a virtual stick and capslock at them that I TOLD YOU YOU WOULD GET A FIC OF THE YEAR NOMINATION!!!! Maybe, hopefully, see your own name on a list and feel a little surge of joy and pride. Read through the nominations and find your new favourite fic. Complain good-naturedly about how it's SO HARD to choose because all the fics are brilliant, or have a clear favourite and cross your fingers it will win. If you've ever, idk, watched sports or something, you must know the feeling.

Personally, anon, I find your attitude rather out of place, especially in a (subset of the greater) fandom that has elevated certain fics to god-tier status, that is looking for the next big fic (I just reblogged a post about it!!!), that sorts by kudos and kudos-to-hits ratio and refuses to read anything under 100 kudos. I don't know if you know me, but those who do will tell you I have made it my mission to comment on everything I read and urge people to comment as well, I participate on commenting and rec lists, I beta for people - all so people can get the encouragement and validation they deserve for engaging with such a demanding, time-consuming, sometimes plain frustrating hobby. There already is an element of competition in all of that, because people be like that, and the same people who will feel crushed for not getting an award nomination will also feel crushed for their fic sitting at 50 kudos for the last 3 years and having zero comments and their posts about it having one (1) reblog and never seeing their work on any rec lists.

This is why I do all that - and I also participate in the awards enthusiastically. I've sent in so many noms I can literally point you to a category where I've sent in ALL THE NOMS SO FAR except for my own story. I don't know if people consider me a big name or a good writer after almost three years of being back in the Jily fandom, but if they do, I promise you it has nothing to do with my winning a couple of awards and everything to do with the fact that I'm here, reading, commenting, reblogging, and okay, writing a bit. (Ironically, it seems like the more I win, the less I write! Would you look at that, it's almost like... one has nothing to do with the other...)

I understand that some people might not cope well in such an environment - and they're given the choice to opt out. I even understand that it might bother them to see awards posts everywhere for a couple of months - and they're given the choice to block the tag. But awards, competitions etc. are often a part of any activity where a lot of people participate and there's some element of trying to do your best (as I do with my writing, and I'm sure others do as well). And here, you're not even requested to perform for an audience or anything; in writing contests, you're usually requested to submit a new story specifically written for it. The Jilyawards are just a means of recognition for some of the stories that were written throughout the year. Do people stop writing because the Pulitzer and Nobel prizes exist and they have no chance of ever winning any?

I do hope that the people who don't end up being nominated or winning anything (and, like I said, I've been one of them. For years.) don't get discouraged, sad, or upset. And my way of doing that is, not showing up to start shit during awards time, but instead enjoying and celebrating the nominees throughout these two months - and then spending the rest of my year reading as much fic as I can, looking for the underappreciated writers and the fics that have few kudos and no comments, and leaving a note of love in hopes that it will brighten their day.

Do YOU do that?

I’m not here as often as I used to be, and it actually came as a surprise to see the jilyawards are coming around again after the tumultuous times in the past.

I get that as a fan creator part of it is praise for a job well done, (kudos,likes,reblogs etc etc) but aren’t the awards just creating a competition out of that hard effort?

I love rec lists, rebogs and shares, bookmarks, favorites and finding new fic as much as the next person, why does it have to be one person versus another, one fic versus another, why not share all?

Maybe it’s the minority opinion, or maybe you could do a poll or something, ask the audience their thoughts?

How does not ‘winning’ affect a creator's ability to create?

Are the awards a popularity contest or is there something more to them?

When you look at a list and see yourself absent do you feel bad?

I hope all participants gain something from the experience, but to anyone who doesn't get what they're hoping for, know your work was appreciated and you have value regardless of the results.

Hi Anon!

You admit you haven’t been around as much as you used to be so maybe you missed it but we’ve actually been sharing and accepting fic recs and putting out lists ALL YEAR! So this message is a bit disheartening after all the volunteer hours we’ve put in this year. Something we’ve received overwhelmingly positive feedback on and planned to continue.

At the end of last year Ava stated she’d be stepping down from running awards and the new team volunteered to take her place so it could still exist and made some changes - like the fandom generated rec list every month- and added more categories because we’ve just always found the awards a bit of fun at the end of the year and wanted it to serve a greater purpose than just a “contest”. We have nothing to do with whatever the tumultuous times of the past were, and have no interest in knowing what they were either.

People are always welcome to nominate themselves or a fic/art and we’ve tried to be very encouraging of that. The awards can be a great way for newer authors or works that are under rated to get noticed! And people aren’t forced to participate if they don’t want to (thus the opt out list). So we get the awards aren’t for everyone and that’s okay!

In our view the awards are just another platform for works and folks who were enjoyed this year to be celebrated, shared and highlighted. It’s fun to see what’s out there and who’s done what during the year. There’s always going to be the fic that gets 8k kudos and the one that gets 8. Kudos and popularity aren’t the be all end of fic writing/fan art creating. And these awards are just supposed to be a bit of fun to round out the year. We as the hosts just run the admin behind it and we don’t make any decisions about who “wins”.

If you’re basing your ability to create on how popular your work is and aiming to win a silly little internet award at the end of the year… we suggest maybe this isn’t the hobby for you, because that’s not what it should be about and it’s certainly not what we aim to be about.

We’ve already gone through the effort of organising the awards for this year, but people are welcome to let us know if they don’t want it for next year and just want the rec lists because we can start a whole new blog for that and leave this account behind (or to someone else) if it’s not fun anymore and not appreciated.

#jily awards 2024 #poll reblog #people will have favourites with or without the awards #but there is a way to see all fics #it's called go on ao3 and search for otp: true

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elentiyawhitethorn · 3 years ago

Text

Exile

Rowaelin Month, Day 29

A Work Based on a Song @rowaelinscourt

CW: language, minor NSFW

AN: Based on the Taylor Swift song

Rowaelin Month Masterlist//Main Masterlist//5747 words

Second, third, and hundredth chances

Balancing on breaking branches

I think I've seen this film before

And I didn't like the ending

There she was. Arm-in-arm with that man and standing tall and smiling.

She didn’t have any right to smile like that.

Not when it wasn’t because of him. Not when he wasn’t the one holding her, wasn’t the one telling her cheesy jokes and pressing heated kisses to her neck.

And that man had no right to lay his hands on her. She didn’t belong to him.

Rowan clenched his fingers so tightly he heard something snap. He glanced down to see the plastic lid of his coffee cup with a crack in it. He loosened his grip, then looked back up.

He shouldn’t be watching her. She had given up on him. She was the reason he was struggling, and she was the cause of his pain. Aelin didn’t deserve any attention from him.

But he just couldn’t tear his gaze away.

—

“Stop it,” Aelin complained halfheartedly, a laugh creeping into her voice. “You can’t pay for everything.”

Sam winked. “Who says?”

Aelin rolled her eyes and shoved him lightly, a smile twitching at her lips all the while. “I hate you.”

“And I love you.”

A grin broke over Aelin’s face. Sam had said that for the first time last night, after a lovely dinner. There had been roses and candles and a gourmet (at least to Aelin’s uncultured taste buds) meal. Sam had really gone all out.

And he had been more than understanding about the fact that she wasn’t ready to reciprocate those three words. He’d insisted that she didn’t actually, knowing everything there was to know about the relationship she’d just gotten out of and having complete and utter respect and supportiveness for her.

But she would say it back soon. She was free, and she was with Sam, and for the first time in a long time, she was happy. Aelin may not love him yet, and she never was sure of when that extreme adoration crossed the line, but it had to be soon. It had to be because Sam was good to her. And if she could love people who weren’t good to her, Aelin must certainly be able to love the ones who were.

That’s how it worked, right?

Aelin smiled even as her thoughts raced back in time, to a different point in her life, when things had been much different. These things did not need to be analyzed. Aelin had done enough overthinking to last a lifetime, and she had promised herself to stop. To just stop thinking about him at all.

Aelin leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to Sam’s cheek. “C’mon, our coffee’s getting cold.”

Sam grinned and waggled his eyebrows. “I bet I could find a way to warm things up.”

Aelin choked on a laugh. “Don’t you dare. That was the least sexy thing I have ever heard come out of your mouth.”

Sam pulled her closer. “I have plenty more up my sleeve. Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?”

Aelin whacked him on the arm playfully. “You are the worst boyfriend ever,” she teased. “Let’s go, maybe I will let you warm things up.” She grinned, knowing that encouraging him only increased the number of ridiculous jokes and pick-up lines being sent her way and not caring one bit.

With one last smirk, Sam tugged Aelin toward the door of the coffee shop, arm loosely around her waist. She leaned into him as they walked to the door, only slowing down as she reached over to adjust her purse strap over her shoulder… and something caught Aelin’s eye when she looked back.

Someone.

Aelin came to a complete standstill, eyes widening in shock.

It shouldn’t be such a surprise. After all, this was a small town. But Aelin having to see him again, having to see him staring at her unashamedly, maintaining eye contact…

It was unnerving.

His eyes bore holes into Aelin, and she shivered. He hadn’t always looked at her like that. It had been happy, once. Once there had been love in gaze. Not possession. Not loathing. Not fury. Just pure, unadulterated love.

So much had changed. No, Aelin corrected herself. Nothing had changed other than her ability to notice what was really going on. This was how it had always been. Aelin had just been too blind to see it.

Distantly, Aelin realized Sam was asking her what was wrong. He was following her gaze. He was putting the pieces together.

And now he was asking her if that was him, but they both knew. They both knew it was.

Aelin spun around suddenly, a complete 180 degree turn, eradicating Rowan from her line of sight.

“Let’s go,” Aelin said. “Let’s just go.”

—

“See you tomorrow,” Aelin said, kissing Sam on the lips.

He deepened the kiss slightly before pulling away and saying, “See you, babe. Love you.”

Aelin smiled.

Sam smiled back, but the expression dimmed before he could leave, hesitating on the doorstep. “Are you sure…”

Aelin took a deep breath. “Sam, I love that you care about me, but there is nothing to be done. Rowan lives nearby; I’ll have to get used to seeing him every once in a while.”

Sam shook his head. “That’s not fair. He doesn’t get to do what he did to you and then walk around untouched, flaunting it.”

Aelin flashed a watery smile. “That’s the thing, Sam. He can do whatever he likes, and it won’t matter. It doesn’t matter because I am with you and I am happy and anything he does is entirely inconsequential.”

Sam held Aelin’s gaze, then his eyes softened. He kissed her again and pulled back. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he repeated in a whisper.

Aelin smiled, watching him leave.

She leaned against the doorway of her apartment, watching Sam walk away with a gentle expression on her face. He glanced back only once to toss a saucy grin her way as he took the turn and headed down the stairs, out of sight. But she didn’t go back inside quite yet, instead gazing in the direction he’d last been visible at, thinking. Thinking happy things.

And then thinking some not so happy things.

It wasn’t fair that Rowan could consume her thoughts so wholly. Yes, consume was the right word. He consumed her mind now, and before he had consumed every inch of her body, every aspect of her life. And it was a word with so many different connotations that for a long time, Aelin hadn’t thought that was so bad.

She knew better now.

Aelin normally would have willed a smile back to her face to reassure those around her, but she was alone now. No more pretending. Aelin frowned fully as she turned to renter the apartment.

And nearly ran smack into Rowan, who was standing on the opposite side of the doorway. Only a couple feet away, staring at her, breathing her air, and she hadn’t noticed.

Aelin regarded him silently, trying to decide if Rowan was real or not. This wouldn’t have been the first time she’d imagined him beside her.

“What exactly did I do to you, Aelin?” He was real then.

“You have no right.” Aelin’s voice was raspy and beyond furious.

“You can’t stop thinking about me, can you?”

Aelin shook her head, her entire body shaking. “You have no right,” she repeated.

Rowan crossed his arms. The door was wide open, and Aelin stood on the side with the hinges. Which meant she had the disadvantage, unable to get in without Rowan stopping her.

“What do you want from me?”

Rowan shook his head, eyes simmering with something deceptively similar to hurt. “I want to understand.”

“What is there to understand?” Aelin hissed.

“Why did you leave me?” Rowan’s voice was hard.

Aelin breathed hard through her nostrils, not bothering to put a leash on her temper. “Because you didn’t treat me right, Rowan. You ignored me. You used me.”

“I loved you!” Rowan shouted.

Aelin shook her head. “That wasn’t love. That was something else.”

“What was it, Aelin?”

She bit her lip, and Rowan’s eyes snapped down to her mouth. He stepped forward. “What was it?” he demanded, voice far too gravelly for this conversation.

“I don’t know!” she snapped. “Something bad. Something wrong.”

With that she kicked out her foot and caught Rowan on the inside of his leg. Thought likely uninjured, he was surprised enough by Aelin’s spite that he stepped back an inch. Just enough space for Aelin to shove past him and slam the door.

Angry tears streaming down her face in hateful torrents, Aelin flipped the lock, then slid the chain into place.

Then she released a muffled cry of anguish and leaned back against the door, swaying. She started crying in earnest, trying to keep her sobs relatively quiet in case Rowan was still at the door. He probably was.

Aelin slid down the door limply, falling into a pile on the floor. She reached around and placed a palm flat on the wooden surface. He was out there.

She knew he was.

Confirmation came in the form of a shadow, flitting across the crack under the door, and finally blocking the space considerably, accompanied by the a soft thump.

Rowan was sitting next to her. Without the door, he’d be touching her. Holding her.

Aelin pressed her face against the door, getting as close to him as she could while still being able to deny it. She’d slammed the door on him. No one could take that away from her.

But no one could take this away from her either, this moment.

—

Aelin was crying. He’d known she would be, but it still hurt to hear.

Rowan traced his fingers across the door delicately, imagining her own touch on the other side. They were almost holding hands.

Time passed. They kept sitting there, and Rowan knew Aelin well enough to know she’d be screaming at herself inside her head, trying to make herself get up, to no avail.

Rowan felt a twisted sense of satisfaction to know that she couldn’t leave him just yet.

It was two in the morning when Rowan finally heard Aelin stand. Faintly he heard her, still sniffling, shuffle off to somewhere else in their apartment.

For it was their apartment. Rowan’s just as much as Aelin’s. More even. He just wasn’t allowed inside anymore.

Rowan stood and walked away.

—

Aelin giggled. “You did not.”

Chaol flashed a smile. “I swear on all that is holy I did.”

Aelin shook her head, eyes dancing with mirth. “How does one even manage to do that without being—”

“May I cut in?”

Aelin turned, smile frozen in place, to find her boyfriend reaching over to place an arm around her side, fingers digging in a bit too much for her liking. “Of course. We were just talking about you, actually.”

Rowan smiled, but there was something in the expression that didn’t appeal to her. “Oh?”

Chaol joined in. “I told her about the day I met you, how I got so upset with you that I put your phone number in all the bathrooms and you got a bunch of calls asking for a hookup.”

Chaol laughed, clearly under the impression this was long since water under the bridge. Rowan’s returning smile was a bit tighter, and Aelin wondered if he still held a grudge. Or if he was upset about something else.

“As much as I would love to reminisce,” Rowan said, voice dripping with manners and camaraderie, “My girlfriend and I need to go. I’ll see you on Monday, Westfall.”

Chaol smiled and waved. Aelin just took another sip of her champagne.

Rowan plucked the champagne flute from her hand and set it somewhere off to the side, then pulled Aelin toward the exit, his hand still firmly around her waist.

Aelin didn’t say anything as they left the work party. Nor as Rowan opened the passenger door of his car and helped her inside, like he thought she’d bolt at the first opportunity.

The ride home was silent. As was the walk up the stairs leading to their apartment. Rowan unlocked the door with his keys and held it open, letting Aelin go first. Once again, she got the feeling it wasn’t a gesture of kindness.

Aelin dropped her purse on the counter then spun around, anger finally spilling over the top. “What the hell was that?”

Rowan crossed his arms. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Rowan didn’t waver. “You were flirting with my coworker.”

Aelin gaped at him. “I was doing no such thing!”

Rowan just snorted.

“You asked me to make an effort with your friends,” Aelin said icily. “That’s all I was doing.”

Rowan scoffed. “Don’t take me for a fool, Aelin.”

“Excuse me? I was not flirting with anybody, Rowan. We were talking about you for fuck’s sake.”

“Chaol always has ulterior motives. I don’t trust him.”

“And what about me? Do you trust me?” Aelin barely managed to keep her voice from cracking.

Rowan’s face instantly softened. “Of course I trust you, baby.”

Aelin didn’t reply.

Rowan stepped forward and brought his hands to her face, gently cupping her cheeks. “Look at me.”

Aelin hesitated, then brought her gaze to meet his own.

“I’m sorry, love. I shouldn’t have been so suspicious. Forgive me.”

Aelin’s lower lip wavered. She still said nothing.

“I love you,” Rowan continued, softly tracing a line over her cheek. “Forgive me.”

“I love you too,” Aelin rasped. And it was true. She loved him more than anything in the world.

Rowan leaned in and pressed his lips against her forehead. “I’m sorry.”

Aelin squeezed her eyes shut. She was tense as Rowan started to move his mouth down her neck, loving and demanding at the same time.

Rowan’s hand found its way to her shoulder, sliding the thin strap of her dress off. Aelin stayed still, breathing through her nose while Rowan started following the top of her dress down with his mouth, kissing her bare chest, Aelin’s breasts covered only barely.

“Rowan,” Aelin gasped as he finally freed a breast from the fabric and closed his mouth around it. She wasn’t sure if she was spurring him on or protesting.

Rowan pushed her back a step. Then another. Aelin felt the wall at her back. She let her head fall back against it.

“I’m sorry,” Rowan repeated in a dark murmur, breath caressing her ear. His hand fell to her thigh and pushed up the dress, then he reached for his own buckle.

Aelin could only try to convince herself she wanted this as Rowan pulled her underwear to the side and—

Aelin jolted up in bed with a gasp.

Sweat soaked the sheets and dripped down Aelin’s face as she panted into the darkness. Aelin bent over and buried her face in the sheets, face already wet with tears.

—

Routine had long since become mechanical for Rowan. Get out of bed. Take a shower. Eat breakfast. Brush teeth. Dress and get out the door.

It helped keep his thoughts from straying.

It wasn’t just getting ready that Rowan approached with machine-like indifference. The rest of the day passed in a blur, and soon enough Rowan was in a bar, sipping his first whiskey of the night.

It sure as hell wouldn’t be the last.

He slipped his phone out of his pocket and placed it on the bar in front of him. Turning it on revealed Aelin’s smiling face, framed by her vibrant golden hair. A white sundress highlighted her curves subtly. The sun was high behind her, and the cloudless sky was the blue of her eyes. The whole picture was so Aelin.

Rowan entered his passcode and took in the home screen, another picture of Aelin, this one with him as well. Aelin’s cousin Aedion had taken the picture. They were sprawled across the grass, Aelin haphazardly lounging on top of Rowan, her mouth open in a laugh that he could almost hear, even now. And that beautiful hair, strewn across his chest.

She looked the happiest Rowan had ever seen her. There was no way someone could look that happy and just be pretending. It was utterly impossible.

Rowan searched for indications that he was treating her wrong, that his grip on her arm was too tight or his eyes were angry or mean.

They weren’t. He was gazing at her with adoration, just as he’d always done. He had loved her, and he still did, and Rowan had never hesitated to tell Aelin. So why had she left?

Rowan entered his photo app and started scrolling through them, though dozens upon dozens of photos of her smiling in the sun and laughing in the rain and eating on the couch.

He was a masochist to do this to himself, but he couldn’t stop.

He kept searching for any signs that something was wrong, that he wasn’t loving her right.

He couldn’t find any.

—

The echoing noises of the thumps on the bag were the only sounds in the room. Aelin struck with deadly capability, slamming her fist into the punching bag again and again.

She’d gotten into self-defense not long after the breakup with Rowan. Punching things, more specifically. And Aelin had gotten good, too.

She used to work out in the gym, but the closest gym was annoying to get to, all the way across town. So Aelin had invested some money into some basic equipment and set everything up in the only empty room in the apartment.

Well, it was only empty after Aelin had dumped all of Rowan’s things out on the curb. This was his former office. There was a picture of him on the wall where there used to be one of her. It was filled with holes from the various weapons Aelin had thrown at it, among them knives, darts, and a single fork.

Maybe Aelin needed to talk to a therapist.

Aelin twisted her body and pivoted her foot, landing a deadly roundhouse kick on the bag. Why the fuck hadn’t anyone told her about this miracle cure sooner?

Aelin was so busy taking out every ounce of fury within her body—which totaled up to a frighteningly large quantity—that she almost didn’t notice her phone ringing. She finally noticed the screen lit up out of the corner of her eye, and Aelin pulled out her earbuds and strode over to her phone.

It was from Sam. Aelin reached for her phone, then paused, breathing deeply. From the exercise, she told herself. Solely from the exercise.

The ringing stopped. Aelin was too late. She reached once more, intent on calling Sam back, but stopped again.

She’d been thinking a lot over the past few days. Trying. Trying so hard to love him. And every time she was with him and she opened her mouth to get it over with, she couldn’t. Because Aelin couldn’t do that to Sam. He deserved better.

And because she was thinking about somebody else.

Aelin spun around and executed a perfect boxing maneuver on the bag. Jab, dodge, duck, right hook to the body, left hook to the body, left hook to the head, slide back with a defensive jab. She repeated it, then moved onto a different maneuver.

Then Aelin stripped off her gloves and bolted for the door, off to do something she would most certainly regret.

—

Panting, Aelin knocked on the door before she could loose her resolve. Then she waited, hands on her hips and shoulders back.

Not even a minute passed before the lock clicked and the door was pulled inward.

Aelin took in Rowan’s tired eyes and haggard expression and knew she was the reason for that. And probably for the smell of alcohol on his breath.

He didn’t ask how she knew where he lived—Aelin had a depressing amount of free time; or why she looked like she’d run all the way here—she had; or why she was here—that one she didn’t know. He just opened the door wider.

“Come here.”

Aelin did. She wondered if her fate had been sealed from the moment she first laid eyes on him. Rowan Whitethorn was like a sinkhole, drawing you in farther and father no matter what you did, only tightening his grip when you struggled.

That gruesome description wasn’t enough to make Aelin turn back quite yet.

She stepped inside and pressed her lips against Rowan’s, hands twining in his hair instantly. His own hands came to her hips, pushing her tank top up slightly and tracing familiar patterns on her bare skin.

Aelin shoved Rowan backward in his apartment one step, then one more. She spun around so Rowan was against the wall. Aelin could feel his lips curve upward against hers, but she didn’t care what amusement he was deriving from her dominance. He wanted to take everything from her? Well, she would take right back.

Aelin parted Rowan’s lips with her tongue and the small groan that left the back of his throat had Aelin pulling his hair none-too-gently, melting into his giant frame even farther.

Nothing mattered anymore. It all evaporated into some space that Aelin couldn’t and didn’t want to access. Her brain was blissfully empty as she hooked a leg around his ankle, and as she nipped at his lip.

Rowan growled and started moving his hands upwards toward her breasts, thumbs brushing the undersides just enough that Aelin could feel it and lean into the sensation, ignoring his gleeful smirk against her mouth. Rowan finally broke the kiss and trailed his mouth along Aelin’s jawline, until his lips reached her ear.

“I love you,” Rowan whispered, voice dark and hoarse.

Aelin exhaled, her grip on him loosening. “I hate you.”

Rowan pulled back and frowned. “No, you don’t.”

Aelin chuckled humorlessly. “You’re right.” She stepped closer to the door. “But I hate that I love you.”

“Bullshit.”

“I shouldn’t have come here.”

Rowan shook his head. “Bullshit,” he repeated.

“Goodbye, Rowan.”

Aelin started for the still-open door, only a couple feet away.

Rowan’s hand immediately took hold of her wrist. “You can’t leave again. Not like this.”

“How, then?” Aelin asked, shaking her wrist free of his grasp. “Was last time any better?”

“Don’t leave me at all.”

The desperation in Rowan’s voice would have provoked some sort of sympathy in Aelin any other time, but she only felt cold as she stared him down.

“Goodbye, Rowan,” she repeated. Then Aelin spun around and slipped out the door before he could stop her.

—

“Stop it.”

“I will not.”

“Yes you will.”

“No I won’t.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“What’re you gonna do if I don’t?”

“I’ll beat you up, that’s what.”

Aelin and Sam only managed maintain eye contact for a minute more before dissolving into laughter.

“I’m being serious,” Aelin said between laughs.

Sam shook his head. “I don’t even understand what the issue is,” he replied, features filled with delight.

“The issue,” Aelin enunciated, “is that you can’t just be stupid like that. It’s not a good look on you.”

Sam scoffed in pretend hurt. “Excuse me, it’s not stupid to tickle my girlfriend.”

“It is,” Aelin insisted. “You’re an asshole for it.” She pouted.

Sam made an over-dramatic frown. “I’m so sorry I hurt your feelings, babe.” He spread his arms wide and leaned over from the car seat.

Aelin could only involuntarily cackle as Sam moved his evil fingers over her again, his false hug turning into an ambush. “Stop it,” she cried between giggles. “This is mean. And foul. A foulable offense.”

“Is foulable even a word?”

“It is now,” Aelin hissed, elbowing him.

Sam grinned. “It’s not my fault. What else is a guy to do when he finds out his girlfriend’s ticklish?”

“You’re supposed to not bully them!”

Sam laughed into Aelin’s shoulder. “I love you so much.”

Aelin hugged him, for the sole purpose of making sure he couldn’t see her face at the words. Before she had been so happy to hear Sam say it, and now the only thought she could conjure upon hearing it was Rowan’s face.

Everything she’d ever had, everything she’d ever worked for, Rowan soured. It was a talent of his.

Aelin hadn’t told Sam about the kiss. Almost a week had passed already, and she hadn’t told him. Acknowledging it validated it, and Aelin didn’t want that. She just wanted to forget. Though it was hard to forget the one thing haunting her through all hours of the day and night.

“Let’s go inside,” Aelin said abruptly, pulling away. “I’m already forgetting what I wanted to get.”

Sam smiled, oblivious to Aelin’s internal struggles. “Sure.”

—

How dare she come to him, kiss him, make him think she was ready to invite him home? How dare she use him the way she claimed he used her?

The nerve of Aelin’s visit left Rowan seething. All he wanted was Aelin. And he’d be damned if he didn’t get her.

The bell dinged to signal a customer’s arrival and Rowan’s eyes snapped up. He relaxed once more as he saw it was only an elderly man, then tensed up all over again as he spotted a familiar car parked outside the shop.

Aelin came here every Tuesday without fail to buy a new book. It was one of the few luxuries she allowed herself, and it was the only part of her routine she hadn’t changed after dumping him, and he’d been waiting in the mystery aisle for over an hour now.

And his waiting had paid off. Except, rather than leaving the car, Aelin and that man were talking and laughing and touching. He was tickling her, like a fucking loser.

Another five minutes passed and Rowan was debating going out there and knocking on the car window when the doors finally opened.

They walked hand-in-hand into the bookstore, and Aelin pressed a kiss against the man’s cheek as they neared a shelf.

His smile made Rowan smile. This poor, innocent man had no idea what had happened last week. He had no idea how unfaithful Aelin truly was.

Aelin murmured something to the man—Rowan refused to even think his name—and headed off to the romance section. Rowan followed her, creeping around shelves and not giving a fuck how bad it looked.

Aelin was reaching for some book or other when she noticed Rowan coming up behind her. Her face flushed, much to his delight, and her eyes widened.

“Go away,” was the first thing to come out of her mouth.

Rowan shook his head. “Not a chance, princess.”

Aelin’s face tightened visibly. “I’m not interested in doing this again, Rowan. We’re over.”

“Really? You haven’t seemed too sure about that lately.”

Aelin huffed. “Last week was a mistake. I know that now. I knew it when I did it. But that’s it. We’re done now. Get over yourself, Rowan.”

“I love you.”

“And I used to believe that,” Aelin snapped.

Rowan ground his jaw in frustration. “What do I have to do to prove that I care about you?”

“That’s just the thing,” Aelin hissed, voice quiet but angry. “There is nothing to prove. You could started acting like the perfect boyfriend, the man I thought I loved, and it still wouldn’t matter. We’re not good together, Rowan. We’re broken. We. Are. Fucking. Broken.”

Rowan took a step forward, every molecule in his body freezing as Aelin flinched. “Are you scared of me, Aelin?”

She shook her head, but she’d always been a bad liar. Rowan could see right thought it.

“I have never laid a hand on you in my life,” Rowan stated, voice devoid of human emotion. “Never.”

Fire swirled behind Aelin’s eyes. “I know that. But you didn’t have to.”

Rowan shook his head vehemently. “What the hell does that mean?”

Aelin’s chest was heaving. “Think about it, Rowan. Think about us. Remember how you were with me.”

He did. Because he was a fair person who cared enough to listen to Aelin, he did.

—

“Maybe you should stop hanging out with Dorian,” Rowan commented.

It was a joke. It had just been a joke.

“What?” Aelin asked. She looked confused.

“I mean, whenever you two are together you’re smiling more than you smile with me. It’s a little difficult to watch.”

Rowan shrugged as his lips twitched. She was supposed to laugh now, amused at the joke.

Aelin didn’t laugh.

—

“You should really learn how to cook something,” Rowan said, watching in amusement as Aelin reached for the Chinese takeout menu, and not for the first time this week.

“Gods, Rowan, if you’re so sick of eating takeout then make something yourself.”

Aelin stormed off. And Rowan had clearly been the right one in that conversation, because after Aelin didn’t like his suggestion and decided to make a fuss about it and be a bitch, Rowan let her leave and didn’t bring it up again. Because he cared about her.

—

And finally, the day everything went up in flames:

Aelin tipped her head back and laughed. Rowan watched this little spectacle from afar. Until she got so loud that his boss’ boss looked over and that’s when Rowan had had it.

“Aelin, come with me,” Rowan said as he grabbed her hand. Gently. He had grabbed her hand gently.

Aelin frowned, but didn’t protest. She would have protested if she wasn’t okay with this. Rowan knew her.

They made it outside the building and both of them stopped. They weren’t waiting to go all the way back to the apartment this time.

“Maybe I need to stop bringing you to these things,” Rowan said, running his hand through his hair.

Aelin frowned. “Why? Am I embarrassing you?”

“No, Aelin, of course you aren’t. But you are bothering my coworkers, and I don’t want them to look down on me because of my girlfriend.”

She snorted. “That’s the literal definition of embarrassment,” she slurred.

“No, there’s a difference between being embarrassed by someone and logically not wanting to have someone with you for strategic purposes.”

Aelin laughed incredulously, and Rowan wondered if she still didn’t understand. But the next thing that came out of her mouth made him the one who couldn’t comprehend what was happening.

“We’re done.”

“What?”

Aelin smiled, but it wasn’t a happy thing, it was twisted and sad and so many other emotions, some of which Rowan couldn’t even name. “I’m breaking up with you.”

A moment of shaky silence passed as Rowan held eye contact with Aelin. Finally, he said, “We’re going home now.”

Aelin scoffed. “Don’t you hear me?”

“You’re drunk, Aelin.”

A tear slid down Aelin’s cheek and Rowan stepped forward to console her, for that’s what he’d always done when she was upset.

But Aelin stepped backward. “Go home. Get your things. Get out.”

Rowan sighed. “Aelin, seriously—”

“No!” she yelled, and Rowan glanced back at the party he’d just emerged from, worried someone might have heard her. “You don’t get to ignore me! Get the fuck out of my apartment. Now!”

“No,” Rowan snapped.

Aelin seethed. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to get your things out on my own.”

She snatched the keys from his hand and took off toward the car, but Rowan’s head was swimming enough that he could only stand there, frozen, for a solid thirty seconds as she climbed in the driver’s seat.

Then he started moving. “Aelin, stop this. Calm down. You’re overreacting and I need you to get out of the car.”

Aelin held the wheel tightly as she hastily locked the car. She didn’t bother buckling in before the car jerked backward. Rowan raced to the other side of it and blocked it from leaving the parking space.

Aelin must have had more to drink than Rowan originally noticed, for instead of stopping like the sensible woman he’d thought her to be, she slammed on the gas and went over the grass, swerving and turning back onto the pavement farther down. Aelin narrowly avoided a lamppost as she got onto the road and started speeding down the street.

Rowan could only watch, mouth agape and heart stopping altogether.

—

“I can’t think of a single thing I did to provoke something like that from you, Aelin.” Rowan’s hands were clenched into fists. “You just started acting out for no reason at all. I wasn’t the one behaving poorly.”

“There were signs,” Aelin breathed, voice riding the edge between stability and insanity. “There were so many warning signs.”

Rowan opened his mouth to protest, but before any sound could come out, Aelin’s so-called boyfriend walked up to her. She was at the corner of a shelf, and the men were on either side of it, meaning Sam hadn’t yet noticed him. Rowan wanted to step forward and beat some sense into the man, show him who Aelin really belonged to, but Aelin spoke before he could step forward.

“Hey, babe. I found my book. Ready to leave?”

The man grinned. It was a snarky little look, and Rowan knew he’d look better with a fist in his face.

“I am.”

Aelin stepped closer to him and farther from Rowan, then paused. Her tactic had originally seemed to be getting Sam away from Rowan as quickly as possible, but now she stance took on a different posture.

Rowan had never wished he could see inside her head more than he was now.

Aelin didn’t even look his way. “I love you, Sam.”

Rowan froze. He didn’t need to know anything about their relationship to know that was the first time Aelin had told Sam that. Not just from the delight on his face, but from the way Aelin spoke. Rowan could feel it in his bones.

She was spiting him. This could easily be discussed anywhere else, at any other time, but Aelin chose to say it now, with Rowan hovering in the background. It was a message to him, to stay away. It was hateful. It was cruel.

Something splintered in Rowan’s chest.

Sam was saying something, presumably a reciprocation of those three words, but Rowan didn’t hear it. His ears were buzzing.

Aelin took ahold of Sam’s arm and started for the checkout desk.

She didn’t look back.

———

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