#ways to tell me you don’t have any critical thinking skill without telling me you don’t have any critical thinking skills

[youruinedmylifebynotbeingreal]

People who say Soren turned into only comic relief in arc 2 drive me up the wall. Were we even watching the same show.

[ikementally-deficient]

Advice On Writing

I have a couple of writing friends who keep asking me for advice (which is extremely flattering and I love to infodump, please don't stop), but I thought getting my thoughts down on the metaphorical paper and putting them out into the world might be helpful for others as well.

I mostly had fanfiction in mind when I wrote this, but honestly I think the vast majority of it will be applicable to any kind of creative writing.

I would love to get feedback or have conversations about this, so if you want to squawk at or with me, please don't hesitate!

The Bare Minimum

Write

Write as often and as much as you can. If you manage to do nothing else on this list, just writing consistently and continuously will eventually improve your skills, even if it takes a long time.

The Basics

2. Read

Find things you enjoy, and read them. Read as much as you have time for. Things that speak to you and make you feel things (words, turns of phrase, tropes) will all work their way into your subconscious and feed your own writing.

3. Read Critically

Re-read the things you enjoy, and consciously think about why you enjoy them. Why did this scene manage to express such a clear sense of desolation? What about this interaction between characters made me relate to them so much? How did this story give me such a sense of satisfaction and coming full circle? Highlight the phrases you really love. Look for and circle the small details that foreshadow later developments. Identify the things you don’t like as well (nothing is perfect). How would you have done this differently? Do you hate the purple prose, or is it killing you that these scenes aren’t more detailed? Look up the words you don’t understand - maybe the author chose their words poorly, or maybe you’re one of the lucky ten thousand who gets to learn a new vocabulary word today.

The Cringe Parts

4. Ask for constructive criticism

This part is really hard, but vital. While you will inevitably find some of the weaknesses of your own writing, you won’t find all of them. An outside perspective is invaluable. If you’re frightened of constructive criticism, start small. Ask one person to look at SPAG (spelling, punctuation, and grammar). Pick one paragraph or scene to show someone and ask them how it flows. Have someone review your outline for plotholes instead of giving them prose. Brace yourself for things you don’t want to hear. Sit with any and all criticism for a few days before reacting. It’s okay to decide that someone just didn’t get what you were going for, but make sure that’s actually true instead of just a knee-jerk reaction to hurt feelings or a bruised ego. Listen to what your reviewer or beta is actually saying - ‘this part confuses me’ doesn’t mean your writing is bad, it means that your head holds the entire picture and you just didn’t put enough of that down on paper so your reader can see it too.

5. Re-read your own work

Every once in a while, go back and see how what you wrote six months ago or last year holds up. You’ve been writing for a while, you’re a stronger writer, so give yourself the perspective of seeing how far you’ve come. And see if there are any weak areas that are still giving you trouble; you can focus more on those in your next piece of writing.

6. Edit for other people

Editing is a skill. No one falls out of the sky able to give useful and actionable feedback. The act of reading and criticising something you have a little cognitive distance from is far easier than criticising your own work, but it’s still a muscle you need to build. Start with basic proof reading (SPAG). Ask questions: “Why did you choose this word, it seems obscure?” Explain your feedback: “I can’t tell who’s speaking here, I think the dialogue went back and forth one too many times without a tag.” Instead of “I don’t like this,” explain why: “This description feels like something I’ve seen too many times already and feel cliché, but I bet you can change it up.” Learning to give that feedback in a kind and helpful way is something you can bring back to your own writing. Remember that if someone asks you to beta read or edit their work, they too are trying to get better. Don’t just blow sunshine up their ass, give them the respect of being honest about elements that aren’t working. Just don’t be an asshole about it. 

Some resources on being a good beta reader - these also are handy guides for writers on how to communicate their needs effectively to a beta reader:

How to Be a Great Beta Reader and Give Helpful Feedback (dianaurban.com)

What makes a good beta reader? (smallbluedog.com)

Tips on how to beta read, from a beta reader : FanFiction (reddit.com)

Advanced Class

7. Try new things

Try a different format. If you mostly write long, multi-chapter works, aim for a short story. Write some poetry. Change up your genre. Consciously try to imitate someone else’s style. Stretch out of your comfort zone. Feel like you write too much descriptive detail? Force yourself to write nothing but dialogue, like Isaac Asimov. Feel like your characters are always floating in empty space? Indulge in some Robert Jordan, down to every detail of what the characters are wearing. This is going to be difficult, and the results might not be something you want to share publicly, but it’s still worth the effort.

8. Read about writing

There are university courses on this stuff. Check your local library for a copy of the Little, Brown Handbook - it’s aimed at academic writing, but it’s a great resource on grammar and syntax and planning and revising your work. Look for fun ones like The Transitive Vampire and The Well-Tempered Sentence, or Eats, Shoots & Leaves. Centre for Fiction has a great list of books on creative writing by writers, and industry professionals (if publishing for profit is a goal of yours). 

Back to the Beginning

9. Keep writing

You might not be the next Stephen King, or Jude Devereaux, or Isaac Asimov. Cool, me neither. You don’t have to be. As long as writing is still giving you joy, keep doing it. 

[snowy-equinox]

Revisiting Rahdue's Wheel

Rahdue’s Wheel is a much-larger-than-average tarot spread that originated from Eileen Connolly’s 1987 book, Tarot: The Handbook for the Journeyman. It’s difficult to find detailed information outside of the book, as its size makes it unpopular among most tarot readers. Hell, Connolly herself needs 28 pages to explain it all. Rahdue’s Wheel shows up occasionally on Tumblr or Reddit, but its reputation has mostly become a kind of “Eat the Pig Trough and Get Your Picture on the Wall” for diviners. 

It’s when you get past the size that you start to realize the spread itself has some problems. 

Tackling the ‘Size’ Premise

Let’s get the premise out of the way: Rahdue’s Wheel does not use all 78 cards. When you look at the spread in detail, it’s broken down into 7 sections: 

Inner Wheel - Present

Center Wheel - Future

Outer Wheel - Past

Dagim Block - Past life

Taleh Pillar (right side) - Past life relationships

Shor Pillar (left side) - Past life memories/experiences

Malkuth Block - Answers the 9 questions you are supposed to have asked before the reading

The last section, the Malkuth Block, is optional. Even if you choose to use it, you may not pull the rest of your deck. Connolly says “Any cards that have not been used are left face down and are not to be read. They do not pertain to the reading and leaving them face down retains the original energy of the spread. If you turn them over, you break the esoteric structure of the entire spread.” At most, this spread requires 69 cards, not 78. 

The Popular Criticisms

While its gimmick is an exaggeration, it is still a behemoth of a spread. Many believe it is unwieldy and bogged down with too much information. This is a common criticism of larger spreads; the more information you pull, the easier it is to get lost. The continual energy drain of pulling, followed by the mental drain of interpreting, can leave you with inaccurate results.

However, this is assuming that you have to do your tarot readings in one sitting. I don’t hold with that idea. You can take on the Wheel in parts, doing a section a day for a week. Or, you can pull all the cards one day, write down what you got, and then do the interpreting the next day. Personally, I think if you have the time, dedication, and skill to parse through all the information, you should be able to get good information out of a large reading. 

The Information

In my opinion, Rahdue’s Wheel’s failure is not due to its size, but the quality of information it gives you.

While I approached this spread with the assumption that most people will read it for themselves, Connolly goes back and forth on the role of her readers. In most of the section dedicated to Rahdue’s Wheel, she talks exclusively about “the client”, implying she is writing for a professional tarot reader and the reading is meant to be between two people (reader & querent). However, at one point, she advises the reader to do the Rahdue’s Wheel for themself four times a year, and there are a couple of “for yourself or the client”’s sprinkled throughout the section. 

I bring this up because this spread is not very good if you’re reading for yourself. The three wheels are the exact same questions; the only thing that changes is the tense. I know what my current health concerns are, and likely I know what my past ones were. The entire past wheel is redundant, as you’re just reliving everything without added context or commentary. Pulling a Three of Swords for past relationships tells me a break-up really hurt me, but it doesn’t tell me how that’s still affecting me. There’s no new information given to the querent beyond “this is how your life and philosophies have changed”. 

The redundancy cuts both ways in the reader/querent question. If you read for yourself, you’re wasting time and energy on things you already know. On the other hand, if you’re reading for someone else, you’re not giving the querent new information that can solve their problems. If anything, it’s spiritual junk food; the reader gets to come off as intuitive and knowledgeable (assuming the cards are all accurate), while not giving any real advice. The querent will leave feeling fulfilled from their amazing connection with the reader without any new ideas on how to fix their situation. 

The Past Life Issue

The other issue that becomes apparent right away is the focus on past lives. The wheels total 39 cards, while the past life sections total 30. This makes the past lives sections nearly half of the spread. Connolly believes that our actions and mindsets are influenced by the hidden memories and traumas of our past lives. She rationalizes that knowing about these lives is a good way to look deeper into the querent’s psychology. This gives us context for the previous problem: The reason we’re looking at every aspect of a person’s life is to find patterns stemming from the past lives. If we find your past life was betrayed by a lover, we know the root cause of your commitment issues. The wheels and the past lives sections work together to illuminate the overarching themes of the querent’s karmic life. 

This creates multiple barriers in order to make this spread work: 

You must believe in past lives as a concept

You must believe you personally have at least one past life

You must believe that issues from your past life can affect your current life

If you have all three beliefs, then this spread can do amazing things for you! But many people don’t have all three. I can’t get past the third one myself; I think it’s possible to connect with and learn from your past lives, but I don’t think their traumas become ours. For many, they don’t have the necessary beliefs to bridge the gap between the two halves of the spread. 

Even if you do believe past lives can affect our current lives, this spread still runs into the problem we discussed earlier: there is no advice given. At best, the reader will probably say to do “past life work” before sending you on your way. Knowing where your issues stem from can be helpful, but the knowledge itself won’t change anything. Ultimately, to see change you need a direction to go in. This spread will not give that to you. 

Finally Answering the Questions

Let’s revisit the Malkuth Block, the tarot reading within the tarot reading. Once the diviner has exhausted themselves sorting through every facet of your lives (present and past), it’s time to actually answer those questions you had that brought you to a reader in the first place. Connolly leaves it up to the reader to determine how many cards should be pulled per question. As I mentioned earlier, she says not every card will be flipped over and read, but then she goes on to say that if the querent only has one question, you must read all 9 cards in the Block. She does not give an explanation for this; I assume something to do with the “esoteric structure” but who knows. 

At this point, you’re doing a basic tarot reading. Surprisingly, many tarot readers are able to do “here’s the answer to your question” readings without knowing every single thing about you. If you’re just trying to get questions answered, the majority of this spread is unnecessary. It’s also incredibly damaging; by putting the questions at the end of the marathon spread, you get to the important part of the reading when the diviner is exhausted. 

Conclusion

Rahdue’s Wheel works well for very specific situations, like when you want to do past life work and don’t know what to focus on. But for the average reader this spread is too bloated. Not only is the size too large for most people to read accurately in one sitting, but the information it gives you is useless. You’re better off finding a smaller spread. 

While some use Rahdue’s Wheel as practice, I think most people bookmark it purely as a challenge spread to do “some day”. But this spread does work if you use it within the beliefs and framework Connolly created it for. I would bet there are a lot of people out there looking for just this kind of spread to help them with their past lives. They’ve probably heard the name before, but pass over it because no one talks about it as a past life spread or a karmic spread. They only talk about it as “The Ultimate Spread”. It’s become clickbait, in tarot form.

[darth-jess]

Hi. Thanks for giving all of us pro-Jedi folk a reason to block you by entering our tag with a take that is not favorable to the Jedi.

Look. My own dislike of Anakin has *nothing* to do with the Jedi and his role in the Jedi and *everything* to do with how much he reminds me of my mom who did nothing to get over her trauma. And do you know what I’ve found has helped me with the trauma of my own childhood? Jedi teachings. Quite similar to therapy techniques.

He was given opportunities to tell them that his dreams felt real and he was genuinely worried about his mom. They were far more patient with him than others might have been.

By revenge of the Sith he was an adult who should be capable of communicating his wants and needs.

And the thing is, the Jedi as they were had been successful for millennia. They’re not going to change for one person and they would have happily let him leave.

Don’t forget that Count Dooku was still respected as a former Jedi at the start of Attack of the Clones until they had proof of what he was doing. Anakin could have walked away. He wanted to have everything he wanted and it just wasn’t possible.

I’m not gonna see any response ‘cause I’m blocking you immediately. I like vibing with my faves and jot getting into arguments, which is why the Pro-Jedi tag should stay free of people like you.

Hi Anon! Clearly you won't see this message, as you've mentioned you're blocking me. However, I wrote this post –> To The Anti-Anakin/Pro-Jedi Crowd as part of a 3 part post and this is only the second post in it.

If you would have waited (practiced some Jedi patience, maybe?) until tomorrow to block me, you would've seen my post titled, To the Anti-Jedi/Pro-Anakin Crowd, in which I defend the Jedi.

Because personally, I love both Anakin and the Jedi, and I think both are flawed and both are beautiful.

Both deserve a defense.

Sorry that Anakin reminds you of your mom, that's really rough. Jedi teachings have actually always been very helpful for me as well, as I have chronic anxiety and also suffer from trauma. I go so far as to literally tell people my religion is "Jedi" so I get that.

But my point is, we really should be able to admit that the things we love can be flawed, and that's fine. I am someone who likes to be critical of the things I love, and that often makes me love what I love even more.

As far as Anakin's communication skills go… look. Obi-Wan doesn't exactly make him feel good about opening up. Obi-Wan is basically the person who raised him, and Obi-Wan isn't that great at communicating, either. So it's not like Anakin really had a good example.

As far as the Jedi being successful go… yes, they had been successful for millennia, but this success was part of their arrogance that lead to their downfall. They had lived without the Sith for a thousand years, and they had remained unchanged for so long they did not know how to adapt to a world where the Sith were trying to regain power. The fact that the Jedi were unable to change and were too set in their ways was part of what destroyed them– Sidious knew this weakness and exploited it.

About Anakin walking away… absolutely. He could have walked away at any point. Nobody was forcing him to stay there! But, as I'm going to explain in my post tomorrow, Anakin loved being a Jedi. But he also loved Padmé. And yes, he wanted both.

I feel bad that my previous post offended/upset you, but I really wouldn't call that post anti-Jedi because I am not anti-Jedi at all. My point of all of these is you don't have to be pro-Jedi and anti-Anakin or vice versa. You can love both at the same time.

Clearly, you dislike Anakin for very different reasons than a lot of other people, and if Anakin isn't a character you like, that's fine. But a lot of people dislike Anakin simply BECAUSE they are pro-Jedi, and all I'm saying is that it isn't mutually exclusive!

[frenchtantan]

Okay, after that mini-date between q!Tina and q!Bagi, I have some gripes to settle regarding how some people have been reacting.

First and foremost, cc!Tina. Miss ma’am, I know you’ll probably never read this, but let me tell you, if I hear you one more time saying you’re not good at roleplay I will SCREAM! You are SO passionate and in the moment, so immersed, and you immediately level yourself with how into it the people you’re interacting with are. You’re not afraid to make your character show vulnerability, fear and sadness. This is PEAK roleplaying skills, and it’s so enjoyable to watch! Please never feel invalidated just because you don’t have a 60 pages Word document about your character. You’re SO talented, and your monologues from the mini-date are incredibly poignant.

Secondly, I wanna touch upon the notion that q!Tina is easily swayed. This has some truth to it, and it did show with q!Bagi most of all. Many times she changed an answer about a question or a topic because q!Bagi had a different one. However, those were all about menial things. “But what about her opinion about the Federation?” I hear you ask. Well, it’s true that the people she’s been hanging out the most with (q!Foolish, q!Jaiden and q!Ironmouse) are either pro or neutral towards the Federation. However, because they are still keeping her at arm’s length, they don’t go into too much details as to the why and how. q!Foolish and q!Jaiden especially have a mutual trust and share secrets that they’d never tell q!Tina, at least not now. As such, while at first simmering in a relatively Federation-friendly climate, it wasn’t such a big focus point, especially since she was so new. Like she said, she lived in blissful ignorance, and the people surrounding her didn’t really do anything to change that.

Then comes q!Bagi. Slowly but surely, they both develop a crush on each other, and as such, q!Tina wants to impress. She grasps at a small excuse to flip her view of the Federation as a way to do that, but again, in that moment, it’s not a big deal. And because they are very shy with each other and clumsily flirt, the seriousness of the topic is still somewhat behind a curtain, even though q!Bagi has been knee deep into the dark side of the island. The terrible truths and secrets, the violence, torture, betrayals, she’s seen it all already, but when around q!Tina, she puts on a brave face and acts all sweet, because it’s clear she likes her a lot! However, she does sometimes let a smidge of truth slip out, which q!Tina unconsciously hears and stores in her memory for safekeeping without thinking too much of it.

Finally comes the turning point. q!Bagi discovers q!Cellbit is her long lost brother, and he reacts badly to it, leaving her profoundly sad. q!Tina is present enough to start to see how complex her crush’s life is, through multiple days. After a setback, q!Bagi decides to invite q!Tina on the mini-date and fully opens up to her. Despite building up to it, this wave of information comes crashing down. q!Tina is hit with everything. But most importantly, she is confronted with how blissful her ignorance was, and she is SCARED, leading to her AMAZING monologue about it. However, this fully awakens her critical thinking, and she actually starts to reflect on the situation! Seriously, I don’t know how people didn’t see that! Multiple times through the mini-date, she not only expresses her honest opinion, but even does so when it CHALLENGES q!Bagi’s. She defends q!Foolish, q!Jaiden and q!Forever, she tells her that one of the Cucuruchos is nice, she questions the idea of leaving the island, the Federation’s desire to harm, and so on. At that moment, she’s not trying to impress anymore, she wants to understand, and suggesting otherwise is highly disingenuous, reductive even.

By the end, there isn’t even a real agreement reached on any of those questions! However, what becomes clear is that q!Bagi did something nobody has truly done yet for q!Tina: she opened her heart, and decided to be completely honest. For a while now, q!Tina had become jaded about who to trust, noticing how much the others were keeping secrets, even her close friends. It upset her, and made her act irrational. Yet q!Bagi, without any second thought, chose to trust her. Not to manipulate her, not to test her, but because she truly wanted q!Tina to know who she was. She did that out of respect, to give her all the keys to make the most informed decision about their relationship. Through some more heart-to-heart, they realize they both feel the same way about the others keeping secrets, and now they know they have each-other, at least for the time being.

This leads me to the third misconception: q!Foolish. Doozers, I love you guys. The past months, you’ve fought tooth and nail to make sure q!Foolish wasn’t mischaracterized by the fandom, and I fully support you for it. However, there is something you need to realize: the other cubitos are NOT the fandom. They shouldn’t know, CANNOT know his POV, or q!Jaiden’s. As a result, the hard truth is that due to q!Foolish’s chaotic nature and seemingly wavering loyalty, NOBODY apart from q!Jaiden actually trusts him with regards to Federation matters. He’s often filibusting, joking around, and deviating when it comes to these matters, he has shown to be ready to arrest people. He CHOOSES to act like that, and since others don’t know his endgame, you cannot in good conscience blame any of them when he does not appear trustworthy. Even q!BBH with whom q!Foolish has somewhat of an unspoken bond, doesn’t tell him everything. I know you all want q!Bagi to have a conversation with him to understand him, but it’s going to take way more than that for any islander (again, other than q!Jaiden) to see him the way you do, much less q!Bagi.

This includes q!Tina by the way. As she said during the date, he’s been keeping her at arm’s length, so she’s started doing the same. He may have good reasons to do so but she can’t know them. Now, as she also mentioned, this has become kind of a mutual understanding of what they’re willing to share, and while it remains so, their friendship is almost certainly not endangered. That being said, if it WERE to come to blows, you cannot fault her if she ends up siding with q!Bagi, who’s shown willingness to cross bridges he hasn’t. Again, this is the worst case scenario. She’s still defending him so it’s suuuuuper unlikely to happen.

So yeah, that’s about it! TL;DR

q!Tina might sometimes be easily swayed, but keep in mind that when things get serious, she does have a good head on her shoulders and is capable of critical thinking.

While it’s important for the fandom to understand q!Foolish, it’s equally crucial to realize he does not appear trustworthy to almost all islanders because they don’t have the information the viewers have.

[venus-haze]

Girls on Film (Mickey Altieri x Reader)

Summary: As a film studies major at Windsor College, your junior year is proving to be an eventful one as the eponymous Ghostface begins targeting fellow students, some who you consider friends. You try to focus on your classes, mainly the short film project you’re working on with Mickey Altieri, who your professor inexplicably paired you up with despite the two of you having almost polar opposite views on the medium. 

Note: Female reader, but no other descriptors are used. You’re also into gross out movies because I wanted a strong contrast to Mickey’s “blame the movies” thing and also irony…as you’ll see. This is an extremely dark fic, so look at the warnings before deciding whether to read this. Also, you know and I know that Mickey didn’t kill Randy, but in the context of the fic, the reader-character doesn’t know that. Do not interact if you are under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 4k

Warnings: One-sided rivalry (Mickey hates your guts). Discussions of “gross” movies and themes. Descriptions of violence. Major character deaths. Sexually explicit content which involves non/dubcon, knifeplay, bloodplay, sadism (slight masochism). Do not interact if you are under 18.

Film Theory went from okay to off the walls when Mickey Altieri decided to make the argument that movies could be responsible for people’s actions. Using the brutal murders at the early Stab screening in town as an example was in poor taste when it had just happened the night before. It wasn’t even that you disliked Mickey, having met him in your Introduction to Film History course. He was pretty funny, and the two of you had a lot of the same classes together, moved in the same social circles. 

He’d expressed similar views before, but never so egregiously. You couldn’t believe a fellow film student would have such a regressive view of cinema. It was asinine to even entertain the idea, but you couldn’t let the conversation go on without giving your two-cents to your peers. 

“CiCi’s right. That exact thinking is what led to the Hays Code.”

“Bonnie and Clyde was one of the first post-Code movies to make it big. It showed there’s profit in glorifying crime and violence,” Mickey said. “The decade after it came out was the golden age of serial killers.”

“Oh sure, I watched one too many John Waters movies, and now I’m having sex in confession booths,” you said, earning snickers from your classmates. 

“Thank you,” Randy said. “I don’t think anyone was eating dog shit after watching Pink Flamingos.”

“Maybe Ghostface got the idea for the phone calls from Serial Mom,” one of your classmates quipped.

“Kathleen Turner’s character in that was inspired by serial killers. She read true crime books and collected paraphernalia,” Mickey argued.

“I’ll do you one better and raise you John Waters himself,” you said. “The guy has a morbid fascination with the Manson Family to the point where he incorporates references to them in almost all of his movies. He hasn’t committed any mass murders.”

“No, he just makes movies that make people wanna puke,” another classmate said.

Mickey opened his mouth to speak again, but was interrupted by Sidney and Hallie rushing to the classroom door, looking for Randy. Unable to keep the class’s attention after that, your professor dismissed everyone. 

CiCi made her way over to you, giving you an exasperated look. “Reagan-era politics have really poisoned some of these people’s critical thinking skills.”

“Tell me about it,” you agreed.

CiCi had been in a lot of the same classes as you your freshman year, and the two of you became fast friends over your similar taste in movies and distaste for closed-minded people. She was a big Lee Grant fan, wanting to make candid documentaries about tough social issues too.

You had some time to kill before your next class, so the two of you made your way to one of the empty picnic tables outside and continued the discussion, which had quickly turned into mutual ranting. Her point about the Slumber Party Massacre movies being directed by women was cut short when you realized you’d have to book it across campus to make it to Film Production II in time.

It was one of the higher level courses for film students who were looking to make feature films rather than focus on screenwriting or making documentaries. Among the prerequisites for Film Production II were Screenwriting I and II. In theory, everyone in the class would have two or three short film scripts ready to be adapted for an advanced Film Studies class. Few films were ever solo projects, so you weren’t surprised when your professor told everyone on the first day of class to prepare to be partnered up for the project, which would count for most of the course’s grade.

When you walked into the classroom, your professor handed you a slip of paper with two names on it. Yours and–of course. You almost had to laugh at the irony. Mickey. His attitude toward you could be unpredictable. Some days would be fine, and others it was like the two of you were about to bite each other’s heads off. 

Speak of the devil. You watched his reaction to the slip of paper when he walked in. Unreadable, even when his attention turned to you.

“Is Sidney okay?” you asked when Mickey sat next to you.

“As okay as anyone can be in this situation. That cop from Woodsboro’s here—Dewey, he’s keeping an eye on her.”

“That’s good.”

“So, let’s get started on this thing I guess. Any ideas?”

“Okay cool. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and my strongest script is ‘The Tongue Remembers’.”

He scoffed. “The one about the cannibal girl who gets lobotomized?”

“Well, we could take the easy route and make a porno,” you snapped. “Not that it’d be very long.”

“Knowing you it’d be snuff.”

“Whatever. We’ll do one of yours, but I get to do casting and set design.”

“Easy enough, ‘Stakeout’ has four characters,” he said, digging through his backpack for a copy of the script.

You flipped through the script, scanning the first few pages to jog your memory. An action-comedy about a group of criminals who knew that they were being staked-out by undercover cops, unaware that one was within their midst. Mickey’s comedy writing was fast-paced and genuinely funny. You’d told him so in your peer review of his script in Screenwriting II. The reviews were anonymous, but the effort was still there.

Most of the reviews for ‘The Tongue Remembers’ were positive, with criticisms of some minor plot points that helped you make the whole script stronger in the long run. The review you appreciated most tore the damn thing apart, but gave detailed explanations for the suggestions given, all of which were so good you almost wanted to seek out who the source was. A handful of people didn’t care for your script at all, objecting to the plot altogether. You quietly suspected Mickey was one of them. 

You tried to shake the tension that had settled over you and Mickey following the exchange just a few moments prior. At least it’d be good experience for dealing with inevitable assholes as you worked your way up in the film industry. It was tough to make it without connections, and even tougher for women.

By the end of class, the two of you agreed to meet in the library the next day and start planning casting and a general production schedule. Mickey had more editing experience than you did, but you wanted to sit in on the process after initial production of the short film was over. He begrudgingly agreed, and you left the classroom for the dining hall in a sour mood. 

When you walked into the crowded dining hall for dinner, you spotted Randy and rushed over to join him. More often than you’d like, he’d have to be the mediator when you and Mickey would really get into it. At least he seemed to find it amusing.

“Hey, is everything alright?” you asked.

He handed you a plate that already had two slices of pizza on it and grabbed one for himself. “Besides the whole ‘Ghostface is back and people are being murdered’ thing? Can’t complain. How about you? Get your partner for Production II yet?”

“Yeah. Mickey.”

Randy laughed. “Nice. I’m sure that won’t be a disaster.”

“I don’t want it to be! I even said we could do one of his scripts.”

“Which one?”

“That action-comedy he wrote, ‘Stakeout’,” you said as the two of you sat at an empty table. “It’s a good script. He’s a great comedy writer. I’m just pissed he wouldn’t even consider ‘The Tongue Remembers’.”

Randy nodded in acknowledgement. “I liked that one. You did a good job of making the cannibals sympathetic. Strong ending too. I’m not so sure it’d go over well at Windsor’s student film fest. Lotta weak stomachs.”

“Last year’s winner was a fucking romcom.”

“So you give the cannibal a love interest. Go a little further than Texas Chainsaw 2.”

“I’m not trying to win awards. I wanna make art.”

“You gotta sell out before you can make art. That’s the industry, kid,” he said, patting your shoulder sympathetically. “Are you gonna be at the Delta Zeta whatever party tonight?”

“Delta Lambda Zeta? I don’t think so,” you said. “I gotta find people to be in this movie.”

It turned out to be one of the best decisions you could have made, because you ended up with a list of people interested in a role in ‘Stakeout’. More pressing, however, was the news that Ghostface had made an appearance at the party, after killing CiCi in the Omega Beta Zeta house. Your stomach dropped at the news. Just a few hours before her death you’d been talking to her. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t connected to anyone from the original Woodsboro killings, the students who were killed at the Stab premiere hadn’t been either.

In a small college like Windsor, news traveled fast, and by the time you finished eating breakfast, you’d heard that Sidney, Randy, Hallie, Derek, and Mickey had all spent the night at the police station following the attack. 

You didn’t want to ask Randy if you were a suspect. Your film taste alone would put you at the top of the list by default. As much as you understood the reasoning considering the last Ghostface duo’s obsession with horror movies, it didn’t mean everyone who watched them would be inclined to commit murder, despite what Mickey thought. Besides, who would your accomplice even be? Derek or Hallie would be too obvious. Gale Weathers was cutthroat, but not in the literal sense. Randy or Dewey would be a devastating twist if the goal was to mess with Sidney that much more. You felt bad. This type of thing was fun in the movies. You couldn’t imagine it being your life. 

Making your way to the library, you weren’t sure whether or not Mickey would actually show up after spending all night in a police station, but it didn’t hurt to go anyway and get other work done.

To your surprise, he sat down across from you a few minutes after you’d agreed to meet. He was wearing the same clothes as the day before, dark circles under his eyes.

“Jesus have you even slept? We can do this another day.”

“Spare me your concern.”

“Look, I don’t want this project to be miserable for either of us,” you said. “Between Film Theory and Production, I was kind of being a bitch yesterday.”

“It was really that porno comment that hit me deep. I’m no two-pump chump,” he said with a smile.

“Alright, alright. I’m sorry,” you laughed. “Oh, I have some people interested in three of the four roles for ‘Stakeout’.”

“Already?”

“I wanted to make it up to you.”

He was silent for a moment, placing a hand on your arm and squeezing gently. “I’m sorry about CiCi. I know she was your friend.”

“Thanks,” you whispered, trying to keep it together. The last thing you wanted was to break down in the middle of the library.

The two of you planned to do a test shoot in one of the theater’s empty practice auditoriums over the weekend. The main stage was being used for the theater department’s annual play, but Mickey pointed out that ‘Stakeout’ mostly took place in one room anyway. You went ahead and booked the auditorium on the library computer for about three hours, just to give enough time to work out any kinks and not worry about being interrupted.

While Mickey was going to spend the following couple of days getting props together and making any last minute changes to the script, you would finalize the cast since he approved of your choices, surprisingly. At least, you were going to, until Randy ended up dead not long after CiCi. 

You spent a day locked in your dorm room, partially out of paranoia and also in the depression of losing two of your close friends within days of each other. It was getting serious. Randy had survived Woodsboro. If he wasn’t off limits to Ghostface, no one was. 

By Saturday, you’d debated bailing on Mickey and not bothering to show up for the test shoot. You decided against it. Moping wouldn’t do you any good.

He looked shocked to see you when you walked into the auditorium. You felt bad your progress on casting stalled. His friend had died too, but he had his shit together enough to bring a box of props and the camera.

“Are you sure you’re good to shoot today?” Mickey asked from behind the camera, set a few feet from the stage.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you said, your voice cracking a bit. “Really, it’s all good.” 

“We don’t have to–”

You shook your head. “Let’s do this.”

“Alright,” he said, though he didn’t sound convinced. “You mind locking the door?”

“Okay.” You walked back to the door, locking it. “I got two of the leads for ‘Stakeout’ down, Frank and Alex. I know Frank wasn’t our first choice, but Greg backed out.”

“No problem–shit, I forgot something in the props box over there,” he said, adjusting the settings on the camera. “Could you get it while I finish setting this up? You can’t miss it.”

“Sure,” you said, making your way over to the cardboard box Mickey had brought with him. It took a lot to rattle you, but as soon as you looked in the box, your skin crawled. The Ghostface mask stared back at you, eyes empty black holes. The same ones your friends saw before they died. “Mickey? This better be some kind of stupid joke.”

You turned around to find him less than a foot behind you. Camera set to record. Knife in his hand. Dangerous gleam in his eye as he took a step toward you.

“Last minute change—unprofessional, I know—but I decided to go in a different direction for our short film,” he said, a sadistic grin spread across his face. “You’re gonna be the star. Too bad you won’t be able to see it.”

Just as you began to scream, he put his hand over your mouth, holding the knife to your throat. “Don’t be a diva on me now. You just say what I tell you, okay?”

You nodded frantically, vision blurred by the tears that flowed freely from your eyes. In your desperation, you accidentally nicked your own skin against the knife, whimpering at the small cut you’d self-induced. Mickey snickered, his gaze shifting from you to the camera lens.

He moved his hand from your mouth, though his thumb rested on your lower lip. Slowly, he pushed it between your lips. Fuck this. Fuck him. You bit down until you tasted copper, earning a sloppy slash across your chest that made you cry out in pain, releasing his thumb. 

He looked at his hand in disbelief and then at you, a grin spreading across his face. “You’re gonna fight back, huh? You wanna play that game?” he said, an unnerving laugh escaping his lips.

Feeling bold, you spit his own blood in his face. In his moment of distraction you grabbed the knife, managing to pull it from his hand. You stumbled back, holding out the knife with a shaky hand. 

Despite you having the weapon, he still seemed smug, amusement in his eyes as he lunged toward you. You wildly swung the knife, cutting his abdomen as you crashed to the ground. He climbed on you, grabbing at your flailing arms as you tried to keep him away with the threat of being cut again.

“I’ll kill you! Fucking bastard!” you screamed. “You killed my fucking friends!”

“Do it!” he taunted. “C’mon, I wanna see you try.”

In your struggle to stab him, you lost your grip on the knife, and it slid across the stage. The both of you froze. You used this moment to push him off of you, scrambling to retrieve it. He threw a punch to your back. The wind knocked out of you, violent coughs clawing their way out of your lungs. He took the opportunity to stand up as you lay on the ground in pain.

Still, with the adrenaline pumping through your veins, you grabbed for the knife, hissing as your fingers wrapped around the blade and cut deep into your skin. It didn’t matter. You had to do the most with it while you had it in your grasp.

You held the knife up in a weak defense as he kicked your stomach. When he moved to kick you again, you slashed his leg, pulling the blade from his flesh and watching as blood quickly stained his pants. 

The wild look in his eye intensified, and he dropped down, his hips straddling yours. You could feel his hard cock press against your core as he shifted. And he said you got off to fucked up shit. 

With one hand, he applied pressure to your throat as the other held down the arm you were holding the knife with. You released your grip on the knife as black spots clouded your vision. You could vaguely hear it fall to the ground when his hand released your throat, and you sucked in a much-needed breath. He picked up the weapon, a triumphant grin on his face. You were fucked.

He sat up, lazily dragging the knife down from your chest to your hips. “You probably should’ve killed me.”

“You think I wasn’t trying?” you wheezed.

“You put up a good fight. I’ll give you that.”

“Don’t act like you don’t love it.”

“And you don’t? I saw the thrill in your eyes every time you raised this at me.”

“It’s self-defense!”

“You tell yourself that, babe,” he said, leaning down to kiss you, only for him to stop to whisper, “Try something, and I swear to god I’ll knock your teeth out.”

You were having trouble breathing. He probably crushed part of your trachea. At least you put up a good fight. You lay still as he kissed you, not making an effort to kiss him back until he pressed the blade against your throat. Even then, you let him take the lead, your lips passively responding to his as he deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth. He wasn’t a bad kisser. Shame he was a serial killer. It took everything in you not to bite down on it like you had his thumb. You didn’t have the energy to fight back. Knew he wasn’t bluffing about your teeth either.

He pulled away from you, a string of bloody saliva hanging from your lips that he swiped with his injured thumb. Bringing the digit to his mouth, he licked it. You grimaced at the sight.

“C’mon, babe, I thought you were into this kinda thing,” he teased.

“That’s all pretend. It’s not real,” you argued softly.

You gasped as he cut through your top and bra, digging the blade into your abdomen. He traced the tip of the knife around your breasts, watching in amusement as you began to cry. The cool air in the room and metal brushing your nipples made them hard. He used his free hand to pinch and pull at one, eliciting pained whines from you. Your teary gaze was fixed on the knife, though.

“Why don’t you give me a big smile for the camera and tell me how bad you want me to fuck you?”

“Screw you!” you shouted hoarsely.

He scoffed, pulling the knife away from your breasts and holding the blunt side between his teeth as he unzipped your jeans. You squeezed your eyes shut as he pulled the denim down your limp legs, leaving you in only your panties. His index and middle finger pressed against the cotton, rubbing a bit at the wet spot in the fabric.

A pleased noise came from his throat. “So you are into this kinda thing.”

He snapped the elastic waistband against your hips. You moaned. Your eyes shot open, face heating up in embarrassment. 

The knife was back in his hand, though the gleam of the blade lowered, down, down, until you felt it pressed against your inner thigh. He dragged the blade across your sensitive skin until the only thing between it and your pussy was the thin fabric of your panties. You felt like your heart was going to explode from your chest.

“Stop. Mickey, please don’t—oh my god—“ you babbled. “Please—Mickey, I’m sorry—“

“You gonna do what I say?”

“Please fuck me, Mickey. I want you to fuck me so bad.”

“That’s better, baby,” he cooed mockingly.

You heaved a sob of relief as you felt him pull the knife from your panties. Closing your eyes again, you reckoned your impending doom with yourself, trying to ignore the sound of his zipper. The rustling of fabric. The air on your bare pussy.

“Time for the real show.”

Mickey played with your clit while he leaned down to kiss you again, devouring your involuntary moans with a triumphant smugness. 

“The rest of them were messy and painful, just like in the movies,” he said softly, confusing you for a moment before you realized he was talking about his other victims. “I didn’t hate them, though, so I’ll blame this one on violent porn.”

“Mickey, I won’t tell anyone,” you tried. “This can be our secret. I—I like it, really.”

He groaned, pushing his hard cock between your folds. A pained cry escaped your lips as his length filled you. He hardly gave you any time to get used to him inside you as he began thrusting at a brutal pace.

“Keep going,” he hissed through gritted teeth.

“You feel so good, Mickey. Your cock is so—fuck—I don’t want anyone else.” You struggled to get words out, your brain overrun by the pain and pleasure that competed to cloud your senses. 

“You’re not getting anyone else.”

Your eyes drifted to the knife in his hand as he pounded into you, nervous about what he was going to do with it next.

“Look at me, baby,” he ordered. 

Your fearful gaze snapped to his, cruel and unforgiving. He kept rubbing circles on your clit, so fast it was almost too painful. That’s what he wanted, though. For you to hurt. Made him feel better, get off quicker if you hurt. It was almost too easy for him, the way your body betrayed you so quickly, wet with slick so he hardly had to do a thing before claiming your cunt. 

Your pussy squeezed his cock, a silent encouragement with each thrust against your will. His breathing was heavy, sweat dripping from his forehead, yet he showed no signs of letting up on you. Bleeding, aching, you weren’t sure how much longer you could take the abuse. 

“I want you to ruin me, Mickey.” You meant it. If this was how you were going to meet your end, it might as well be as brutal as the dark scenarios your mind sometimes wandered to after watching a particularly bloody film. Maybe he was right. Maybe the movies were to blame. “Fucking wreck me.”

He shuddered, his thrusts getting sloppy. “Fuck–Jesus fucking–”

His grip around the knife handle tightened as he came, knuckles white as he stabbed it into the floor, mere inches away from your face. You jolted, fear and adrenaline sending you over the edge. Your orgasm wracked through your body, muscles tensing, the sensation pulsing through your wounds, making them feel like they were on fire.

You nearly blacked out, but you held on long enough to feel him bottom out inside you. His head hung over yours as he caught his breath. Tilting your head up a bit, you kissed him. Softer, more intimate, hopefully enough to throw him off.

You reached for the knife next to you, but he pulled it out of the floor before you could.

“Nice try,” he said, breaking the kiss.

He stood up and walked away. For a moment, you thought he was going to just leave you there. You weren’t so lucky. He returned with Ghostface regalia in hand, looking down at your bloody body beneath him with a grin.

Mickey brought the voice modifier to his mouth. “Now, who wants to die for art?”

[changingplumbob]

New Goth: Chapter 4, Part 4

Harvestfest wraps up

CW: Mentions of death Content Warning Guide

Savannah is the twin in pink with hair clips Mercedes is the twin in blue without hair clips

Full family photo! Then Milton decides that while everyone is here he may as well show them the puppet show he’s been working on.

Rahul: What is it called

Milton: School

Cassandra: I think I’ll have to watch from a seat if that’s okay

Savannah: Mama has a baby inside so she needs to be careful

Mercedes nods halfheartedly while Milton slips on the puppets and begins his tale.

The show isn’t all that bad. Of course at creativity level 3 it isn’t all that good either… There are a few funny jokes in it that make the Chopra’s laugh though, Rahul is the best audience a kid could want. Alexander and James are using the time that Milton is being watched to work out in the home gym. They’ve already seen many versions of this puppet play from Milton. Hamlet hangs around for a while hoping for a pat but the viewers seem engrossed.

In the end Milton receives a round of applause from the family.

Savannah: We should have a puppet theatre

Mercedes: Why

Savannah: We could do stories together

Mercedes: But we can do that with dolls. Why change

Rahul: You’re not a big fan of change are you Mercedes

Mercedes: No papa. But I would like a treehouse

Rahul: *laughs* Come on you two, we should find Uncle Alexander and Uncle James and thank them before we leave

Savannah: Why

Rahul: Good manners that’s why. Now come along

Savannah: I’d like an older cousin

Mercedes: I don’t want one to boss us around like Milton does

Milton: I heard that

Rahul: Girls, I said now!

Twins: *quickly standing* Yes papa

As they leave the library Milton sighs and turns to Viola.

Milton: Did you have a good time Viola

Viola: Ye ye, gooey. Ug?

Milton hugs the toddler who is happy with the attention. Alexander and Cassandra walk in talking and the youngest Chopra is scooped up.

Cassandra: We better be getting back to Henford

Alexander: Before storytime? I need practice

Cassandra: I doubt a teen would like you reading to them but what do I know. I think my ones are getting tired, and I may need a nap myself

Alexander: Take care of yourself sis

Cassandra: I will, and if I don’t Rahul does

The rest of the day passes quickly. Alexander has joined the critic career with his eye on being a food critic, finding it a great way to combine his literature degree with his cuisine hobby. James takes care of chores around the house since he is a neat sim after all. Alexander practices his research and debate until he hits level 4, coincidentally enough the level he needs for promotion. James meanwhile spends some time playing games online with Joey, Keira and Marta.

Milton looks at this toys again before bed. He’s glad Alexander got them for him, he’d missed them. Who knows if Bella’s journals would provide any answers as to where she was, but he wanted to keep trying. He only had one mummy, and he missed her every day. Of course in the middle of the night he woke up from a bad dream and realised the way to protect himself was clear, bear suit! Before we knew it Monday was here and Hamlet was waking everyone up accordingly.

James decided to spend the day doing something he loved, fishing! He invited the club around to check out the stream that ran along the edge of the property. It had begun to snow but with no ice the fish should be biting. I had hoped they would all deposit themselves along the stream but nope. Bob decided his time was better spent upstairs watching the culinary channel. Reece caught something! It wasn’t a fish but hopefully his skill has gone up a little.

After school...

James: How was school today

Milton: Good and bad. Can you help me with my project please Uncle James? It's meant to be a volcano

James: Sure, as an ex-teacher I know my way around a fake volcano. Now tell me about school. Why was it good and bad?

Milton: I gave the note from Alexander to my teacher about my costume and she was fine with it

James: But?

Milton: *sighs* Reynaldo and Maria hung out with me but everyone else avoided me

Friendly reminder that the twins go to a different school, I promise they were not avoiding him.

James: Don’t worry about "everyone else", focus on your friends. If they still think you’re awesome enough to hang around with no matter what you want to wear, they’re good ones

Milton: I guess. It’s just hard. People treat me different even before I was in this

James: Milton... your father died and we don't know what happened to Bella. Many of the kids in your class won’t be able to think about what that means, and won’t know what to say about it. Sometimes if people don’t know what to say they’ll say nothing

Milton: I don’t miss father so much now. But I need to know what happened to mummy

James: If you need any help going through those journals I’d be happy to help

Milton: I know but… I want to do it by myself. It helps me feel close to mummy. There, is the volcano done?

James: Almost. Now you have to present it

Milton: Present it?

James: Practice for class. I’ll be a good audience and you'll be prepared for your classmates

Joey decided to swing around for dinner to catch up with everyone. It’s leftover ham from the holiday so everyone ends up feeling a bit dazed. Alexander has to go write another column for work afterwards so James, Milton and Joey put in some gaming time. I’m not sure how Milton does in the bear suit but he’s not sad so we’ll stick with it.

Previous ... Next

[anaalnathrakhs]

oh god ed reddit is having the “uwu anorexia isn’t rooted in fatphobia my mental illness is not abt you” talk again please god help me

fatphobia doesn’t mean “being a meanie to fat ppl” i’m begging you to use critical thinking skills for five seconds and apply what you know about literally any other form of oppression to this situation.

people’s point isn’t that you having anorexia makes them feel bad and therefore you’re a bad fatphobic person.

they’re pointing out how the deeply ingrained fatphobia our society upholds, from misconceptions about health to moralization of looks and weight, including yes being jerks to fat ppl’s faces bc they’re fat, is affecting what you think about your own looks, weight, health, body, clothes, eating habits, etc.

the logic isn’t “you became anorexic because you hate fat people so much you never wanted to be fat yourself (and that makes you a bad person)” it’s “fatphobia is a prism that transforms the root cause of your ed into disordered thoughts, behaviors, and patterns (and unlearning fatphobia will help you with recovery and harm-reduction)”

like. it’s not for no reason that anorexia is a disorder that disproportionatedly affects women. it’s not for no reason that there’s sky high comorbidity rates for eds and ocd. it’s not for no reason that people who need control in their lives so badly that they develop a mental disorder abt it get obssessed with being skinny and not with being a sumo. it’s not for no reason that ppl who feel the need to retract to childhood due to trauma envy things like being skinny light and frail, instead of being a tubby baby. it’s not for no reason that there is an incredibly common anorexic thought pattern (internal and self-directed, don’t make me say what i didn’t say) that associaties restriction and weight loss with moral goodness.

for each of these there IS a number of exceptions, but you can see case by case how the root cause (trauma, need for control, for self-destruction, growing up poor, whatever you think is “unrelated to fatphobia” basically) is processed through the prism of the fatphobic culture we’ve all been raised in. some people just, voluntarily or not, deal with those root causes in different way, which might or might not be healthy. but it’s a consequence of ambiant fatphobia that “i should starve and be skinny about it” is a statistically pretty common response to this distress.

the point isn’t “it’s fatphobic that you don’t deal with your neuroses in a body positive way uwu” the point is that no matter how cool you are with fat people on like, a personal level, you’ve been (like the rest of us) bombarded with fatphobic thought patterns your entire life basically, both directly fatphobic things and reactions to this fatphobia. maybe spoken to you directly, maybe not. maybe about you maybe about other people. you live in a society that places moral values into looks and health, and also pushes some deeply rooted falsehoods about how those things tie into each other. you have a disorder defined by obsessive behaviors. maybe, just maybe, deconstructing the logic that those obsessives behaviors are based upon will help you deal with this disorder. and recover or reduce harm.

basically, anorexia isn’t “getting skinny disorder” it’s “obsession disorder”, obsession with looking attractive, or pleasing your family, or going back to being a kid, or being healthy, or being fit, or being driven and capable, or being worth saving, or having your suffering known, or having control over something, or whatever. the fatphobia that is omnipresent (and i repeat, omnipresent, nobody is singling you out as a bad fatphobic meanie, or even talking about your behavior towards other people around you) in our society picks the direction in which many many people will express that disorder.

of course if you live in a society that tells you “being fat is morally bad” at every turn, when you start developping an obssessive pathological need to control things, without another factor weighting in, most people’s default reaction will be anorexia. food is a regular fixture of everybody’s life, everyone wants to be morally good, and even if we know/understand/believe to an extent the flaws of that “fat = bad” logic we know the world around us still believes it, and nobody wants to be treated like shit. we can think it’s stupid and fight against fatphobia and work to treat fat ppl better in our lives and support body positivity, but in any case, one always judges oneself on different metrics than they judge others, cuz we control our self-improvement. that’s natural. just it doesn’t mesh well with a pathologically obssessive need for control above self-preservation.

[watatsumiis]

Orpheus' Mistake (Childe x Reader angst)

Summary: Childe would follow you anywhere, regardless of whether you asked him to or not. The question remains, would you follow him?

A Childe x Reader oneshot, in which Childe descends into the Abyss to save the reader, on one condition - that he not look back on the way out.

Content: Gender neutral reader, angst, no comfort. Reader death. Vague implications of suicidal thoughts at the end. Not proofread (or reread for that matter)

Tap tap tap tap.

The Eleventh Harbinger’s footsteps sound empty and lonely in the halls of the Abyss. They always have. He tells himself. No matter how many monsters join the fray, humanoid or otherwise. My footsteps are all that can be heard. 

The urge to look back is like an itch he knows he isn’t allowed to scratch, a tickle in his throat that he doesn’t dare to cough out. He opens his mouth and tries to talk, to comfort you, to let you know that you’ll be out soon, but the Abyss eats his words like a starving creature, ravenous for everything he has to give and more.

What if they’re not there? Childe’s critical thinking skills don’t often kick in - most times they do, he immediately wishes they wouldn’t. 

Of course, it’s not that he doesn’t trust you. He’d trust you with his life, his favourite blade, his family, each and every single thing he has, he’d hand over to you a million times over. His love is like a tidal wave, crashing down and surrounding everything around you both. 

He can recall the faces of the abyssal creature that guided him, as clearly as he can recall yours. Its twisting tongues and branching horns, every single eye and tooth and scale as it rasped out its advice in a hollow voice that clacked dryly from its twisted maw. “They shall follow along behind as you leave the Abyss. You know the way.” Teeth and bone scraped as it had talked, convulsing as it spat the words out. The mere memory sends shivers down Childe’s spine anew. “Do not look back until you are on the surface, else the Abyss will know what they mean to you and take them, for good this time.” The guttural chitter it had let out was somewhat akin to a laugh. “Even one glance, and your love will be torn asunder without mercy.” 

Childe had always silently judged his fellow Harbingers for their zealous hate of the gods and higher powers of Teyvat, but now he’s starting to realise why they feel so strongly. A wretched feeling seeps down his shoulders, settling in his chest and in his gut, bubbling away like overcooked fat. 

Tap tap tap tap. Hollow  footsteps echo on.

Not knowing pains him, more than any battle wound he’s ever received, any hit he’s taken. He’s never been a patient man, and he’s not about to start, but he knows that for now, he has to be. 

He pictures your face as he pushes forward. It’s a paltry comfort compared to the real thing, but he forces himself to stay strong. 

My muse, my love. Childe gulps, and it sticks in his throat awkwardly like a fish bone gone down wrong. My reason for moving forward. My reason to fight. He brushes his fingers across one of his blades, and his chest aches. Every step feels like it takes a million years, every breath a million more. 

He’s not sure when the tears began streaking their way down his pale, freckled cheeks, but they’re there now, dripping openly onto his scarf. At least they don’t have to see me like this. He thinks wryly. It barely even provides a paltry amount of comfort. He scrubs at his face with his sleeve and forges onward, up the ever-spiralling steps. It can’t be far now. The thought is almost a prayer, a hopeless plea to the gods he ceased believing in the power of long, long ago, when he’d first fumbled his way into this dark, hateful place. 

The dreadful anxiety continues to linger in his mind. What if it lied? The voice whispers, digging cold claws into the spaces between his ribs and sucking all the air out of his diaphragm. He clenches his fists so hard his fingers feel numb. 

They wouldn’t abandon me. He knows this is a fact. They’d follow me to the ends of Teyvat. It provides him no solace now he knows your fate is at the whim of the Abyss. 

Just one little peek. The idea grasps his brain and won’t let go. One tiny look. Just to make sure. I need to know they’re with me. Before it’s too late. 

He clenches his jaw and tells himself no, but the feeling lingers, growing stronger and stronger, louder and louder, until it’s all he can think about. Worse even than the ringing in his ears. 

It’s starting to get lighter. Childe isn’t truly sure if that’s the case, or if he’s just fooling himself. He redoubles his pace, but time seems to melt together and spread out all at once. He can’t seem to keep track of the steps beneath his feet. I can’t take this. He speeds up again, and again, until he’s running. They’ll keep up with me. His faith in you is as strong as ever, but his belief in the ones pulling the strings is waning fast. 

It’s not until he slows down to catch his breath that it all hits him. He’s halfway through turning around before he catches himself. No. No no no. He closes his eyes and snaps his head forward once again, his heart fluttering like a trapped bird inside his chest. 

Childe stops dead in his tracks, unable to breathe around the lump in his throat. I can’t do it. I have to know. We can’t be far from the exit now. Just one look. And with that, he finally, finally glances over his shoulder.

His shoulders slump and all his worries disappear the moment he sees you there - a thin, wispy shadow, but you nonetheless. His heart soothed, he turns back. One look didn’t hurt. It’s fine. With that, he marches onward.

A few more steps up, and he’s met with a door that materialises seemingly out of thin air. A delighted laugh bubbles in his chest and is out of his mouth as he steps out of the Abyss once and for all, turning back as he steps onto the warm sand, a crooked grin still on his face as he sets his gaze on you.

He’s too distracted basking in his joy to realise that something’s wrong until it’s too late. Dark shapes surround you, taking hold and dragging you back before you can even make it to the door. 

Childe’s face falls, and his feet scramble on the sound as he tries to throw himself back in, only to collide with what feels like a solid wall. He pounds his fists against the invisible barrier as he watches how you get dragged back down, one arm outstretched as if he’s able to take it.

He throws everything he’s got at the barrier, as if that will somehow negate the very rules of the world he lives in. Every attack, every power, every curse and plea, but none of it budges the boundary between the dawn-soaked sand and the cold, dark Abyss you’re now trapped in. The door fades, and before he knows it, Childe is throwing violent attacks at the empty air, kicking up sand and screaming his wrath to the gods.

It’s my fault. The thought hits him like a blow to the chest as his legs give out beneath him and he stumbles into the warm sand, gloved fingers digging into the course material as he sobs dryly. It’s all my fault. He curses himself and his impatience. If I’d just waited. Just a little longer. They’d still be with me. He tries desperately to bargain with himself. I can get to the Abyss again. I can find them. He chokes on the feeling of hope rising in his throat, and it plummets down, back into nonexistence, into the Abyss that Childe holds inside of him, growing steadily larger with your absence. 

Tears soak into the sand, clumping it together in little brown spots as Childe’s shoulders shake. I had one chance. One chance. And I fucked it up. A short, sharp breath wheezes in and out of his throat, and an awful feeling prickles up his spine. I can’t stay here. I can’t. He drags himself up, wishing with his whole heart that it had been him who had been punished for his impatience and distrust instead of you. 

But he knows that this is simply the reality he lives in now, the cards he dealt himself, and he loathes it. He drags himself to his feet, draws his weapon, and begins the arduous trek in search of a fight.

For the first and last time in his life, Childe doesn’t step into battle for victory. Instead, it’s in hopes that, eventually, he will lose, and the gods might be kind enough to finally let you be together once and for all.

Please don't repost, steal, copy or otherwise plagiarise my writing! I do not consent for my works to be translated and posted elsewhere, or used to teach bots!

[vincess-princess]

in darkness shall you be reborn

Chapter 14.

Word count: 3090 Warnings: some manhandling on Nikki's part A/N: this is just as unexpected to me as it is to you. i just had nothing to do in class lol

“Damn it,” Tommy laughed hoarsely, his chest trembling. “I swear I could have got you this time.”

“You couldn’t, but it was a praiseworthy try.” Nikki sheathed his rapier, stretched out his hand and helped Tommy up. Vince caught a grimace of pain flashing across the first mate’s face. The masterful, almost effortless disarming must have been less pleasant to experience than watch. Although Tommy should be thankful to get out of this death match practically unscathed.

“See?” Mick said. “All ended well. There was no need to annoy me about it. And don’t look at me all pissed. You needed to hear that, and better from me than from Nikki.”

Vince wanted to tell him a lot of things, the majority of which would definitely lose him whatever amiability Mick still harbored towards him. A few more seconds, and it would surely spill. And if there was anything Vince had learned on the “Shout”, it was that letting out emotions only made matters worse. Every time, without fail.

So he said nothing - only glared at Mick and stormed off to the galley. His fists itched to punch something; Mick himself was off limits, but his pillow seemed like a good alternative. Vince had a lot of other, more creative ideas, but even his mind clouded with anger understood the harm that would be done wouldn’t be worth the harm Vince would get inflicted upon himself in return.

He was halfway there when a hand landed on his shoulder. Vince couldn’t help but flinch. Did Nikki notice his presence, after all?

”Hey, blondie, hold your horses!” No, that wasn’t Nikki. Vince turned around and met eyes with Slash. He was the closest to them when Vince was so carelessly criticizing Nikki’s skill. Mick’s warning immediately came to mind; his stomach sank. Did Slash hear their conversation? What was he going to do about it?

“What?” Vince asked sharply. Too sharply, apparently, because Slash was clearly taken aback.

“Wow, why are you so pissed? I ain’t done you no wrong.”

Yet, Vince wanted to add, but held it back. He still didn’t know what Slash wanted.

“Don’t call me that,” he said in a softer tone.

“Well, I still don’t know your name,” Slash shrugged. “Gotta get by somehow.”

“It’s Vince. Now you no longer have that excuse.”

“Really?” Slash raised his eyebrow. “I expected something posher.”

“It’s a very simple version of my actual name,” Vince said dryly. “That’s all you’re getting. I’m not giving you any more reasons to mock me.”

“Man, you really taking that to heart?” Slash seemed genuinely surprised. How could someone not take that to heart? “C’mon, we were just messing around. We do that a lot - it gets boring here.” He patted Vince on the shoulder condescendingly. “Vince it be then. You know, I’ve overheard you and Mick chatting-“

“I was just joking around,” Vince interrupted him, his heart beginning to race. “Didn’t mean anything by that.”

“Really?” Slash’s face dropped. “Damn, and I was thinking you were onto something there. I practice the way the captain tells me to but I ain’t getting nowhere. And he always says I ain’t trying hard enough. But if you just made it all up…”

Vince couldn’t believe his ears. Was Slash actually… taking him seriously? After all Nikki did to crush any semblance of respect the crew could still have towards him?

“You know, every joke has a grain of truth in it,” he said hastily. “It won’t hurt to try, anyway.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Slash nodded. “You got any specific suggestions? Some moves I could try, maybe?”

“Uh,” Vince recalled his training sessions. Back then he was irritated that a significant part of them was dedicated to solitary practice and exercise, bemoaning that it took time away from actual sparring, but the pirates had just demonstrated how the lack of the former inherently undermined the latter. He scrambled to bring to his memory the exercises his teacher made him do. A few seemed helpful for Slash’s problem. “I think so. You’ve got good reaction and speed to match, but your precision and distance perception lack. You should practice on your own first so you can pay very close attention to muscle movements-“

“Really? How’s that gonna be helpful?” Slash wrinkled his nose skeptically. “What’s the point of just waving the sword around? I ain’t gonna fight a spirit.”

“It ain’t, I mean isn’t, just waving it around,” Vince began explaining patiently. “You’ve got to build your muscle memory before sparring. What’s the point of it if you don’t know what to do? You should become familiar with your body first, how fast it can move, how strongly it can strike, how long it can hold on in a fight. When you don’t know your own limitations, you turn them into weaknesses, which the enemy can – and will – exploit. You don’t need to get rid of them completely – I doubt it’s even possible – but you can plan your strategy around them.”

“The guys are gonna think I drank too much rum fighting air.”

“Are you so afraid of looking stupid you’d rather get gutted in a real fight?” Vince bristled. “I’m not forcing you to do it. It’s you who came to me for advice. If you don’t like it, you can fuck right off.”

To his surprise, Slash grinned wide, baring an unexpectedly complete collection of white teeth.

“Huh, you’re adapting quick. Fine, fine, I guess I gotta try it out. What do I do?”

“There are a couple moves you can start with. Basic ones. I’ll show you.” Vince walked to the stack of wooden swords in a sack, pulled one out and gave it a test swing. The handle, polished by countless hands to the point of shining, spun readily in his palm. The prop was just a little bit lighter than a real weapon, and the familiar heaviness of a blade in his hand pricked his heart with wistfulness. He shook it off.

“Alright, here’s what you can do…” Vince replicated the first exercise to the best of his ability, surprised to find that the familiar muscle strain it provoked was quite enjoyable. It did disturb his healing shoulder, but the pain wasn’t serious enough to put his arm out of action. Slash watched attentively, then picked up another sword and tried to copy him.

“Not bad.” Vince adjusted his elbows. “Now do the swing. Yes, it’s hard to control both your arms and footwork at the same time. That’s the point. When it stops being hard and starts feeling like second nature, you can try the next one. Look here.”

He assumed the position again and swung his arm back. Suddenly Slash’s gaze shifted on something behind him, his eyes widening, and the next second pain exploded in Vince’s wrist as it was twisted viciously, the wooden sword hitting the deck with a bang. Vince couldn’t hold back a cry of pain when his arm was locked into a painful hammerlock, forcing him to bend forward.

“Slash, you are on nightguard for the next week.” Nikki’s voice was simmering with barely contained rage. “And if I ever see you, or anyone else, let the slave touch the weapons – real, wooden, doesn’t matter – they won’t get away with it as easily. Is that clear?”

“But captain, you never said-“ Slash began.

“Do I have to tell you not to piss in the water barrels too? Because that’s just as obvious. As the first warning, you’re only getting a week. Keep bitching, and that’ll turn into a month. Was that clear?”

Slash’s eyes sparked with indignation from underneath his hair, lips parted as if he was on a verge of snapping back, and Vince waited with bated breath for him to do it, to point out how unfair Nikki was. As if reading his mind, Nikki pressed harder on Vince’s wrist, making him drop his head and gasp in pain, and that tipped the scales.

“Yes, captain,” Slash said through gritted teeth. “It won’t happen again.”

“Very well.” Nikki slightly eased the pressure but didn’t let Vince go. Looked like only crewmates were getting off this easy, Vince realized with dismay as Nikki pushed him in the direction of his cabin. If he wanted to just beat him, he would do it right there and then.

“Don’t be too hard on him, captain,” Slash said suddenly. “I asked him for it.”

“And he knew there would be consequences to doing it. I’ll handle him as I see fit, Slash. You get down to work.” Nikki sped up, dragging Vince with him. Vince caught a glimpse of Slash behind them, his expression helpless.

When they reached the cabin, Nikki threw open the door and pushed Vince inside with such force he landed on his knees and skidded forward on them at least half a foot, shredding the fabric on his knees and scraping off the top layer of skin. Amid the sharp pain came a bang of a door slammed shut, and then a hand grabbed his hair and pulled it up violently, and a new pain drowned out the other, fogged up his vision. He grasped at the hand in his hair, fruitlessly trying to unclench the fingers, but no scratching and pulling could weaken Nikki’s iron grip.

His cheek felt the coolness of the wood of the cabin wall, but not for long – Nikki gripped his shoulder and turned him around, his face now mere inches away, and it was so disfigured with the pure, uncontained rage Vince shuddered.

“Who do you think you are?” he hissed, fingers digging into Vince’s shoulder, making him wince in pain – because, of course, Nikki chose the wounded one. “Who the hell do you think you are, you little piece of shit?”

“I didn’t do anything wrong!” Vince tried to protest, but was promptly silences with a slap on the face so powerful his vision went white for a second, his hair falling onto his face. After a second’s lag the skin there began to burn. He didn’t get any more time to recover, as Nikki once again pulled his hair to bring Vince’s face close to his. If the captain went on with that, a thought flashed past, Vince would soon have no hair left. “You never said I couldn’t touch the weapons!”

“I was pretty explicit you weren’t welcome at the training, weren’t I?” Nikki’s pupils were so dilated they covered almost his whole irises, giving his eyes a sinister look. “You came anyway. Don’t act so surprised now.”

The pain in Vince’s shoulder grew stronger; he could feel hot blood starting to pool under the bandage. He semi-consciously reached for Nikki’s hand, but his wrist was caught halfway and pinned to the wall above his head. Immobilized this way, with Nikki’s knee between his thighs, Vince was completely defenseless.

Nikki leaned closer, his hot breath brushing Vince’s face. “If I ever see you touch – no, even look in a direction of a weapon, any weapon, I will break your fucking fingers. One by one, on both hands. You don’t need them to serve your real purpose anyway. Is that clear now? Am I being convincing enough?”

He was damn convincing, that was for sure. The icy fear coiling in Vince’s guts almost completely put out the burning flame of indignation at the injustice. But he still wanted to know how Nikki would explain that. Surely such a strong reaction didn’t come from just the fear of being criticized. Or, if it did, Nikki’s authority on the ship was much more fragile than it initially seemed.

“But why? I can’t really hurt you - any of you - and you know it!”

Nikki tilted his head, looking at him silently. His expression shifted ever so slightly, sending another array of goosebumps down Vince’s back, but for a different reason now. The anger was still there, but it… calcified, lost its dynamics. Vince recalled a time he felt the same uneasiness – when looking at a death mask of his late uncle. Only Nikki wasn’t dead, and there had to be something underneath it.

Finally, he spoke.

“Yes, you can’t really hurt us, not by a long shot.” His voice was the same unnatural kind of menacing as his face. “You’re not equal to us in any respect either, though. The crew, especially Mick, are being lenient to you in that – you eat with them, you talk to them, you might even joke around a bit – but you’re not one of them and never will be. All of them earned their place here, be that their skill, bravery, intelligence or hardness. You, on the other hand,” Nikki released Vince’s shoulder only to hook his finger under the collar and pull on it, “you have none of that. You’re a whiny, spoiled, ungrateful brat. You’re only good for one thing, and that is what you’re going to do while on the Shout, whether you want it or not. You seem to forget what it is. Do you want me to remind you?”

“No,” Vince murmured, already knowing that his answer would not change anything.

“See,” Nikki pulled harder on the collar, and now their faces almost touched, “you’re doing that again. Shirking, slacking off. Counting on preferential treatment that you’ve been getting your whole life. I have bad news for you: here you have to earn every little bit of food you’re getting, every sip of beer you’re drinking. And do you know how are you gonna do that?” Nikki smiled an unnatural, toothy smile. “By spreading your legs in front of me and anyone who I give my permission to use you. By doing what I tell you to, whenever and wherever I want. By being a good, obedient, docile little whore. And a whore doesn’t need a weapon. Did I answer your question?”

Blood flushed to Vince’s cheeks; his throat closed up. Not that he didn’t know any of that, but he was still clinging to Nikki’s vague promise of rising in the ranks if Vince proved himself worthy even without realizing that, even knowing it was never going to happen. This was it, though; this was the last straw. There was nothing for Vince in the future, just more pain and humiliation, as if what he already had got was not enough.

Another slap, this time unexpected, again blinded him. What was that for, to drive the lesson home?

“I don’t tolerate when my questions are ignored,” Nikki explained when he caught Vince’s confused gaze. “Once again. Did I answer your question?”

Never before had a nod seemed this challenging. As Vince tilted his head forward, his tongue tasted metallic.

“Good.” Nikki finally released him and stepped back. Vince’s knees were so weak he could barely stand and had to lean onto the wall for a moment. This surely wasn’t the end of it, he thought, watching Nikki warily. There had to be more coming, something that would warrant dragging him to the cabin when all the things so far said and done to him would be much easier and more effective to do outside, in front of the whole crew. Nikki was just messing with him, giving him an inkling of hope only to later step on it. And he still hadn’t demanded Vince follow up on his promise.

But seconds passed, and Nikki wasn’t making the next move. What’s more, he didn’t even pay any more attention to Vince, lighting up a cigarette and settling in his chair with his back turned to him instead. But he didn’t give him a permission to leave either, and after what just happened Vince wouldn’t hurry to treat a lack of explicit prohibition as one.

Things were getting really awkward, and Nikki didn’t seem to care one bit. Vince began to slowly move along the wall in the direction of the door. No response from the captain.

Oh, damn this motherfucker. “Sir?” Vince called, his voice trembling. “Can I go?”

Nikki turned his head slowly and looked Vince over from head to toe. Vince couldn’t handle the smug look on his face, so he looked above his shoulder instead.

“Huh, you’re learning.” He let out a cloud of smoke. “Yes, you can.”

Vince took solace in slamming the door of the cabin behind him so hard the whole ship seemed to vibrate at the impact. That was probably the reason why all the pirates followed him with their gazes while he was hurrying across the deck to the hatch that led to the galley, but he still couldn’t shake off the feeling of filth smeared all over his body, invisible to him but clear to everyone else. At one point he caught a glimpse of Slash’s mane in the corner of his eye, but didn’t even turn his head.

Vince wanted to slam the door to the galley behind himself as well, but at the last moment chickened out and softened the push. Still, the sound was louder than usual, prompting Mick, who was chopping something up on the kitchen counter, to turn around.

“Oh,” he said, looking Vince over. “Lemme guess: you did what I explicitly told you not to do?”

“Shut up,” Vince grumbled, pushing past him and plopping down onto his blanket.

“You did,” Mick concluded with a sigh. “You should probably drop by Izzy’s place.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Vince rolled over to face the wall and pulled a blanket over himself. His knees burned like they’ve been sanded off, the shoulder wound throbbed under the wet bandage and the ringing of slaps in the face still echoed in his ears, but overall it could be much worse. He wasn’t going to come crying to the surgeon with every scratch.

“I see.” Mick’s voice hardened. “Well, I’ve got bad news for you: you will do what I tell you to-“

Vince flinched, his tongue again tasting blood.

“-because I’m your boss down here. Now, if you don’t need a doctor, you’re good enough to get your ass up and peel those potatoes. C’mon, c’mon.”

The tapping of the knife on the cutting board resumed. Vince sat up, slowly unwrapped the blanket, picked up the knife sent in his direction and settled at the counter without a word.

It was a good thing he had to stand with his back towards Mick when working. The cook still saw later how badly the potatoes were peeled, though.

[seasurfacefullofclouds1]

(apologies in advance for how long this is!!!)

https://x.com/bonyamericangrl/status/1869330788858364399?s=46&t=3v6fUO8HxEhcPbcR8Jxopg

https://x.com/icarusinsilk/status/1868764833031852387?s=46&t=3v6fUO8HxEhcPbcR8Jxopg

i thought the mainstream Harry slander would mostly dissipate with his absence from the public eye (not a total disappearance like Taylor Swift around 2016 - but still a move seemingly in response to over exposure & back to back negative reception from the gp like ongoing discussions about queerbaiting, the criticism in regards to his acting, and the increasing occurrence of his tone-deaf/ignorant comments like the grammys speech etc.), but i am not so secretly pleased to have been wrong. lmao.

i think everyone is beginning to more closely examine the people that celebrities choose to surround themselves with - post diddy, weinstein, r kelly etc. i’ve seen a few instances of people saying “show me who your friends are and i will tell you who you are” in regard to H’s friendships (or business partnerships - either way) with people like Corden or Lou Taylor or the Kardashians or the Azoffs… but i’m glad that there has been some criticism (not scathing by any means and as careful as any criticism leveled at Taylor Swift out of fear of fan backlash) reserved solely for the man himself.

it’s hard to not see him as a puppet most of the time, but at the end of the day i think it’s reductive to blanket any and all criticism of his behavior/actions/character with excuses that he’s somehow not in control of his image/life/career. the instances i linked are both fairly lighthearted and as innocuous as any other knock on his acting skills - but for no one other than his fans to miss his absence, for someone like Katya to publicly shit on his style choices (that are upheld by his fans as these infallible, gender bending, crazy radical choices) etc… all of this is still happening even without the over exposure!

like.. it is just crazy to me that his “break” has not made people miss him. even if it was just out of nostalgia for the music he’s put out or his image. i think it’s truly indicative of exactly how flimsy/transparent the public persona of Harry Styles™️ is. if you fail to maintain any modicum of authenticity and rely entirely on manufactured, artificial success and your team of rich old white men to funnel millions into putting you at the very top and ruthlessly eliminating your competition - what is there for people to miss? what kind of artistic legacy will you leave behind if you cannot rely on your own choices or originality? not even a little??

i have no idea what the Azoffs being in the middle of this DOJ lawsuit (from my understanding - federal prosecution like this cannot be pursued without concrete evidence of the charges stated. by law, of course, the defendant has the legal right to dispute the charges or try and lessen their sentencing… but i believe for a government agency to initiate a lawsuit against a company or conglomerate - it has to have substance.) means for their ability to continue funding Harry’s career, but i can only hope it means that i will be spared from constantly seeing him against my will for a little while longer. :)

Oh my god I remember both these events so well, and it’s shocking really how Harry has fallen in the acting world. ⬇️

-

I bet the studios releasing Little Mermaid and Nosferatu and Wicked are patting themselves on the back for a close call. When a relatively new actor pulls shit like Harry did for “Don’t Worry Darling,” drags the A list cast to the ground, shows the world that he’s unprofessional and Harry Styles comes before anyone else (Flo Pugh! Chris Pine!) even before he has established box office viability — it’s not gonna make him friends in Hollywood, no matter how many kisses he throws Stan Tucci or cases of Casamigo he sells. His fans blaming Olivia Wilde can’t gaslight movie producers, who have a long list of better actors in their 20’s and 30’s to cast. Harry got a gold ticket and he fucked it up.

My gut says that the DOJ case against Live Nation/ Ticketmaster will be dropped by the new administration. Trump is vindictive and has used the government to carry out his personal vendettas before, and the DOJ will be too busy to pursue an antitrust case. The DOJ will go after Trump’s personal enemies first. He’ll find a way to target Taylor Swift lol. The Azoffs, Ticketmaster etc., better pony up the donations.

Interesting tweets though! Thanks for the links.

[beatrice-otter]

I really enjoyed your definition of potluck fanfics. I intend to use it if the subject comes up here, or in any situation where people confuse fan fiction with paid, or classroom writing.

There is a difference. Damn! It's really a great definition!

Would you be willing to put it in a nutshell in your own words? I want to rebog it.

Thanks! I hope this term gains momentum. ♥♥♥

You’re welcome! Maybe something like this:

Whether critique is welcome or not depends on circumstances. Think of the difference between a cooking class and a potluck. If you are in a cooking class, and you make a dish, the teacher and the people in the class can and should offer thoughtful critique to help you learn. That’s the point of a class. But a potluck is not a class. If you bring a dish to a potluck, and someone critiques it there without you asking for their opinion, they’re being a jerk. The point of a potluck is not to improve your cooking skills, it’s to eat food together with other people.

In the same way, if you are in a writing class or seminar, critique is a good and useful thing. If you have a beta reader or editor and they critique your work, that is probably a good and useful thing. (As long as they understand what effect you’re going for, and aren’t operating from the premise that they wish it were a completely different fic than the one you want to tell.) But when you publish a fic, it’s like bringing a dish to a potluck. And criticizing it at that point is a dick move.

Now, I want to point out, that there is something a bit hypocritical about me saying this, because I have been that dick criticizing a fic at the potluck that is fandom. Sometimes it’s a small thing, sometimes it’s a big thing, but holy cow there are times when I have trouble holding my tongue and not saying anything. I am really good at finding reasons for myself that “yeah, it’s usually a dick move, but it’s justified in this case because _____.” It’s never true, no matter how much I want it to be true. And there are times I lose that battle with myself and show my ass by being a dick. I’m sorry, it was wrong and I knew it was wrong and I did it anyway. Please learn from my mistakes. Don’t be a dick.

[utilitycaster]

1/4 I want to preface this by saying that I'm not looking to convince you, nor do I expect you to agree. In fact, I'd like to hear a counterargument from somebody who is happy with how TLoVM adapted Vex and why the changes related to her character were good/necessary for the adaptation, bc as far as I see it right now, it easily could've been more faithful without additional screen time or significant changes made to TLoVM's story structure. So, what do you think of the criticism that her

2/4 backstory with Trinket is diluted by making her needing to be saved by Vax, him being the one to kill Trinket's mother and Vex reduced to just being helpless and then motherly afterwards. It takes what was originally a story about survival of a woman in terrible conditions and doing something kind along the way for someone else and turns it into motherly damsel in distress. The important character choice that she never even tells Vax (or anyone) how she got Trinket is also lost this way.

3/4 "Unproven ally, selfish and cruel" being cut from Saundor's speech when it affected her just as much, if not more so than "unwanted daughter". His words haunt her for over a dozen episodes later and she's worried she made the wrong choice during the fight by refusing his offer. It troubles her thinking that he was right and that she's endangering those she loves most, the family that she's chosen, and it's simply cut and reduced to her daddy issues. Her self-worth only revolves around the

4/4 men in her life. Her death isn't about her, only about how it affects Percy and Vax. Percy never apologizes to her for getting her killed, but he apologizes to Vax twice. She's never her own person with agency outside the men in her life, just a sister, just a love interest, just a daughter.

-----

I am going to answer this below. Against my better judgement I have included your four part ask in its entirety but for future reference, I would advise that if you wish to hear someone’s opinion, that’s fine, but it is better to ask it concisely rather than doing the equivalent of nailing a somewhat less antisemitic* 95 Theses to someone’s metaphorical door. Had you asked your original anon question as “I am not enjoying Vex’s plot in TLOVM- it feels very centered on the men in her life in a way I don’t recall it being in Campaign 1. You seem to be enjoying it, so could you tell me what you liked” this would be a much different and far more pleasant conversation.

Also I should note that you called me dumb and gullible in your ask this morning. And that’s fine, because I don’t know who you are or value any of your opinions, but it does make me disinclined to treat you with anything but bemused contempt, and indeed, I will do that.

Finally: gender and pronouns are not strictly connected and if you are a he/him lesbian or similar I redact this statement (though none of the others). But, if you are a indeed a man, as a woman being asked to give my opinion after you tell me yours, at length, which I did not ask for and indeed indicated that I hated it yet you reproduced it in full for a second time in my inbox, the irony of you handwringing that Vex (fictional woman)’s plot isn’t very Spice Girls Girl Power of them while insulting and making demands of me (actual human woman who exists and who’s already hinted extensively to the point of outright saying that I’m getting pissed off) is not lost.

*this post is not antisemitic other than the fact that I’m Jewish and I find it annoying. Do not cancel OP for antisemitism; I am making a joke.

Anyway. If you were looking for a good counterargument, and had the research skills my high school librarian taught, you might have come across this article which is a very good discussion of Vex’s arc, and I recommend you read it.

For my take, please see below the cut.

Here’s the thing about Vex. Her main relationships are with men. She is frequently bitchy, at times bordering on bullying, towards Keyleth - and it’s at its peak during the early Conclave Arc. She gets along well with Pike, but Pike is frequently absent during the campaign, and more importantly, friends are not going to reach the level of “twin brother who has literally been the only person by her side for much of her life and her sole confidant early in the campaign” and “man she’s deeply in love with and will one day marry." Her issues, meanwhile, are because her father treated her as less-than, and so she tried to become cold and perfect and powerful to ensure that never happened. Her story is extremely about how her personality is shaped by her relationships with men. It is dismissive of that story to claim otherwise. (And, for what it's worth, this is a very real story that many women can relate to and which frequently gets criticized in fantasy by people with a poor understanding of both women and genre, my two true passions, but that's a separate post.)

As for the Trinket story specifically, the fact that Vax helps rescue her is not the central part of the story; the central part of that story is her rescuing Trinket, and perhaps seeing herself in that motherless bear, which is maintained in the adaptation. We see Vex’s self-sufficiency elsewhere, in the “do not go far from me” sequence; but more importantly it’s not a “dilution” to have her need help to be rescued from a camp and then immediately rescue someone else. It’s in fact a fairly smart echo of the lesson Vex ultimately strives to learn, that it’s not weak to need or indeed ask for help. The fact that you see this as “motherly damsel in distress” says far more about how you see even the slightest hint of a teenage girl needing help as automatic damsel territory than it says about Vex’s depiction.

“Unproven ally, selfish and cruel” is something I’ve always considered to be specific to the broom incident. How is she an unproven ally in the series? This would require a setup that simply does not exist. Saundor’s words instead focus on what is ultimately the crux of their conversation; Vex’s possessiveness and her need for approval. He is intended as a dark mirror, of someone who never got the love they craved and so became a source of poison for everything around them. Saundor says quite a lot of words in their talk in Campaign 1, and as far as I can recall there’s no indication that those five you quoted are the specific ones that upset her rather than his whole “we’re not so different, you and I” (and the “unwanted daughter”, which, you know, he leads with) deal. He still hits those main points, and, in a hilariously unintentional pun, it seems that you cannot see the forest for the tree.

And as for her death: her death was always primarily about how it affected Vax and Percy, at least in the immediate aftermath. We see some of her recklessness, and some of the positives as well - how she responds to Keyleth and Vax’s relationship - in the show, but perhaps the single most defining moment of the entire Vox Machina campaign is in fact Vax making his offer to the Raven Queen, which he does because Vex dies. It is, in fact, relatively rare under any circumstances that someone’s death isn’t about their nearest and dearest’s responses. The Percy and Vax conversation is not only quite similar to the one they had in the campaign; we actually left off the part where Vex’s immediate response after her own death was to make Keyleth cry in order to understand why Vax was being weird, and then comfort Vax and give him the armor. With all due respect, how the fuck did you miss that Vex’s death in the Sunken Tomb was always almost entirely about Vax. I mean, I can't stand when people make Vex's life post-campaign about Vax's death, but Vax's life was in fact shaped almost entirely by Vex's death.

I don’t see any lack of agency, either. Vex is still making her own choices in the Feywild - in fact, rather than backed up by Vox Machina, she is alone for the Saundor fight while the others fight off his lesser tree goons, and she makes the kill despite her bow being broken, using nothing but her determination and wit. I am truly sorry for you that you apparently see this as nothing but love interest material, and that in general you seem to see a story that is about someone learning how to let herself rely on others and say “damn, that bitch seems to be relying too much on others.”

Anyway, in conclusion, what I think of the criticism presented in the posing of this question is that it relies on an analysis that one could perhaps magnanimously call “flat and superficial, but also demonstrating little to no understanding of the character’s arc in either the source nor adaptation.”

[postguiltypleasures]

My Peak TV Journey *Betty la Fea La Historia Continua*

I need to say upfront, that I was really excited about this series, and I remain mostly satisfied. I look forward to the second season continuing (and wrapping up?) this story. I also finished watching the edited-for-Peacock version of the original.  I will say that the sequel is for people like me, people who think the original loses steam after the return from Cartagena. While the original series shows Armando in touch with his emotions, it doesn’t show him having any idea how to act on them in a healthy manner. Despite this he and Betty accept that they’re still in love, generally better together so they get together without resolving Betty’s deep trust issues, or how Armando still needs to learn anger management and better communication skills. It’s amazing they lasted as long as they did.

I don’t want to fight anyone over the quality of the series, but there are some things I have to defend. Namely the structural differences between the sequel and original. By structural, I mean mostly pacing, cast size, and how information is revealed. The differences between setting up a story that will most likely run through through hundreds of episodes more or less uninterrupted for over a year vs something that the two episode once a week, for a total of ten where continuation will be indefinite is essentially a change of medium. The techniques and rules for storytelling change. The now de-cannonized sequel spinoff Ecomoda is criticized for being too much of a sitcom when figuring out how to deal with similar structural change.  La Hisotria Continua is more like the original telenovela in tone and plot points, but those have to unfold differently than the original. (Also in being more like the original, it’s going to torture its main characters anew. If you can’t accept it, don’t watch and don’t comment.) In the original an early episode is dedicated to Betty and Nicholas reading a magazine covering an event Ecomoda hosted, with flashbacks to said event. Through this we really get to know many of the major characters and what they are trying to do. This season comes with the assumption that we are familiar with most of the characters, but we don’t really know what they’ve been up to, and most importantly, we don’t know how they relate to the new characters. Crucially, it isn’t laid out so we know what kind of danger Betty is walking into this time. In the original the intrigue was “what will happen?” Here it’s more “what has happened?” This comes with mixed results. The first episode especially felt needlessly confusing. And even by the end of the season, there were things, like how and why Majo got involved with Ecomoda, that I wish had been clarified already. However, there was a moment in the second episode made it more clear that they knew what they were doing. This starts with Betty telling Bertha and Sandra that she was not a good president of Ecomoda because she only made the rich richer. I took this as a sign that this was taking on the extreme classism in the original, how it was mostly treated as “that’s the way the world works” kind of way. 

The series opens at Don Roberto’s (Armando’s father) funeral. Armando’s relationship with his father was always  fucked up though the original series seemed to lose interest in the more negative aspects of his character as it went on. One of the messed up things about their relationship was how accommodating Roberto was to Daniel, son of his former business associates and Armando’s rival. The not too subtle subtext is that Roberto thought of Daniel as a more serious minded person for business and wished Armando was more like him, while also showing little to know interest in anything else about who Armando was as a person. He didn’t have much interest in who Daniel was as a person either. This all business approach helped him appear to be out of the fray, when he really very much was in it. In the new series, through  a video of his will, Roberto sets up a plan for Ecomoda that manipulates a reluctant Betty back into the office of the presidency while telling Armando how he once again failed as president.  No wonder after Roberto’s death Armando is haunted by visions of Roberto saying Armando should have spent more time in prison, and that he doesn’t deserve someone as wonderful as Betty. The latter statement is ironic, given that Roberto treated Betty pretty coldly. Everyone ignores the fact that in the original series when they first met he refused to shake her hand. Roberto definitely deserves some of the blame for how Marcela became a lingering presence over Betty and Armando’s marriage, and Betty never feeling entirely welcome in the Mendoza family. And of course as we later learn, her fired Betty to appease Marcela, when that was bad for everyone.

Looking back after the season, I think Marcela might have been the character who most benefited from the changes in structure. The story was put into motion by her worst qualities, her anger, lack of curiosity, the ways she isolates herself. But she didn’t have enough air time to for these traits to become too tiresome and have us give up on her. And she is left in a position where she has to make some life changing decisions. We learn early on Marcela blames Betty for Daniel’s downfall. Betty was aware that something was wrong with the company financially, alerted the police and the investigation led to Daniel being arrested for money laundering and then being murdered in prison. But, for the plot of this series, the real issue is how aggressively Marcela only sees what she wants to see. Marcela seems to have natural blinders towards so much in life. She wants vengeance against Betty and Armando by forcing them out of Ecomoda and then taking over with Ignacio. But she is not paying attention to what Ignacio is doing. When she learns if a lot of it in the last episodes she’s appalled. Her relationship with Ignacio is the inverse of how she treated Armando as a boyfriend. But it is reminiscent of how she never had interest in the running of Ecomoda, never checked in on Armando and Mario’s business schemes and ignored how her brother sexually harassed her best friend. So her not checking in more on Nacho feels in character, if a part of her character that’s always been frustrating. After the reveal that Ignacio is her half brother, instead of her nephew as she believed, I began to wonder if it was a revelation to force her to change this aspect of her character? Does knowing her father had a second family make her aware that this isn’t just keeping her head high out of the muck? (Or whatever she says to herself.) She’s ignoring things that matter. It also made me think are we supposed to reassess her constant monitoring of Armando during their relationship as some kind of subconscious way of making up of all the ways she ignored the poor behavior of the men in her immediate family? For most of the season the relationship between Marcela and Nacho was treated as a mystery, much of the office assuming that he was her boyfriend, while fans knew he was a secret member of the Valencia family and having the full answer include how much Marcela doesn’t look at or explore things involving her familys interesting. I hope the next season follows up on this. Some of the follow up will involve Pascual, Nacho’s secret parter and Marcela’s new love interest. I’m not sure Pascual will actually be good for Marcela in the long run.  She needs to have her single minded desire to hurt Betty and Armando broken by other desires. And I don’t think she’s thought of wanting anything else for a while. But he gives mixed messages all the time. As a secret patter who express interest in becoming part of the high society fashion world. But in his first scene he says the line “Para mi papero y papito son los mismos nombres.”  Indicating he’s not that interested in changing his identity.  He has a couple of ugly divorces and says he wants to be fawned over by models, but he also is instantly smitten with Marcela and pursues her with the most blunt and crass language I can imagine.  He also has as little interest in remaking Ecomoda’s image as he does his own image, to Nacho’s presumed chagrin.

Marcela also had surprisingly little interaction Patricia, which did affect a lot of the show. It’s an interesting way showing of how people have changed and stayed the same. During the first episode I hated Bertha and Sandra’s jokes about Patricia’s husband. They were gross and agist.  (Later meeting him at the quinceñera flash back made Patricia’s relationship  seem like elder abuse. But, I kind of like that Patricia’s in a relationship that she wants to be known, but doesn’t want to bring attention to. It’s a change of pace from the original where she was single, desperate and frequently saying how she could have a boyfriend whenever she wanted. The change seems like an appropriate response to Daniel regularly offering to pimp her out to his friends. I also like that she was promoted to Gutierrez’s position as a way to show everything being different but similar. Patricia was always about bossing around el cuartel. Gutierrez also seemed to think of his job as chiding people back into looking busy whenever. The change in position a good reason for Bertha and Sandra’s renewed hatred for Patricia a fits with the ways Gutierrez was awful. Bertha’s obsession with “chisme” might actually make her good at the job, She can make people feel seen and heard and communicate between workers and executives. People could feel more motivated to work when they understand more of what is going on in the company. But it doesn’t fit with the intense classism that rules Ecomoda. It would be a view of the position completely alien to Gutierrez.  

As I was saying earlier, whatever is going on with Majo, Mario and Armando seems more needlessly confusing than intriguing. Why is Armando friendly with Majo again after her kiss at the end of the first episode causes such disruption? Those scenes with the them at the club were weird. I don’t for a second believe she’s an alternate love interest, but why should I care? As the season went on I find myself more intrigued by the lack of scenes between Majo and Mario. He talks her up whenever he’s alone with Armando and even expected her to have a conjugal visit with him in prison. Yet she never talks about Mario, and they never talk directly to each other. I’ve come to think of her as not so much wanting Armando, as wanting Armando to want a divorce because that what Mario, her secret real employer, wants. But this is based on absence, rather than what’s on screen. For what does Mario want control over Armando? And why is he still so bad at vetting potential business alliances? I hate the character of Mario, but the season could have improved by filling in some gaps about what he’s up to.

Betty’s alternate love interest, Esteban, isn’t a better defined character than Majo, but at least he’s not supposed to have created some kind of bond with the main characters off screen in the time between series’s.  He’s a better alternative love interest than Michel in that he’s a better listener and has more in common with Betty. But he’s still too boring to compete with Armando.

As someone who always thought Armando didn’t show enough what he learned, os that he necessarily knew how to be, I kind of loved events on the third and fourth episodes as revisiting things in the original series. This included punch Esteban like he punched Nicolas in the original for being a perceived romantic rival. While that was a new low originally, it didn’t motivate Armando to change his behavior. If anything, the original series suggests that violently lashing out is fine when you’re lashing out at the right people as demonstrated by him later punching Mario. His attempt to change includes joining a group therapy with Freddy. This leads to revisiting Armando in drag, only this time to better understand Betty’s point of view, not simply be emasculated for the failures of his toxic masculinity and homophobia as in the original. In some ways I felt for him more in this series than I did in the original. He just seemed so lost, but also not putting himself at the center of everything as he did in the original.  Betty briefly made him VP of Finances, a role to which he is not suited, but doing so gives him the time to confess to his misdeeds on his own time. I found myself wishing that they made Armando majoring in something more mechanical a bigger part of his character. Then I could say “that’s what he’s good at.” But he seems otherwise most interested in maintaining vendor and supplier relations which seems closer to Marcela’s specialty. Being at Ecomoda is bad for him as a person. During the flashback to the fight while Betty left him he says he sacrificed his social circle for their relationship. There is a truth to this. Mario’s ability to slip back into his life is a sight of how real it feels. But the bigger truth is that between the hours he spent at Ecomoda, and the class rigidity of the institution, he never had the opportunity to make new friendships. This is poignantly present in his scenes with Freddy, where we see how hard it is to accept Freddy as a friend. 

All this talk about how social hierarchies having ruinous effect on personal it’s time to do a brief, segue about the uses of “usted” and “tú” in both series, with the caveat that I am neither a native Spanish speaker nor a Colombian nor someone who’s ever been to Colombia. I know I’m missing a lot of cultural context. I have heard that Colombia uses “usted” more than other Spanish speaking countries. Still, the use in the original seemed extreme. It helped illustrate the ingrained classicism of the original. Betty and Armando reverting to “usted”  even en a flashback to happier times, after beginning to use “tú” near the end of the original is a bad sign. It adds opportunity to misunderstand one another and hints that they haven’t quite gotten over the class divide after years of marriage. In the original it sometimes seems like one has to be upper class to deign tutear. The Cuartel, Betty’s parents within their relationship and with Betty, as well as Betty with Nicolás all use “usted” with each other despite being personally close. In contrast to this Patricia’s use of "tú" comes off as impudent, and Nicolás only uses "tú" when trying to impress Patricia by pretending to have more money than he’s worth. This language barrier, in the original Betty sees herself as an extension of Armando who always had to prove herself. (This is common amongst Ecomoda employees, see Berta’s reluctance to share Gutierrez’s home phone number while he was sexually harassing Aura Maria and Sandra’s self-flagellation after lying to Mario.) By the new series Betty strongly associates more with the employees of Ecomoda than any of its owners. Which explains her return to “usted,” and Mila’s regular use of “tú” as a sign of how hard it is for them to get each other. The continuation seems pretty aware that this emphasis on formality was a not great set up for life.

Mila starts the season very angry with her mother and ends angry with her father. While taking notes I surmised that all the hurtful things Mila said to Betty early on showed a fear of understanding what happened between her parents. She knew it was too potentially painful. She chose to support Armando because she thought he wanted to reconnect in a way Betty didn’t. This fear is completely founded, and when she does find out about her parents history, the reason her mother quickly abandoned trust in her father, she switches allegiance. Though this happens right around the time Betty is starting to consciously realize that her reaction 

Early in the season Betty says something about needing to break vicious cycles. She’s right about that need, but her technique of just cutting off all contact is by now her own contribution vicious cycle, and therefore counter productive. She would have known more about what she was walking into returning to Ecomoda if she opened those emails. Also, while she definitely had the right to be angry with Armando about how his failed negotiations with Roberto and Marcela affected her, and the way she was cut out of them, it would have been better for all if after a couple of days of cooling down they decided to meet for counseling. The extended radio silence was just bad for everyone. Also I would like more detail on what Betty and Nicolas were up to in their time away from Ecomoda. I am under the impression that Doña Julia was ill and died during that time period, so Betty spent a lot of time with her mother during her last days and shut off any contact Armando tried to make simultaneously. But what else? What was she thinking about as possible futures? Nicolas is even more of a blank slate. All I know is that Mila has apparently t been telling I’m for yeas that the amount of hair gel he uses makes him look older than necessary. She is right, see any picture of Mario Duarte out of character. 

While I wish more detail was given to Betty’s life away from Ecomoda, I like pretty much everything about how she acts after she returns. As I said before, I like how explicitly she relates to non share holding staff instead of favoring the actionistas. This includes her room ring Freddy and demoting Mario. I hope there is more follow up on that next season. More concerning this season’s plot, I like that Betty got the heads up about financial shenanigans from Hugo. It was unexpected, but in character for both. Also it reflects poorly on Marcela, who could have gotten answers to what Armando was doing if she just talked to Hugo like an equal. 

I don’t know anything about the Colombian’ legal system. So I can’t say anything about how realistically or not Armando turning himself and Gutierrez in between the episodes. The important thing is how it plays in comparison to his downward spiral after Betty exposed the Terramoda scheme in the original. Which is that he’s more willing to take responsibility for his actions, go public and not pick fights. Betty also has changed since then, demonstrated by going to visit him in jail and talk. Then they have sex in a scene reminiscent of their first time in the original, only with some roll reversal. This is emotionally confusing for Betty. In someways exactly the situation that she thought of to justify cutting him off with no contact. On the other hand she gets to speak to someone who cares about the real emotional turmoil affecting her and learns more about Ecomoda’s quagmire. 

Another aspect recently revealed aspect of Betty I would like to see more of is the things that led Betty to tell her father that he wasn’t a great husband. He wasn’t, but it was something that couldn’t be articulated outside of some face making Doña Julia did, and the way Betty and her mother hid things from him. It fits with a theme of the series of saying things they couldn’t say in the original. Hermes’ dogmatism is in conflict with Betty’s journey of becoming more of a humanist. 

I’m now going to wrap this up by writing about the new generation followed by some thoughts on finish the original series in a more complete way than ever before.

Other than Mila, Ignacio is the best defined of the new characters. Viewers were quick to say he has the Daniel Valencia role of the original. After all he is someone aligned with Marcela acting antagonistically towards Betty and Armando. And while this series played with that assumption, the two characters are most interesting in their differences. Ignacio is charming while Daniel was aggressively not. To the extent Daniel had charm, it’s based on the idea that he’s saying to your face what other people say behind your back. As a guy setting up a mass surveillance program through Ecomoda, Ignacio not going to pretend that he’s the one person telling the truth to your face. But he sincerely does like Mila, even though the circumstance means he’s betrayed her before anything started between them. At the end of this season I found myself wishing that there was more time spent on Jeff and Carmen so that the love quadrangle that Mila and Ignacio are with them felt juicier. It’s got long running soap potential. 

Finishing the original while watching this has brought back some of the dread that I had going into the last section of the novela. Much of the post Cartagena plot feels like the show is spinning its wheels before deciding how to hastily rush to the finish line. Contributing to this feeling is the over reliance on flashbacks. The scenes involving Betty’s return to Ecomoda are particularly bad with this, and they didn’t even cut them from the Peacock edits. (These would have been some of the first edits if I were supervising it.) This section drops  various subplots, including Inesita’s estranged husband coming home to die, which real does make the way the series doesn’t know what to do stand out. Theresa are some high points likeel desfile del Cuartel. But that is also supposedly the resolution of the Sofia/Jenny plot, and it’s not satisfying as such. I get that the cast and crew were exhausted, and some of them had signed contracts to work with other tv networks lessening their availability. But on a level of pure drama, these plots points are simply inexcusable. Also dropping the cuartel’s pilots makes them worse friends. They suddenly only have gossiping about Betty going and no respect for boundaries or treating her like an actual person, instead of the lead in a telenovela. Equally inexcusable is how because Armando now is conscious of his feelings for Betty, the fact that so much of the way it’s shown involves violating her boundaries by stalking her on meetings he wasn’t invited to and secretly steeling and reading her diary, is why I can’t be too angry at Betty for dropping him the way she did.

This time around I was aware of how often real life designer Bettina Spitz had her name dropped and showed up on screen. Didn’t even realize I was missing that before. 

[jennibeultimate]

I don’t think people necessarily hate varfolomeev or her routines, they more just dislike the scores she gets compared to others (not always just the artistry)

For example clubs qualification she dropped the club, a small drop but still a drop, yet she still had an 8.35 execution score?

I am sure there is also valid criticism for her scores. But to me a lot I saw at first glance was just hating on her for winning. There was no talk about either artistry or the scores just writing under the FIG posts "shame" or "RIP Rhythmic Gymnastics" and these were about the nicest things you could read. Being the death for a sport is certainly not just criticism of scoring. Also if it would be about the judges wouldn't you just say "shame on the judges" or demand for an explanation? Why tell your criticism for the judges this way?

And as I mentioned I am completely out of the loop with anything fandom related. If this is what I see without even seeing much of the fandom, I don't even want to know what ppl say about Darja in real fandom spaces. The only RG content I constantly saw over the last 2 years was on Tumblr and we see how much notes rg post on here get nowadays which is like about 1- 20 ppl interacting with the posts.

I just brought up the artistic score because I think this is the one I see as most problematic myself and where I can understand the anger a bit even if I think that lots of anger is also based on personal understanding what artistry is.

As for the execution example you used: a drop has a penality range from 0,5 to 1,0 (if I am not wrong) and when she had a small drop that could have been taken as 0,5 from the execution. You don't know what gets deducted and what not. I was surprised with Vika's ribbon execution with multiple mistakes today yet I would not claim to know everything about it or say it's unfair. From what I can see and judge Darja is rarely out of the trajectory in catches, finishes her body elements, penches and turns mostly without any adjustment, doesn't do extra steps between her elements and so on. So imo her execution score is deservedly high. But I am open for any discussion to show me a different sight?

We can always argue about scores in this sport or many other sports as well where human judge artistry and execution. But to simply claim that Darja only won because she is originally Russian and implying bribery and bought scores when other competitors made obvious mistakes and Darja has the skill to challenge the top spots with her insane difficulty and consistency is not fair.

In my experience with another fandom figure skating such "dislike of scoring" discussions are often just disguised hatred. Those ppl are not interested in a real discussion where their opinion could be proved wrong, those ppl just need a "valid" reason to dislike someone. I don't say it's always the case but take a look at other comments of those ppl and you can see how much they really care for those scores.

Scores are always debatable because it's humans who judge it, so another judge, another day, things will turn out differently. I think in the end what matters is that the right person wins and sometimes that also means that more ppl deserve the win/medal but there is only one winner or this number of medals. There were times in RG were medals were unfairly won and given to gymnasts who should have placed 4th or 5th but instead received medals, but imo this isn't the case with Darja here.

[cupcakes-and-pain]

Rat: CYOA 6

Masterlist

You allow him to scurry up, ignoring the judgmental stares. It is difficult for him, of course, and he whimpers as he forces his bruised and broken limbs to climb you. Unable to watch him out himself through that pain, you give him quite a bit of help.

Once he is settled on your lap, you resume petting him. Rat whines and buries his head in your shoulder.

“Shh, it’s okay, you’re okay,” you whisper, but Virginia seems to hear you anyway.

“You know what? You’ve had your turn, friend.” She spits out the last word like acid, and the grin on her face is definitely forced. “Don’t be so greedy and give the rest of us a chance.”

The closest person to you yanks Rat away before you can even respond. He howls and struggles, trying to cling to you, but as soon as you’re far enough away, he starts leaning into the other person’s arms. His body chases the heat and melts into their harsh touch.

“Gross!” They shout, throwing him to the floor and wipe off their hands after he tried to cuddle up next to them. Rat cries in pain and you hear a crack as his skull makes contact with the ground. He is motionless for a moment and your heart skips a beat, but thankfully, you can see he is breathing a moment later.

You study him frantically, trying to take in damage, but then someone blocks your view. You look up and are only able to take in Virginia’s huge, muscular arms before-

THWACK

You would’ve fallen over in your chair, except that Virginia grabs you by the shirt collar and lifts you up. Your feet can barely scrape the floor.

“I know you’re new, and so maybe you didn’t know. But here, at my parties, my guests have a choice. Either they do what I want, or they are no longer guests. The lucky ones get kicked out and never come back. And the unlucky ones, well, remember that Rat isn’t the only one of its kind. But I’m going to give you one more chance. Go home and pull yourself together. I have another party tomorrow. Be there and prove that you can fall in line, or else. Understand?”

You nod.

“Speak!”

“Yes ma’am. I understand.”

She half drops half tosses you, and it takes all of you to not fall on your butt. You waste no time in running out the door. Only able to focus on getting out of there, you run right into Jai, knocking both of you over.

“Who the fuck— !! Oh, it’s you. …Where are you going?”

You are able to give them a quick explanation despite your panting.

They become very serious. “Right, well, I don’t want to get in trouble either, but you seemed like the most normal guest in there, and I do not want to lose the only person with any critical thinking skill. Do not let this go to your head. I will not be helping you with any thing unless you take this offer right now. Meet me before the party, at this address. I can help teach you what to do and say to avoid getting kicked out again or worse.”

They thrust a paper with an address written on it into your hand, then are shoving you further into the parking lot. Before you can say anything to Jai, they’re gone.

Welp. Looks like tomorrow is going to be interesting, no matter which way it goes.

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