#This is a long post and I’m probably kicking the hornet’s nest here even if only a few people see this | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

untamedunrestrained · 4 years

Text

I have to do this!

I recently came across this post made by @vespertineflora and I hesitated before reblogging it because I knew this was a hornet’s nest but I fully agreed with it so I eventually decided to reblog it, because that’s my philosophy if something jives with me a 100% I reblog it, if it doesn’t I don’t. Anyhow, after this I came across multiple posts by @vespertineflora where they put forth their POV in the various sex scenes in MDZS and I really liked their answers which compelled me to write this post.

The one thing I have realised when it comes to MDZS is that all my posts in this fandom are beyond chaotic so I don’t think this will be any different though considering the sex is confined to only one canon of this story hopefully this will atleast make sense. Though as I start this I have no idea where this is going so it is definitely going to be a little chaotic.

At this point I feel it’s important to mention what experience I have already had with danmei. Because if MDZS is your first foray into danmei I can appreciate how crazy the sex scenes must seem. Anyhow, my first foray into danmei was with “Hua Hua You Long” and if the sex scenes in MDZS are problematic believe you don’t want to be within a 100 yards of “Hua Hua You Long”. But, I have a very high tolerance for writing that makes me uncomfortable so I persevered for very long with HHYL but when it became amply clear that the only kind of sex our two main characters are going to indulge in was going to be straight up non-con I gave up. Like, I think I even tried to see if it changed by the very end before DNFing but it didn’t. I get the feeling that non-con/dub-con might be a big part of danmei.

Anyhow, before jumping into MDZS and this was straight after I finished “The Untamed”. In fact, it was the very same day, I came across this post talking about how the sex scenes in MDZS were fetishizing and that the novel presented a rape scene between minors as erotica and touched briefly on their first kiss. Now this post was very vague so I really couldn’t prepare myself one way or the other but knowing my limits I delved into the novel anyway. But, I was hyper critical of any kiss /sex scene between WWX and LWJ because of that post because I was perpetually on the lookout for that rape scene which I had no idea how I was going to swallow.

Having read the novel, there is one point I want to make before we dissect MDZS in particular. This novel was written in an online serialized format so the end of each chapter had to be something that would have to be compelling enough to have people subscribed and to keep people reading the work which is a big reason in the novel the past and present are presented as they are because if you read the novel, LWJ and WWX are never apart for long, if they separate in the past we immediately jump to the present. If we jump to the past it is always to a scene where they will meet. There are very few scenes where they are separated for any length of time, one of which is at the very beginning and the second is at the time the YunmengJiang Clan is attacked and the novel while covering the bases doesn’t dwell for long in this period because it is a period LWJ and WWX are separated and your audience are mostly here for those two. So, you try to make the scenes where your main characters are separated as few and far between. This directly implies that you are catering to a specific audience and we need to realise that we are not that specific target audience.

This book is written in a very niche genre and it is meant to be consumed by people who like stories in that genre and sex is a big part of that and unfortunately so are the non-con/dub-con elements in sex. So, I feel that the reason the author mostly put the sex scenes in the extras was to cater to her audience that do expect these scenes while reading danmei.

The fact is that the story of MDZS is so good that it got multiple adaptations and the live-action show propelled it to a stage the author didn’t intend it for. She wasn’t writing for such an international audience, she wasn’t catering for it either. The worldwide acclaim this story has gotten is unprecedented, I can tell you this because I have never in my life watched a Chinese Drama (well, except for The Untamed now) and I have never in my life completed a novel in the danmei genre (well, except for MDZS now). The fact that this story has found such a stage and the only fault people can find with it are the sex scenes should actually be pretty extraordinary considering when this story was being written it was expected to be consumed by Chinese readers who enjoyed this specific genre.

So, yeah the story isn’t written keeping in mind the sensibilities of the West. The author never intended so many people from different nationalities and cultures to read her story and it was written for a target audience who reads this genre expecting it to meet certain expectations and sex is very high on that list.

Now, I agree that just because we aren’t the target audience doesn’t mean we can’t have an opinion on the work. The fact that the sex scenes in MDZS are non-con/dub-con to please a certain audience doesn’t mean that you can’t call them out for being problematic. They are and you can but remember don’t paint everything with a broad brush. Nothing is as black or as white as people make it out to be and ultimately that is the moral of MDZS.

So, instead of broad sweeping statements, I want to take this opportunity to really dissect the nuances in the kiss/sex scenes between LWJ and WWX because at the end of the day I do really love the story of MDZS.

Blanket Spoiler Warning for all novel scenes from here on out!

First Kiss at Phoenix Mountain

I probably wouldn’t have noticed this scene if not for that post that had me in a hyper-alert state but just because this is something I would have normally given a pass still doesn’t mean it’s okay.

The very first kiss between LWJ and WWX is a kiss that takes place on Phoenix Mountain while WWX is blindfolded. Basically, in the Phoenix Mountain hunt when Jin ZiXuan bulls-eyes his target in the archery competition, WWX tries to one-up him by doing the feat blindfolded which he succeeds at much to Jin ZiXun’s chagrin who then tries to rile him up and which ultimately has WWX claiming that he can do the entire hunt blind-folded and still be the better one at the end of the day. So WWX is blindfolded when he feels someone approach who then proceeds to kiss the living daylights out of him, literally he is so weak-kneed he can’t stand up after the kiss. But, given that WWX doesn’t know who kissed him there is no question of consent, he can’t see who is kissing him and therefore he can’t consent to the kiss. This is definitely dubious consent if not outright non-consensual.

There are certain hints that he isn’t completely at the mercy of his secret admirer, first being that the reason he is able to approach WWX is because WWX doesn’t perceive any killing intent from this person and secondly WWX is elated that this lone cultivator is approaching him at a time when most cultivators are atleast somewhat afraid of him, so he lets him (yes because we already know it’s LWJ) come closer than he would have otherwise and doesn’t even take a protective stance when he is smashed against a tree. When both his wrists are captured he decides to kick his assailant but is shocked into stillness because his assailant starts kissing him at this point. He struggles when he comes to his senses but when he realises how badly the person kissing him is trembling he can’t bring himself to struggle any further. But, he again struggles when the person starts to french kiss him but at this point is overpowered.

So, breaking it down, he consents to this person’s approach into his personal space, doesn’t consent to the kiss but backs down when he realises that this person is struggling with their own emotions, definitely doesn’t consent to being French kissed but is overpowered. So, consensual followed by dub-con followed by non-con. Of course, it must be reiterated that WWX can always kick his assailant away but for whatever reason he doesn’t. Overall this entire kiss is dub-con at the most and isn’t the healthiest thing in the world.

But, in the context of the story it is viewed differently. For whatever reason WWX sees this entire experience in a positive light.

The previous scene seemed to be an absurd yet erotic daydream. Recalling what it had felt like, formless tickles crawled up all the way to the tip of his heart.

LWJ on the other hand is furious at himself because soon after this scene he can be found disintegrating a tree. Well, this proves two things, one he isn’t proud of his actions and second, that despite everything this is the only way he can express his love for WWX with WWX none the wiser. This scene highlights his struggle with what he already knows, he loves WWX yet he knows no way to express it. His parents were the worst role-models in that area and he has no concept of a man loving another man. His actions are wrong but the story portrays them more as cry for help, to showcase his struggle with his relentless feelings.

He had no idea that Lan WangJi was mad at himself—mad that he acted upon his urges, that he couldn’t control himself, that he took advantage of another in a way that was neither righteous nor abiding by his sect rules.

It is definitely dub-con but I guess it is more in service of character development than anything else. I’m curious as to what people feel about this first kiss.

Second Kiss with Drunk Lan Wangji after the Yi City Arc

Well, according to WWX it’s the first and it’s anybody’s guess if LWJ has any idea it happened.

We all know LWJ has zero alcohol tolerance and for somebody who has only had alcohol for the second time in his life that’s to be expected and unfortunately there can be no proper consent under the influence so yeah, this one is definitely non-consensual.

But, people might not see it that way. In fact, I’m pretty sure (okay not so sure) they don’t see it that way. Well, LWJ is plenty eager for being licked by WWX and well WWX is fully in his senses but since you can’t consent to something you can’t fully comprehend, it is still non-con.

The Hand-job with a once-again Drunk Lan Wangji

WWX really loves taking advantage of a drunk Lan Wangji. Well, this time things definitely go out of hand. To the extent that WWX realizes that his actions might be very cruel and selfish. Again taking into account the fact that LWJ is drunk these again become non-consensual but surprisingly the reason LWJ has such a violent reaction to the whole act is probably because he believes he took advantage of WWX and then when he tries to help WWX clean up he is rejected making him believe that WWX didn’t want to participate when nothing could be further from the truth, considering he initiated it.

My God, these two are really horrible at figuring out what’s going on between them. No wonder it takes a huge intervention for them to come to their senses.

The Sex Scene at the very end of the novel

Well, this is the only fully consensual kiss/ sex scene in the main novel. There are kisses followed by a blowjob followed by anal sex and all three are fully consensual. Though the third one seems to be rather painful, it’s still consensual. Also, while they are having sex WWX is constantly mouthing off that LWJ should have taken advantage of him back when they were fifteen and at the Cloud Recesses.

“If you liked me since such a long time ago, why didn’t you take me sooner? The back mountains of your Cloud Recesses would be quite a good location, wouldn’t it? When I snuck out to fool around alone, you should’ve tied me up and dragged me away, pinned me onto the grass like right now to do whatever you want to me…”

“You’re so strong, so I couldn’t have resisted. If I screamed, you could’ve silenced me. Or your Library Pavilion also would’ve been a great place, right in the middle of the scriptures scattered on the ground. We could’ve bought a few cutsleeve booklets to compare and learn, any position at all…”

Well, at this point the novel ends and as you can see despite it being about 900 pages long when translated into English it definitely doesn’t deliver much on the sex front so the author wrote a series of extras to make up for that deficit and it’s your choice if you want to read the extras with the sexual content. They don’t contribute to the story so it’s truly your wish.

Banquet (Parts 1-3)

This one doesn’t have any explicit sex scenes though WWX does try to play out a rape scenario but it fails rather spectacularly because LWJ has no idea what to do and when they try to reverse the positions WWX just gives in instead of actually putting up a struggle.

Incense Burner (Parts 1-2)

I’m finally here at the infamous incense burner extra. So, let’s do this (cracks her knuckles).

This extra is set on the premise that LWJ and WWX use an incense burner that transports them to a dream world where they both get a glimpse of each other’s dreams. WWX’s dream is of the two of them retired and living in the countryside in his own version of domestic bliss while LWJ’s dream is well, where this entire conversation on consent started. Now when LWJ first realizes which of his dreams they are in he doesn’t want to explore any further, he hesitates but WWX decides to investigate. While in the dream he tries to prevent WWX from seeing it to its full extent because he is definitely embarrassed by it. The dream they came across is of a fifteen-year-old LWJ raping a fifteen-year-old WWX and then seeing this the real WWX gets rather turned on and has very consensual sex with his husband, LWJ.

Truthfully, the weird thing is that this might be one of the best ways to deal with this kink and I don’t understand why people are so hung up on the rape scene because hasn’t it been made clear that those two boys are nothing more than figments of imagination. Really, we can’t impose consent on dream versions of people because they aren’t actually people. The only people who have sex in this scenario are the grown-up versions of LWJ and WWX who have consensual sex.

I feel that a rape fantasy is more easy to accept if the victim has it, like in this scenario if this was WWX’s dream the sentiment might have been different but considering this is the aggressor’s dream sympathies change and this is something LWJ definitely acknowledges, he fears being judged but all things considered it’s good WWX knows this side of him because considering how much he keeps spouting off about being raped he definitely wants to indulge in this fantasy. Though in no sex scene in the main novel or the extras do they actually indulge in such a fantasy.

There was also the point that we have no idea when LWJ first had this dream and considering how closely this dream follows WWX’s fantasy during their first sex scene might put the genesis of this dream at a later date which would imply that this wasn’t a dream born out of LWJ’s initial frustration and inability to understand his feelings towards WWX which does alter the perspective a little.

In fact, the second incense burner dream is more problematic when WWX gives a blow-job to an eighteen-year-old LWJ (for my sanity he’s eighteen) who is actually a dream consciousness of his much older husband, then proceeds to use the hilt of Bichen as a dildo till his husband in a much younger body decides to save his sword from the horror and fucks WWX himself. But, then he discovers that he likes spanking WWX and he proceeds to do so despite WWX’s discomfort with the act. Again, I don’t know how much the concept of consent can be applied to dream selves, but all things considered this would have been the more problematic of the incense burner extras. Because, the first part is definitely non-consensual followed by a sex scene that is at best dub-con. Again, this is all in a dream and WWX is never going to get the opportunity to have sex with a younger-version of his husband because he didn’t and now he can’t. So again, I have no idea if this should even be brought into the consent issue.

But, one of the best things about this extra is that when WWX wakes up from the dream he is scared that LWJ will spank him something he didn’t like at all and doesn’t desire to repeat. He tells him that and LWJ immediately tells him that he will not. Which speaks a lot about these two, they know they have to communicate with each other and I feel like they have a good idea of each other’s limits and while these two might be kinky as hell neither actually wants to do anything that the other will not enjoy. So, even though they haven’t always dealt with it optimally I can rest assured that they will do better in the future.

But, I truly feel like everyone in all this uproar regarding the alleged rape forgot that this extra is written for a completely different purpose. I feel like the real reason the author wrote this was to allow LWJ and WWX to have sex in their own bodies which is something they have never done!

From Dawn to Dusk - Rather shameless sex but all consensual.

Intrusion (Parts 1-3) - No explicit sex scene though it is implied.

Villainous Friends, Iron Hook (Parts 1-2), Lotus Seed Pod & Dream Come True - No sexual content.

#if you didn't know now you know #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #mo xiang tong xiu #wangxian #wei wuxian #lan wangji #all about the sex #myposts

56 notes · View notes

bestworstcase · 4 years

Note

I, M, Z?

I - Has tumblr caused you to stop liking any fandoms, if so, which and why

i was going to say no but then i remembered that i have a huge grudge against the legally blonde fandom not just on tumblr but in general because the widespread take that it’s a flawless feminist film and elle woods is perfect is bafflingly wrong and none of them has read the book which is, like, superior to the film in every way because (a) elle is allowed to exist as a deeply flawed person whose arc is not about ~discovering her true value~ but rather maturing out of her spoiled, entitled attitude and and becoming the best version of herself, discarding her prejudices and vastly expanding her worldview, in addition to discovering her true value as a person and (b) the book doesn’t shoehorn in a plot point about a professor sexually assaulting elle for the drama

i love the musical and the book i just don’t fuck with the fandom

M - Your favorite fanart or fanartist

oh um hmmm. i really admire @pennumbra’s and @silverhart-makes-art’s art styles and it’s always great to see their content crossing my dash.

Z - Just ramble about something fan-related, go go go

tangled is probably my biggest / most active fandom (pour one out for all my tiny musicals 😔) and it’s been an interesting experience because while my personal experience here has been drama-free i have been on the sidelines watching various kerfuffles and that has been an... interesting experience. it may be that i’m just not seeing the allegedly rampant infighting that is ~tearing the fandom apart~ or whatever, but from where i’m sitting it really looks like there’s just a couple of bnfs who go out of their way to kick the hornets nest from time to time and once the wider fandom has gotten dragged into it they express surprise and distress over the drama they created

which absolutely is not a group dynamic that is unique to this fandom or even fandom in general, you find people like this literally everywhere, but it’s obnoxious even so. and like i def get feeling frustrated about whatever and wanting to vent but i think if you’re super influential in a fandom and you post something passive aggressive or outright hostile on your popular fandom blog it’s not fair to then scold people for the drama that causes. it’s not fair to stir the pot and then complain when it boils over.

anyway the real point here is i held off on actually Making A Blog for a long time because of seeing / hearing about constant drama and knowing that i’m a very opinionated person and just sort of... weighing whether it was Worth It to even try to engage with the wider fandom but i’ve found it to be refreshingly chill. and again maybe this is just because i occupy a very small, very niche corner of the fandom and so am passed over by the infighting or whatever but i do think the dynamic here leans on the side of A Few Pot Stirrers vs the fandom just being infested with tons and tons of people who are at each others throats all the time, and that makes it much easier to curate a pleasant experience

#6vapemaster9

9 notes · View notes

echodrops · 4 years

Text

Kicking the Hornet’s Nest...

I’m procrastinating hard on other tasks, but in chit-chatting (both on tumblr and on Discord) about my stance on criticism of fanfiction, I realized that there’s a very low-hanging analogy I can make to explain my thoughts on this, so…

Uh first, please remember this is my personal blog and just my personal opinion. If you think that giving unsolicited concrit is the worst, I promise I’m not here to grab you individually, shake you by the shoulders, and try to change your minds. We can agree to disagree; I’m fully aware my opinion is unpopular on tumblr but also fully aware of the irony of people giving unsolicited criticism on a post about why unsolicited criticism is a good thing.

And second, please note that the analogy used below is only an analogy and not meant to be a one-to-one comparison–obviously the issue of vaccination is a far more critical, serious, and solemn issue and the topic of criticism on fanfiction (of all things) is not equal to a global health crisis that has cost real people’s lives. I’m drawing radical comparisons to thought processes because it’s shocking, not genuinely comparing fanfiction comments to moral and ethical world health decisions because I think those two things are equitable in importance.

Uh and third, please don’t respond unless you’re going to read it all. I'm happy to take your constructive criticism after you're finished with the whole thing. I get so tired of people rushing to my inbox after only getting half way through my arguments–90% of the time, I already addressed the thing you wanted to come yell at me about and you just didn’t make it there, promise.

So, at the risk of pissing off just about everyone who thought they respected me before this:

The current anti-concrit mindset stems from a similar logic to the one used by anti-vaxxers.

(This analogy lasts a grand total of five paragraphs or something, don’t get your jimmies too rustled.)

Most people on tumblr are happy–downright gleeful–to mock anti-vaxxers. The average anti-vaxxer is considered close-minded, self-centered, and under-educated. Although the issue of anti-vaxxing is probably more complicated than we paint it here on this website (to be fair, I wouldn’t know if it’s more complicated, since I agree that anti-vaxxers are generally stupid and don’t look into their arguments very often), almost no one on tumblr has any issue with anti-vaxxers being dragged up and down the block for their bad choices.

Usually, the logic of anti-vaxxers is understood to work something like this:

Anti-vaxxer: I don’t want to expose my child to something potentially harmful, so I am not going to vaccinate them.

Literally everyone else: You’re exposing your child to far greater risk in the long-term by not vaccinating.

Or:

Anti-vaxxer: My child doesn’t need to be vaccinated; they’re fine as they are. Those diseases aren’t a big deal anymore.

Literally everyone else: This mindset will make those diseases a big deal again.

On paper, sometimes anti-vaxxer logic works out–it is true that some children suffer very painful and awful reactions to vaccinations. It IS true that poorly made or contaminated vaccinations have killed children and will continue to do in the future. It IS true that vaccinations are painful and stressful for children in general and can even–depending on how the children respond to pain and how their doctors/nurses treat them–result in long-term phobias and health care aversion. There can be serious lasting consequences from vaccinating.

But most of us laugh in the face of anti-vaxxers. Why? Because we know that in comparison to the number of benefits, the risks are minimal. In the long-term, the number of people helped by vaccines far, far exceeds the number of people hurt.

I hope you can see where I’m going. At its core, the issue of giving unsolicited constructive criticism follows a similar pattern of short-term risk aversion. Authors who don’t want constructive criticism and choose to actively refuse it are following a similar thought process to anti-vaxxer parents:

Author: I don’t want any constructive criticism. Criticism can be painful, and my writing doesn’t need to be exposed to that.

Or:

Author: I don’t need any constructive criticism because my writing is fine as it is and I’m just doing it for fun anyway.

The general attitude seems to be that exposing fanfiction authors to unsolicited constructive criticism carries more risk than it does reward. And please be aware that I’m talking about genuinely constructive criticism here, well-intentioned and polite comments (the vaccine in this analogy), not troll comments deliberately designed to hurt people’s feelings (which would be equivalent to say, an injected contaminated drug in this analogy–no one should be okay with those).

But like anti-vaxxers who insist that the short-term risks of vaccines are more dangerous than the long-term risks of major diseases… is there really any evidence that genuinely constructive criticism, even when unsolicited, really does discourage and upset a large number of fanfiction authors? Or, more to the point of the analogy–is the number of people who would be entirely discouraged from writing ever again by some constructive criticism really greater than the number of people who would benefit from getting some (again, polite) tips for improving their writing? Which is the greater risk–being hurt in the short-term or losing out on the opportunity for growth in the long-term?

Clearly there are different opinions on this and I suspect that my opinion is heavily colored by the fact that I am older than the average tumblr user and therefore have many more years to look back on to weigh on the scales of this debate.

But I will always, always argue that the long-term benefits of helping other writers where you can far, far, far outweigh the short-term risks, for a couple reasons.

1) The world is a shitty, disappointing, stressful, and painful place. We encounter harsh criticisms every single day. Your teachers will give you poor grades. Your bosses will tell you your work isn’t up-to-par. Your friends will tell you the new top you bought and absolutely love… actually makes you look like you’re wearing a potato sack. If you’re into relationships, you’ll probably experience at least one break-up in which you hear that it’s YOU, not them, who is the problem. Your feelings will be hurt by callous comments from others an uncountable number of times. Your confidence will be shaken, if not actively crushed. I’m sorry to say it, but for almost all of us, having some miserable, anxiety-inducing and extremely discouraging moments in life is part of the unavoidable human experience. (And this is doubly, maybe triply true when we are starting out new hobbies or first entering a new field. Anyone who has ever tried to learn how to skateboard and gotten laughed at by experienced skateboarders knows exactly what I’m talking about.)

The world is full of truly awful things. And I’m not the kind of person who thinks we should just be exposed to all of them right from the get-go and fuck you and your snowflake feelings or things like that. I highly urge people to tag for triggering content and am on the record again and again telling people to block characters or ships that make them uncomfortable.

But many fanfiction authors are young authors, some of whom are posting work for public consumption for the very first time. Still more have no positive experiences with constructive criticism in the first place, and the extent of their literary criticism knowledge comes from really awful and boring high school English classes. When budding writers encounter a sudden explosion of access to readers–from having maybe one or two friends read their work to suddenly having their words in front of the eyes of thousands of strangers on the internet:

It’s disingenuous to give starting writers nothing but positive feedback. Only hearing positives about your work actively discourages change and self-reflection. It gives writers an unrealistic picture of their work that can result in far more serious disappointment and embarrassment later. When someone is awful at singing and they’re only told how nice their voice is, eventually when they sing for a more serious group of strangers, they’re going to be in for a very, very miserable time.

It’s a terrible missed opportunity for young writers to get a glimpse of what “professional” writing is like. Everyone benefits from genuinely constructive criticism–both the person getting it and the person giving it. We create young writers who are passionate about improving their writing by inducting them into the culture of planning, drafting, bouncing ideas off each other, finding beta readers, and taking others’ advice to grow their abilities, and oftentimes, one of the first experiences a person has with that process is someone spontaneously going “Hey, what if you tried this instead?” People often become inspired to become doctors and nurses after witnessing a family member experience a medical crisis–people often become inspired to become writers after receiving thorough feedback on things they have written. It’s impossible to really know whether or not you want a piece of constructive criticism until after you have heard what the criticism is, and adopting a “no unsolicited constructive criticism” policy as a whole creates an entire generation of fan writers who would miss out on opportunities for growth and inspiration.

This is waxing REALLY philosophical, but bear with me here, because this is also a well-documented concern of mine: we are entering an age in which people are no longer responsible for the media choices they make, where the internet is no longer viewed as a the equivalent of yelling into a crowd of (potentially dangerous) strangers, and the onus for protection is shifting away from self-preservation “I need to not put myself near upsetting things” to “other people have the responsibility not to expose me to upsetting things.” I’ve seen a lot of people say “If authors want constructive criticism on their fics, they can just say that in a note!” My ladies. My guys. My non-binary buddies. This is the utter opposite of how the internet functions. When you put anything on the internet, you are literally putting it before a crowd of an absolutely uncountable number of strangers and there are no rules (barring the laws of their home countries) dictating how they can respond to the things you put out there. Posting your writing on the internet is explicit consent to receive constructive criticism from anyone at any time unless you take actions to prevent that in advance. Sites like AO3 actively grant you the power to dictate who can SEE your work, comment on your work, give you the power to remove messages, screen comments before they appear, block comments entirely, or simply write in any of your notes sections that you do not want constructive criticism. (If it’s that easy to write “I want constructive criticism!” why is not seen as equally easy to write “I do not want constructive criticism!”?)

Public spaces on the internet are opt out, not opt in.

Why do many (though lord knows, not all) tumblr users easily agree to the idea of “If you don’t like a ship, you should just block it” or “If you see properly tagged content you don’t like on AO3 and you click it, that’s your own fault for not reading the tags,” but have the complete opposite mindset when it comes to constructive criticism? “I’m submitting my work in a public place where anyone can express their opinion on it… But even though there are multiple tools at my disposal for discouraging and blocking opinions I don’t agree with, it’s actually other people’s responsibility not to say anything that might upset me.”

As I said, waxing philosophical here, but this is kind of a scary mindset. The ability to enter a public space–and the internet is the MOST public space in the world–and then declare that you simply don’t want to listen to dissenting opinions is scary. I mean, this is how we get a common anti-vaxxer mindset–I don’t want to listen to your opinion because I have my source telling me I’m right and that’s all I need. “I put my work out in a public place and left it accessible to everyone, but I don’t want to listen to what everyone says about it.” I don’t mean to jump off the slippery slope, but this issue is a slippery slope in and of itself. Down this way lies a dark future. “It’s other people’s responsibility to curate my social experience for me.”

But really, after all this… I just flat out think it’s important to give genuinely constructive criticism to each other without people needing to ask for it because it just kind of sucks to see a fellow writer struggling with something and not say something about it. It’s not about feeling superior or thinking you know better than someone else; we all have our own strengths and weaknesses, and spotting something that could use a bit of work in someone else’s writing doesn’t make you a better writer, it just means that’s not your particular weakness. When someone is struggling to learn to swim, you don’t just leave them to their own devices and assume they’ll figure it out–even if they swear they’ve got it. When someone is learning to sew and you, who has sewed that exact thing before, don’t offer any advice, that’s not encouragement, it’s apathy. There will be many, many, many times in your life where you did not know you needed advice. Where you did not know HOW to ask for advice. Where you might have known you needed advice but not really wanted to admit that. Where you might have known you needed advice and been too shy to ask for help. Where a piece of advice completely from the blue changes the course of your life. Fandom as a whole–fan creators as a whole–cannot become a culture that closes the door to that vital form of communication, rejects willingness to not only uplift but also help each other grow even when we least expect it.

Anyway, I’m literally just writing this to avoid real responsibilities, but the point I’m trying to make is:

Most writers, even very young writers, will not be discouraged by polite, well-intentioned criticism. They may not like it. They may not take any of the criticism to heart, but most people, even young people, are far more resilient than tumblr (which on the best of days is a negative feedback loop that can romanticize a victim mindset because having the saddest backstory makes you immune to cancellation) wants to give them credit for, and a vast majority of writers will not be traumatized or scared away from writing by people trying to offer them genuine advice. Remember, no one here is advocating for asshole trolls who post comments like “Your writing sucks and you should delete your account.” A majority of writers, even very young writers, will be able to weather the storms and tosses of even really rudely-worded advice and recover. Sometimes it might take a while, but human beings have survived as a species because we’re really, really persevering.

(But some people aren’t! you might say. Some people really will give up writing if they’re criticized! And you’d be correct. There are people who will give up, even if all they are faced with is a single gentle, well-intentioned piece of criticism. But the truth is… People give up on hobbies for all kinds of reasons! Not every hobby is for every person! Every hobby carries with it its own challenges, its own share of risks, and its own pains. Learning a new hobby consistently requires putting yourself out of your comfort zone. Wanna learn how to ride a snowboard? You will get bruised. Wanna learn how to play chess? You will lose. Wanna learn to draw? Someone will make fun of your early drawings. You will make fun of your own early drawings. Wanna post your writing on a public platform? Someday, someone is going to say they’re not a fan.

And that leads me to address the point that just keeps coming up and coming up in this issue: People aren’t always posting their fics to improve as writers! A lot of times people are posting for just fun or for personal reasons.

Yeahhhhh bullshit. No, no, hang on–I don’t mean that people don’t have fun writing and posting fics, or that fics can’t help you through traumatic experiences because everything I’ve ever posted is basically me dealing with my own personal shit–what I mean is that there’s always an additional dimension to posting your fics on large-scale public websites. People write stories and share them with their friend groups for fun. People write characters overcoming trauma and share them with their therapists (or the friends who help to fill that role) for healing. People post their stories publicly, where anyone can respond, for validation on top of their fun and healing. There are ways to hide your fics entirely on many sites. You can leave things in drafts. If a fic is appearing as unmoderated and open to the public on a major fic site such as AO3, Wattpad, ff.net, etc., it’s because that fic’s author wants responses from others! They want views. They want subscribes. They want kudos. They want comments. There’s literally no reason to post publicly except for your work to be viewed by the public.

The fun one has writing a fic is often tied directly to the thrill of seeing a comment or kudos notification pop-up in your inbox. We love seeing people enjoy our fics–it absolutely makes my day when someone sends me a message telling me they re-read my fic for the third time.

It’s NOT fun to write something and get no response.

Writing something and getting no response is actively discouraging, actually.

So whenever someone says “They’re not writing fics to improve as writers; they’re just doing it for fun!” I have to laugh a bit–because when the concept of “fun with fanfiction” is tied so closely to the experience of having your work viewed and enjoyed by others, the fastest and surest way to increase the fun you have with your fanfics… is to improve as a writer. The more you write, the more you improve. The more you improve, the more loyal readers you gain. The more loyal readers you gain, the more excited people you have to gush about your fics with. Want a Discord server full of people willing to help you brainstorm ideas for your favorite AU? Write well, attract followers. Want fanart of your writing, probably the most fun and exciting thing I can think of as an author? Write well. Just plain old want more friends in the fandom to talk about your favorite characters and fic ideas with? Make writer friends.

People have fun writing about their favorite characters and post publicly to receive responses and validation for their creations… Responses increase the fun writers have because they make the hard work of writing worth it and give you people to keep writing for and with… Improving your writing increases the number of people attracted to your works and the number of people willing to spend time responding to them… The bigger the response you get, the more invested you become in your fics, the more fandom friends you make, and the more you want to write–it’s a process that is self-fulfilling, but also one that exposes you to criticism by its very nature. The very act of seeking responses from readers means that you’re open to responses that you don’t necessarily want to hear.

And I actually don’t mean this in the way of “If you can’t handle the heat, don’t jump into the fire.” What I mean is that it is impossible to create a world in which everyone who starts writing sticks with the hobby and keeps churning out works for us to enjoy forever. It is impossible to create a world in which no young writer will ever feel discouraged and give up. The writer you decided not to give constructive criticism to might just as easily become discouraged and quit writing because they didn’t receive enough response.

The first time you give your child a new vaccine, you cannot predict the results. Your child might suffer an allergic reaction. They might die. Every year, numerous severe reactions to vaccines do occur. But the majority of people don’t question the effectiveness of vaccines because we understand that the number of people who have severe reactions is very low in comparison to the number of people who benefit from the vaccine. The number of people who will be discouraged from writing by genuine, polite, constructive criticism is minuscule in comparison to the number of people who will either 1) benefit from it directly and be thankful you gave it, 2) not benefit but not be upset by it, 3) be mildly upset by it but then benefit, or 4) just be mildly upset by itself and then move on with life unharmed because sometimes people say things we don’t like but that doesn’t ruin our lives every single time it happens.

I’m not saying that providing polite constructive criticism doesn’t have risks, just that its risks are smaller than its benefits.

And I’ve successfully whittled enough time away with this now that I can go to sleep without guilt over the things I didn’t finish, but I started this by saying the long-term benefits outweighed the short-term risks and I feel obligated to defend that…

The long-term benefits of well-placed constructive criticism are enormous. Sometimes people need ego checks. Sometimes we need wake-up calls. Sometimes we need a gentle helping hand and didn’t even realize other people could be the help we needed. Sometimes we need a reason to get fired up–even if that reason is spite, trying to prove a critic wrong! Sometimes the answer is glaring us in the face and we don’t notice until someone else points it out. Sometimes we just plain out make mistakes. Sometimes we need a teacher because the ones in school let us down. Sometimes (oftentimes) other people bring incredibly unique perspectives to our stories that we would never have been open to on our own. Sometimes we write something unintentionally hurtful and need some gentle correction. Sometimes we could be having a lot more fun if we knew the tips and tricks others had to offer. Sometimes improving ourselves is hard but worth it. Sometimes bitter medicine is the only thing that will cure an ailment.

Shots hurt. People avoid them because they aren’t fun–what parent wants to expose their child to the painful, stressful situation of getting stabbed with needles? (What parent looks forward to the yearly flu shot themselves?)

We naturally flinch back from criticism. There are many times when we swear we don’t want it, don’t need it, can’t bear it! In the moment, it is incredibly difficult to be confronted with someone basically implying that you should change something integral to yourself–your art. No one likes to feel like they’re being picked apart for weaknesses, definitely not.

But sometimes a single comment can make a massive difference in your life–even when you didn’t want it at first.

All my life, I have been helped along by teachers, family, and friends who refused to settle for patting me on the back. The people who mean the most to me, who I most credit with getting me where I am today, are not the people who just told me I was good at things. They’re the people who told me I was good at things BUT. They people who challenged me to not just sail through life or even coast in my hobbies, content with the level I entered on–they’re the people who had faith in me and trust that I could refine my skills, could have even more fun IF I took that next step, challenged myself to go a bit harder… They’re the people who took the time not just to skim over my writing and slap a thumbs up on it, but the people who thought hard enough about it go: “This story was good, but have you thought about…”

Today, I’m a professor of English because I started writing fanfiction when I was 11 years old. Because I started posting fanfiction when I was 13. Because at 14 years old, someone–without being asked–taught me the correct way to format dialogue and how to strengthen my dialogue tags. Because at 15, someone flat out laughed to tears at a cliche metaphor I’d extended too far and I was ashamed, but they taught me something else to try instead. Because by 18, I’d received–and taken–enough unsolicited writing advice to land myself the highest paying on-campus tutoring job my university offered. Because by 19, someone challenged me to write something I told them was impossible for me. Because by 20, that impossible writing became the sample that got me accepted to grad school. Because by 21, I was furious enough at the criticism I received from my creative writing masters classmates to write a thesis so feverishly overwhelming that it inspired one of the foremost postmodern poets in the country. Because by 27, it was brutally honest criticism that gave me the gall to finally leave an abusive job and apply for a teaching position. Because by 30, I got to sit at a public literary journal volume launch and watch an entire class of my creative writing students become published authors.

And even though I joked about why I was writing this, and even though I’m really not, at the heart of it, trying to persuade any one person over to my side, I hope it’s clear how much of a labor of love this post is. How passionate I am about this topic.

This whole thing is a drawn-out plea: Please, do not let fandom creation sites become a place where no one offers advice unless it is begged for. Do not miss your chance to help someone else improve. Do not close the door to criticism that could change your life. Do not let fear of short-term discouragement prevent you from seeking long-term growth. Do not let the immediate side effects cloud your view of the global benefits.

Inoculate yourselves with good advice as a shield against the very hard future.

A dearth of criticism will not make fandom a better place. It will just make it a quieter one.

#anyone want to take bets on how long it takes someone to get outraged #skip reading the actual argument itself #and put something in the replies or my ask box that was blatantly answered on this post itself #it's 4am so like I give it about ten minutes #writing #fanfiction #constructive criticism #I tire more each day of tumblr's bizarre ways of thinking #like could you imagine if this was the attitude in any other hobby #nah bro #I know I almost broke my arm back there but I don't want any skateboarding advice #I got this #yeah I know the horse has broken loose and is kicking people but have you tried NOT commenting on that #you didn't brace your sculpture correctly and it no longer resembles what the art gallery expected #Jesus ask before you give concrit for once

26 notes · View notes

satonthelotuspier · 4 years

Text

How Shall We Stop Dreams - Part 9

Chapters 8 & 9 of How Shall We Stop Dreams, posted over the weekend on AO3. It’s all starting to happen.

As ever follow the link to AO3 for the full fic (link takes you to chapter 8) or the tag below for the other parts here on tumblr, whatever your poison may be.

CW for torture, though it’s not described in much detail.

Chapter 8 – The Wens Unmasked – Part 1

It was greatly against his nature to rush into situations; especially those where he knew they could make things worse. It was scant comfort to Lan Xichen at that moment, however, who merely wished to tear the Nightless City apart stone by stone to get to Jiang Wanyin.

He was entirely to blame for Jiang Wanyin being in danger now, and he wanted to act. If he hadn’t spent so much time away from those books for his own selfish reasons he would have made the revelations so much earlier, in time to stop the other from delivering himself into the hands of the Wens.

Lan Wangji returned to the dining hall, followed by several of the other cultivators who he had managed to locate. They had each gone to round up who they could with the intention of giving everyone the full story of what they had discovered, and sending them back to their own sects to warn against the Wens before enacting a rescue for the Jiang sect heir.

Lan Wangji moved to join him where he leaned against the pillar; he had been the first to return and had had time to brood while waiting for the others.

Lan Wangji paused in front of Lan Xichen and bowed.

“Xiongzhang, I beg you to return to Gusu. You are in grave danger, and you well know it”

Lan Xichen should have expected Lan Wangji to make his request again.

He understood how perilous the situation had become for him, knowing full well he would be a prize like no other to demons who fed on human emotion.

“I thank you for your concern, Wangji, but I will be staying. The man I love is trapped somewhere beneath this city, and I won’t be leaving without him. Even if I could leave the Purpose in your hands at this stage, I couldn’t desert Wanyin”

Lan Xichen doubted Wangji had expected any different response from him.

They didn’t have to wait much longer for Wei Wuxian and Luo Qingyang to return with the remaining cultivators.

“Zewu-jun, lets go” Wei Wuxian nodded, and Lan Xichen moved to stand in front of the small crowd.

“I’m sure by now many of you have your doubts and concerns over what the Wens hope to achieve in bringing us all here. My clan had the same misgivings, and we came intending to investigate what caused our nightmares and why the Wens were so eager to draw so many young cultivators to the Nightless City” Lan Xichen glanced around the faces of the others, trying to gauge how his words were being received. “We discovered the Wens are direct descendants of the Demon Sun Kings, we know they feed on human emotions. We also know they have a cultivating crystal that is feeding on the qi energy of cultivators that they take beneath the city to experiment on. You will have seen the results in your shidis and shimeis who were returned to you, drained, confused, and ill”

They must plan to expand their influence if they have decided to come out of the shadows now, knowing full well what was being done to our sect mates couldn’t remain unknown for long. They have played a long game, and it seems to be time for them to act. I urge you to leave Qishan immediately, return to your sects and warn them to prepare for what may come. We will be sending our disciples back to Gusu and advising our elders to waste no time in seeking to discuss preparations with the other sects as soon as they may. If you are able to warn your own clans and have them begin their own precautions it will ensure we aren’t taken by surprise” he tightened his fist around Shuoyue; he had warned the others now, what they did with his warning was their own business. His one thought now was Jiang Wanyin.

“Zewu-jun” Jin Zixuan halted him on his way to the door, “how much proof do we have, should our sects be loathe to act without it”

“None I can put into your hands at this time, Jin-gongzi. I hope the Lan’s reputation might help me. As such I can merely assure you I am perfectly convinced of the scenario I have presented, based on our observations and information found in the Wen library” he waved a hand at the nearby table where he had placed the books he and Jiang Wanyin had studied last night, and the notes both of them had made whilst reading, “You are welcome to assess them, or take them back to your father if you think it will help” Lan Xichen threw one final look around the assembled crowd, “Whether you believe me or not, please ensure you leave the Nightless City as a matter of urgency, I can assure you there’s no cure to be had here beyond stopping the Wen’s plans. And I expect to have kicked open a hornets nest in a very few hours, after which there will likely be no escape. Better safe than sorry” Lan Xichen left the hall.

***

“I’m coming with you” Luo Qingyang rushed to stand beside Wei Wuxian, who grimaced.

“Luo-guniang, you should be returning to your sect to warn them. You heard Zewu-jun. The smaller sects especially need to be prepared and ready to defend themselves to ensure you’re not overwhelmed if the Wens act”

“The Liu sect have very close ties to the Yi sect, and I’ve already asked Yi Wencheng to ensure the Lius are told of what’s happening” she pointed to a young man in dark robes who was talking with some of the other cultivators. “I’m part of this, and you will need all the help you can get to rescue Jiang-gongzi”

In the face of her determination there was nothing Wei Wuxian could add; he merely bowed his thanks at her offer to help.

They were joined by one of the Lan disciples, who bowed to Lan Wangji before speaking, “Hanguang-jun, Su-xiong seems to have disappeared. He was with us when we joined Zewu-jun”

There was the tiniest creasing of Lan Wangji’s brows, “Search the houses, if you cannot find him continue with the plan and leave for Gusu, Xiongzhang and I will continue the search”

“Yes” the disciples bowed again and left; the trio were just about to join them in leaving when Mo Xuanyu walked over. He looked pale.

“Is it true? Is Wen Ning...are the Wens demons?” he demanded of Wei Wuxian, and Wei Wuxian could only nod. “I thought...I saw he moved too quickly. I hoped it might just be the danger” he rubbed his face with both hands, then looked up, determination set in his eyes. “I’m coming with you” he repeated Luo Qingyang’s words, and Wei Wuxian waved his hands in denial.

“We’re going into the lair of the beast, Mo Xuanyu, to rescue Jiang Cheng. I can’t guarantee your safety down there” he reached into his robes and took out the letter he had hoped he would have chance to place into the younger man’s hands. “This is from Jiang Cheng’s father, Uncle Jiang has agreed to let you come to Yunmeng to be an outer disciple. Travel to Yunmeng and tell him what happened here. Tell him I’m trying my best to look after Jiang Cheng” he pressed the letter into Mo Xuanyu’s hands.

The younger man shuddered, looking at Wei Wuxian in disbelief, “Why would you do that?”

“Because you deserve a chance, and forgive me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think you want to go back to your home”

Mo Xuanyu snapped to attention, and bowed to Wei Wuxian; his hands shook, and Wei Wuxian caught him and pulled him up.

“Thank you for giving me this opportunity, I won’t disappoint Wei-shixiong. But I will be going with you. I need to see for myself” Mo Xuanyu assured him.

Wei Wuxian sighed, and turned to Lan Wangji, “Lan Zhan, do your magic mind thing and make them go” he said with a pout. But he knew Lan Wangji wouldn’t. Lan Wangji had explained to him the skill he used was a talent he had been born with, the thing that made his eyes glow gold, and was an ability to place a suggestion in someone’s thoughts and have them act on it, like how he had “suggested” the guard at the hospital entrance go to one of the other rooms and sleep, which had enabled them to access the caves and tunnels under the Nightless City.

“Wei Ying, it would be wrong to use it on an ally” Lan Wangji shook his head once, even though he was aware Wei Wuxian hadn’t asked in seriousness. “You should know how dangerous this will be, however, all of you. You may be captured or killed. Xiongzhang and I will do all we can to ensure we all walk out together, but I cannot promise”

“I know, Lan Zhan, but they have my brother, I’ll slay every Wen who comes to get to him” Wei Wuxian said, and Luo Qingyang nodded.

“It’s the right thing to do. I started this with you, I want to see it through” she added.

“And I must see the Wens unmasked as demons for myself” Mo Xuanyu said, clutching his sword.

Lan Wangji lowered his head in acknowledgement of the three, “Then we must join Xiongzhang now” and he lead them from the hall to meet up with Lan Xichen.

Chapter 9 – The Wens Unmasked - Part 2

They met Lan Xichen coming out of the lodgings the Two Jades had been assigned.

He eyed the additions to their group, but said nothing. He knew his brother enough to know Lan Wangji would have said everything needed to them; it was their own choice to face the danger.

“Xiongzhang” Lan Wangji said as they fell into step and headed from the guest lodging area towards the private clan areas of the city that the three had sneaked into the previous evening, “Su Minshan is missing”

Wei Wuxian saw Lan Xichen look at Lan Wangji, and something seemed to pass between them silently while they walked on without them missing a step.

“Wei-shixiong” Mo Xuanyu fell into step besides Wei Wuxian, who turned to give the younger man his attention. “Is Wen Ning…?” he didn’t seem to be able to finish the thought, but of course his meaning was clear enough.

“Yes, Wen Ning is probably half-demon. Ironically, if he wasn’t, you would be dead”

Mo Xuanyu nodded as if that thought had already occurred to him.

“Why did he save me?”

“I don’t know, perhaps it was because it was the right thing to do and he’s a kind young man” it was the only comment he could offer on the subject to Mo Xuanyu, he didn’t know himself. The fact still stood that Wen Ning had saved Mo Xuanyu’s life, and therefore, unless forced to act against him by circumstances or evidence, Wei Wuxian would assume he was a good person, demon or human.

***

The five moved through the Nightless City and into the walled off Clan areas. They admitted made their way through the back alleys towards Wen Qing’s hospital; but even so, the fact that they only encountered outer disciples, which meant Lan Zhan was able to deal with them easily, and without bloodshed, made Wei Wuxian’s scalp prickle.

He didn’t think the Wens were on their guard against anyone who may have caught on to their plans yet, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of unease. He didn’t really understand why, however, after all they had already sneaked through these streets once before, and again when they had returned to the surface last night, although they had had to hide in a deserted storage shed for a few hours on the way back to avoid the changing patrols and guard stations.

In hindsight Wei Wuxian wished dearly they’d chanced their luck and made a dash for it; if they had they would have been in time to stop Jiang Cheng from walking gamely into the Wen’s web.

Even in the hospital itself there was no more than the single guard sat at the entrance in the floorboards.

Once he had been dealt with in a similar fashion to the evening before they mounted the steps leading down into the rock bed beneath the city.

“I’m not experienced at sneaking into a secret lair” Mo Xuanyu said in a low voice, “but has this all seemed a little too easy?”

“Suspiciously so” Lan Xichen agreed, “Do not drop your guard for even a second, if I tell you to run, please listen”

Wei Wuxian kept his own council on that matter; if it came down to it he wouldn’t leave Jiang Cheng behind, whatever the Lans said to him. Jiang Cheng was his didi, his to protect and he had been doing a terrible job of it ever since they had come to the Nightless City.

As they moved deeper through the tunnels Shuoyue and Bichen unsheathed themselves an inch or so in perfect synchronisation.

Wei Wuxian was glad he didn’t stand on the opposite side of the Two Jades of Lan; their appearance alone was enough to strike fear into the heart of any enemy.

They moved in perfect harmony; their pure white robes; fair visages, set into identical looks of grim determination; and strong aura of implacable righteousness gave the impression of twin gods of vengeance come to earth to mete out divine retribution.

He loosened Suibian in it’s scabbard as he followed close behind the noiseless tread of the Two Jades.

The cloth scraps they’d left the night before were still visible where they’d placed them.

“Do we follow a different route and make straight for the cave floor or follow last night’s path and use the ledge to take stock of the situation first?” Luo Qingyang asked, her voice low.

“The ledge” Lan Wangji said firmly and they began following the miniscule scraps of pink under robe through the twists and turns of the labyrinthine tunnels.

Again, Wei Wuxian felt his scalp prickle in discomfort; he could just be overthinking, on account of his worry for Jiang Cheng, but it felt like this wasn’t the way they’d gone the previous night. Perhaps they should stop following their trail.

He voiced this to Lan Wangji, who agreed with a soft “Mn”

His fears were realised when the tunnel they followed didn’t branch off again, but kept dipping downwards, last night’s route had eventually begun to slope upwards a little.

“It feels like we’re being funnelled into a trap” Luo Qingyang muttered, a feeling Wei Wuxian shared with her.

Their path eventually led out onto the cavern floor, as they had all begun to expect by that point.

“Jiang Cheng” Wei Wuxian called in distress as his eyes alighted on the unconscious form of his adopted brother, tied at the wrists and hung from a hook suspended from the roof of the cavern. He didn’t even care that it was such an obvious trap that even a child could see it as he rushed forward, Lan Xichen matching him step for step across the cavern.

Lan Xichen caught Jiang Cheng around the waist, and lifted him up slightly. Wei Wuxian leapt up and caught hold of the chain with one hand, using the other to untangle the ropes from around the hook. Once Jiang Cheng was free, and carefully cradled in Lan Xichen’s arms he dropped back to the ground, and pressed in to check how Jiang Cheng was.

A small trickle of blood had escaped from his nose, but despite that and some bruising to his left cheekbone he didn’t seem to be too badly wounded. In fact a few seconds later he jerked back to consciousness, almost striking out at Lan Xichen with his still-bound hands. He realised who held him in time to pull his blow, however.

“Xichen, Wei Wuxian” there was a soft smile of relief that shaped his mouth, before he seemed to fully return to his senses and his face twisted into a look of panic.

“Get out of here” he struggled out of Lan Xichen’s arms and gave Wei Wuxian an almighty push back towards the tunnel where the other’s stood; Wei Wuxian felt himself be steadied by Lan Wangji. He was just about to shout at Jiang Cheng when the Wens spring their trap.

Now the prey had their teeth into their sweet little bait the cavern flooded with guards who surrounded the cultivators with their swords drawn. To the right, from another tunnel, a threesome walked into the cavern. One was the broad-shouldered demon they had seen in the cavern last night; the one who seemed to be the caretaker of the demonic crystal which he now held in his hands. The other two were Wen Ruohan, the Wen clan sect head, and Wen Xu, his eldest son.

Wei Wuxian sneered, “Thank you, Wen-zongzhu, for the welcoming committee. I don’t think we’ll stay for long though”

Wen Ruohan chuckled, sounding like an indulgent uncle, “Such a lively little golden core cultivator, I think the crystal will like you very much. Wen Zhuliu” Wen Ruohan waved an elegant hand lazily in Wei Wuxian’s direction.

“Zhao Zhuliu, the last scion of the Zhao dream demons, Jiang Wanyin was correct” Lan Xichen mused, and Wei Wuxian realised he was trying to draw the attention away from Wei Wuxian.

***

Jiang Cheng knew Lan Xichen spoke to play for time, to keep the Wen’s attention divided, but he had heard their foul plans while he had been strung from the iron hook like a piece of meat. He would rather die that let that vile crystal touch his brother.

Jiang Cheng turned to Lan Xichen in a move so fast it took everyone by surprise; he used the drawn Shuoyue to slice through the ropes still binding his wrists then gathered every scrap of concentration he could to focus his qi and send out his spiritual energy to yank the crystal out of Wen Zhuliu’s hands.

It was the oddest feeling, like his energy sank into the crystal and disappeared, and the crystal itself seemed to almost coo directly into his thoughts as it flew through the air towards him. He hadn’t initially intended to touch it, but it seemed to have a strong will of it’s own and it hit him in the centre of the chest, before dropping into his waiting palms.

He heard Lan Xichen’s warning, “Wanyin” a second before an enormous shock-wave of energy reverberated through the cavern; it’s origin was Jiang Cheng with the opaque in his hands; throwing every single person outwards and to the ground.

It whispered such seductive things in his thoughts, showed him how he could destroy the Wen guards with just a wave of his hand, how he could force Wen Ruohan down to his knees, how he could make Lan Xichen choose him above everything else in the world, how he could force Wei Wuxian into his shadow. Image after image flashed through his mind at the speed of thought, each designed to be more tempting than the last.

But the crystal didn’t know Jiang Cheng; the thoughts increasingly made him sick to his stomach and he tried to block them out, gathering his will as he threw the crystal to the ground.

He could give his brother one last gift to boost his chance of escape.

He gathered the last of his spiritual energy, managed to pick up three of the figures closest to the tunnel and threw them back down it, and with the very last tendrils of his qi, drew the sigils to form an energy barrier over the entrance. It would hold for a few minutes, keeping the Wens from following them directly.

His legs collapsed from underneath him but by now Lan Xichen was back by his side and caught him, lowering him gently to the cool, sandy floor of the cavern.

Blood flowed freely from his nose again, but he barely had the strength to even raise a hand to try to stem the flow. He felt a flood of qi trickle into his veins from Lan Xichen, who said his name over and over.

“I’m sorry, Xichen” his eyes flickered from those dark amber ones to Mo Xuanyu’s, who had been the unlucky fourth he just didn’t have the spiritual energy to save. The younger man had rushed over to Jiang Cheng and Lan Xichen’s side when he had regained his feet and taken stock of what had happened. “I’m sorry Mo-xiong”

Lan Xichen soothed him with gentle noises, “You nearly killed yourself giving the others a fighting chance, Wanyin, you did well”

Jiang Cheng didn’t agree, but he finally had the energy to lift his head back and try to stem the flow of blood. Lan Xichen’s qi had mostly sealed the blood vessels and it had become a trickle in the interim.

“It’s alright, Jiang-xiong, I knew what the risks were when I agreed to come down here” he took one of Jiang Cheng’s hands and gave it a brief squeeze. Jiang Cheng found the gesture surprisingly comforting.

Wen Ruohan’s voice was strident and took their attention, “Catch them, I want them” he snarled, indicating the tunnel Luo Qingyang, Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian had been thrown down.

A tentative voice sounded, “Respect, Wen-zongzhu, but may I suggest you have already won the prize” the voice was vaguely familiar to Jiang Cheng, ingratiating and servile though it was now.

Wen Ruohan stalked across the cavern to stand in front of the three trapped cultivators; his guards, some looking extremely dazed and confused, closed in around them.

Behind him, off to his side a little, in the snow-white mourning robes of the Lans, was Su Minshan.

“I must admit the Jiang heir is more than I ever hoped to find in a single cultivator” he reached out, as if to touch Jiang Cheng’s face, but Jiang Cheng caught Wen Ruohan’s wrist.

“Don’t lay your filthy hands on me” he snapped. He yelped as he was dragged to his feet with harsh hands. Lan Xichen and Mo Xuanyu were dealt with similarly. He had never learned when to shut his mouth though, “And you” he pointed a vengeful finger at Su She, “careful what you say, I’ll rip your tongue out and stab you through your treacherous heart. Be Righteous, what a fucking joke”

Su She barely spared him a glance, looking instead at Lan Xichen with something like a dangerous, predatory look in his dark eyes.

“May I present to you Zewu-jun, Lan Xichen, The First Jade of Lan, and the Lan Clan’s crowning glory. The first empath born to the Cloud Recesses for over eight hundred years”

“I’ll fucking kill you, snake” Jiang Cheng found a burst of energy, twisted free of the holding hands and launched himself at the traitorous Lan disciple, but he was caught again by incredibly strong, implacable hands. It was Wen Xu, who twisted his arms behind his back and held him still.

A look of pure, intense joy crossed the Wen sect leaders face as he contemplated the three captured cultivators in front of him.

“This is indeed beyond any prize I had ever hoped for when setting our plans into motion” he caught Jiang Cheng’s chin in his hand, fingers digging bruises, “A weapon of devastating potential” he tilted his head a little, and looked Jiang Cheng in the eyes, which burned with hatred and anger, “And such a delicious buffet all on your own, so stuffed full of quicksilver emotions, so nourishing” Wen Ruohan stepped back upon releasing Jiang Cheng, and moved to Lan Xichen.

Jiang Cheng had never seen the other so retiring; Lan Xichen tried to back away from the touch of the Wen sect leader, but he was held too firmly, and eventually he had no further room to retreat.

Wen Ruohan trailed a finger down his fair cheek, over his jaw and down the long, elegant line of his throat.

“So beautiful, a prize worth the winning, you’ll make such a darling little pet”

“Take your fucking hands away from him” Jiang Cheng snarled, even though he couldn’t shake the hold Wen Xu had on him even a little.

Wen Ruohan chuckled, back to his avuncular persona, “So much fire. So much ice. I’m going to have a lot of fun breaking you both to my will. And when I have, I will have gained so much for my time and care” he nodded once at Wen Xu.

His son forced Jiang Cheng to his knees and in a single, vicious move stamped on the back of his calf. The snap of Jiang Cheng’s shin bone was sickeningly loud in the echoing cavern, but it was immediately drowned out by his scream of pain.

With his arms suddenly released all he could do was stuff his knuckles into his mouth and bite down to stem the noise as wave after wave of intense pain washed over him.

At the snap a violent tremor had shaken Lan Xichen, who’s eyes had flashed golden, a shout of his own on his lips as his mental defences were smashed to pieces. The nearness of Jiang Cheng, his attachment to him, the intensity of the pain, and the demonic crystal which seeped through his walls all conjoined to break every safeguard he had built to protect himself.

An excited wave seemed to pass over the blood Wens in the cave at the sheer power of the emotion radiating from the Lan sect heir; Jiang Cheng’s pain channelled and amplified by Lan Xichen’s natural born curse, (for that was what Jiang Cheng considered his empathic ability) was heady stuff.

Jiang Cheng desperately tried to build walls of his own, to internalise the pain and shield Lan Xichen from it; but it was a futile effort under the intense onslaught.

“More than we could ever have hoped” there was a feral, excited tone in Wen Ruohan’s voice, and he closed his eyes briefly, before turning to the final member of their trio.

“And what do we have here?”

8 notes · View notes

onisionhurtspeople · 5 years

Note

I'm a newcomer and I have to ask: what is the story behind Sarah, Billie, Haylee, Lane, ect? I've seen it I just don't understand

I’m going to give just a brief summary for each, and then try to include links for supplemental reading. (I say that, but let’s be real, I’m probably gonna end up typing a fucking short story.) At this point I’m dedicated to banging out this fucking novel, so prepare yourself for what may end up being the longest tl;dr I’ve ever written.

The Girls Who Peeled The Onion Skin

Sorry if that was creepy, I just wanted it to sound like “The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo” or “The Girl Who Kicked The Hornet’s Nest”.

It all started with Billie.

In 2015, Lainey came out as bisexual, and Greg convinced her to explore her sexuality by getting a girlfriend. The girlfriend that they chose was Billie, an 18-year-old influencer who had a large Instagram following. Greg flew Billie down for Lainey under the guise that she would have a chance to explore herself and her sexual orientation, but when Billie got there, his ulterior motives became clear, and Greg began moving in on this 18-year-old girl who was supposed to be his wife’s girlfriend. This did not go unnoticed by Lainey, who was pregnant with their second child at the time and was quick to express her discomfort with the situation - but Greg didn’t listen to her, and one day when Lainey was out with a friend, he gave Billie a massage in the nude, after which they cuddled while watching a movie. Lainey was hurt and felt cheated on and betrayed, and moved out to stay with a friend that day while they discussed getting a divorce.

At the time, the plan was for Lainey and Greg to divorce, for Greg to sign away his parental rights over Troy (and the baby that Lainey was currently pregnant with), for him to set her up in her own place with child support payments, and for him to move Billie down from her own state to live with him as his new girlfriend. The only reason this did not end up going through was because Billie didn’t feel comfortable about the way everything had gone down, and didn’t think what Greg was planning to do was right. She didn’t want to be the reason why a family with young children and a pregnant wife split up, and decided to go back to her own state. The next day, Greg and Lainey talked and agreed to give their marriage another chance.

The next year, for whatever reason, they suddenly decided that it would be a fantastic fucking idea to bring Billie back into their home; and having browbeaten Lainey into this choice, he then declared that he, Lainey, and Billie were now in a polyamorous triad. (One important thing to note here (for the sake of explaining another aspect of this story later on) is that during this time that Billie was living with them again, Greg and Lainey also had another house guest - a 15-year-old girl named Sarah who Lainey had met and befriended online, and over whom Lainey had legal guardianship of at the time. More on this later.) Lainey accepted this passively, though she was still uncomfortable with it; and she asked that Greg and Billie not do anything sexual together unless she was there to participate too. At one point, Lainey and Sarah even went so far as to sit Billie down privately and ask her not to sleep with Greg if he made advances on her.

To no one’s surprise, just a few weeks later - again, while Lainey was out with a friend - Greg took Billie aside and manipulated her into sleeping with him. Billie protested that she thought Lainey would be hurt by this and didn’t think it was okay, but Greg reassured her that it was all okay, because he had already told Lainey that there would be no more jealousy in the relationship, that Greg would do what he wanted with Billie when he wanted to do it, and that she would have to either just get over it or find herself divorced. A quote from one of Greg’s YouTube videos at the time:

“Regardless, it is important to note that Billie did tell me that she thought Lainey might be upset if she and I slept together, but every time she indicated she was worried, I would remind her of the conversation I had with Lainey where I repeatedly told her there would be no more boundaries, we would all have balanced relationships, and that there would be no jealousy.”

Lainey was hurt and enraged, but she had no power or control over the situation: if she tried to stop Greg from doing what he wanted, then he’d simply divorce her - he’d already begun sewing the seeds of discord among his viewers that Lainey was a Negative Nancy who was insecure and dramatic, and always causing unnecessary strife in the relationship. Who wouldn’t understand his struggle, the long-suffering man of an insecure wife who he just couldn’t make happy, no matter how hard he tried? Who could have blamed him, really?

But then, Greg and Lainey fucked up big time.

After yet another break-up with Billie, during which Greg blamed the entire thing on her (by arguing that he and Lainey had broken up with her because she had smoked weed without their permission, though they later retconned this to say that it was because she smoked weed at all) and released a ton of private information about her personal life that he had no business repeating, Billie decided that she had had enough. She was sick of being blamed and harassed by Greg’s hundreds of thousands of rabid followers - and so she released a series of text messages between them that revealed an alarmingly abusive side to him that, up until then, he had been extremely good at hiding.

The current downward spiral that you’re witnessing Greg spinning around aimlessly in was all triggered by Billie’s choice to release these text messages. For the people who have just jumped on the anti-O train within the past two years: the thing you have to understand is that before this happened back in late 2016 - although most of YouTube knew by this point that the entity named Onision was a complete asshole - very few people who were not familiar with his personal life (or who couldn’t see through him, or discern the subtly abusive patterns in his relationships and personal conduct) knew how abusive he was in private. Most people were still under the impression that he was just a very douchey online personality, and the people who did know about what a piece of shit he was were too scared to come forward about it, because this all happened during a time when he still had a considerably large and dedicated fan base. His videos were still getting 100,000+ views per video, his tweets had hundreds of likes per post, and he was making nearly $5000 per month on Patreon - and Billie’s choice to come forward with these text messages as proof completely change all of that. They got a ton of harassment for it at first (to the point where Ayallah - Billie’s best friend, and the ex-girlfriend of Social Repose - caught so much flack for her involvement that she ended up having a complete mental break-down where she had to beg Greg to leave her and Billie alone). I’m sure a lot of people disagree with me, but personally, I consider Billie to essentially be the Petyr Baelish of the anti-O community - she was the first fallen domino that triggered the chain reaction that has ultimately resulted in the final fall of Onision.

Now, moving on to Haylee (who you may see occasionally be referred to as “Luxymoo”).

After Greg and Lainey broke up with Billie, Greg was still pushing hard for Lainey to try having a girlfriend to ~explore her bisexuality~ (although by this point, it was more than clear what his ulterior motives for doing this were). I’ll let Haylee tell this story in her own words, since she did us all a favor by writing out this account for us, and I wouldn’t want to miss an opportunity to let somebody tell their own story.

I tweeted a picture of myself to Lainey wearing their merch. They retweeted it and then followed me immediately after. I was in shock, excited, I think i even screamed. Then, out of no where, Lainey messaged me. I was so stoked. I thought, “This can’t be real.” We talked for awhile on twitter, they asked if I was interested in girls and I told them I felt like I was heteroflexible. That I liked certain girls, that I had a type. Lainey said they didn’t know if they were my type or not. I said that they were. Soon after that, Lainey said it would be easier for us to text. I gave them my number, and they started texting me the next day. We were flirty with each other. We got to know each other on a more personal level and I ended up liking them.. a lot. Greg messaged me telling me that if I was not serious about Lainey, to not lead them on. I told Greg that I wasn’t that kind of person, and that I really liked Lainey. At the time, I still thought this is what I wanted. Lainey and I continued to talk for a few more days when greg messaged me again, pitching the three way relationship. I told myself that I would not be Billie. I would not be with Greg AND Lainey. That if this were to continue, I would only be interested in Lainey. However, when Greg pitched the idea to me, I had already started liking Lainey a lot more than I expected. I told him I wanted to try. After that I started doing research on what it meant to be in a three way relationship. I came to the conclusion that it wasn’t for me. Which killed me, because all I wanted to do was be with Lainey. I wanted to try for them, but at the end of the day, I had to consider my personal feelings on the matter. I knew I couldn’t be what they wanted, because I wanted Lainey. I told Lainey as soon as I came to that conclusion. I wanted to be honest. I didn’t want to drag it out. Lainey didn’t respond to me.. but Greg did. He said that if he were in my position, he would do whatever it takes to be with Lainey. He said that I didn’t really care about Lainey, that all i was looking for was friendship. He said that he thought my mind was broken. He said he thought I may be sexually dormant. He then would say that he thinks i’m a good person and that i’m the safer alternative. He called me a good distraction. He wanted me to still come up. But that was a fleeting thought. He said friendship would be hard, and that I was doing everything I could to avoid a relationship with Lainey. Then he pitched the idea of me being with Lainey exclusively, while he’s with Lainey exclusively. Like we wouldn’t be doing sexual things together. I still declined because 1. he had spent so much time invalidating MY feelings on the matter, attacking my personality, pressuring me, etc. and 2. I also knew that that wasn’t what they wanted, and I told him that we would still hit that road block of me wanting exclusiveness. He had said in a previous conversation that it was like him and Lainey were on an island and I had a boat, but I wouldn’t throw them a life line because I wasn’t the right boat. Said that they didn’t know what they were going to do about Billie, because Lainey was talking about bringing her back I guess at that time? He told me to stop responding, because I was just making it worse.All while I’m feeling like a shitty person, like I really did hurt them. I felt so terrible about myself over the whole situation. Not shortly after, Greg posts a video with Billie. I was immediately enraged. I felt so used. Lainey then texted me, but only to say hey. We didn’t talk about the situation. They would stop texting me randomly and then text me again randomly. Now I’m blocked, and all of this has come to light. I didn’t know people knew it was me. I didn’t know there was a tumblr with people talking about me. I thought only a select few people knew. But I was wrong, and now it’s all out in the open.

You’ve probably seen me mentioning Haylee’s name again today, and that is because this morning - along with Ayallah (Billie’s best friend) and Lane (whose story I will explain to you next) - Haylee came forward to expose more of the disgusting things that Greg said and did to her during their association. This was the screenshot that she released today:

Now, to explain this last part about Lane and Sarah. This is a bit complicated and interwoven, so I’m going to explain about both of them at the same time. I already wrote a super long post explaining Sarah’s origin story the other day, so I’m just going to copypaste the relevant parts of that, explain how Lane is part of it, and then tie all of this together with the relevance of how this info about Sarah involves Lane, Billie, Ayallah, and Haylee.

Lainey met Sarah online about four years ago, when Lainey was 20 and Sarah was 14. People started speaking up out of concern right away after perusing some of the public conversations between the two on Twitter and realizing how much of it was sexual in nature, such as Lainey joking about how Sarah’s grooming was coming along nicely. The two of them seemed to be flirting (or, at the very least, having conversations that were not normal for a 20-year-old woman to be having with a 14-year-old girl), and given Greg’s past history with having a clear sexual preference for teenage girls, people were rightfully concerned about what could be going on between them.

The drama surrounding this relationship exploded when Sarah, now 15, began popping up in videos with Greg, Lainey, Billie, and Ayallah. The Avaroes began catching a lot of flack for this online - I remember the time very well; in between the period of Greg’s tumultuous and highly dramatic public relationship with Shiloh in 2011, and the period in late 2015 when an online journalist wrote an article about Greg rating the bodies of underage girls (which predated all of their drama with Billie), I don’t think I can recall any other incident in that time that they caught more criticism for. Lainey specified repeatedly in YouNow livestreams that she had parental guardianship over Sarah at the time - not Greg, not Sarah’s mother or father, but Lainey herself. Click here if you want to watch that stream.

Sometime in 2016, a couple of really creepy things happened in very quick succession that eventually led to the very dramatic events that transpired earlier today. At this point, Greg and Lainey had a whole host of people living in their home: aside from themselves and their young son (Lainey was heavily pregnant with their daughter at the time), they were also playing host to Billie (their polyamorous girlfriend), Ayallah (Billie’s best friend), and Sarah (Lainey’s 15-year-old best friend, whom she also had legal guardianship over at the time). Just for the curious, here’s a picture of the four of them together, minus Lainey (who would’ve been cooking/cleaning/taking care of their kid at the time). From left to right is Sarah, Billie, Greg, and Ayallah.

The first big thing that happened was that, towards the end of this year - after being mistreated by Greg and Lainey for so long - Billie (with the support of her friend Ayallah) decided to come forward about Greg, and released their text messages to the public. As I explained earlier, this had a cascading effect where he suddenly lost enormous swaths of fans, and his popularity has never recovered to this day.

The second big thing that happened was that one of Lainey’s most dedicated superfans, a 16-year-old girl named Lane, saw what Greg had done and was currently doing to Billie, and decided to come out in her support. Greg, Lainey, and Sarah were extremely angry about this, and felt that she’d “betrayed” them; and so Greg fucked up once again by making a series of tweets talking about how Lane was “stalking” and “harassing” Lainey and Sarah, in a transparent attempt to sicc his fans on her. Lane, hurt that Greg was going to such lengths to sabotage her (and after being wrongly told that Lainey and Sarah were on a YouNow livestream talking shit about her), Lane decided to come forward with some of the information she knew about what had transpired in the Avaroe household, and dropped the bombshell that everyone had suspected but didn’t have any way to prove: that Sarah had told Lane that she was in love with Lainey, that Greg had told her repeatedly that he thought she and Lainey should date, and that Sarah had expressed repeated interest in becoming a member of the triad (as in, she wanted to be included during the times when Greg, Lainey, and Billie were having sexual trysts together). Sarah did admit that she remembered Greg telling her that he thought she should date Lainey, but Greg threw her under the bus and denied it all, claiming that he had told Sarah repeatedly that there would never be any romantic or sexual interest between herself and Sarah.

A couple of months ago, right before Sarah turned 18, she had been sitting in their living on a yoga ball when Greg walked past her and made a sexual comment that creeped her out: “Dat booty doe.” I’m not sure why it creeped her out so much considering how much interest she expressed in becoming a member of the triad, but she was disturbed enough to go to Lainey about it, and told her how uncomfortable it made her feel.

Instead of defending her 17-year-old best friend from her sexual predator of a husband Lainey instead tattled on her, and told Greg what Sarah had said: and just a few days later she was given a plane ticket and sent back home, never to return to the Avaroes’ house again.. until last week.

Now 18 years old and fully legal, there was a lot of speculation about the nature of Sarah and Lainey’s relationship, especially now that Greg is seemingly incapable of finding a new trinity member now that he’s been outed so thoroughly as an abusive predator with hebephilic tendencies. None of it was confirmed until earlier today when Ayallah and Lane confirmed without a doubt everything that the anti-O community has suspected all along about the nature Greg and Lainey’s relationship with Sarah: which is that, to one extent or another, they have been grooming this 14-year-old to one day be primed to enter a sexual relationship with two grown adults who at one point acted as her legal guardians, and who hold an enormous amount of psychological and financial power over her. While they were rescuing her from an abusive home life where she was being sexually abused and neglected by drug-abusing parents, feeding and housing her and clothing her and pretending to care, they were also taking advantage of her feelings of gratitude and friendship and inability to correctly interpret those as a confused teenage abuse victim with a mental illness (borderline personality disorder), leaving her in a position to be highly susceptible to emotional manipulation on their part, and primed to one day be ripe to benefit themselves and their own perverted sexual needs.

Here’s what Ayallah said about it:

I hope all of this answers some of your questions about who Sarah, Billie, Ayallah, Lane, and Haylee are. There are a lot of other peripheral characters in Greg and Lainey’s life too (like Madison and Maya), but these are the main ones right now. Feel free to message me if you feel like you need more clarification, I’d be happy to explain.

#onision #lainybot #sarah #ayallah #billie #lane #luxymoo #haylee

1K notes · View notes

kittenshift-17 · 4 years

Note

Hiiiiiiii I was wondering what plans you have for Fervidity? I don’t mean to be annoying or putting pressure on you! I’m just curious! 🤗 I hope you have a great day and good luck with writing what you’re wanting to write! 😊

I’m gonna preface my response with “I’m not angry, but...”

LOL, I love when people feel the need to throw in a variation of “I don’t mean to be annoying” or “No pressure, but...” because it means they acknowledge that sending the ask/review/comment IS going to be at least a bit annoying, and that they know bringing up a story that hasn’t been updated in months/years DOES put pressure on the author, intended curiously or maliciously. Like, they know, and then they’re like “But if I put in this ‘disclaimer’ about my intentions, I can still send it, it’s fine.” And with an elongated “Hiiiiiiiiii” as the lead-in, you just know the sender knows that what they’re going to say after it is likely to upset someone.

I confess that when I get these kinds of queries I typically have to force myself to take a few days before responding to avoid snarling at the asker, because most often, they ARE well-meant, and not supposed to turn me into an angry bear biting off heads. BUT they usually drop in during the night while I’m asleep, and I wake up to them first thing in the morning before I’ve had even a whiff of coffee and frankly, it’s just a bad time all around when I read them on the first, like four runs. Because despite the “I mean well, but here’s an antagonizing query” desclaimers, y’all know how they come across when devoid of tone and deprvied of even a pename to address the query to.

So, just FYI, you can kill an author’s interest in touching a fic at all with variations of “When are you going to update the fic I like?”.

Just so y’all know.

And it’s often poorly met when I say shit like that, but the honest truth is, a lot authors get frequent questions, queries, flames, and prods about whatever you’re asking about. IT’S NEVER JUST YOU ASKING. I looked back through my post archive and this month, alone, I’ve had 3 people ask me about “my plans” for Fervidity. Could all be the same person, getting naggy. Could be 3 different curious indiviudals. 1, to me, is genuine curiosity. 2 feels like a prod to get my butt into gear. 3 plummets directly into “poke-the-bear” territory, and I get growly.

Ya get me?

So while to the asker, or a random reader of the blog, it looks like an author being nicely asked about something they created by a curious fan, to the author, it can feel more like nagging. Is that.... clear? Like, I’ve prefaced this with a mention that I’m not angry, and I’m not, but you need to understand that if any creator reacts “poorly” when asked something like this, no matter the intent of the query, it feels like being nagged,

And, I mean, I get it. I haven’t updated Fervidity in 20 months. That’s just shy of two years. And I haven’t bloody touched it. And y’all are being sweet and all like, “Hey, so I like that thing you made, is there more?”,

but it feels like

“Yo, bitch, gimme what I want! Stop being so fucking slack! You’re a waste of space. Why did you share it if it’s not ready? God, you’re so useless. 2 years and you haven’t touched it! You’re so selfish! We want it now! Give it to us now! Why aren’t you writing it? Oh, my god, can you just finish something for once in your pathetic life? You’re such a disappointment.”

That’s what goes through my head, anyway. And, in fairness, that’s my own self-doubt and self-loathing super-imposing itself onto your (probably) innocent question, but THAT’S what goes through my head. That, from discussions with fellow authors and artists, is what goes through all our heads. We KNOW how goddamn long it’s been. We feel guilty. We feel worthless. We feel useless and pathetic, and like we’re a huge disappointment.

And every time you ask about it, you make use feel that way again.

Think of it like having a big nasty zit on your face. You know it’s there. You hate that it’s there. You just want it to go away. Because people are staring. It’s red and pulsing and ugly. And then someone comes up to you and prods it and calls attention to it, and asks why you haven’t done anything about it. An incomplete fic is a vile blemish on the face of every author, and we want to be told it’s not that hideous, and that it looks fine, and that it’s going to be okay.

So, in short, the disclaimers do nothing to protect people’s feelings except maybe warn them to brace for being exactly what the disclaimer says not to be. And questions like this kick the hornet’s nest of insecurity inside every creator. So, like, think before you post, and word these things nicer to avoid making authors cry.

As for my plans for Fervidity - all I can offer you is that if I had a chapter ready to share, I’d share it.

*shrugs and slouches off in search of my coffee and the shattered fragments of her self-worth*

4 notes · View notes

turnupswritessometimes · 5 years

Text

Lavender Eyes - Glimmerdora - Ch5

Title: Lavender Eyes

Chapter: 5

Word Count: 4119

Summary: Adora’s on the football tem. Glimmer’s in band. They think they can’t stand each other, until a series of accidents forces them to open up to each other.

Note: This is also available on Archive of Our Own and it’s probably best to follow it there, as I remember to update it more. I would post a link, but then tumblr wouldn’t include it in search results.

Adora revelled the in the feeling of the ground underneath her boots. Of kicking up mud and grass with her feet. Of pumping her legs as fast as they could go and of feeling herself flying across the football pitch.

Of that swooping feeling in her stomach as she threw the ball in her arms and it soared over the goal post. Knowing that they were winning – they were crushing the other team, because of course they were – they were the horde.

And when the bell rang for full time they had won. A complete and utter victory and the girls were jumping on each other like excited teenage boys. Adora slipped away, pulled her helmet off and grabbed one of the megaphones from under the bleachers.

“Obviously it’s great that we won!” she yelled and realised everyone was watching her. When she was playing, she didn’t think about it. There was her and the game and that was it. Now there were eyes on her and it made her heart race. Made her knees shake and her hands shake on the megaphone. “But – uh – I’d also – I want to thank the band!” There was silence. She felt Lonnie and Catra glaring at her from behind. “They’re – you know, they work really hard and they do a good job and – especially the girl who plays the gold trumpet thing-”

“Trombone!” Bow’s voice yelled from the bleachers. Thank fuck for that boy and his mind-reading.

“Trombone! Thank you! Yeah – thanks, guys!”

It was not how she wanted it to go. Not how she had planned it out last night, going over and over the words in her head.

She just awkwardly handed the megaphone back to the guy in the front row, a sweaty blonde kid that she had seen hanging around Lonnie lately. Then she nodded and took a few steps back on her own momentum.

There was a pause – an agonising pause – then the celebrations continued. Adora just smiled and nodded again – wanting nothing more than to shrivel up and die. She couldn’t even look at the bandstand, she was already crossing the pitch to the showers.

“What the fuck, Adora?” Catra grabbed hold of her elbow, pulling her around. Her hair was even messier than it normally was.

“Just thought I’d say,” she said, pulling her arm away.

Actually, Adora thought she’d made things worse. She showered – actually showered and changed into a spare pair of jeans and a fresh t-shirt. She was just towelling off her hair when she noticed someone else in the changing room. Someone sat with her back to her, in a top that showed off her shoulder blades.

With pink hair.

Pink, spiky hair.

“What was that meant to prove?”

“It was – it was only part one of me seeing that I’m a huge dumbass.” Adora said.

Glimmer snorted. She turned slightly, smiling.

“A huge dumbass?”

“Don’t make me say it again.”

“Would that ruin your cool girl image?”

“Hey, my cool girl image is everything to me.” Adora shrugged. Then she shook her head. “No – no, that was a joke. That was-“ Glimmer raised an eyebrow at her, clearly wondering if Adora was suffering from some kind of aneurysm. She ran a hand through still damp hair. “It never really was – it was – I always felt comfortable just fitting in. Everyone had their ideas about me and I fitted them. But – now, I – I want happy.”

Glimmer paused. She looked confused – utterly confused and Adora realised that she had just garbled out words without explanation.

“I mean – I’m happy when I’m with you. And Bow.” Adora lowered her voice when she added, “mostly you.” She continued, still rubbing at her hair with the towel and feeling her cheeks heat as though she was still standing under the boiling hot water. “And I want to be happy. I don’t just want to – to go along with everyone’s image of me. So, I guess, um, I’m asking to go wherever the band go for fries and shakes because I want to. I really want to.”

“You want to go out for fries and shakes?” Glimmer asked, putting her hands on her hips and shifting her weight. She was still wearing her band skirt, and it flared out like flower petals from around her waist.

“Yes.”

“With wet hair?”

“Oh?” Adora’s hand went to her head. “Fuck, I hadn’t thought-“

Glimmer laughed. “Honestly, you were in there for so long that I thought you were trying to drown yourself after that announcement. Are you always that awkward?”

“I don’t do well with public speaking,” Adora said. But then she smiled, leaving the towel around her shoulders. “But I did get your attention.”

“Oh, you got everyone’s attention. No hiding the fact that you’re a band geek at heart now, miss quarterback.”

Adora’s heart leapt at that. For a brief moment, she considered changing her name permanently to ‘miss quarterback,’ just to hear it come out of Glimmer’s mouth. She knew she was smiling like an idiot – too obviously.

But Glimmer didn’t seem to notice, she was growing serious again, like she was scolding a puppy.

“You really mean that you want to hang out with us?”

“Yeah.”

“At school?”

“At school.”

“And what about Catra?”

The names she’d called Bow and Glimmer popped up in Adora’s mind. The way she had looked at Adora when she had figured it out. She couldn’t help it – “Fuck Catra.”

“Isn’t she your sister?”

“Yeah, but-” Adora tugged at the towel like it would give her answers. “Lately she hasn’t been so sisterly.”

Glimmer stayed looking at her a moment longer. Those lavender eyes trying to find out what Adora was thinking – read her like a book. She could read some of it, at least – the earnest part and the part about being friends.

Not the part about how Adora could see the edge of Glimmer’s bra strap under the back t-shirt. Not the part about how she would happily watch Glimmer talk and laugh and do literally nothing and still be over the moon.

Not the gay part.

“We can still do fries and shakes,” Glimmer said. “But we’ll do drive through.”

“That’s probably a smart idea.”

“I’m not just a pretty face.” Glimmer said and smiled, sending those eyes twinkling. She took Adora’s hand, slipping her fingers into hers like it was no big deal and starting out of the changing rooms. “Come on.”

So Adora did, incredibly relieved that for once she had showered. For once, she didn’t stick of sweat and for once she wasn’t covered in it. Now she just had to make sure that her hands didn’t grow clammy.

What did this even mean? This touching? Did friends hold hands. Adora was sure they did – that it was normal – but she didn’t normally hold hands with her friends. Was that just a football thing? Was she doing friendship wrong?

The questions swarmed around her head like she’d just whacked a hornets nest, so she almost didn’t notice her name being called as they walked into the parking lot. Then she looked up, and saw Lonnie hanging out the roof of her car.

“Adora! Get over here!” she paused as she saw Glimmer at her side, then frowned. “You weren’t serious about that band shit, were you?”

Glimmer squeezed Adora’s hand – as if she was scared she would let go. She probably expected her to let go. Adora took a breath and kept hold. It was easier to be brave when she knew Glimmer was on her side.

“Yeah, kinda,” she replied. It wasn’t as strong as she would have liked, but she also liked Lonnie and didn’t want to burn all of her bridges. “I got wet hair, so I’ll catch up with you later!”

“Where you going now?”

“Stopping off at Maccies on the way home!”

Adora was climbing into Glimmer’s car. She wasn’t about to acknowledge that to the team – not when Catra’s eyes were basically glowing in the darkness. Livid. Her face was livid.

Glimmer gave a laugh that sounded incredibly relieved as she started up the engine. Like she was trying to diffuse awkwardness.

“Just stopping off, huh?”

“Hey, I’m trying my best.”

“Proud of you.” Glimmer’s voice was still sarcastic, but there was a hint of genuinity in her voice.

Adora was the one who reached for the radio, switched it to CD and turned it up. She knew Glimmers car as well as her own now and she smiled as she heard the familiar mix of musicals.

“So,” Glimmer said, she paused as they went through a roundabout, turning so hard Adora slammed into the car door. “Another win for the Horde, huh?”

“Another win. This is gunna be our season.” Adora grinned. “We’re gunna win this whole thing.”

“Like you do every year?”

“Winning doesn’t get old.”

Glimmer laughed. “Winning is everything, huh?”

Winning is perfect.

"I guess." She heard it in her voice. A strange crack that she tried to cover up by clearing her throat.

It made Glimmer pause. They were close to the McDonald's now - Adora could see the golden arches.

"When was the last time you lost?"

"Don't remember." Yes, she did. She remembered. It was still in middle school, when they were playing a watered down version of the game. When she and Catra played netball and soccer and tennis.

When her coach had told them it was just a game and Catra had spat it back at Beatrix when she snapped at them.

They hadn't eaten that night. Hadn't been allowed to back to tennis because their attention was divided.

Glimmer was still looking at her out of the corner of her eye, but they were pulling into the drive through and a voice was asking what their order was.

Of course Glimmer asked for strawberry. And of course Adora asked for vanilla.

"So where to?" Adora asked, when Glimmer had pulled the paper bag into the car and handed it to Adora. The chips were warm on her lap.

"Nowhere, really," Glimmer was swinging back into the entrance to the leisure centre the MacDonalds sat in. She continued through to the parking lot, climbing each ramp until they were on the top floor, looking over the small collection of lights that made up the city. The forest made a dark shadow against the indigo sky.

It was like a teen movie. Adora's life was becoming a teen movie and she couldn't understand it.

There weren't any teen movies with two girls.

"Is this where I'm supposed to say it's beautiful?" she asked, sharing out the drinks and fries.

Glimmer laughed, twisting the straw of her milkshake around.

"Am I your manic pixie dream girl?"

Adora paused. It felt as though time had been suspended - as though her heart had stopped beating for a moment.

Of course it hadn't. Of course, in reality, she had hesitated.

And Glimmer had noticed. She bite her lip and looked out of the window, because suddenly there was tension that could be cut through with a knife.

Adora took a large sip of her milkshake - large enough to make her head and throat sore with brain freeze.

"Isn't your mum going to be worried about you?" Adora changed the subject.

"I texted her that I was hanging out with you and Bow."

"Bow's not here."

"I know," Glimmer paused, examining a limp fry between her fingers. "If she knew it was just us, she would turn it into something it's not."

Adora was desperate to ask. What was it not? She needed to hear the answer from Glimmer’s mouth. But at the same time, she knew it would hurt.

So she kept her mouth shut.

"What about your mom - sorry - foster mom."

"Mom is fine."

"I didn't know if..."

"If I was like some poor orphan in a Victorian novel raised by a evil stepmother I will never accept as a maternal figure?"

"Something like that," Glimmer muttered.

"I never knew my parents - never even went into care, really. Me and Catra have been with Beatrix since we were babies," Adora said. "How could I not think of her as my mom?"

There was quiet for a moment. Adora wondered if Glimmer was going to object - start an argument.

But instead she asked "so does she know you're here?"

"I told her I'm out with a friend."

She hadn't. She knew if she pulled out her phone there was a good chance that there would be a call coming through. She had put it on silent. Beatrix could scream but she wouldn't be able to break through the screen and ruin this. She'd deal with the fallout when she got home.

"I can't meet the parents yet?"

"It's not that - she-" hates pink hair. Hates drinking. Hates gay. Hates less than perfect."She worries. Gets all panicky if I leave Catra alone. If I hang out with new people."

"If you leave Catra alone?"

"She tends to get into trouble." Adora was reaching the end of her milkshake with all the sips she was taking to delay answering. This was close. This was too close to home. "You lied to your mom, okay? I'm allowed to lie to mine."

Glimmer laughed, but it faded too quickly for Adora's liking. She drummed her fingers on the dashboard, purple glitter nail polish catching the moonlight. The tiny stars of the city didn't compare to the stars in the nail polish.

Adora's stare was noticed. Glimmer pulled her fingers away from the dash self-consciously, instead eating the rest of her fries.

They sat in silence, but it was a comfortable silence. A silence where they could watch lights flickering on and off like someone fiddling with switches on a model. The radio hummed songs out quietly between them - saying that the best that they could do if they got caught between the moon and New York City was to fall in love.

Adora ignored it. Glimmer did too.

It seemed a long time before Glimmer finally turned the keys in the engine again.

"Well," she said. "I guess we should be getting home."

"I guess."

"We can't stay out here all night." Glimmer pulled out of the parking space. "I slept in a car once before and it was the most miserable night of my life."

Glimmer's most miserable night included a car and bad weather.

Adora's included screaming and crying and crawling into Catra's bed to hold her as she shook. No questions asked. No acknowledgement that it happened.

"When did you spend a night in a car?"

"The student council wanted to get pissed in a field. I opted to sleep in my car. Big mistake."

"What's the appeal of getting pissed in a field."

Glimmer glanced at her sideways. "I'll show you sometime."

Adora smiled. She couldn't help it. A thrill ran through her at the thought.

"I'd like that."

She'd like that a lot.

Sneaking in was worse than just coming in late. Sneaking in meant that Beatrix would still be calling whilst she was upstairs in bed. She had already phoned six times and had left a string of texts that got increasingly urgent.

It was the kind of bullet you just had to bite.

"Is Catra with you?" was the first question she was asked. Beatrix was worrying away at her fingers in the living room.

Adora hated that it sent a rush of relief through her. She wasn't the one in the dog house.

"No - no, she must still be out with the girls."

"Call her, will you? She won't answer me and she's down by the river."

Adora's hand paused on her phone.

"How do you know that?" she asked quietly.

"Its an app. So I can make sure the two of you are safe. Call her, Adora, you know how much she hates the water."

Adora did know. She was the one who got hit by Catra's flailing limbs at their swimming lessons.

So there was no way Catra was in the river.

"You have an app that tracks us?" Adora stared at the dark hair, covering a pale face and leaking over pale hands.

"Every parent should know where their child is." Beatrix stood, took Adora's shoulders so tightly that her fingers dug in. "Call. Catra."

So Adora did.

It took Catra a while to answer.

"Hey, Adora." Catra sounded as if she was purring down the phone. "Got bored of your new friends already?"

"Catra, where are you?"

"Oh, I didn't think you cared." Catra was slurring her words and it made Adora's stomach drop.

Beatrix's eyes were boring into her. She couldn't look up.

She whispered as quietly as she could, "Catra, are you drunk?"

Beatrix heard. The phone was out of Adora's hand in the next instant.

The line went dead as soon as Beatrix started speaking.

She threw the phone. So hard that Adora was sure it would have cracked on the threadbare carpet. It made her swallow, try to breathe, keep looking at the carpet as if it would make her invisible.

"Why weren't you with her?" Beatrix hissed.

"I didn't want to. I didn't want to get drunk." She was lying. She was desperate to know what drunk felt like.

"Did you know she would be drinking?" Beatrix had stepped closer. Close enough to make Adora's hands tremble.

"No - no." Adora shook her head, clenching her fists. She didn't want to say it, but there was something about Beatrix that always made her say it. Something about the tightness in her chest that forced the words out. "But I knew she had been."

"And you didn't stop her?" There was a quiet fury behind the words.

"I can't say no to Catra." Adora whispered.

She felt a cold finger on her cheek. Hadn't even realised she had been crying, but Beatrix was wiping away a tear. It had softened her expression. Turned her from monster to mother.

"Oh, Adora, I know." Beatrix was cradling both of her cheeks now, as if she was taking hold of a precious jewel. "Catra is a natural born troublemaker. Not like you."

Adora let her head be tilted down, let Beatrix kiss her forehead. This was not the storm. This had been what the calm before it had been like. Sitting in front of the sofa whilst Beatrix plaited her hair. Treated it like gold instead of tugging it.

It was how Adora had wanted it to go back to. It made her remember that she loved Beatrix. That she was still her mom and she still loved them. She was human.

She was human but she had an app that told her exactly where Adora was. An app that told her Adora had been going to (!!) and (!!) and that she had been sat in a parking lot for the last hour and a half. That wasn't good. That was an invasion of privacy.

But Beatrix had said all mothers did it.

She would have to ask Glimmer.

She didn't want to. A part of her knew the answer - that it wasn't right. But what was she supposed to do about that? She couldn't change anything.

Beatrix was Beatrix and nothing would change that.

Her phone was still on the floor. Untouched. She snuck it to her with her foot and sat on it whilst Beatrix finished plaiting it. Adora hated her hair in a brand. She used to love it, but now it just made her look more like an egg than ever.

But then she could make an excuse. Then she could dart upstairs and pull her phone from her pocket. The screen was cracked, a black cloud on the inside of the screen.

And when she reached her room, she found a text from Glimmer. A 'hope you didn't get murdered by your mum' message followed up with a monkey emoji covering its mouth.

Adora wanted to say something witty. Something witty and funny that would make Glimmer smile at her phone. Instead, it was all she could do to reply 'hope you didn't either,' before she was loading up Catra and typing out just how pissed Beatrix was at her.

Catra replied with a string of shrugging emojis and a 'guess I'm coming through your window tonight.'

The thought crossed Adora's mind that she could simply lock the window. Then Catra wouldn't be able to get in. But Catra was her sister. That came first.

It didn't stop her from pretending to be asleep when she heard her window open. She had slid her phone under her pillow, the latest text from Glimmer lighting up her screen.

Catra barely made a sound when she clambered through. Adora held her breath, assuming Catra would just pad doubtlessly through the room.

She didn't. Instead she stepped over to Adora's bed, leant by her ear with breath that smelt like beer.

"Hey, Adora," she whispered, stirring the hair around Adora's ear. It made her stomach leap, but she stayed frozen. "Team's pretty pissed that you skipped out on us for a band geek."

She seemed to wait for a response. She didn't get one.

"Then again, it's been much more fun since you left. There was no way we would have drunk and smoked with you around. You're 'perfect Adora,' after all." Catra paused again. She seemed to believe that Adora was asleep, because with a feather light touch, pulled a stray hair off of Adora's cheek. Her face was close, so close Adora wondered if her lips were going to graze her cheek. "Perfect Adora."

Then Catra was gone and Adora's eyes were open.

That hadn't happened before. Catra had never called her that in such a low voice, either completely mocking her or completely affectionate. Adora couldn't figure it out. She couldn't figure Catra out. They weren't touchy-feelly people. They weren't the kind of people who braided each other's hair.

Yet Catra had touched her. Like that.

She didn't reply to Glimmer.

She barely slept. Then brought a huge mug of coffee in for Catra at two in the afternoon. It still woke her, but she accepted the mug from Adora's hands and sat bundled in her duvet. Only her eyes peeked out from beneath a mass of hair.

Nothing had happened. Nothing had happened that Adora would admit, anyway.

"Hanging?"

"What do you think?"

"I don't have any sympathy." Adora held her hands in the air. "You decided to get drunk."

"It felt great last night. It felt like flying. It felt like nothing could touch me."

"You haven't seen Beatrix yet?"

"Have I, fuck."

Adora pulled her foot underneath her as she sat on the bed. It had changed. As much as she hasn't wanted it to, something had changed. She just couldn't figure out what.

"She has a tracking app. On her phone."

"Fuck that."

"It said you were in the river."

"We went down to the waterfront, yeah. Sat under one of the trees with a crate. We made a small fire at one point, almost set the whole place aflame."

"I'm sorry I missed it."

"You wouldn't have liked it." Catra took a large gulp of coffee, the light returning to her eyes. Mismatched eyes, they had used to say. Catra had heterochromia - one brown eye, one blue. They always attracted attention, people staring at her for just a little longer when they first noticed. They were pretty eyes.

Catra was pretty.

"Maybe I would," Adora forced herself to reply. She would, she thought, if she wouldn't have to worry about Catra. About getting home. About studying. About making sure that Catra got home safe and thay Beatrix wasn't in a foul mood after.

She would if she was with Glimmer.

If she was with Glimmer of Bow, she could imagine wanting to get drunk. Enjoying getting drunk and having a good time.

Catra was looking at her as if she didn't believe her. She stared for a while longer, the asked, in a dry tone of voice, "don't you have studying to do?"

Adora did. Could have, if she wanted to get even further ahead.

She didn't want to. She didn't want to spend the weekend working. She wanted to try not working - to try beating the voices that told her she had to be productive every minute of the day. And there was only one person who would be able to help her do that.

Adora had sent the text before she had even left Catra’s room.

#glimmerdora #she ra #she-ra #spop #spop fanfiction #princess adora #princess glimmer #fanfiction #she ra fanfiction #turnupswrites

8 notes · View notes

jerseydeanne · 6 years

Link

Gossip site for both celebs/pseudo-celebs arrests, divorces, breakups and hookups, new deals and cancellations, A-D listers and everything in between.

Read the comments, presumed to be you-know-who!

I kicked a hornet's nest last night. I posted the entire thread, I’ll let you guys be the judge. Thank you anon 🌺🌺🌺🌺

FRIDAY, JULY 20, 2018

Blind Item #13

Apparently when our favorite former actress was back in the States a few months ago, she slipped her drug of choice past her protection via a friend. This time around, she is going to have to find a new way to get herself supplied. Oh, I have no doubts she will. It is one of the main reasons she is visiting. She misses that kind of partying and she knows no one will dare arrest her if she is busted. It is partying without having to worry about any legal consequences at all.

POSTED BY ENT LAWYER AT 11:45 AM

1 – 74 of 74

Boldblonde

said...

Guess she didn’t lose him!

9:59 AM

Just Paige

said...

We will know this is true if she ends up dead. If it is there will be proof and the Monarchy won't allow that.

10:00 AM

Do Tell

said...

Is this saying that Meghan yachted WHILE she was dating Harry?

10:03 AM

sandybrook

said...

I'm sure she needed the additional income a yachting excursion provided her. Entern has always said she just an opportunist looking out for herself.

10:03 AM

Sd Auntie

said...

She must be a firecracker in the sack. Harry does not care and probably used escorts his whole frickin life.

10:04 AM

Sunspirit

said...

So was she with Harry when she was yachting?

10:04 AM

Sunspirit

said...

With him as in relationship wise

10:05 AM

Ash X

said...

Is yachting like prostitution? What is yachting?

10:06 AM

Damiana

said...

Sounds like it was before...then XX introduced her to Harry thinking in terms of Harry hiring Me-Again and either she spun it into a "blind date" (as reported for their meeting), or he didn't understand the setup and assumed it was a blind date. Question is, who's the fixer? Guy Pelly or Markus Anderson? And has HRH twigged yet? If not, who's going to tell him?

10:07 AM

Don Kieballs

said...

I can't see Harry marrying a yacht girl. Reformed yachter possibly, but not one who was doing it while they were dating. He may be a ginger, but he's a Power Ginger.

10:08 AM

Appalachian Mothersauce

said...

I think they're truly smitten, and that longevity will only be tested by time.... But Harry is no saint, and if he judges her on her past, he's scumA++.

10:12 AM

Shakira Eakins

said...

I agree. It seems fitting he find a party girl that understands his past and won't treat him like crap for it.

10:15 AM

Don Kieballs

said...

If you go by this blind. Megan was a yacht girl and Harry was one to use the services of yacht girls (why else would the friend make the assumption?) If they both participated in yacht activities, then neither is morally superior. Harry would have no standing to criticize her - not that he has or would.

10:17 AM

Do Tell

said...

It's not 100% up to Harry. If the Palace finds out that she was doing this, he will face a lot of pressure to dump her or renounce it all to marry her.

10:19 AM

Observant One

said...

When I hear the story about how PH and MM met, I immediately thought of Bani and the Celebrity Sex Broker blinds.

10:44 AM

Comment deleted

This comment has been removed by the author.

10:48 AM

Just Paige

said...

@Observant - when I watched the engagement video of them tellling the story I immediately thought of this blind. She is a terrible actress and it was so rehearsed: she touches his arm - reminds him to seem off the cufff...

10:50 AM

Rafael

said...

It´s a LARP. Enty is a cuckservative 4chan larper and is angry because Obama did an interview with Harry and now is visiting William. While the dumb Trump is hated by everyone. lol

10:50 AM

Mango

said...

Not a fan of the royals but I can't believe that the palace hasn't thoroughly investigated Markle, so she must have passed muster. The palace staff are more class conscious and snooty than the royals. I googled, "who introduced Harry and Meghan" and the name "designer Misha Nonoo" kept coming up. I'd never heard of her so I looked up her website and her designs are meager, repetitive and forgettable, however Nonoo is a tall attractive blonde, so I totally believe that she could be a yacht girl who does the part time work to finance her design house.

10:58 AM

John Doe

said...

Who is Harry's friend that she was yachting with? We all know she has a history but I doubt that Harry cares much because his whole life has been about hookers and weed.

10:59 AM

Cheez Whiz

said...

WTF is a LARP? Live Action Role Play? @Rafael, your comment makes absolutely no sense at all. Too much DemocraticUnderground before the morning coffee?

11:01 AM

Beth

said...

Nonoo was married to a friend of the royals. That's how she comes to Harry. The other person who may be the matchmaker is Violet von Westenholz.

11:03 AM

Observant One

said...

@Just Paige - That's exactly what I was watching. I agree with your assessment of her behavior during that video.

11:10 AM

texasrose

said...

I think this blind implies she yachted before Harry and that is when one of Harry's buddies used her. Later when he saw them together he just assumed that Harry was using her services also. Doesn't necessarily mean she was yachting when dating Harry. Ash X - just google yacht girls. The term started when beautiful girls hung out at Cannes Film festival and then just with rich guys on their yachts in the med. It has evolved into just high high priced escorts to rich guys and not necessarily on yachts and generally referring to celeb or semi celeb women doing it. It is apparently a real thing. A lot of blinds here about actresses you would never guess that have been 'yacht' girls or still do $$$$ escorting.

11:17 AM

Crazycatlady

said...

Lol at “power ginger” thank-you @Don... you’re on fire today 🤓

11:30 AM

Nutty_Flavor

said...

Unpopular opinion, but the Queen saw her sister, who was also the "spare", destroyed by being unable to marry the man she wanted. Harry is 6th in line to the throne, or will be by the time he marries, so I don't think the vetting is as extreme for Meghan as it would have been for anyone William dated.

11:30 AM

Daily Union

said...

Factor this into the equation. Meghan Markle is paid to perform. (In all kinds of situations). She has now lucked into the gig of a lifetime, playing the role of Prince Harry's loving wife. The Princess role- with the being American,divorced,multi-cultural thrown in for distraction and media-adoration bonus points. The reason for this performance is simple, Prince Harry is a closeted Gay Man, who wishes to pursue his lifestyle behind closed doors. Ignore the manufactured P.R. around his bachelor lifestyle, and examine his past "romances". Think "straight" about this, no man in his position, or a Joe on the Street would ever consider marring Meghan Markle , with the slightest knowledge of her past. This is just a "Hollywood type" arranged marriage to give the Stars cover.

11:35 AM

Gordon Scott

said...

Agree, Nutty_Flavor; it's a lot lower standard for Harry than Billy, as Harry will never inherit. And the standards for Billy are lower than they were for Chuck. Still, I'm sure that Betty and Phil Battenberg think that Uncle Eddie's spouse was enough yachting for the family. The question is: do they care enough at their ages to push back? Certainly there is no cattier bunch than the palace staff, and if there's a rumour, they either know about it or they started it. Perhaps Meggie has a unique ability to charm them. Stranger things, what? Meanwhile, Sarah and Andy grind their teeth....

11:46 AM

Gordon Scott

said...

@Daily Union: well, that would explain a lot, now, wouldn't it? Uncle Eddie is said to have been fond of playing the whistle, with Wally cheering him on. Perhaps grandma Betty should create him Duke of Windsor.

11:53 AM

Lisa

said...

Clearly Me-again (good one) got herself knocked up. It’s the only way the Windsor’s would agree to this ridiculous marriage. A black prostitute marrying a royal. Only in Hollywood. What a dumb skank.

11:55 AM

VRWC

said...

+1 That made me spit out my drink.

12:10 PM

Andi F

said...

She's the usual actress, a user and social climber, who believes her own hype. I sometimes watched Suits and didn't know her real name until she got with Harry, B grade is being generous.

12:25 PM

drerocks79

said...

SdAuntie A LOT of rich men end up marrying their favorite escort. The upper east side is filled with 'em

12:28 PM

Unknown

said...

👍

12:34 PM

Normal. Yes indeed.

said...

Really rich people own yachts. Yacht girls are hookers that charge prices only rich guys can afford. Hence the term yacht girl. Go spend a weekend in the yacht...

12:39 PM

os75

said...

She must be good

1:16 PM

Glitter

said...

Remember: Long ago, a blind here revealed that Grace Kelly was a yacht girl.

1:26 PM

Nutty_Flavor

said...

Grace Kelly had a healthy sexual appetite. I’m not sure she would have required payment for a weekend on a yacht.

1:36 PM

Lindy

said...

I assume yachting means more than yachting.

1:57 PM

Lindy

said...

But don’t you think - to use the water metaphor - that that ship has sailed. I think it’s too late to back out even if he or his family are having doubts.

2:00 PM

Mango

said...

@ Nutty_Flavor - excellent point about the queen seeing her beloved sister destroyed by not being about to marry her divorced lover. Maybe the Q has accepted that her heirs will marry who they want? Her (alleged) favorite son married and survived Fergie, so maybe Markle will be a walk in the park. (Or a flash in the pan??) @ Observant one - When H and M were doing their interview, the thing that caught my attention/bugged me was their talk about roasting a chicken. "Look! We were cooking our simple dinner! Just like you regular folk!"

2:20 PM

Andi F

said...

Grace was supposedly sexually abused by her dad growing up, and used the casting couch in HW for acting roles and yachting in Europe for the income.

2:22 PM

Randaleese

said...

OH BS!! Trust! The Queen knows everything..,and apparently, it’s either NOT TRUE or Queen realizes times, they are a-changing and DGAFF!

2:27 PM

fairylights

said...

I'm pretty sure that Harry had to ask the Queen's permission before he could get engaged to M.M., I don't think he's far enough down the list to be able to avoid that. I'm also pretty sure that the gossipy Buck palace people made sure her majesty heard about all the info about her, not to mention any information their version of secret service dug up. My guess is that it's a combo of Harry being down the list of succession and the example of all four of her children being divorced were enough for her to decide it wasn't that important....as long as she doesn't continue on like Fergie did. @ Don, 'Power Ginger': Love it!!!

2:44 PM

emeraldcity

said...

Grace wasn't abused, no sexually anyway, her father pretty much ignored her, the boys were everything to him, not to mention that stories abound that he believed she was not actually his daughter. She spent her whole life trying to win his praise and affection which resulted in a father figure complex,and affairs with much older men (Bing, Gary Cooper, Gary Grant) as a dark spin off from this. She was no angel and actually very catty to other women, Ava Gardner called her out in public on her hypocrisy, Liz Taylor and Joan Collins were in the room at the time. As for this blind, I take it with a pinch of salt , MI6 would have everything on this woman and the Queen would be told as she seems quite taken with Meg, it probably came from one of Harry's friends who isn't happy about him marrying Meg so is sticking the knife in. Enty is safe from litigation because the royals never sue about gossip , too many other things might come out in court.

2:46 PM

Do Tell

said...

She is the new Koo Stark. I guess time will tell if things play out the way they did with Andrew and Koo.

2:49 PM

346NYC

said...

I see ZERO chemistry between Harry and MM. Is this like a George Clooney/Amal Beard situation? Also, I've seen some reports that Harry is not Charles son. Some have reported he looks like one of Diana's lovers. Any truth to this? If there is any truth to the former, why should the Queen care who Harry marries if he's not related to the Queen anyway?

2:53 PM

Observant One

said...

@Mango - The roasting a chicken bit made me wonder if it was a code phrase....they said it multiple times. I know I'm cynical as hell, and maybe I have read too many of Enty's blinds over the years, but I thought it was way too contrived. I am trying to figure out why she ALWAYS has her hand on his arm, or his back. So far, my reasoning has led me to think she knows he misses his mother desperately, so she has determined that he needs constant touching and reassurance. I don't like being catty, and I am certainly not racist, but this relationship seems too contrived, like the roast chicken.

3:27 PM

Comment deleted

This comment has been removed by the author.

3:27 PM

Dallas Alice

said...

Or, maybe they were just roasting a damn chicken and he proposed. I certainly have no means of comparison, but I’d imagine cooking your own dinner is quite a lark when you have to make an appointment to see your own Grandmother. She’s definitely grabby, but Americans tend to be more like that. Perhaps they’re actually in love. I’ll choose to think they are.

3:39 PM

Donna Marie

said...

346NYC, apparently Diana did have an affair with a ginger. However, Google Lady Sarah McCorquodale and Baroness Fellowes. Those are Diana's older sisters, they are both gingers, and Harry strongly resembles them. I've also noticed that as Harry gets older, he begins to look more and more like a Windsor male in all but coloring. (though the height comes from his mother's side) All in all, I believe he's a genetic Windsor.

4:14 PM

Hortensia

said...

No one ever says what the past allegations are about Markle. Just this yacht story. Harry has definitely changed his demeanor/appearance since the engagement announcement. A couple of psychics have said it won't last more than five years. Markle was supposedly up for the next Bond movie as a Bond girl. That would have sent her career into the stratosphere. Hmmmm.

4:22 PM

Lisa

said...

She is pregnant.

4:37 PM

BCC

said...

Only Markle says she was supposed to be a Bond girl. Nobody else - certainly not the Bond film people.

4:39 PM

just sayin'

said...

What I find interesting is the theory that Diana's biological father is James Goldsmith. She looked so much more like Jemima Kahn then the Spencer sisters. If true, it would make Harry's children with Meghan 1/4 Jewish and 1/4 Black.

4:41 PM

Gordon Scott

said...

Meggie a Bond girl? Not the lead, certainly. She's not that hot. As for Harry being one of mom's lovers' sons? The timing is wrong for that. Also, there's a pic of grandpa Phil at about Harry's current age, with beard. They look like brothers. He's got the Battenberg Y chromos. The word among those who served with Harry is that he's a good chap. Passing on the family tradition of the holiday hunt because Meggie doesn't like it--plus his body language around her--well, that doesn't bode so well for the future. But his gonads are surplus to requirements now, thus he can just be gossip fodder. It's a shame, as he was thought to be the one to bring back some rascally masculinity in house Battenberg.

4:49 PM

Elamina

said...

It was interesting to me that the last (and only other) blind by Enty that 'revealed' Markle as a yacht girl disappeared from this site overnight. It said like more and more people were coming forward about it and named other women from MMs Deal or No Deal days that did the same to supplement their income. They commanded higher rates because of being on a tv show.

5:06 PM

Scandi Sanskrit

said...

I saw "Diana: In Her Own Words" on NatGeo channel. It was originally first aired during a lunar eclipse (well, that was my memory of it). She said she used to hear voices. Like Prince Charles proposed to her and said something along the lines of, "you realise that means you might become queen someday?" And the voice said, "you won't Ben queen but you'll have an important role." And it came true... 🌙

5:51 PM

Scandi Sanskrit

said...

⚡️GO GO POWER GINGER! ⚡️ (He'd be the Orange Ranger)

6:02 PM

theassangefiles

said...

Longtime reader here, first comment - Had to ask if anyone remembers that Jimmy Saville, underage rapist and sex purveyer extrodanaire was also intimately connected with Prince Charles and considered his "mentor", and was allowed to come and go in Buckingham Palace as he pleased. The Queen knows how to handle little Miss Markle, and it will be to appear to be kind and accepting but make no mistake, Markle will be lucky to last through the next five years, and the tabloid thrashing that is going to hound both her and Harry will "teach" him to fall in line next time around, no doubt about it.

7:54 PM

Scooterchick

said...

My take: Meghan is approved because with all her diversity (American, actress, biracial, divorced) and the distraction it has created, she makes Camilla look less awful, and a bit less controversial. It's pretty clear that the Queen plans on Charles taking the reins, and whatever Camilla will be (Consort? Surely not Queen, one hopes!), she will be in a position that has not occurred in the British Royal family in centuries, as a divorced publicly acknowledged adultress & cuckolder (or is it cuckoldress hahah?). Royal PR are very savvy & trying to spin Chas. & Camilla as less unsavoury than they have been viewed in the past. BTW, has anyone seen Tracy Ullman's take-off on Csmilla? Very spots on Youtubr: it's a scream.

7:58 PM

McJ 2051

said...

So PH has a Pretty Woman fetish I guess?

8:32 PM

boredatwork boredatwork

said...

I agree with the commenters saying that Harry has hit a new low. Everything about those 2 seems too fake and contrived - at least on her side. She's really a mediocre C list actress, with mediocre looks. A trip to Top Shop on Oxford Circus, and one can spot 100 Markles, much better looking than this one. He could do so much better, but prefers to settle for average, in every way.

9:43 PM

Mrs Meat

said...

I know someone who moved in Royal circles who says it's openly acknowledged within the fam that Harry is James Hewitt's son. But personally I can see Prince Charles in his looks.

12:41 AM

Media Viewer

said...

I heard it was the other way round. Awkward when a mutual acquaintance turned out to be a girl from Harry's past. At 1st, Meghan Markle repeatedly turned down Harry's invitations because she had a boyfriend. I remember reading about that back in 2015 when Harry 1st spotted her as an exercise guru on Canadian TV. Finally she agreed to go on a date with him and it was arranged through a friend. Could it be that not every human with a vagina is a whore for fame, money and power? Could it be that those at the British tabloids are just bitter? They hated Frank Sinatra too. That's why they called them rats. Could it be they buried the truth about Harry trolling for chicks on TV programs because it's unseemly?

12:43 AM

Nonya Bidness

said...

A new low? I tend to think his low was the Nazi costume. So you think he only consorted with pedigreed virgins before? Curious what bothers you most about MM, her sexual history or her race.

6:37 AM

Nutty_Flavor

said...

@Media Viewer, not sure where you got the idea that the British tabloids were "bitter" about Markle. Both the Daily Mail and the Sun have been outdoing themselves to sell her to the British public. The last 3 Markle headlines in The Sun: "Get that Markle Sparkle: Meghan Markle's Skincare guru on the perfect prep for your big day." "One is Amused: Meghan Markle's Xmas gift to the Queen caused Her Maj to burst out laughing." "Royal Knees Up: Pubs to open until 1am for 2 nights to celebrate Harry and Meghan's wedding." The tabloids are there to get clicks - and have a healthy side business being paid for placement, which is why you see so many articles about Emily Ratajkowski in them. Whether the positive Meghan articles are paid-for-placement or just a way to stay in good graces with the Firm is unknown. The fact is, though, that the British tabloids are not tearing Meghan down at this point in time.

8:39 AM

Em Lew

said...

It can't be anything worse than what Prince Andrew got up to with his friend Epstein. Then there's Charlie's friendship with serial abuser Savile. The Royals can cover up scandal no problem, as they have the security services doing it for them.

2:06 PM

Count Jerkula

said...

I hope one of Markle's tricks had his cabin wired for video and sound, and the tape finds its way to a foreign file locker or tube site.

3:58 PM

Enny

said...

He looks so much like a young Prince Philip it’s ridiculous. How can people ignore such a strong resemblance to his father and paternal grandfather? It makes no sense. Yes, Diana had affairs. No, she did not father Harry with one of them.

6:03 PM

boredatwork boredatwork

said...

None - you must be one of those ppl who judges ppl by the colour of their skin, and not the content of their character. To you, MM, who is average in every way, is special, because of her race, while I don't give a shit about her race, and I dislike her purely for what sort of person she appears to be. Reverse racism it's called.

12:48 AM

Gail Banks

said...

Fairylights - only three of Queen Elizabeth's children are divorced, not four. Prince Edward is still married to Sophie Rhys-Jones.

4:56 AM

La-Juice

said...

as much as I dislike him, remember, Charles too knows what its like to be forbidden to marry who he loved- and look at the lengths he ultimately went ot and the disaster that ensued. Maybe Harry really loves her- given his past, I have to believe he knows all about her. I bet the castle/crown staff just keeps all of Meghan's indiscretions/past secreted from the very old Queen, whose husband is failing... can't be too hard.

12:52 PM

Sharon Betz

said...

Does anyone have info on Joe Guiliano Meghan Markle first husband? Joseph J. Goldman-Guiliano, Northwestern grad, criminal defense attorney in MA?

8:01 AM

#Meghan Markle #CDAN #new Blind #submission

13 notes · View notes

thydungeon · 3 years

Text

“Break”

In the fall of 2018, Stoic Studio held a short story fan fiction contest because they were publishing a compilation for The Banner Saga.

I really loved this game, but for whatever reason I didn’t play the second and third games until a week-long stretch in 2018 when Emily was out of the country. I stayed up until 5 am to finish the third game!

But then I saw the contest and I thought, “oh my god, this is perfect!”

They didn’t pick my story, and I have never been sadder about any personal creation of mine. I spent a lot of time on the story and had a lot of help editing from Russell and Emily, overcoming elements of some fairly old-timey fears. Obviously, the hard truth is that I’m not that good of a writer, but I struggled for a long time with whether or not to really regret a series of design decisions. That is, I wrote the story that I wanted to, the way I wanted to, but I wonder if the following needed to be true:

Why did I write a story that features only varl and literally no humans (read: no women)? Why did I write a story that covers the scope of only violence, something I’ve never been comfortable writing? Why did I write a story with only original characters, so out of the way of the games? Why did I make the first 270 words in the style of an emotionless recounting of strategic and tactical failures? Why did I develop only one character, with essentially no emotional arc?

Regardless, I do like the piece. I think I wrote it reasonably well given the above handicaps (that, again, I chose because I wanted them). And now, reading it two years later, it’s pretty clear it’s “about” switching roles at my old job in the US; the feeling of losing your position and drifting away from people is/was a common theme in a lot of things I’ve written, so go figure lol

Since Russell is the only person who ever read this with the full context (having played the games), here are some background details:

1. The game takes place in a Norse/Nordic setting. The antagonist is a Jormungandr figure, all the main characters have Germanic-sounding names, it’s Viking age tech, and the world is snowy.

2. Varl are like giant human-oxen hybrids; there are only so many of them because each one was literally created by a real, physical god who has since disappeared. Hence, the number of varl will never increase, only decrease (this doesn’t appear to have any kind of Krogan Effect, in case you’re wondering). The process of creation is apparently quite unpleasant and is one of the reasons they fear (and I mean really fear) fire. They share the world with humans, but generally do not intermingle.

3. Dredge are rock-like humanoids who communicate with vibrations and live underground. They fought a tremendous war (the “Second Great War”) against a combined human-varl alliance. Certain dredge who are very powerful are called Sundr and have English names that reference an attribute (canon Sundr include “Bellower” and “Raze”). I don’t remember if they are physiologically different from other dredge or just the classic video game “hero” unit.

4. Per the Wiki, “varl who are close knit enough to be family refer to each other as kendr.”

5. This is stretching my memory, but I believe the title is a play on the basic combat mechanic in the game series - your units can choose to attack an opponent’s armor or health. If you attack their health, your attack damage subtracts the opponent’s armor amount before dealing any health damage, but health damage reduces the opponent’s ability to do damage back. Get it? Breaking their armor? The story is about a breakout as well. Also, it wouldn’t be an early period (2015-2018) piece if it wasn’t about burnout, i.e. breaking down.

As for why I never posted this on Tumblr, it’s because, honestly, I thought Tumblr had a character limit on text posts?

Grofheim burns.

The largest city in the north, the varl capital, lies in ruins after an avalanche of dredge like none had seen before. A few weeks earlier, a handful of reports from northern patrols suggested a massing of dredge in the abandoned, half-sunken city of Skrymirstead; further warbands detailed a sturdy garrison increasing in size with each sighting. A dozen leaders forged north with a host of five thousand to meet them but limped home a mess of several hundred. Survivors spoke of organized dredge armies moving like appendages of the Sundr. Concentrated force separated our army amid a blizzard and obliterated them.

Eager to see the army for ourselves, we awaited their arrival at the city's gate facing the Valkajokull. To our surprise, the dredge struck first from the south, having passed between the Varlsmarch and King’s Barrow hills, and only then advanced from Skrymirstead, placing a hammer against an anvil with Grofheim in between. In the days of old, we expected battles like these to slow to the crawl of a months-long siege, but this generation of dredge attacked with unique urgency. We saw Sundr everywhere: Driver, Rampage, Dread, others we remembered from ages past. The walls collapsed on the eighth day of battle, and dredge poured into the city. After only two weeks of fighting within the walls, their advance was nigh-unstoppable, and we had lost entire sectors of the city, guard towers and homes alike reduced to rubble. By the end of the third week, our encirclement was almost complete and only slivers of light in an ocean of dredge gave us hope for survival.

Shortly after the dredge breached the city walls, Jorundr and many of the remaining varl had rallied to a fortress in the center of the city. Harald, captain of the city patrols, and I, his right-hand man, joined them with a fraction of the varl we had led previously for years; all others had fallen either at the wall or in the ensuing crush. At the top of one of the fortress towers, we pored over a map resting on a rickety table. Wooden figurines shaped like varl and dredge littered the map’s surface. We used to play chess with the little pieces.

Light filtered into the spacious room from all sides, but it illuminated nothing of renown. A couple of spears leaned against the wall, and a handful of varl were resting, drinking water and munching on dwindling provisions. We looked a sorry lot, even more bruised and unwashed than the typical varl cohort. Harald could no longer grip his shield due to a mangled left arm, so we fastened them together, hoping the banded wood would hold. Fiery debris had caught me at the wall, covering my face in cuts. Outside, we could see the dredge burning heaps of fallen varl, challenging us to come out and avenge our dead.

I ran my finger across the map from our location to one of the gates. A few hours’ march stood between us and the world beyond the city walls. “We have less than five days holding out here. By that point, we’ll be surrounded, and they’ll start breaking us apart group by group. The fortress will hold for maybe two more days after that. What’s the plan, Harald?” I lifted my finger from the map and found myself biting the nail of my thumb unconsciously. The sharp taste of iron-flavored blood crusted underneath snapped me back into the moment.

Harald moved a pair of dredge pieces between us and the gate. “From what we gather, the dredge that breached the southern gate destroyed everything from Skyhorn west through the Varlsmarch, but they are now less than full strength.” He moved several other pieces above us on the map. “Jorundr did not move any troops from the northern wall to fend off the surprise attack in the south, so the dredge advance from Skrymirstead was not a total disaster. Still, that group is reportedly much larger, so a breakout that way is not possible.”

“Eamonn and his whole clan stayed at the western tower,” I said, pointing to an ornately decorated tower on the map. “Heard a rumor that Roland and his folks battled back to the wall, actually. Either group is probably a heap of bones by now, though.” Looking over the map, I realized that every painstaking detail on it had been rendered worthless by the dredge.

“I do not blame them,” said Harald. “From all of our experience, dredge grant no quarter, and some varl may be looking for revenge after hearing what happened in the blizzard.”

“I heard it might have been an accident,” said Ismail, one of the younger guards and a fixture of Harald’s patrols. “The leaders out in the wastes forgot to put out a watch as they slept, and the dredge caught them unawares, daylight and all.”

“With dredge, there is no such thing as an accident,” said Harald. “Whatever happened out there does not bode well for us here.” His eyes dimmed and I could see the truth beginning to settle.

“I know Jorundr’s been quiet about where the dredge are coming from, but what have you heard?” I asked. “Did some idiot kick over a hornet’s nest?”

“We only saw the dredge near Skrymirstead and nobody saw them coming from the east,” replied Harald. “It is no coincidence; something is driving them, and it must be more than memories of the second war.”

“We have a dozen ideas what it might be, but nothing with real evidence,” added Ismail. “Jorundr has been tight-lipped about it, but I think it’s because he doesn’t actually know. I’ve heard everything from new leadership among the dredge, a misunderstanding at the border, to some faening scheme by the Valka.”

“No need to gossip on my account, just curious,” I said, turning back to the map. “What’s left for us here?”

“It all depends on how many dredge are out there and if you want to be hopeful,” said Ismail. “Me, personally...I would rather not.”

“The southern walls have been entirely leveled, but that may work to our advantage,” said Harald. “If we can cut a path through the dredge between here and there, we can escape with no bottleneck to hinder our advance. But numbers are not on our side.”

“It’s always possible there is relief on the way, maybe runners found their way to pockets of varl beyond the city,” suggested Ismail. “Can’t change how many dredge are here, but it helps if there are more of us.”

“Now look who’s being optimistic,” I grumbled. “If they got past the forts without any trouble, then that means we’re the only varl for days in any direction. From here, we’ll have to write our own stories.”

“So then getting away is our only real choice,” said Ismail.

“If we all make a break that way to the south, they will pursue,” I said, moving varl pieces down the map and dredge pieces in pursuit. “And we won’t make three days out of Grofheim before they catch us. Some of us must split off to hold or divert them. If not, we’re faened as soon we’re free of the city. The only question is how many and where we put them.”

Harald knew this but remained quiet. He had a way of settling his gaze into an intensity that bordered almost on horror. I never thought to say anything about it after years and years, but over time I understood it as his way of focusing. We all knew that the number of varl who escaped Grofheim would be however many would fight the rest of the war. Vognir’s entourage, the varl in Strand, and any others scattered across the mountains would not be guaranteed to join in time, if ever.

“We estimate there are four thousand of us remaining in the city that can be readied to evacuate at once,” began Harald. “A tenth of that number should be the maximum committed to a diversion.”

“Do you think that’ll be enough?” Ismail asked. My instinct was that we needed a thousand, but I always used more force than necessary to get the job done. Either way, I was happy to let Harald make the assessment. He was always better with strategy.

“We need to make sure we have a force worth carrying into human lands,” said Harald. “We do not know what Jorundr has planned long-term, but we have to give him the best chance to... win.” He almost said ‘survive.’

“Fair enough, then. We hardly ever know what’s on his mind, but that’s never stopped us before. Who’s going?” I asked. Around the room, everybody stopped and looked at me and Harald like awaiting a death sentence. Varl lead long lives, but we are seldom fearless as we pretend before the moment of truth. It is the best trick we play on humans.

Harald looked at me and lowered the shield still wrapped around his arm. For the first time, I noticed the streaks of grey among black in his hair and beard, the weariness in his posture, the chips in his horns, and his tired, deep eyes. His teal tunic rested on top of bandage after bandage; it was caked with blood and pockmarked with cuts and tears.

“As good a time to go as any, right?” I joked to the room. No one said anything.

“Could you give us a minute?” Harald said to the others in the room. They quietly filed out. “I’m sorry to have announced it in front of the others, but at this point, I may be a liability with this,” continued Harald, gesturing to his arm and shield. “I trust you to handle this task. It may be the most important of our lives.”

“Harald, I understand,” I replied, smiling through. “I’ll take the remaining guards we have and hunt for volunteers. Do you need to speak to the other clans to set the plan in stone? Wouldn’t want to ruffle any feathers before we get rolling.”

“I did before I came up here,” said Harald, smiling back. I started to leave but turned back at the door.

“Harald...are we really leaving Grofheim?”

It was a ridiculous question, but it nagged me, and I needed to hear him to make it real: to leave our home, to abandon it to destruction. I was loath to leave everything behind forever: my home, our monuments, the legacy of centuries of varl.

“There is no other way,” replied Harald. “If we were going to stop them, it would have been before they reached the city.”

“We were so sure we would beat them in Skrymirstead and, failing that, here at the walls. What went wrong? The second war took years and years, we were there.”

Harald shrugged. I knew it was futile to ask, but I had become so used to him having an answer. “We will find out once we... regroup.”

I slung a hammer high on my shoulder. “Nothing to do, then. I’ll get your four hundred in the next two hours. In the meantime, I look forward to your plan for our friend down there.” I gestured to the window, where far below at the head of the black sea was a tall dredge dressed in red robes, holding a glaive in each hand. The varl in his vicinity either stood dazed in his presence or routed in cowardice. Harald peered below at the Sundr and I could feel the stress rising in him.

“This is it, this is how it happens,” he muttered, still facing down below. I never knew if he meant for me to hear it.

I went to my makeshift quarters to pick up any remaining equipment. Sitting down on the bed, I dusted off my clothes and shook off stiff boots. The beautiful release of sleep had only found me once in seven days and I longed to just rest for a moment.

After floating down the river of a dream, I opened my eyes and sat up. As I slowly remembered the broken state of my body, I felt my left horn, jagged from days of shrapnel and glancing blows. I traced a line from the tip down to a matrix of scabs dotting everything from my left eye down to my right jaw.

It was time to take stock of everything before our final rush to the city walls. My boots were finally dry after a week trudging through snow; my armor had hardly any straps left to tighten, but I kept reinforcing it with bits and pieces of metal I scavenged; daggers and knives picked up along the way found homes in my belt. I still held onto a hammer I had picked up on the fourth day of fighting. The head had delicate twists and turns carved throughout, and the rune-covered haft was smooth from centuries of use. It sang every time it stung rock and crushed everything it touched.

Down in the courtyard, my remaining guards stood at attention, tired and injured but still eager to make their mark. Another couple hundred from across the city stood nearby, joining. I felt good knowing I would run with so many familiar faces, but I couldn’t shake the feeling of leading them all to a shallow grave.

Nevertheless, we moved over to one of the few gates in the area free of dredge; this exit was where we would perform our illusion. The dredge knew we were cornered and they would be expecting a breakout and a sacrificial diversion. The switch was simple: the initial attack would in fact be the vanguard making the escape. The diversionary force would be disguised as trying to escape, conspicuously filtering out from the side. Some of the worst mistakes we made during the second war had come from believing our enemies were incapable of strategy. Our lives now hinged on whether we had learned the lesson.

Harald emerged from inside the fort, shield still locked to his arm, spear resting on his shoulder. He had patched up the remaining cuts and bruises on his body and looked ready for battle (or as ready as he would ever be). Beyond the gate, we could see figures in the distance, working their way through houses.

“Where are we meeting you when this is all over?” I asked, forcing optimism to my voice.

“The old capital, across Burra Pass,” replied Harald. “A week away if we make haste. Once we break out, Jorundr will send scouts in all directions for help.”

“Look forward to seeing you there,” I said. “Are you ready? Four hundred of yours first, then four hundred of mine.”

“If all goes well, we should have a couple thousand outside the city by the time the dredge realize the game.” Harald gritted his teeth. “Not enough down the line without the menders or humans, but this gives us hope.”

“And the Sundr?”

“You’ll have to take your chances with them,” said Harald, shaking his head. “We cannot use the same tactics as when we had true armies during the wars. We had our hands full even then.”

“Captain, we’re made of flesh and bone.” I slumped while standing for the first time all week. Harald always had an answer, but was this the best he could offer me?

“I know... reports from across the city tell us that every Sundr we can name is here. My gut tells me if you see them, you should just run.”

I forced my face into agreement, but I couldn’t let it go. “How did this happen?”

Harald blinked and his mouth settled into a frown. “We will have more time to ask questions in Einartoft. For now, we just have to escape.”

His tone was final. He seemed prepared for, even unbothered by, our impending departure. Was this all he had to say after spending a hundred years together? Did it not trouble him that those years were spent defending a city now burning to the ground? But I looked into his unmoving eyes and realized my irritation was only immaturity. He knew every bit as much as I did that the world we had built was being undone. We had been colored and shaped by a duty to our home, a duty that we had chosen, a duty that was now sunsetting. Perhaps that spoke enough for both of us.

I felt the questions inside me slowly trickle to a halt. I stared at him, trying to force myself to remember the look of his calm, unshaken face. I could see the determination, the readiness to face our final hours. Varl are seldom fearless as we pretend before the moment of truth. It is the best trick we play on humans, but, finally, this was no trick. I realized I had been staring at him for perhaps a whole minute.

Thus ended my last interaction with Harald in Grofheim. I have a painting of him in my memory of that last scene before I turned to leave. It was in that moment that I knew Grofheim was gone.

The first gate opened and Harald’s four hundred varl rushed out. They pushed away from the gate, plowing through an initial wall of dredge. Once they cleared the first group, I could see a few grunts begin to give chase before the Sundr called them back to the fortress. We then clattered our way out through the side entrance. As expected, the wave of dredge charged in our direction, a contingent ten times our size, howling and humming as they slammed into us.

I swung wildly and tossed aside a dredge grunt. Another swing, another grunt. A third swing buried my hammer into the shield of a stoneguard, but a timely blow from a guardsman freed it again. With simultaneous strikes, we felled the stoneguard and pushed onward. As we nearly broke free of the circle, I could see the lone dredge from before, taller than any of us and shrouded in crimson robes: Dread. It planted both of its glaives into the ground and began shaking violently. We had heard stories of its powers, and I was hesitant to witness them firsthand. But then, I thought, if I could do it, perhaps end the battle immediately and save the lives of those around me--and slay a dredge legend... Stonesingers can be interrupted, one heavy strike would work.

As I neared, I swung back my hammer, twisted my hips, and stretched to meet him, hammer to Sundr. But before I could make contact, a vibration knocked me onto my back and everything around me disappeared.

I found myself floating in calm darkness for a moment before a great wall of flame surrounded me and began to close in. Memories of creation flooded my mind as the flames licked my clothes, but this was different, a perversion. The wall came closer and closer until every part of me was engulfed in flames. Links of chainmail resting on my skin branded themselves into flesh, while the skin itself peeled away and the nerve endings frayed into nothingness. An eternity passed. I saw my skeleton blackening in the deepest fires of the universe, and when the last bone disappeared into ashes, I felt suspended in nothingness. My voice was gone and the only thing I could feel was my mind trying to claw its way back to something tangible.

The hollowness subsided, and I found myself in the physical world, staring up at a sky of clouds and sun blurred together. The world was eerily quiet for that moment. The loud clanging and screams of battle gave way to dull thuds like the sound at a butcher’s. I looked back at Dread and saw it walking away with one glaive resting on a shoulder, the other at its side. It seemed so calm and pleased with its work, not even giving me a second glance.

As my senses sharpened, I saw peril everywhere. My companions were in the state of illusion that had captured me, now lying on the ground with vacant eyes while dredge bludgeoned them to death. I turned and saw one varl after another dying, eyes locked in a gaze into nothingness, not reacting to hammers crushing bone and rupturing viscera and muscle. We existed only like wheat waiting for the scythe. We weren’t even fighting. We weren’t anything.

The feeling of a weapon bearing down on me finally snapped me into action. I could almost see surprise in the grunt’s eyes as I batted away its strike. One swing from my hammer shattered its stone armor and a follow-up caved in its chest. As the light faded from its eyes, I took satisfaction in ensuring its final emotion was shock.

I turned and crushed another dredge, hammerhead vibrating from the point of contact down to my trembling hands. Rage boiled within me and I was ready to charge at Dread, ready to even the score. But my tunnel vision subsided and I realized the true danger to our mission. The Sundr was already leaving and there were plenty of other dredge to handle. The glory of battling a Sundr beckoned, but I knew I owed it to those around me to struggle a different way. I had to escape.

The situation was collapsing. The longer we lingered, the more enemies swarmed to fence us in. Before Dread arrived, we had been close to breaking free and dispersing, but now, we found ourselves surrounded. Neither vigor nor ferocity would save us. I spotted a solitary varl, covered in cuts and missing an arm, waving a red banner, trying to rally us to an alleyway. This was enough of a plan to survive: no glorious final stand, no victory of arms. Along with a few others snapped out of Dread’s illusion, I followed the banner and we began hacking through the crowd of dredge. The already injured varl was cut down as I arrived, but the rest of us barreled down the alleyway as the buildings on both sides began to collapse, supports chewed away by fire. I hated the thought of deserting those I led into the fray, but I decided I would see Harald again; I owed it to my kendr.

By the time we cleared the alley, only a couple dozen of us remained. I could still hear fighting from the other side of the rubble and the awful warping noise of Dread’s glaives. Thoughts of fire continued to race around in my head, but I was able to quell the fear. With the Sundr and its dredge on the other side of the fallen buildings, I assessed our state. So much for our plan: the diversion scattered and smeared into the streets. I could only hope Harald and the others had made their escape. I rallied those with me, a few brothers in arms for years, other newly made friends, mostly strangers in a dire situation, and we started moving toward the city gate to escape. At least there were no other Sundr in the vicinity, and the dredge we did see were not very interested in fighting us, some even running away on our approach. After we felt a safe distance from the violence, we rested in an empty temple dedicated to Hadrborg. It had already been in disrepair by the time the dredge attacked, but I felt the sadness of leaving behind yet another place that harkened to a golden age: lost glory, faded away.

“Where now?” asked Ismail. In the chaos of the breakout, I hadn’t realized he was with us. In fact, I was so sure he escaped with Harald. Selfishly, I was glad to have his shield and spear, but I also wished he were far away and safe.

“It’s another hour to the gate,” I replied. “We’ll need to run. There’s nothing left here for us.”

“Do you think Jorundr and the others escaped? Harald?”

“We can ask questions in Einartoft.” I don’t know how much I believed it now that I was peddling Harald’s words.

As we advanced toward the gate, we got an eerie feeling. The only sounds we could hear were the far-off city buildings crumbling in flames. There was no fighting. Was every other varl in the city already dead? Had the dredge caught Harald and ended all hope? In the long stretch between the final row of houses and the city gate, we saw a crowd of dredge gathered. It was small enough for us to directly engage but large enough that I knew most of us would not survive. And yet, beyond the dredge was a field of corpses, mostly dredge, and only a handful of varl--Harald and the others had broken through!

I exchanged glances with my surviving varl. This was no time for subtlety, and we were in no mood for anything of the sort so close to freedom. We charged.

In the ensuing chaos, I swung my hammer with the feeling that I was gliding into the end of days, with no caution left to spare. With swing after swing, I felt the vibration and resistance resonate throughout my body.

Chance blows may have broken a rib or two, but I felt immersed in my own world. By the time I stopped feeling the weight of the hammerhead against stone, I looked around and realized that I was entirely alone for the first time. Everybody was dead. I never saw Ismail go, or Stefan, or Jorgen, or Thorvald. We had so long to live and I had missed the opportunity to say good-bye all the same. We can ask questions in Einartoft. My final, anti-climactic words to them. The final event of my life in Grofheim. Over in minutes.

Looking up, I saw that the way out was laid bare. Slowly, I realized the only thing left was for me to leave. The gate loomed over me, silent. It struck me as a cruel joke that everything around it had been obliterated, but the gate itself was left unscathed. I had defended it after all.

Not a moment after I took my first step into the snow a mace swung down at me. My forearm flung up by reflex and I felt muscles bruise and bones crack. I stumbled backward and fell into the snow onto my knees. I looked up and saw a lone grunt before me and another figure in the distance. My hands reached furiously in the cold white, reaching and reaching before I saw I had dropped the hammer behind the grunt.

I inched away from the grunt, feeling the desperation and panic of one nearing his end. I could neither find the hammer nor even see it, but I remembered the knives and daggers on my belt and I hurled one at the grunt. A miss. I scrambled for a second knife and didn’t even aim. A thud. A scream, the kind I had heard a hundred times before. The figure in the distance began running toward us, and I rose and charged the grunt. Exhaustion permeated every fiber in my body. Muscle memory drove me to dodge the grunt’s clumsy swings. It was holding onto its side, clutching the embedded knife, as desperate to end the fight as I was. Finally, it committed too far on a downward swing and missed. I held down its mace with my boot and drove my remaining dagger into its face. It crumbled to the ground in a heap without even a whimper. One long exhale later, I gave the grunt’s head a forceful kick, yanking free the blade.

I hastily placed the dagger back into my belt and found my hammer a few steps away. Just as I turned to leave, a whizzing rock smacked one of my horns. I was stunned for a moment. When I recovered, the figure was close enough to see: a smaller dredge with a sling, something I had never seen before. With no shield for defense, I braced for another attack, but it never came. Instead, the dredge dropped the sling and ran to the dead grunt, cradling the body and touching it forehead to forehead, letting out a painful drone.

I knew what I had done. We always knew. Something in me wanted to stay at the gate forever, to die defending something like the grunt had. But I couldn’t bear to look at him and I couldn’t bear to look at her.

At last, I was clear of the city. I was alone. As I walked, the hills leading away from the city gave way to a snowy and steep incline. My legs forced me forward, following the trail Harald and the others had made as they fled, but each step up the hill resounded in my head. The ringing in my ears became unbearable. I turned around to look one final time and my heart cracked at the sight of the rising pillars of flame. Years and years walking the streets, patrolling the walls, drinking myself to sleep, growing camaraderie, watching the world go by. How could I forget what I had seen? How could I let it go? What future was waiting for us? But to live--to Einartoft!

#fiction #The Banner Saga #2 years later

0 notes

magicianmew · 7 years

Text

On the complexity of words in our racialized and colonialized world, and my own liminality...

TW: Discussion of the term “g*psy,” which I know may be a triggering word to some of my American followers in particular. I’ve done my best to tag this. Let me know if I’ve left something out.

So I need to talk about this. I really don’t want to because I feel like I’m going to be attacked for doing so. But this is my life in a super literal way, and I am taking time to process all this, with my cultural background, and my personal history, and my non-belonginess, and all the other super heavy baggage I have, and my society has, with this word and this way of life.

I’ve seen the occasional post on here talking about the culture on Tumblr of sometimes oversimplifying their activism and not understanding the full breadth of certain issues, and I’m kicking myself for it even as I type, but… today I’d like to address the international complexity of the term “gypsy.” Specifically, its use in the UK.

(Oh god, what am I doing sticking my foot in this hornet’s nest…)

All I ask is that you really just read this before you rip my head off, yeah? Please. I need to talk about this.

That word does not mean the same thing here that it means in the US, where I come from.

In America, it’s a pretty negative word to a lot of people of any degree of social consciousness. In America, that word is associated almost exclusively with the Romani people, an extremely marginalized group of POC who’ve been subject to every type of violence in existence, up to and including genocide. It is almost always used as either a slur, or an ignorantly appropriative capitalist tool. They’re the only well-known group of nomadic people Americans are familiar with in relatively modern times (since most nomadic Natives were killed or had their seasonal routes cut off long ago), and naturally, it has therefore remained a very racialized term in America. As a general rule, all nomadic peoples known to Americans are POC who have suffered genocide, sometimes to the point of extinction.

It’s fucking heavy. And that is what my brain still emotionally understands, when I hear that word. I’ve felt, and feel, that ickiness listening to someone use that word carelessly, or as if it were a trendy aesthetic™. This post is hard to write, because I have to use it.

So, Americans, I get this. ‘K? Me too. And Brits, if you’ve ever wondered why this strikes such a chord with Americans, that’s why, and this might be some handy knowledge for you to have when traveling to the US: “gypsy” is not a nice word in the US, and “Traveller” isn’t a term most Americans will recognize. We don’t have any legislation protecting Traveller rights, the way you do (inadequate as they may be). If you want to refer to the Romani, use Romani. If you want to refer to Travellers as a diverse group, use “nomadic people.”

But now I live in the UK. In the UK, “gypsy” is a government-official term, and people refer to themselves and others by this term routinely. And most confusingly, to my American sensibilities, it has little to do with your ethnicity. Even ethnic gypsies are most frequently white British, in the UK (the UK has its own native nomadic populations, especially from Ireland and Scotland). But there are also non-ethnic gypsies. It’s a term that refers more to your mode of living than to your race.

My gypsy neighbors are Irish, English, and Romani. The Irish Travellers and Romani obviously have an ethnic history of nomadism. But the ethnically English do not. He’s a Traveller, legally speaking, and part of larger gypsy society. And here, that is legally and culturally legitimate. He isn’t considered an ethnic minority, the way ethnic Travellers are, but culturally has a home under both terms.

There are other slurs in the UK for Travellers, of course. And there are also people who talk about them in a racist way (*cough* Tories *cough*). If I were to draw a comparison to American linguistics, “gypsy” in the UK is much like “queer” in America. It is simultaneously a neutral and inclusive word, and a word which is often found in the mouth of bigots. It has a complex history that has both highs and lows.

I still prefer to use Traveller, because I’m American and “gypsy” leaves a weird taste in my mouth. But that only works in writing, where it is capitalized. In speech, that term could just as easily mean kids on a gap year, and it isn’t useful for specifying nomadic people. So in speech… the word everyone uses is “gypsy.” This word which gives me the willies is now a normal part of my life. It is hard for me to get used to that. But also, apprehensively positive. What a wonderful community this is. It isn’t any stupid stereotypes. I mean, the dude a couple caravans down from me is a graphic designer. It’s just a really solid community of people who are just… really wonderful.

So… this is a major part of my existence right now. Please remember that Tumblr is an international community. Not everyone you see using that word is a racist throwing out a slur. Some of them aren’t even referring to the Romani. If they’re British, they’re probably more likely to be referring to the Irish, or to people of diverse or unknown ethnic backgrounds.

It may also be something I start talking about more often, because this is now my life. I live on wheels, in a mostly Traveller community. Legally, I’m a “New Traveller” (and the idea of referring to myself that way sends off a degree of appropriative heebjeebies that’s just unbelievable, but that is the fact of the matter). That is, I would be if anyone knew I was here. But the way these things are interacting for me, and how simultaneously uncomfortable and necessary it is to learn about them given my cultural background, means that it is something that is likely to come up. Something I will need to talk about. A consuming part of my life at the moment.

These people have taken me in, in a very real way that pretty much makes me cry when I think about it. They’ve fed me, and kept me warm, and helped me keep this hell shed from tipping over. They’ve gifted me things for my craft – the part of my life this blog is about. I don’t want to avoid talking about them as they talk about themselves, or understanding the way my self-perception is changing as this is happening, for fear I’ll be mistaken for an asshole. It feels like hiding who they proudly are, because the culture I come from has a different history than they do. I don’t live in that culture anymore, and probably never will again. I need to find some way of reconciling the dissonance with the way my life is now.

I don’t think any of this takes away from the complexity of that term. And to all you goddamn Nazis, don’t you dare take this as a reason why it’s ok to fucking harass the Romani, or I swear I will hex the shit out of you. And since the UK tends to follow American trends, I wouldn’t be surprised if that term eventually goes out of vogue.

But today, it is a very different word from its American counterpart, which is essential for me to fully understand in the context of both my own life, and my experience of adopting my new culture as an immigrant. And I want people to understand where I and other people in Britain are coming from when we talk about it. And I feel a need to be understood in my own life right now.

So… This was probably unwise. I’ll take my blows I guess. I’m just reaching into the dark and hoping I’ll find some understanding. This is very much part of what kind of witch I’m becoming, and more broadly, what kind of human I’m becoming.

#whoops I made a discourse

242 notes · View notes

cynthiamwashington · 6 years

Text

The Health Toll of Financial Stress

Sure, this post comes right on the heels of Cyber Monday…but is there ever a perfect time for a message like this? Yes, I run a business, but I still don’t mind kicking the cultural hornet’s nest. Some things don’t change.

But that doesn’t mean there isn’t contradiction. Here I am doing my own holiday shopping today (don’t tell Carrie)—and offering my own deals to those who are interested. The holidays—with all the shopping and parties and prep—are fun. No doubt. Simultaneously, I know financial stress takes a major toll this time of year, and it doesn’t have to be that way.

Estimates for last year’s Christmas gift spending placed the average American in the vicinity of $936—with the average parent spending an additional $422 per child on top of that already princely sum. (Whether that figure still holds true in a family of four or five is debatable.)

And that may not even be the half of it. Holiday dinners, events, decorations, clothing, and trips add to the price tag. The result? More than half of us rack up debt for holiday expenditures, a sizable portion of which will take more than half a year to pay off.

Financial stress carries over past the festivities of the season, and its costs can be much higher than a credit card total.

Financial Stress at The Holidays

Let’s talk numbers. According to the National Retail Federation, U.S. retail sales during the 2015 holiday season surpassed the GDP of 181 other countries. That’s more spending on presents, food and holiday sundries than the combined GDP of countries like South Africa, Sweden and Norway…amounting to a whopping $630+ billion.

Perceived social expectations set the stage. A few years back, a survey of 1000 Americans across all income brackets found that 45% of those polled were under so much financial pressure that they’d prefer to skip the holiday scrabble altogether. Another 45% said they didn’t have enough money set aside to cover holiday expenses.

It gets worse. While 41% of people are unable to survive more than two weeks without a paycheck, 59% of people are carrying debt into the new year. Not surprisingly, a 2015 Healthline survey showed that over 60% of people get stressed out just thinking about the holiday season, with finances being the biggest cause of that stress.

The Health Costs

Even within the Primal community, there’s a tendency to focus on tangible sources of stress—inflammatory foods, toxic compounds in our living environment, etc. Yet, financial woes crop up again and again as one of the most pervasive forms of stress.

A 2008 study found that college students with a debt of $1000 or more were at significantly higher risk of obesity, excess TV viewing, infrequent breakfast consumption, fast food consumption, binge drinking, substance abuse, and lack of exercise.

In another study, financial strain held a particularly strong association with heavy drinking and smoking among elderly men. Further research indicates that smokers with financial stress are less likely to try to quit, less likely to succeed if they do try, and more likely to relapse. Presumably, it’s something of a vicious cycle, with smoking leading to financial strain, which in turn promotes more smoking. Stress can send us into a cul-de-sac of bad habits.

Over time, these stress-justified bad habits are likely to create their own slew of health problems, the most common of which is weight gain. In a study involving 1,355 U.S. men and women, increasing levels of psychosocial stress in the form of “difficulty paying bills” was associated with a higher propensity for weight gain. The mechanisms behind this are well understood, with higher levels of stress leading to the development of “palatable food” (aka junk food) motivation and engagement in overeating to offset the negative emotional effects of stress. This higher energy intake, coupled with a reduction in physical activity, stimulates visceral fat accumulation. The rest is history.

Perhaps most famously, higher levels of stress, both acute and chronic, have been associated with impaired cardiovascular health and life-threatening complications. Research shows that work-related stress, which often goes hand in hand with financial stress, can increase a person’s risk of a first coronary heart disease (CHD) event. Among existing CHD patients, long-term stress can increase the risk of repeat CHD events and mortality. Other studies indicate that psychological stressors can lead to sudden death, myocardial infarction, myocardial ischemia, and wall motion abnormalities.

But that’s just the tip of the iceberg. In the brain, stress undermines well-being by releasing corticosteroid hormones that control neuronal and network responses tied to behavioral adaptation. In acutely stressful scenarios, this process is beneficial to our survival, heightening awareness and honing reflexes. But over the long term, such as is the case in chronic financial strain, these corticosteroid binary control mechanisms can erode mental health and promote brain disease.

In the early days, this detrimental effect of stress on the brain can manifest in impaired cognitive function. For example, male rats exposed to 21 days of restraint stress exhibited both reduced visual and spatial memory, while chronic unpredictable stress can drastically alter the behavior of rats and promote a rapid shift towards habitual tendencies. The mechanisms by which humans respond to stress aren’t all that different.

Then there’s sleep. Even among the elderly, financial stress appears to be a key contributor to poor sleep, with ongoing financial strain correlated with difficulty falling asleep, difficulty staying asleep, and impaired sleep efficiency. Another study involving a wider age range of subjects found that financial strain was associated with decreased sleep quality and lower sleep efficiency.

And if you’re not sleeping well, you’re probably not aging well. Researchers postulate that chronic psychological stress “is significantly associated with higher oxidative stress, lower telomerase activity, and shorter telomere length, which are known determinants of cell senescence and longevity.” In other words, financial stress leads to oxidative stress, which undermines the health and longevity of your cells—making you age faster.

Then there’s all the digestive issues that come with chronic stress. In animal models, stress has been shown to promote the “development of gastric ulcers, altered gastrointestinal motility and ion secretion, and increased intestinal permeability.” Stress also teams up with other pathogenic factors in the GI tract, including H. pylori and NSAIDs, to encourage gastrointestinal disease.

Indeed, the type of stress induced by financial strain has been associated with almost all of the most common chronic digestive diseases, including functional gastrointestinal disorders, inflammatory bowel disease, and gastro-oesophageal reflux disease. So many of us have been there at some point….

Final Thoughts: Sidestepping the Financial Circus

Short of packing the car and whisking the kids away from all civilization, there are plenty of steps we can take to keep budgetary sanity. I’ll share a couple thoughts, and I invite you to offer your own strategies for keeping a handle on the finances as you enjoy the best of the season.

Ditch Debt

With the deceptive ease of credit cards, it’s all too easy to blindly spend and worry about the consequences later. No rocket science here of course, but we can all benefit from figuring what we can afford to buy without borrowing this month, and to stick to that amount. Clarity around financial matters isn’t a killjoy. It just offers the objective facts we have to work with.

Smart shopping, deep discount or consignment bargains, secret Santa exchange, or a one-gift-per-family-member policy can ensure present spending doesn’t break the bank. For the holiday meal, consider taking a drive to the farmgate to purchase your turkey and ham and save a considerable sum.

More importantly, make a point of not using your credit card for your holiday spending— meaning when the cash runs out, the buying stops and there’s no debt accruing. (Anybody still use the old envelope system? Some things shouldn’t ever go out of style.)

If need be—and there’s nothing wrong with hardcore accountability, give your credit cards to a (trusted) friend and tell them not to give it back until after the festivities are truly done and over.

Forget the Crowds

We’ve all been there: a shopping mall packed to the rafters in the weeks leading up to the holidays, filled with people like you desperate to get their last minute gift buying and food acquiring out of the way. It’s not an enjoyable time in anyone’s life, even if there are no budgetary constraints. I know I personally don’t make good decisions in that environment.

My solution is to ditch the crowds altogether and do most of my holiday buying online. It means something to shop from the sanity of your own home and walk away from the computer when you’ve had enough—financially or otherwise. It’s open anytime, so I can research, mull, and make decisions when I’m ready to make them. And let’s be honest…the experience is more pleasant with a glass of wine anyway.

Thanks for reading folks. What’s your strategy for staving off financial stress over the holiday season? Take care.

The post The Health Toll of Financial Stress appeared first on Mark's Daily Apple.

Article source here:Marks’s Daily Apple

0 notes