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(The Flesh Is) Weak
Here’s how you define tragedy:
Childbirth is enough to kill a mother.
Here’s how you define regret:
Screams of pain, and screams of pleasure, are impossible to tell apart.
Here’s how Fluttershy puts her life in danger with just four words:
“I love you, Discord.”
And here’s how you sentence her to death:
“I love you, too.”
Regret, in the air, late at night.
Tragedy, one feels, is about to happen.
Celestia got to Ponyville at noon, and she wished she hadn’t. She felt sick, disgusted, cramped, oppressed. For a moment she was actually scared that something had physically hit her—so strong was her reaction to the town once she arrived.
But, when she checked, she found there was nothing pressed against her chest. Nobody had attacked her. She was perfectly fine.
(Even though it felt like the whole world was trying to drown her).
Celestia didn’t usually travel like this. Ponies came to her instead. But this time, it was different—Twilight Sparkle, whom she loved, had sent a letter. And the letter was clear: Come. Please, come. We need you. She needs you.
Princess Celestia had only read the letter once—that’s all she’d ever needed—and then she had parted, no doubt, no hesitation. Because in her mind, there was a coda, a post-scriptum to the message, that made her fly as fast as she could.
I need you.
That’s what the letter had said, to Celestia. And that’s why she was now in Ponyville, looking for her student, fearing for her life,
(and not being able to breathe)
and wishing it was all her imagination. Even though it wasn’t. Even though it clearly wasn’t.
“Princess!” Twilight opened the Castle doors when Celestia knocked—and while she looked pale, and while there were bags under her eyes, and while she did not smile—her face brightened up when they saw each other. “Oh, Princess Celestia, thank you so much for coming, I—welcome to Ponyville, I’m sorry for calling you like this, but—”
“Twilight Sparkle.” Speaking with courage she did not have, Celestia smiled at Twilight. “You do not need to apologize. As long as you need me, I will come.”
“Yes.” Twilight nodded. Tired, she looked down, on the verge of tears. “Yes. Thank you.” Then, looking up: “We need you. Please.”
And Celestia came in. “I feel it. Something wrong is happening here.”
Not “strange”, she thought,
(and she couldn’t breathe)
but “wrong”.
“It is.” Twilight closed the door, and they walked in. “I was hoping you could help us. I don’t know what to do.” Her eyes looked dead. “I think Fluttershy is in danger. I think… I think she might not make it.”
Celestia frowned. “You know what happened?”
“Yes. Discord.”
The word echoed. It made Celestia stop and stare, the way Twilight said it, because it did not make her sound like a young and bright little princess.
It made her sound old.
And hateful.
(and she couldn’t breathe)
“He did something to Fluttershy,” Twilight continued. “We know that. We don’t know what. He won’t tell us, he turned himself back into stone.”
Celestia frowned. “He turned… himself, you say?”
“Yes.”
“Into stone?”
“Yes. His face is—I don’t think it was pleasant for him, either. He’s not reacting to anything. I’m afraid he might be gone for good.”
Celestia heard the next words, even though Twilight didn’t say them. They sounded like, “and I hope he suffers.”
“Fluttershy, I take,” Celestia said then, “cannot say what is that happened?”
“No. She can’t—she can’t really talk, now. She’s… Princess?” Twilight stopped. Looked at Celestia. “Please, count your teeth.”
A blink. Celestia frowned. “I’m… sorry?”
“I know. It’s weird, but I need to—count your teeth, please. With your tongue. Please.”
Celestia did so. Four tens. Ten fours. “Forty,” she said. “Forty teeth. Why?”
“It’s hard to think around her. I wanted to make sure you knew the exact number, before you… see her. Discord brought her here, before he went away, but we can’t move her. Or touch her. That’s why I called you here. I don’t know what to do.”
(“and I hope he suffers.”)
(and she couldn’t breathe)
Celestia hardened.
“Bring me to her,” she said.
It was a short visit.
Fluttershy was laying on a bed, but the bed was out of sight. Bloated, swollen, she didn’t have a definite shape anymore. She was gigantic, her flesh pulsating and bleeding, spilling all over the floor, swallowing the room whole.
The air was rancid. A yellow mist floated around, sparkling with metallic shine.
Fluttershy didn’t have eyes anymore.
There was only flesh.
Celestia felt her stomach turn upside down. She tried to look away, but there was nowhere else to look at. The walls, the floor, the whole room, it was only Fluttershy, Fluttershy, Fluttershy. Pulsating, bleeding meat, going up and down, breathing, swallowing, spilling all over.
Princess Celestia couldn’t breathe.
(and she couldn’t breathe)
The weight on her shoulders was unbearable, but it did not push down. It pulled, too, and it swerved to the left, and to the right. There was something in the air, something she couldn’t feel, that was pressing against her, compressing her—but also pulling her, inside out. Like there was something growing in every part of her.
(“and I hope he suffers.”)
Celestia hoped it, too.
She left the room when she couldn’t stand it anymore.
There were good news.
“I know what to do, Twilight.”
There were bad news.
“But I am afraid that you are not going to like it.”
Here’s how you define grief:
You can’t help your only daughter.
Discord was outside, by Fluttershy’s window. Celestia visited him once Twilight was left alone to cry and give the others the news.
It’s not like she had to see him, or the statue that had once been him. Celestia could have done everything else first. But there is an order to things, and she felt that this was important enough to follow her heart on the matter.
(“and I hope he suffers.”)
Twilight had said she doubted Discord had enjoyed turning into stone. Now that she could see him, Celestia agreed.
His pose was broken, stilted. His face was warped in the most horrible of grimaces, something that even for him should have been impossible. Pain, his eyes—pain so strong it was clear this was not a carved stone, but a once-living beast that was no more.
“Because,” Celestia said, sitting in front of the statue, observing it, glaring at it, hoping she could melt it with her eyes alone, “you are indeed no more, Discord. You are gone from this land. Forever.”
The statue did not answer.
(and she couldn’t breathe)
Celestia sighed.
“You got her pregnant.”
The statue still did not answer.
Even though she couldn’t hear it, Celestia still knew it—Twilight was crying, now. She was telling her friends, and she was crying. Soon, they would all cry, too. And there was nothing she could do.
“You got Fluttershy pregnant, but that was something she couldn’t survive. Physically. Your body is too different, her body, too fragile—and you did it anyway.” Celestia closed her eyes. “I blame myself for this. I am the one who told her she could help you. I am the one who knew she would. But I did not know this would happen—and, I suppose, I should have known.”
It still felt heavy, the weight on her shoulders, but it was not as heavy as in Fluttershy’s room. Celestia wondered if whatever was left of the pony could even remember that name.
It probably couldn’t.
(“and I hope he suffers.”)
“For that, I am sorry,” Celestia said, looking again at the statue that had once been Discord. “But you should have known better, too. It is not a crime to love, and it will never be. And it is hard, sometimes, not to love them. I know this.” She swallowed. “I know this. Better than anyone else.”
Twilight was crying, now. Broken. She had lost something that she could never take back. She had known loss, and she would never forget it.
Celestia knew this, in her heart.
It hurt.
“But as much as we love them,” she said. “As much as we want to, we can’t. Because we are immortal. And they are not. You, Discord—you are so much more than a mere pony. You are chaos incarnate. You are a spirit of despair, of disharmony. You are something so infinitely complex, so wonderfully powerful, and still.”
Celestia smiled, in spite of herself.
“And still, you fell for her.”
She counted her teeth, now, once again—just in case. Four tens, ten fours…
…plus one.
“Forty-one teeth,” she said out loud. “Forty-one teeth, one more than before. It grew when I looked at Fluttershy—no. When I got close to her.” She took a deep breath. “Can you feel it, Discord? How heavy the air is? How there’s something pulling from everypony, pushing them down?”
The statue didn’t answer.
“There’s something growing.” Celestia got up, she got closer to Discord—and she caressed the old beast’s cheek. “There’s something growing in Fluttershy, but she alone can’t contain it. And it’s so big that just its shadow is enough to weigh Ponyville down. It’s so great, her presence clouds your mind, and it makes you grow—inside and out. She will not last long.”
The stone’s cheek felt rough, and cold to the touch.
“I do not blame you for this,” she said.
She did not know if she meant it.
(and she couldn’t breathe)
She wanted to think she did.
“It was a tragedy. I am sure you will always regret it. But sometimes regret is not enough. You fell for her—and you killed her, Discord. Because she’s a mere mortal, and you are not. You didn’t mean to. And I am sorry.”
Celestia turned around, and left. But in her head, she kept talking to the statue, as she climbed up the stairs.
“And now you’re gone,” she imagined herself saying—and in a way, that was enough. “And now you’re gone, forever, and you’re not going to return. I don’t know where you are. That statue is empty, I do know that much. And I need to stay here, and take care of this. Twilight will not recover. At least, not for a long time.”
She was in front of Fluttershy’s room, now, the door closed in front of her. The air smelled rancid again. Celestia felt pain. But she still stood there.
(and she couldn’t breathe)
“For that, Discord, I do blame you. I will forever blame you.”
She opened the door.
Fluttershy’s presence hit her with full force—but Celestia stood tall. She flashed her horn. She cast a spell no mortal would ever know.
And Fluttershy disappeared, and the weight went away. The yellow mist, the rancid smell, the weight on everybody’s shoulders—as if it had never existed.
“I wonder if you knew I would do this, once you saw what you did to her,” Celestia said, in her mind. “Maybe you went there with her.”
Celestia turned around. She had to talk to Twilight. The matter was solved, and Fluttershy was no more.
(“and I hope he suffers.”)
“I am sorry, Discord. For having you and Fluttershy meet. For causing this. But I hope you suffer, too.”
The end of all things is like a void. It’s white, and it’s black, and it’s both none of that. It can’t be imagined. There’s nothing to imagine.
Discord was there.
There was a flash.
Fluttershy was there.
The thing that had once been Fluttershy—now just a mass of flesh, and blood, and pulsating meat. The yellow mist appeared again, and it filled the void. The rancid smell came, and it was there to stay.
Her presence was as powerful as always. Discord felt it—he grew teeth, and hooves, and legs, and heads. He grew inside and out, all over again. A fully-fleshed new himself came to be, and from that one another came. An endless supply of Discords, each one growing from inside the last, like a flower blooming time and time again.
The pain was indescribable, but Discord never left her side.
And the end of all things itself felt the weight on its shoulders. The pulling, the pushing, in all directions. It compacted into itself. It grew larger at the same time. It was everything and everywhere in nothing and in nowhere.
The thing that had once been Fluttershy screamed.
Its child came to be.
And the end of all things shivered, and couldn’t contain it anymore. And it became infinitesimal, and the pressure was impossible—and then it exploded, and the end of all things became the start of all things.
The newborn baby cried.
And this is how that cry sounded:
Celestia left Ponyville. Twilight needed time to heal. Celestia needed time to heal, too.
This had been a reminder.
She loved Twilight Sparkle. She always had. She always would. But that love would never come to fruition, and while Celestia would never forget—she would come to terms with it.
Because mortals are not to meddle with immortals.
Somewhere else, at the end of all things, Fluttershy gave birth to the universe.
And now, Celestia could finally breathe.
(But she wished she couldn’t.)
Childbirth is enough to kill a mother.
Here’s how you define regret:
Screams of pain, and screams of pleasure, are impossible to tell apart.
Here’s how Fluttershy puts her life in danger with just four words:
“I love you, Discord.”
And here’s how you sentence her to death:
“I love you, too.”
Regret, in the air, late at night.
Tragedy, one feels, is about to happen.
Celestia got to Ponyville at noon, and she wished she hadn’t. She felt sick, disgusted, cramped, oppressed. For a moment she was actually scared that something had physically hit her—so strong was her reaction to the town once she arrived.
But, when she checked, she found there was nothing pressed against her chest. Nobody had attacked her. She was perfectly fine.
(Even though it felt like the whole world was trying to drown her).
Celestia didn’t usually travel like this. Ponies came to her instead. But this time, it was different—Twilight Sparkle, whom she loved, had sent a letter. And the letter was clear: Come. Please, come. We need you. She needs you.
Princess Celestia had only read the letter once—that’s all she’d ever needed—and then she had parted, no doubt, no hesitation. Because in her mind, there was a coda, a post-scriptum to the message, that made her fly as fast as she could.
I need you.
That’s what the letter had said, to Celestia. And that’s why she was now in Ponyville, looking for her student, fearing for her life,
(and not being able to breathe)
and wishing it was all her imagination. Even though it wasn’t. Even though it clearly wasn’t.
“Princess!” Twilight opened the Castle doors when Celestia knocked—and while she looked pale, and while there were bags under her eyes, and while she did not smile—her face brightened up when they saw each other. “Oh, Princess Celestia, thank you so much for coming, I—welcome to Ponyville, I’m sorry for calling you like this, but—”
“Twilight Sparkle.” Speaking with courage she did not have, Celestia smiled at Twilight. “You do not need to apologize. As long as you need me, I will come.”
“Yes.” Twilight nodded. Tired, she looked down, on the verge of tears. “Yes. Thank you.” Then, looking up: “We need you. Please.”
And Celestia came in. “I feel it. Something wrong is happening here.”
Not “strange”, she thought,
(and she couldn’t breathe)
but “wrong”.
“It is.” Twilight closed the door, and they walked in. “I was hoping you could help us. I don’t know what to do.” Her eyes looked dead. “I think Fluttershy is in danger. I think… I think she might not make it.”
Celestia frowned. “You know what happened?”
“Yes. Discord.”
The word echoed. It made Celestia stop and stare, the way Twilight said it, because it did not make her sound like a young and bright little princess.
It made her sound old.
And hateful.
(and she couldn’t breathe)
“He did something to Fluttershy,” Twilight continued. “We know that. We don’t know what. He won’t tell us, he turned himself back into stone.”
Celestia frowned. “He turned… himself, you say?”
“Yes.”
“Into stone?”
“Yes. His face is—I don’t think it was pleasant for him, either. He’s not reacting to anything. I’m afraid he might be gone for good.”
Celestia heard the next words, even though Twilight didn’t say them. They sounded like, “and I hope he suffers.”
“Fluttershy, I take,” Celestia said then, “cannot say what is that happened?”
“No. She can’t—she can’t really talk, now. She’s… Princess?” Twilight stopped. Looked at Celestia. “Please, count your teeth.”
A blink. Celestia frowned. “I’m… sorry?”
“I know. It’s weird, but I need to—count your teeth, please. With your tongue. Please.”
Celestia did so. Four tens. Ten fours. “Forty,” she said. “Forty teeth. Why?”
“It’s hard to think around her. I wanted to make sure you knew the exact number, before you… see her. Discord brought her here, before he went away, but we can’t move her. Or touch her. That’s why I called you here. I don’t know what to do.”
(“and I hope he suffers.”)
(and she couldn’t breathe)
Celestia hardened.
“Bring me to her,” she said.
It was a short visit.
Fluttershy was laying on a bed, but the bed was out of sight. Bloated, swollen, she didn’t have a definite shape anymore. She was gigantic, her flesh pulsating and bleeding, spilling all over the floor, swallowing the room whole.
The air was rancid. A yellow mist floated around, sparkling with metallic shine.
Fluttershy didn’t have eyes anymore.
There was only flesh.
Celestia felt her stomach turn upside down. She tried to look away, but there was nowhere else to look at. The walls, the floor, the whole room, it was only Fluttershy, Fluttershy, Fluttershy. Pulsating, bleeding meat, going up and down, breathing, swallowing, spilling all over.
Princess Celestia couldn’t breathe.
(and she couldn’t breathe)
The weight on her shoulders was unbearable, but it did not push down. It pulled, too, and it swerved to the left, and to the right. There was something in the air, something she couldn’t feel, that was pressing against her, compressing her—but also pulling her, inside out. Like there was something growing in every part of her.
(“and I hope he suffers.”)
Celestia hoped it, too.
She left the room when she couldn’t stand it anymore.
There were good news.
“I know what to do, Twilight.”
There were bad news.
“But I am afraid that you are not going to like it.”
Here’s how you define grief:
You can’t help your only daughter.
Discord was outside, by Fluttershy’s window. Celestia visited him once Twilight was left alone to cry and give the others the news.
It’s not like she had to see him, or the statue that had once been him. Celestia could have done everything else first. But there is an order to things, and she felt that this was important enough to follow her heart on the matter.
(“and I hope he suffers.”)
Twilight had said she doubted Discord had enjoyed turning into stone. Now that she could see him, Celestia agreed.
His pose was broken, stilted. His face was warped in the most horrible of grimaces, something that even for him should have been impossible. Pain, his eyes—pain so strong it was clear this was not a carved stone, but a once-living beast that was no more.
“Because,” Celestia said, sitting in front of the statue, observing it, glaring at it, hoping she could melt it with her eyes alone, “you are indeed no more, Discord. You are gone from this land. Forever.”
The statue did not answer.
(and she couldn’t breathe)
Celestia sighed.
“You got her pregnant.”
The statue still did not answer.
Even though she couldn’t hear it, Celestia still knew it—Twilight was crying, now. She was telling her friends, and she was crying. Soon, they would all cry, too. And there was nothing she could do.
“You got Fluttershy pregnant, but that was something she couldn’t survive. Physically. Your body is too different, her body, too fragile—and you did it anyway.” Celestia closed her eyes. “I blame myself for this. I am the one who told her she could help you. I am the one who knew she would. But I did not know this would happen—and, I suppose, I should have known.”
It still felt heavy, the weight on her shoulders, but it was not as heavy as in Fluttershy’s room. Celestia wondered if whatever was left of the pony could even remember that name.
It probably couldn’t.
(“and I hope he suffers.”)
“For that, I am sorry,” Celestia said, looking again at the statue that had once been Discord. “But you should have known better, too. It is not a crime to love, and it will never be. And it is hard, sometimes, not to love them. I know this.” She swallowed. “I know this. Better than anyone else.”
Twilight was crying, now. Broken. She had lost something that she could never take back. She had known loss, and she would never forget it.
Celestia knew this, in her heart.
It hurt.
“But as much as we love them,” she said. “As much as we want to, we can’t. Because we are immortal. And they are not. You, Discord—you are so much more than a mere pony. You are chaos incarnate. You are a spirit of despair, of disharmony. You are something so infinitely complex, so wonderfully powerful, and still.”
Celestia smiled, in spite of herself.
“And still, you fell for her.”
She counted her teeth, now, once again—just in case. Four tens, ten fours…
…plus one.
“Forty-one teeth,” she said out loud. “Forty-one teeth, one more than before. It grew when I looked at Fluttershy—no. When I got close to her.” She took a deep breath. “Can you feel it, Discord? How heavy the air is? How there’s something pulling from everypony, pushing them down?”
The statue didn’t answer.
“There’s something growing.” Celestia got up, she got closer to Discord—and she caressed the old beast’s cheek. “There’s something growing in Fluttershy, but she alone can’t contain it. And it’s so big that just its shadow is enough to weigh Ponyville down. It’s so great, her presence clouds your mind, and it makes you grow—inside and out. She will not last long.”
The stone’s cheek felt rough, and cold to the touch.
“I do not blame you for this,” she said.
She did not know if she meant it.
(and she couldn’t breathe)
She wanted to think she did.
“It was a tragedy. I am sure you will always regret it. But sometimes regret is not enough. You fell for her—and you killed her, Discord. Because she’s a mere mortal, and you are not. You didn’t mean to. And I am sorry.”
Celestia turned around, and left. But in her head, she kept talking to the statue, as she climbed up the stairs.
“And now you’re gone,” she imagined herself saying—and in a way, that was enough. “And now you’re gone, forever, and you’re not going to return. I don’t know where you are. That statue is empty, I do know that much. And I need to stay here, and take care of this. Twilight will not recover. At least, not for a long time.”
She was in front of Fluttershy’s room, now, the door closed in front of her. The air smelled rancid again. Celestia felt pain. But she still stood there.
(and she couldn’t breathe)
“For that, Discord, I do blame you. I will forever blame you.”
She opened the door.
Fluttershy’s presence hit her with full force—but Celestia stood tall. She flashed her horn. She cast a spell no mortal would ever know.
And Fluttershy disappeared, and the weight went away. The yellow mist, the rancid smell, the weight on everybody’s shoulders—as if it had never existed.
“I wonder if you knew I would do this, once you saw what you did to her,” Celestia said, in her mind. “Maybe you went there with her.”
Celestia turned around. She had to talk to Twilight. The matter was solved, and Fluttershy was no more.
(“and I hope he suffers.”)
“I am sorry, Discord. For having you and Fluttershy meet. For causing this. But I hope you suffer, too.”
The end of all things is like a void. It’s white, and it’s black, and it’s both none of that. It can’t be imagined. There’s nothing to imagine.
Discord was there.
There was a flash.
Fluttershy was there.
The thing that had once been Fluttershy—now just a mass of flesh, and blood, and pulsating meat. The yellow mist appeared again, and it filled the void. The rancid smell came, and it was there to stay.
Her presence was as powerful as always. Discord felt it—he grew teeth, and hooves, and legs, and heads. He grew inside and out, all over again. A fully-fleshed new himself came to be, and from that one another came. An endless supply of Discords, each one growing from inside the last, like a flower blooming time and time again.
The pain was indescribable, but Discord never left her side.
And the end of all things itself felt the weight on its shoulders. The pulling, the pushing, in all directions. It compacted into itself. It grew larger at the same time. It was everything and everywhere in nothing and in nowhere.
The thing that had once been Fluttershy screamed.
Its child came to be.
And the end of all things shivered, and couldn’t contain it anymore. And it became infinitesimal, and the pressure was impossible—and then it exploded, and the end of all things became the start of all things.
The newborn baby cried.
And this is how that cry sounded:
Let There Be Light.
Celestia left Ponyville. Twilight needed time to heal. Celestia needed time to heal, too.
This had been a reminder.
She loved Twilight Sparkle. She always had. She always would. But that love would never come to fruition, and while Celestia would never forget—she would come to terms with it.
Because mortals are not to meddle with immortals.
Somewhere else, at the end of all things, Fluttershy gave birth to the universe.
And now, Celestia could finally breathe.
(But she wished she couldn’t.)
Pics
Ah, only six stories in and I already found a favourite. That was quick.
The style won me over quickly. It kept the pace nice and speedy while giving little tidbits of information. Very efficient and proof that you can weave a compelling narrative without going overboard in the prose (something which I should learn some time)
Plot wise, I wonder why Discord never thought of using some sort of contraceptive. I mean, if he was well aware of the risk, why not take a few steps to prevent the worst possible scenario from happening? From the story, I get the feeling he didn't want things to turn out the way they did, so why not explore a few alternatives before doing the non-euclidean tango?
Also, one last thing:
This... This actually worries me, author. If you pay enough attention, it is quite possible to tell a scream of pain from a scream of pleasure. I'd know, I've tortured quite a lot of people.
The style won me over quickly. It kept the pace nice and speedy while giving little tidbits of information. Very efficient and proof that you can weave a compelling narrative without going overboard in the prose (something which I should learn some time)
Plot wise, I wonder why Discord never thought of using some sort of contraceptive. I mean, if he was well aware of the risk, why not take a few steps to prevent the worst possible scenario from happening? From the story, I get the feeling he didn't want things to turn out the way they did, so why not explore a few alternatives before doing the non-euclidean tango?
Also, one last thing:
Screams of pain, and screams of pleasure, are impossible to tell apart.
This... This actually worries me, author. If you pay enough attention, it is quite possible to tell a scream of pain from a scream of pleasure. I'd know, I've tortured quite a lot of people.
My synopsis:
Fluttershy is an eldritch horror now. It’s Discord’s fault, and Celestia has mixed feelings on the matter.
Overall thoughts:
A lovecraftian mood piece? Not normally my thing.
It reads well enough, but it only nominally held my attention. I wouldn't have been overly disappointed if I had to stop partway and never finish it. I think the teen rating hampers this from getting properly creepy enough.
A simple premise with – not a veneer but perhaps timber cladding – of depth stretched over it.
+
Celestia comes across as appropriately sympathetic-but-sadly-detached as an immortal. Ineffable, I think.
Discord has committed an unforgivable sin, but in his place I might easily do the same. His mistake is so relatable, a very human crime for a very inhuman entity.
It avoids being too maudlin, too overblown or purple. This is greater praise than I feel it sounds. It would have been easy to over-do things and sink the whole thing into quagmire, but that never happens.
I was dragged through the entire thing, even though I suspected immediately – was told, frankly – the central concept and only had those suspicions confirmed. Morbid fascination? I think that's probably the correct tone for this sort of story, but nothing surprised me at all.
Technically it's pretty good. Nice and smooth, excepting your use of parentheses: which I hated. The gross bits are pretty gross, perhaps it's impossible to do this sort of thing any real justice without breaking the rating.
-
It’s a sad piece, but it’s a restrained sadness. Because it’s told from Celestia’s point of view, we see it as she does; somewhat faintly, almost resigned.
I think I would have liked more-purple prose at times. Eldritch horror should make my skin crawl and my stomach twist. I read most of this thinking “oh, yeah, of course” and sighing almost apathetically at the mess they're in. But I never really thought "my gods, how terrible, I think I need a bucket". I think this can be done without just slapping gore around.
Some phrase choices didn’t ring true to me.
I really didn’t like the use of parentheses. Try italics?
I think the opening phrases somewhat spoil the premise. Nothing terribly unexpected happened after the first horizontal break. You may have sabotaged the work by telling me what's happening so early.
Rating:
Go big or go home.
I do wish this were more acutely bittersweet. But it plays like this: Discord has done something stupid, Celestia spends the entire story faintly thinking ‘I told you so, idiot’. Because of the way it's told, I never feel all that sorry for Discord. I never feel all that sorry for Fluttershy either, and frankly that's a little tragic in it's own right. Maybe the fault here is with me?
It wasn't bad. I don't have much else to say. I wanted to feel worse for Flutters. And maybe Discord. Or better, if they'd scraped a happier ending out of this – somehow. This seemed to sit in a terrible middle-ground where I just sort of glossed over it and nothing really stuck. It provides an interesting insight into the way Celestia thinks, perhaps, but she comes off as a bit cold and so intentionally-detached that I end up feeling the same way. Perhaps that's a triumph of the writing, if a pyrrhic one?
Fluttershy is an eldritch horror now. It’s Discord’s fault, and Celestia has mixed feelings on the matter.
Overall thoughts:
A lovecraftian mood piece? Not normally my thing.
It reads well enough, but it only nominally held my attention. I wouldn't have been overly disappointed if I had to stop partway and never finish it. I think the teen rating hampers this from getting properly creepy enough.
A simple premise with – not a veneer but perhaps timber cladding – of depth stretched over it.
+
Celestia comes across as appropriately sympathetic-but-sadly-detached as an immortal. Ineffable, I think.
Discord has committed an unforgivable sin, but in his place I might easily do the same. His mistake is so relatable, a very human crime for a very inhuman entity.
It avoids being too maudlin, too overblown or purple. This is greater praise than I feel it sounds. It would have been easy to over-do things and sink the whole thing into quagmire, but that never happens.
I was dragged through the entire thing, even though I suspected immediately – was told, frankly – the central concept and only had those suspicions confirmed. Morbid fascination? I think that's probably the correct tone for this sort of story, but nothing surprised me at all.
Technically it's pretty good. Nice and smooth, excepting your use of parentheses: which I hated. The gross bits are pretty gross, perhaps it's impossible to do this sort of thing any real justice without breaking the rating.
-
It’s a sad piece, but it’s a restrained sadness. Because it’s told from Celestia’s point of view, we see it as she does; somewhat faintly, almost resigned.
I think I would have liked more-purple prose at times. Eldritch horror should make my skin crawl and my stomach twist. I read most of this thinking “oh, yeah, of course” and sighing almost apathetically at the mess they're in. But I never really thought "my gods, how terrible, I think I need a bucket". I think this can be done without just slapping gore around.
Some phrase choices didn’t ring true to me.
I really didn’t like the use of parentheses. Try italics?
I think the opening phrases somewhat spoil the premise. Nothing terribly unexpected happened after the first horizontal break. You may have sabotaged the work by telling me what's happening so early.
Rating:
Go big or go home.
I do wish this were more acutely bittersweet. But it plays like this: Discord has done something stupid, Celestia spends the entire story faintly thinking ‘I told you so, idiot’. Because of the way it's told, I never feel all that sorry for Discord. I never feel all that sorry for Fluttershy either, and frankly that's a little tragic in it's own right. Maybe the fault here is with me?
It wasn't bad. I don't have much else to say. I wanted to feel worse for Flutters. And maybe Discord. Or better, if they'd scraped a happier ending out of this – somehow. This seemed to sit in a terrible middle-ground where I just sort of glossed over it and nothing really stuck. It provides an interesting insight into the way Celestia thinks, perhaps, but she comes off as a bit cold and so intentionally-detached that I end up feeling the same way. Perhaps that's a triumph of the writing, if a pyrrhic one?
On a first read, I liked this. You did a good job of delivering just enough detail to keep us interested and wanting to know more, and you handled Celestia's emotions as they related to Discord and Fluttershy well.
On contemplation, however, there are a few things that don't quite hold up as well as you might have intended.
The first of these: You're trying to make this story a tragedy, but you haven't quite done the work to establish it. It's sad, but it's not tragic.
The thing that defines a tragedy, as opposed to a sad story, is that in a tragedy, the bad things that happen are the result of the characters' own mistakes, and they make those mistakes because of their particular flaws. Pride is a common flaw for tragic characters, but far from universal; the one you seem to have gone for is impulsiveness, which works for Discord — but I'm not sure I buy it as much from Fluttershy, and you need both to really make it work. (I might accept passivity for Fluttershy, except that doesn't quite square with her being the first one to say "I love you". Which means I'm not clear on her flaw. And she was part of the decision to have sex, so she has to have had one.)
With that in mind, "Childbirth is enough to kill a mother" isn't tragic, unless they should have known ahead of time that it would happen, and you haven't indicated that they did. It's a dark form of situational irony, in that the act of bringing life into the world can also take it out, but that's not the same thing.
Another problem comes from the line, "Because mortals are not to meddle with immortals." It's a good line on its own, but it doesn't fit the specific context you're putting it in: You've set your story after Twilight's ascension, so you're implying that being an alicorn is not a sufficient condition for immortality. This is an uncommon position to take, and there's not really any evidence to support it (certainly less than the alternative).
The line would work better in reference to Celestia and just about anypony else, even pre-ascension Twilight (though that runs into a different problem, namely, fitting it into the timeline — Fluttershy and Discord's relationship isn't that far along by the time Twilight gets her wings). As is, though, it's not a good justification for why Celestia won't reciprocate Twilight's desires. If you want Twilight to still be mortal after becoming an alicorn, make that clearer.
I still like this, and it'll likely be towards the top of my slate, but I think there are ways to make it closer to what you intended.
On contemplation, however, there are a few things that don't quite hold up as well as you might have intended.
The first of these: You're trying to make this story a tragedy, but you haven't quite done the work to establish it. It's sad, but it's not tragic.
The thing that defines a tragedy, as opposed to a sad story, is that in a tragedy, the bad things that happen are the result of the characters' own mistakes, and they make those mistakes because of their particular flaws. Pride is a common flaw for tragic characters, but far from universal; the one you seem to have gone for is impulsiveness, which works for Discord — but I'm not sure I buy it as much from Fluttershy, and you need both to really make it work. (I might accept passivity for Fluttershy, except that doesn't quite square with her being the first one to say "I love you". Which means I'm not clear on her flaw. And she was part of the decision to have sex, so she has to have had one.)
With that in mind, "Childbirth is enough to kill a mother" isn't tragic, unless they should have known ahead of time that it would happen, and you haven't indicated that they did. It's a dark form of situational irony, in that the act of bringing life into the world can also take it out, but that's not the same thing.
Another problem comes from the line, "Because mortals are not to meddle with immortals." It's a good line on its own, but it doesn't fit the specific context you're putting it in: You've set your story after Twilight's ascension, so you're implying that being an alicorn is not a sufficient condition for immortality. This is an uncommon position to take, and there's not really any evidence to support it (certainly less than the alternative).
The line would work better in reference to Celestia and just about anypony else, even pre-ascension Twilight (though that runs into a different problem, namely, fitting it into the timeline — Fluttershy and Discord's relationship isn't that far along by the time Twilight gets her wings). As is, though, it's not a good justification for why Celestia won't reciprocate Twilight's desires. If you want Twilight to still be mortal after becoming an alicorn, make that clearer.
I still like this, and it'll likely be towards the top of my slate, but I think there are ways to make it closer to what you intended.
Probably the strongest part of the story for me was the voicing, which fit the kind of understated tragedy theme.
I'm not sure about the (parentheses) sections, though. They do sort of go with the narrative style, but I also found myself distracted by wondering who was saying them. Fluttershy?
Good use of detail. Generally sparse, but such that the details used stood out more (teeth, smell).
The characterization seemed solid enough; at least nothing jumped out at me from it.
Plot was relatively straightforward; no big twists or turns, but it does a good job exploring the situation. That said, it's not flawless - >>TrumpetofDoom already pointed out the danger of assuming mortality to Twilight, but this particular problem also seems to stem more from reproduction than affection, and given that they're both mares...
Flaws aside, it got the job done, and gave me the feels - a minor case of sad, to be precise.
I'm not sure about the (parentheses) sections, though. They do sort of go with the narrative style, but I also found myself distracted by wondering who was saying them. Fluttershy?
Good use of detail. Generally sparse, but such that the details used stood out more (teeth, smell).
The characterization seemed solid enough; at least nothing jumped out at me from it.
Plot was relatively straightforward; no big twists or turns, but it does a good job exploring the situation. That said, it's not flawless - >>TrumpetofDoom already pointed out the danger of assuming mortality to Twilight, but this particular problem also seems to stem more from reproduction than affection, and given that they're both mares...
Flaws aside, it got the job done, and gave me the feels - a minor case of sad, to be precise.
This is great. I don't see the flaws other reviewers have commented on. I think it's almost perfect as-is, but it could use some proofing and maybe a bit slower pace to some of the descriptions—that would add substantially to the mood.
Not much else to say that hasn't been said before. I honestly wish I had gotten to this story earlier, so that I could have given some original criticism. >>ToXikyogHurt already said most of what I think needs being said.
I did very much enjoy reading the story, parentheses a side. A nice bit of kefka-isk lovecraftian body horror never goes wrong with me. My only complaint is that I've seen Concepts like this - it's always Fluttershy isn't it?- done better. And I think there was one too many line breaks. It kept distracting me from the narrative, and pulling me out of the story. Other than that, very well written.
This is probably going to get one of my top spots.
I did very much enjoy reading the story, parentheses a side. A nice bit of kefka-isk lovecraftian body horror never goes wrong with me. My only complaint is that I've seen Concepts like this - it's always Fluttershy isn't it?- done better. And I think there was one too many line breaks. It kept distracting me from the narrative, and pulling me out of the story. Other than that, very well written.
This is probably going to get one of my top spots.
>>Lamplighter
Don't let me stop you adding detail, or putting your own spin on the good and the bad. I want to be a voice, not the only voice.
Don't let me stop you adding detail, or putting your own spin on the good and the bad. I want to be a voice, not the only voice.
>>ToXikyogHurt
Don't worry, I said as much as I think needs being said. I wasn't lamenting the fact of not being able to give criticism. Just that after reading your comment, I realized that you had noted upon every point that I wanted to make. I think that your feelings on this story were so close to mine, that I didn't simply want to be echoing them.
Not breaking anonymity, because you've made quite a few reviews, but even your critique of my story was exactly what I felt it was lacking as well.
Don't worry, I said as much as I think needs being said. I wasn't lamenting the fact of not being able to give criticism. Just that after reading your comment, I realized that you had noted upon every point that I wanted to make. I think that your feelings on this story were so close to mine, that I didn't simply want to be echoing them.
Not breaking anonymity, because you've made quite a few reviews, but even your critique of my story was exactly what I felt it was lacking as well.
I want to say something productive and witty, but I need a cigarette and a cuddle after that mind fucking you just gave me.
Genre: (wake me up) Wake Me Up Inside (I can’t wake up) Wake Me Up Inside...
Thoughts: HOLY CRAP we get a horror piece. TBH I didn’t see this as “tragedy,” likely due to some of the consent/knowledge issues other reviewers have raised. I think it even manages to avoid being “sad” in the grandest possible sense, because something is clearly not... finished at the end.
I see it more like horror. Discord and Fluttershy have uncorked The Hanky-Panky That Mare Was Not Meant To Know, and the end result is scarier than a litter of squid-faced babies shouting, “Ia! Ia! Fluttercord fhtagn!”. The concept that Fluttershy would give birth to a universe is frickin’ terrifying, and original, and I love how the formatting supports the big reveal of it. Is there a principle like, “in good horror there’s nothing scarier than white space when you know more words are coming?” Cuz if there isn’t, there should be.
BUT WAIT! THERE ARE PROBLEMS!!. Or something. TBH I wasn’t super-jazzed about how 100% of the responsibility for the pregnancy seemed to be saddled on Discord. That’s something that I feel could be addressed without a ton of effort or rework, though. It might even make it more legitimately tragic for us to see a little more of what these two star-crossed lovebirds had in mind when they decided it was time to paint a room yellow. (Like... in the sense of gender-noncommittal baby room colors.)
Regardless, though, this provides an incredibly creepy atmosphere in a neat little package carrying a lot of oomph. How much oomph, you say?
Tier: Top Contender
Thoughts: HOLY CRAP we get a horror piece. TBH I didn’t see this as “tragedy,” likely due to some of the consent/knowledge issues other reviewers have raised. I think it even manages to avoid being “sad” in the grandest possible sense, because something is clearly not... finished at the end.
I see it more like horror. Discord and Fluttershy have uncorked The Hanky-Panky That Mare Was Not Meant To Know, and the end result is scarier than a litter of squid-faced babies shouting, “Ia! Ia! Fluttercord fhtagn!”. The concept that Fluttershy would give birth to a universe is frickin’ terrifying, and original, and I love how the formatting supports the big reveal of it. Is there a principle like, “in good horror there’s nothing scarier than white space when you know more words are coming?” Cuz if there isn’t, there should be.
BUT WAIT! THERE ARE PROBLEMS!!. Or something. TBH I wasn’t super-jazzed about how 100% of the responsibility for the pregnancy seemed to be saddled on Discord. That’s something that I feel could be addressed without a ton of effort or rework, though. It might even make it more legitimately tragic for us to see a little more of what these two star-crossed lovebirds had in mind when they decided it was time to paint a room yellow. (Like... in the sense of gender-noncommittal baby room colors.)
Regardless, though, this provides an incredibly creepy atmosphere in a neat little package carrying a lot of oomph. How much oomph, you say?
Tier: Top Contender
The writing in this is exceptional, and the story told is subtle and moving. But elements of that story don't quite jive with me, like the implication that Flutterblob became Flutterbang and is the origin of the Biblical creation myth -- like, what? And Celestia's implied romantic feelings for Twilight Sparkle, though thematically appropriate, come across as gratuitous.
The latter point is one that I could overlook in another writeoff, but after Monsters... I don't think I'm capable of not finding the parallel between the two, even if it's executed differently.
This was top on my preliminary ballot, and unless something changes in the finals, it might just ride out the rest of the round up there. So, you know, good work, 'n stuff.
The latter point is one that I could overlook in another writeoff, but after Monsters... I don't think I'm capable of not finding the parallel between the two, even if it's executed differently.
This was top on my preliminary ballot, and unless something changes in the finals, it might just ride out the rest of the round up there. So, you know, good work, 'n stuff.
Blah, blah, audio, etc.
https://drive.google.com/open?id=1OsByZv1ibAvX2lr13hXeGKf_3BdTe059
https://drive.google.com/open?id=1OsByZv1ibAvX2lr13hXeGKf_3BdTe059
>>TrumpetofDoom
Okay, this is meta-criticism, but it's a serious problem.
You're telling the author what you think they were doing -- you could be entirely wrong, and I have good reason to believe you are, since the only reason to genuinely think this is a tragedy is a throwaway in the first four lines which seems to mostly be there for poetic purposes -- but then explain why they're wrong at doing the thing you think they're doing.
it reads;
When, really, it's very possible the reason they didn't actually succeed at being the thing you're telling them they are is that it's not what they were trying to be. Maybe the reason this story fails as a tragedy is that it's not a tragedy?
You make very concrete, definite assumptions about the author's intentions that I just don't see in the work itself, and your opinion seems to hinge on it. I would advise, in future; "IF the author were trying to accomplish this-"
Also, Twilight being immortal isn't canon. Hell, Word of God might even contradict it; "Twilight won't outlive her friends" being the swing-both-ways phrase.
Okay, this is meta-criticism, but it's a serious problem.
The first of these: You're trying to make this story a tragedy, but you haven't quite done the work to establish it. It's sad, but it's not tragic.
You're telling the author what you think they were doing -- you could be entirely wrong, and I have good reason to believe you are, since the only reason to genuinely think this is a tragedy is a throwaway in the first four lines which seems to mostly be there for poetic purposes -- but then explain why they're wrong at doing the thing you think they're doing.
it reads;
"I will tell the author what they're trying to do, and I will tell them how they failed at it"
When, really, it's very possible the reason they didn't actually succeed at being the thing you're telling them they are is that it's not what they were trying to be. Maybe the reason this story fails as a tragedy is that it's not a tragedy?
You make very concrete, definite assumptions about the author's intentions that I just don't see in the work itself, and your opinion seems to hinge on it. I would advise, in future; "IF the author were trying to accomplish this-"
Remember: when people tell you something's wrong or doesn't work, they are almost always right. When they tell you exactly what's wrong and how to fix it, they are almost always wrong.
Neil Gaiman
Also, Twilight being immortal isn't canon. Hell, Word of God might even contradict it; "Twilight won't outlive her friends" being the swing-both-ways phrase.
This is excellent. I'm only about halfway through my finalist slate, but so far this is an easy #1.
The framing of this story is very unusual, from the way it handles breaks and whitespace to the use of (parenthesis). Going into it, I expected not to like it, as I usually find formatting-based framing devices to be overly gimmicky. But here, it absolutely worked, and was a critical part of establishing a distinct narrator voice. The flow of the story makes the off beat (parenthesis) remarks feel entirely appropriate, and despite the unusual structure, it remains easy to read and understand. The story itself, while simple in concept, is told with a remarkable amount of color and feeling, and it sucked me in all the way to the last word.
Whoever wrote this, thank you! This was a pleasure to read.
The framing of this story is very unusual, from the way it handles breaks and whitespace to the use of (parenthesis). Going into it, I expected not to like it, as I usually find formatting-based framing devices to be overly gimmicky. But here, it absolutely worked, and was a critical part of establishing a distinct narrator voice. The flow of the story makes the off beat (parenthesis) remarks feel entirely appropriate, and despite the unusual structure, it remains easy to read and understand. The story itself, while simple in concept, is told with a remarkable amount of color and feeling, and it sucked me in all the way to the last word.
Whoever wrote this, thank you! This was a pleasure to read.
What a bizarre prologue.
Some very odd punctuation going on here; sentences broken into multiple paragraphs, paragraphs with parentheticals next to commas, etc.
"Count your teeth..." WTF? But I mean that in a good way. This story is doing something so very strange, but it's working so far. Let's see if it can maintain it though.
Okay, what an interestingly grotesque scene describing Fluttershy. Reminds me very much of Julie E. Czerneda's "Species Imperative" series, specifically bit in the second (or third?) book where we see the final Dhryn form.
The odd pacing/punctuation continues, yet with everything else, I don't think it's mistakes, but deliberate. Which is why "There were good news" and "There were bad news" throws me, as those seem like much more obvious "mistakes" yet...
The "talk" with Discord works for the most part, but the reveal (if it was even supposed to be that) was already given away by the opening sentences. The "Fiat Lux" bit too was kind of predictable.
In the end, I think this story fits into a weird space for me. It's so strange that it isn't likely to be forgotten easily. And it mostly works, despite the strangeness. I said earlier we'd see if it can maintain, and it did, but to continue the metaphore, I don't think it quite stuck the landing. So, a strong contender and a really good effort to pull off something so odd so well. Not quite top tier for me, but close.
Some very odd punctuation going on here; sentences broken into multiple paragraphs, paragraphs with parentheticals next to commas, etc.
"Count your teeth..." WTF? But I mean that in a good way. This story is doing something so very strange, but it's working so far. Let's see if it can maintain it though.
Okay, what an interestingly grotesque scene describing Fluttershy. Reminds me very much of Julie E. Czerneda's "Species Imperative" series, specifically bit in the second (or third?) book where we see the final Dhryn form.
The odd pacing/punctuation continues, yet with everything else, I don't think it's mistakes, but deliberate. Which is why "There were good news" and "There were bad news" throws me, as those seem like much more obvious "mistakes" yet...
The "talk" with Discord works for the most part, but the reveal (if it was even supposed to be that) was already given away by the opening sentences. The "Fiat Lux" bit too was kind of predictable.
In the end, I think this story fits into a weird space for me. It's so strange that it isn't likely to be forgotten easily. And it mostly works, despite the strangeness. I said earlier we'd see if it can maintain, and it did, but to continue the metaphore, I don't think it quite stuck the landing. So, a strong contender and a really good effort to pull off something so odd so well. Not quite top tier for me, but close.
>>MrNumbers
I get and agree with your general point that misidentifying problems leads to suggesting the wrong solutions, and usually I'm better about saying things like "it seems to me that X, and if that's the case..."
That said,
seems to me to be a pretty clear signpost of authorial intent, particularly in combination with the first line. Seeing it at word 5, and then again before we even get into the story's main body, really primes me to expect it, and that expectation makes it hard for me to see what else could really have been meant. If they didn't intend to write a tragedy, and they don't want the audience to think they intended to write a tragedy, then it might behoove them to remove or change the things that might lead the audience to think they intended to write a tragedy.
(Also, that first sentence is still objectively incorrect, in a way that I am not willing to extend poetic license to cover. "Childbirth is enough to kill a mother" is sad, and I have never argued otherwise, but it is not tragic without additional conditions, and those conditions are not obviously present.)
No, and I never said it was — but I'd still be hesitant about just taking the opposite as a given, either, which the quoted line from the text reads to me as doing. As you note, that WoG could mean any of a number of things, and the only alicorns about whose mortality we actually know anything quasi-definite are Celestia and Luna, who I think it's reasonably well-established are immortal. So, sure, "is alicorn, therefore is immortal" is a generalization, but if the only real point that might be against it is an ambiguous WoG, I don't think it's an unreasonable one. It's certainly not uncommon.
And you know that if it goes live on FIMFic, someone's going to complain that it's VIOLATING THEIR HEADCANON—
Look, the point is, those are waters into which I would not want to wade without at least some sort of defense, and it might be cleaner and less distracting just to sidestep the argument entirely if it's not directly part of your premise.
I get and agree with your general point that misidentifying problems leads to suggesting the wrong solutions, and usually I'm better about saying things like "it seems to me that X, and if that's the case..."
That said,
Tragedy, one feels, is about to happen.
seems to me to be a pretty clear signpost of authorial intent, particularly in combination with the first line. Seeing it at word 5, and then again before we even get into the story's main body, really primes me to expect it, and that expectation makes it hard for me to see what else could really have been meant. If they didn't intend to write a tragedy, and they don't want the audience to think they intended to write a tragedy, then it might behoove them to remove or change the things that might lead the audience to think they intended to write a tragedy.
(Also, that first sentence is still objectively incorrect, in a way that I am not willing to extend poetic license to cover. "Childbirth is enough to kill a mother" is sad, and I have never argued otherwise, but it is not tragic without additional conditions, and those conditions are not obviously present.)
Also, Twilight being immortal isn't canon.
No, and I never said it was — but I'd still be hesitant about just taking the opposite as a given, either, which the quoted line from the text reads to me as doing. As you note, that WoG could mean any of a number of things, and the only alicorns about whose mortality we actually know anything quasi-definite are Celestia and Luna, who I think it's reasonably well-established are immortal. So, sure, "is alicorn, therefore is immortal" is a generalization, but if the only real point that might be against it is an ambiguous WoG, I don't think it's an unreasonable one. It's certainly not uncommon.
And you know that if it goes live on FIMFic, someone's going to complain that it's VIOLATING THEIR HEADCANON—
Look, the point is, those are waters into which I would not want to wade without at least some sort of defense, and it might be cleaner and less distracting just to sidestep the argument entirely if it's not directly part of your premise.
>>TrumpetofDoom
And it seems to have taken you exactly three words to miss my point.
Look.
The definition you're arguing is the second listed definition, which is to say it's both the less frequently used and not the only definition. A tragedy can just be a very bad sad thing. Like, say, Fluttershy dying during childbirth.
The author might have meant to use the second one and failed at it. I personally don't see it though.
Right. Which is to say, in the canon of this story Twilight is mortal. Because the author is allowed to take that stance. It's fine.
You're arguing in bad faith. You're arguing someone, somewhere might have issue with taking the stance that Twilight is a mortal for the purposes of this story, when you're the only one listing it as a problem.
As seen here.
It's an uncommon position, sure, but it's not a wrong one, and to judge the story harshly for it;
There's no reason for it if the author implicitly implies it and that meaning is conveyed. You understood the implication correctly; the author has done their job right. That's the core of show-don't-tell! The information is there, and the information doesn't contradict canon, so going this far out of your way to nitpick it shows to me that it upsets your personal headcanon -- or the idea of it violating another hypothetical person's headcanon -- which is again a horrible way to review.
seems to me
And it seems to have taken you exactly three words to miss my point.
Look.
The definition you're arguing is the second listed definition, which is to say it's both the less frequently used and not the only definition. A tragedy can just be a very bad sad thing. Like, say, Fluttershy dying during childbirth.
The author might have meant to use the second one and failed at it. I personally don't see it though.
but I'd still be hesitant about just taking the opposite as a given, either, which the quoted line from the text reads to me as doing.
Right. Which is to say, in the canon of this story Twilight is mortal. Because the author is allowed to take that stance. It's fine.
You're arguing in bad faith. You're arguing someone, somewhere might have issue with taking the stance that Twilight is a mortal for the purposes of this story, when you're the only one listing it as a problem.
You've set your story after Twilight's ascension, so you're implying that being an alicorn is not a sufficient condition for immortality. This is an uncommon position to take, and there's not really any evidence to support it (certainly less than the alternative).
As seen here.
It's an uncommon position, sure, but it's not a wrong one, and to judge the story harshly for it;
The line would work better in reference to Celestia and just about anypony else, even pre-ascension Twilight. As is, though, it's not a good justification for why Celestia won't reciprocate Twilight's desires. If you want Twilight to still be mortal after becoming an alicorn, make that clearer.
There's no reason for it if the author implicitly implies it and that meaning is conveyed. You understood the implication correctly; the author has done their job right. That's the core of show-don't-tell! The information is there, and the information doesn't contradict canon, so going this far out of your way to nitpick it shows to me that it upsets your personal headcanon -- or the idea of it violating another hypothetical person's headcanon -- which is again a horrible way to review.
>>MrNumbers
If that was the point you were trying to make, then yes, I did miss it. I'm not sure how I was supposed to get that from your first post, but you have now clearly stated it, and I acknowledge it as valid.
(I didn't think I was being that unreasonable in assuming that a term with a well-known definition in regards to literature was being used that way by a piece of literature discussing the happenings within itself, but I'll acknowledge I'm not the best judge of my own reasonableness or lack thereof.)
First of all, I'm not the only one — >>Caliaponia also commented on it, and added another, better reason why the sentence I was talking about doesn't quite work in context.
Second, the issue is not that aliTwi is mortal. I'm not actually quite sure what's bugging me, but I'm pretty sure it's something related to the presentation of the fact, rather than the fact itself. Maybe I'd have been fine if it was indicated earlier in the story, or if there had been some kind of handwave justification for why she's still mortal, or maybe it doesn't need to be there at all and there's some better way to fit in the line "Because mortals are not to meddle with immortals" that avoids the question of aliTwi's mortality entirely — because I do like that line, and I don't want to see it just cut.
I think maybe it comes down to managing reader expectations (which is kinda the core of my other complaint as well). I was not expecting "mortal aliTwi" to get dropped where it was, and then it wasn't followed up on or expanded on, which left me unsatisfied. If it worked for you, then good for you; it didn't work for me.
The author might have meant to use the second one and failed at it. I personally don't see it though.
If that was the point you were trying to make, then yes, I did miss it. I'm not sure how I was supposed to get that from your first post, but you have now clearly stated it, and I acknowledge it as valid.
(I didn't think I was being that unreasonable in assuming that a term with a well-known definition in regards to literature was being used that way by a piece of literature discussing the happenings within itself, but I'll acknowledge I'm not the best judge of my own reasonableness or lack thereof.)
You're arguing someone, somewhere might have issue with taking the stance that Twilight is a mortal for the purposes of this story, when you're the only one listing it as a problem.
First of all, I'm not the only one — >>Caliaponia also commented on it, and added another, better reason why the sentence I was talking about doesn't quite work in context.
Second, the issue is not that aliTwi is mortal. I'm not actually quite sure what's bugging me, but I'm pretty sure it's something related to the presentation of the fact, rather than the fact itself. Maybe I'd have been fine if it was indicated earlier in the story, or if there had been some kind of handwave justification for why she's still mortal, or maybe it doesn't need to be there at all and there's some better way to fit in the line "Because mortals are not to meddle with immortals" that avoids the question of aliTwi's mortality entirely — because I do like that line, and I don't want to see it just cut.
I think maybe it comes down to managing reader expectations (which is kinda the core of my other complaint as well). I was not expecting "mortal aliTwi" to get dropped where it was, and then it wasn't followed up on or expanded on, which left me unsatisfied. If it worked for you, then good for you; it didn't work for me.
So, look. I've gotta speak up on this one, but before I say anything else: Enjoy your medal. With the feedback I'm seeing above, there's no way this isn't gonna finish in the top three. Well done.
Author, feel free to stop there. Because critique should be about improvement, and when I'm swimming against the tide this much, my opinions are most likely going to point you in a direction that will wreck what other people enjoyed about the story. You're on to something here, as much as I hated it.
So why speak up at all? Because I feel like I read a totally different story from everyone else in the thread (with the possible exception of >>AndrewRogue), and I'm struggling to understand what people see in this. And in order to figure out that disconnect, I have to lay out where I'm coming from.
Science-fiction/fantasy fans talk about "bouncing off" a work — getting violently ejected from a story that other people enjoyed. I bounced off this story so hard.
Not from the start, though! I've gotta stop for a second and say, author, I legitimately commend you on the intro. It's been a long while since I've seen that strong a hook. It's a sledgehammer to the face, and the best possible thing you can do at the beginning is smash the reader into your story. There's some discussion above that might help you in fine-tuning the wording, but it's right where it needs to be, even if there are some edges to sand down.
Which leads in to -- it takes a lot to lose me after grabbing my attention so strongly. And I can tell you the moment I gave up on this story. It wasn't the parentheses (even though I found them weird and awkward). It was a slow slide through some bewildering prose choices I'll get to in a moment, and crystallized right here:
... and that's terrible.
Seriously, author, that is a particularly unfortunate choice of words in a story going for gravitas. Points for getting the number of horse teeth right, yes, but you can't just drop the repetition of "forty" combined with "four tens" into a story without understanding the references that calls up for readers. Unintentionally breaking the fourth wall is a kiss of death for a story with serious artistic vision.
And it's not even the worst problem with that quoted line. Let's read that again:
Repetition is a time-honored literary technique. It adds emphasis and weight to a story, and builds theme.
This story picks the craziest things to emphasize.
In three sentences I count five different ways of making the point that she is talking to a statue. Including Celestia's dialogue telling the statue it's a statue. Twice.
The story is absolutely choked with this sort of sledgehammer driving-home-the-obvious, to the point where I actively felt condescended to.
Hold the phone. Loss hurts? :pinkiegasp:
Dang, it's a good thing I don't have to do basic math here — that moment of mental effort might have slowed down my reading. And I sure am grateful I can learn that forty is four tens and ten fours without scrolling back up the page to where that was already hammered in.
Thank you for the clarification that the thing just described as being in her mind and guiding her actions was actually the thing she interpreted.
I mean come on.
I'm trying to tell myself to rein it in, here. Obviously this is a story a lot of people like, and what I'm writing is bordering on attack here. I'm sorry for that, author. But I could quote nearly half the story and keep filling in these examples of writing that I had to wade through while feeling like my intelligence was being insulted.
Trying to examine that a bit more dispassionately ... there is one thing that does which I might not be giving enough credit: it lends the story a strongly childlike, innocent tone. There's an argument to be made that that gives it a fairy-tale feel; fairy tales are similarly tell-heavy and somewhat pedantic. And if that's your goal, you do accomplish it well, if everyone else's enjoyment is any indication! So, once again, take all my salt with a bigger grain of salt.
But I still think, even spotting it that, the narrative structure feels to me like a failed experiment. That's because I typically tend to frame my critique to stories in the context of theme and tone ... and I feel like you're picking a childish, innocent tone that is completely at odds with the weighty themes you're trying to swing.
This feels like it should be one of the central thematic cores of the piece. But not only did it come across to me like a lecture, that tell-heavy, choppy-sentence style made it sound like Celestia was explaining to a three-year-old why stealing Johnny's toy is wrong.
Again, there are ways in which that style works for you! I'll reiterate that it lends genuine power to the opening. And there were scattered moments throughout the piece where that bluntness lent the piece its own sort of terrible beauty:
But I found it so relentlessly infantilizing that any goodwill I had for those moments was washed away in the flood.
This needs, in other words, to learn how to modulate its tone. (I phrase that as a prescription: see my initial disclaimer.) The worst offender is when your narrative tone creeps into dialogue; I've already cited a few examples of that sort of toddler-talk making your story founder on the shoals. But it just needs to tone it way back, in general. It's like I said in previous rounds about single-sentence paragraphs: if used sparingly, they can punch readers in the face, but if you spend the entire story doing nothing but punching readers in the face, it's a very different (and much less pleasant) experience than a well-timed blow to catch them off guard.
This story left me feeling like a punching bag.
But still. But still. As much as I hated the experience of reading it, I still think it's better that you wrote this than didn't. We learn by pushing ourselves. This feels, if nothing else, experimental; and we can learn from experiments even if we don't like their results.
I won't soften this with any more praise beyond the few elements I pointed out as legitimately liking. But neither will I begrudge you your medal (and, presumably, your subsequent FIMFiction success), and ultimately that should mean more to you than anything I say.
Tier: Keep Developing
Author, feel free to stop there. Because critique should be about improvement, and when I'm swimming against the tide this much, my opinions are most likely going to point you in a direction that will wreck what other people enjoyed about the story. You're on to something here, as much as I hated it.
So why speak up at all? Because I feel like I read a totally different story from everyone else in the thread (with the possible exception of >>AndrewRogue), and I'm struggling to understand what people see in this. And in order to figure out that disconnect, I have to lay out where I'm coming from.
Science-fiction/fantasy fans talk about "bouncing off" a work — getting violently ejected from a story that other people enjoyed. I bounced off this story so hard.
Not from the start, though! I've gotta stop for a second and say, author, I legitimately commend you on the intro. It's been a long while since I've seen that strong a hook. It's a sledgehammer to the face, and the best possible thing you can do at the beginning is smash the reader into your story. There's some discussion above that might help you in fine-tuning the wording, but it's right where it needs to be, even if there are some edges to sand down.
Which leads in to -- it takes a lot to lose me after grabbing my attention so strongly. And I can tell you the moment I gave up on this story. It wasn't the parentheses (even though I found them weird and awkward). It was a slow slide through some bewildering prose choices I'll get to in a moment, and crystallized right here:
Celestia did so. Four tens. Ten fours. “Forty,” she said. “Forty teeth ...
... and that's terrible.
Seriously, author, that is a particularly unfortunate choice of words in a story going for gravitas. Points for getting the number of horse teeth right, yes, but you can't just drop the repetition of "forty" combined with "four tens" into a story without understanding the references that calls up for readers. Unintentionally breaking the fourth wall is a kiss of death for a story with serious artistic vision.
And it's not even the worst problem with that quoted line. Let's read that again:
Four tens. Ten fours. “Forty,” she said. “Forty teeth.
Repetition is a time-honored literary technique. It adds emphasis and weight to a story, and builds theme.
This story picks the craziest things to emphasize.
Pain, his eyes—pain so strong it was clear this was not a carved stone, but a once-living beast that was no more.
“Because,” Celestia said, sitting in front of the statue, observing it, glaring at it, hoping she could melt it with her eyes alone, “you are indeed no more, Discord. You are gone from this land. Forever.”
The statue did not answer.
In three sentences I count five different ways of making the point that she is talking to a statue. Including Celestia's dialogue telling the statue it's a statue. Twice.
The story is absolutely choked with this sort of sledgehammer driving-home-the-obvious, to the point where I actively felt condescended to.
She had known loss, and she would never forget it.
Celestia knew this, in her heart.
It hurt.
Hold the phone. Loss hurts? :pinkiegasp:
Four tens, ten fours…
…plus one.
“Forty-one teeth,” she said out loud. “Forty-one teeth, one more than before.
Dang, it's a good thing I don't have to do basic math here — that moment of mental effort might have slowed down my reading. And I sure am grateful I can learn that forty is four tens and ten fours without scrolling back up the page to where that was already hammered in.
Because in her mind, there was a coda, a post-scriptum to the message, that made her fly as fast as she could.
I need you.
That’s what the letter had said, to Celestia.
Thank you for the clarification that the thing just described as being in her mind and guiding her actions was actually the thing she interpreted.
There were good news.
“I know what to do, Twilight.”
There were bad news.
“But I am afraid that you are not going to like it.”
I mean come on.
I'm trying to tell myself to rein it in, here. Obviously this is a story a lot of people like, and what I'm writing is bordering on attack here. I'm sorry for that, author. But I could quote nearly half the story and keep filling in these examples of writing that I had to wade through while feeling like my intelligence was being insulted.
Trying to examine that a bit more dispassionately ... there is one thing that does which I might not be giving enough credit: it lends the story a strongly childlike, innocent tone. There's an argument to be made that that gives it a fairy-tale feel; fairy tales are similarly tell-heavy and somewhat pedantic. And if that's your goal, you do accomplish it well, if everyone else's enjoyment is any indication! So, once again, take all my salt with a bigger grain of salt.
But I still think, even spotting it that, the narrative structure feels to me like a failed experiment. That's because I typically tend to frame my critique to stories in the context of theme and tone ... and I feel like you're picking a childish, innocent tone that is completely at odds with the weighty themes you're trying to swing.
“It was a tragedy. I am sure you will always regret it. But sometimes regret is not enough. You fell for her—and you killed her, Discord. Because she’s a mere mortal, and you are not. You didn’t mean to. And I am sorry.”
This feels like it should be one of the central thematic cores of the piece. But not only did it come across to me like a lecture, that tell-heavy, choppy-sentence style made it sound like Celestia was explaining to a three-year-old why stealing Johnny's toy is wrong.
Again, there are ways in which that style works for you! I'll reiterate that it lends genuine power to the opening. And there were scattered moments throughout the piece where that bluntness lent the piece its own sort of terrible beauty:
Celestia felt her stomach turn upside down. She tried to look away, but there was nowhere else to look at. The walls, the floor, the whole room, it was only Fluttershy, Fluttershy, Fluttershy. Pulsating, bleeding meat, going up and down, breathing, swallowing, spilling all over.
But I found it so relentlessly infantilizing that any goodwill I had for those moments was washed away in the flood.
This needs, in other words, to learn how to modulate its tone. (I phrase that as a prescription: see my initial disclaimer.) The worst offender is when your narrative tone creeps into dialogue; I've already cited a few examples of that sort of toddler-talk making your story founder on the shoals. But it just needs to tone it way back, in general. It's like I said in previous rounds about single-sentence paragraphs: if used sparingly, they can punch readers in the face, but if you spend the entire story doing nothing but punching readers in the face, it's a very different (and much less pleasant) experience than a well-timed blow to catch them off guard.
This story left me feeling like a punching bag.
But still. But still. As much as I hated the experience of reading it, I still think it's better that you wrote this than didn't. We learn by pushing ourselves. This feels, if nothing else, experimental; and we can learn from experiments even if we don't like their results.
I won't soften this with any more praise beyond the few elements I pointed out as legitimately liking. But neither will I begrudge you your medal (and, presumably, your subsequent FIMFiction success), and ultimately that should mean more to you than anything I say.
Tier: Keep Developing
>>AndrewRogue
Mr. A. Rogue, may I recommend using some background noise elimination goodness on your recording? I’m not sure what you’re using to prepare your audio, but I hear a constant background hiss, which is something that Audacity can likely remove in a matter of a few seconds.
Mr. A. Rogue, may I recommend using some background noise elimination goodness on your recording? I’m not sure what you’re using to prepare your audio, but I hear a constant background hiss, which is something that Audacity can likely remove in a matter of a few seconds.
>>CoffeeMinion If I do this again, probably. My integrated sound card sucks and is causing the hiss. Audacity removal that I tried actually has problems because my voice is also comparatively low, so the ways I found to kill the hiss also killed my voice. So yeah, if I try to do this again, I'll try and get it sorted. Sorry.
When a woobie comes along
You must kick it
Dang.
These circumstances and this kind of body horror + psychic trauma could really get under my skin--but they didn't, here. >>horizon's critique covers a lot of the reasons. Some of the words spent on multiple repetitions could perhaps be used to tell more of this story. I know the repetition is intentional. Maybe it's telling me something I haven't figured out yet.
The horror of the circumstances felt like a blunt instrument when it might be more effective as a scalpel. To mix metaphors, I saw too much of the monster, and too soon. But I didn't feel the things that should have followed. I was told a lot about how awful everything was, but in a way that felt like someone trying to convince me.
Obviously it worked for a lot of other readers, though, so maybe this one's just not quite my style. It will probably stick with me regardless, and that's something. Thanks for writing.
You must kick it
Dang.
These circumstances and this kind of body horror + psychic trauma could really get under my skin--but they didn't, here. >>horizon's critique covers a lot of the reasons. Some of the words spent on multiple repetitions could perhaps be used to tell more of this story. I know the repetition is intentional. Maybe it's telling me something I haven't figured out yet.
The horror of the circumstances felt like a blunt instrument when it might be more effective as a scalpel. To mix metaphors, I saw too much of the monster, and too soon. But I didn't feel the things that should have followed. I was told a lot about how awful everything was, but in a way that felt like someone trying to convince me.
Obviously it worked for a lot of other readers, though, so maybe this one's just not quite my style. It will probably stick with me regardless, and that's something. Thanks for writing.
I'm not usually one for retrospectives, and to be honest I considered not writing this one? But seeing how this was pretty much a troll entry that had an... interesting response (to say the least), I figure I could do this for once. I’ll try to write a short one.
So. Retrospective on (The Flesh is) Weak.
To get the cat out of the bag as soon as possible -- I agree with >>horizon in pretty much everything he said (with one exception that I will mention later). If I had seen this story in my ballot, I probably would have given it a lot of shit. I think? I can't really know.
I said already that this is a troll entry earlier on – now I gotta explain what I mean by that.
This is honestly the closest thing I’ve ever written to a crackfic. The core idea – Fluttershy gets pregnant with Discord, gives birth to the universe – was one I’d had for a while, but I never got around to writing it. When I saw that this writeoff’s prompt fit the story to a T, I thought, hey. I can write it now.
Problem: turns out I couldn't!
I quickly noticed this was honestly too hard to write without making it way to artsy, in a way that at least to me seemed honestly ridiculous. I have trouble with artsy prose -- I get way, waaay too pretentious for my tastes. I've written some truly unreadable shit when going artsy.
So, because it was 1am and it seemed like a good idea, I simply stopped trying. I went full artsy. I made everything up on the fly.
That’s why I agree with Horizon, really. It’s not like I am a master writer who can SEAMLESSLY PARODY arthouse, it’s just that I made shit up as I went. Nothing in this story means anything, I simply kept throwing stuff at the page and then wrapped it up with minimal editing.
The parenthesis mean nothing. They seemed artsy, so I just put them there. They’re the definition of style without depth, really, because they FEEL artsy and experimental. The repetition and themes of mortality and immortality are only there because they give the story an air of depth it honestly lacks.
The teeth thing was one of the few ideas I genuinely liked! Both in theory and in practice – and then Horizon linked that ‘ten fours’ link and I couldn’t believe that the one thing I thought was cool is actually the most ridiculous one. Serves me right. Dang.
There’s a beat that literally happens twice in this story, because, as I said, I was making shit up as I went:
It literally happens twice in a row!
Likewise, the very start – the four lines that most of you accurately pointed out as a misstep, because they spoil the entirety of the story. They do, I agree. I didn’t realize this when I wrote them, mind you. I merely thought ‘eh, let’s start it with cool lines’ and then didn’t bother thinking twice about it.
So yeah. I wrote this as a joke, expecting people to lambast it. The proofreaders (remember that I’m ESL, so I need people to check grammar and such – they obviously aren’t writeoff participants) fucking hated it. I fucking hated it. I was sure people would fucking hate it.
People didn’t fucking hate it.
I want to repeat that this wasn’t malicious on my part – I wrote it as a little joke. I was really, really close to post it under ‘anonymous’, but I didn’t do it because I felt it’d be funnier if people knew who had written the joke.
So. Hmm.
See, thing is – the story clearly worked for many. I went full ham with the prose and made it ridiculous, but it still worked for some.
>>GaPJaxie, >>Trick_Question, >>Rao, and >>CoffeeMinion all felt was effective to some degree, and the only difference between them and the proofreaders is that I didn't tell them 'I wrote this to make fun of myself'.
So, is this story good? I can't tell. Horizon hated it, some other people loved it. I respect pretty much everybody in here, enough for their opinion to matter -- when someone raved at me on how good Flesh was on the Writeoff's discord, I was genuinely confused. I thought they were fucking with me.
They were not!
I honestly can't tell what I've learned from this experiment. I guess it's another proof of the good ol' split between writers and readers: I see this story as the entire process behind it (me laughing as I wrote the words 'LET THERE BE LIGHT' and feeling like William Shatner fighting a rubber lizard). The readers see it as an end product (a strange story about Fluttershy giving birth to the universe). Turns out, those are two REALLY DIFFERENT things.
It was interesting. Really! And a bit scary. The joke got out of hand quickly, and now I don't really know what to take from this story. I doubt I'll ever post it -- and if I do, I suppose I'll classify it as a crackfic. It's honestly what I think the story is. But if the readers -- most of them -- disagree... who am I to talk?
It's a strange experiment, the Writeoff. Makes for interesting situations. This was a bit of a dramatic round, so I'm honestly kind of really regretting writing this now of all times? But, eh, better to be honest than anything.
If you hated this story, I'm honestly with you. If you liked it, I'm actually really happy, if confused, at your reaction. I wrote this to make fun of myself, and don't ask me how, but I made a prank where the only victim is me backfire.
Honestly, at this point -- the only thing we can agree on is the fact that I really, really suck at artsy shit.
So. Retrospective on (The Flesh is) Weak.
To get the cat out of the bag as soon as possible -- I agree with >>horizon in pretty much everything he said (with one exception that I will mention later). If I had seen this story in my ballot, I probably would have given it a lot of shit. I think? I can't really know.
I said already that this is a troll entry earlier on – now I gotta explain what I mean by that.
This is honestly the closest thing I’ve ever written to a crackfic. The core idea – Fluttershy gets pregnant with Discord, gives birth to the universe – was one I’d had for a while, but I never got around to writing it. When I saw that this writeoff’s prompt fit the story to a T, I thought, hey. I can write it now.
Problem: turns out I couldn't!
I quickly noticed this was honestly too hard to write without making it way to artsy, in a way that at least to me seemed honestly ridiculous. I have trouble with artsy prose -- I get way, waaay too pretentious for my tastes. I've written some truly unreadable shit when going artsy.
So, because it was 1am and it seemed like a good idea, I simply stopped trying. I went full artsy. I made everything up on the fly.
That’s why I agree with Horizon, really. It’s not like I am a master writer who can SEAMLESSLY PARODY arthouse, it’s just that I made shit up as I went. Nothing in this story means anything, I simply kept throwing stuff at the page and then wrapped it up with minimal editing.
The parenthesis mean nothing. They seemed artsy, so I just put them there. They’re the definition of style without depth, really, because they FEEL artsy and experimental. The repetition and themes of mortality and immortality are only there because they give the story an air of depth it honestly lacks.
The teeth thing was one of the few ideas I genuinely liked! Both in theory and in practice – and then Horizon linked that ‘ten fours’ link and I couldn’t believe that the one thing I thought was cool is actually the most ridiculous one. Serves me right. Dang.
There’s a beat that literally happens twice in this story, because, as I said, I was making shit up as I went:
Like there was something growing in every part of her.
(“and I hope he suffers.”)
Celestia hoped it, too.
She left the room when she couldn’t stand it anymore.
Celestia turned around. She had to talk to Twilight. The matter was solved, and Fluttershy was no more.
(“and I hope he suffers.”)
“I am sorry, Discord. For having you and Fluttershy meet. For causing this. But I hope you suffer, too.”
It literally happens twice in a row!
Likewise, the very start – the four lines that most of you accurately pointed out as a misstep, because they spoil the entirety of the story. They do, I agree. I didn’t realize this when I wrote them, mind you. I merely thought ‘eh, let’s start it with cool lines’ and then didn’t bother thinking twice about it.
So yeah. I wrote this as a joke, expecting people to lambast it. The proofreaders (remember that I’m ESL, so I need people to check grammar and such – they obviously aren’t writeoff participants) fucking hated it. I fucking hated it. I was sure people would fucking hate it.
People didn’t fucking hate it.
I want to repeat that this wasn’t malicious on my part – I wrote it as a little joke. I was really, really close to post it under ‘anonymous’, but I didn’t do it because I felt it’d be funnier if people knew who had written the joke.
So. Hmm.
See, thing is – the story clearly worked for many. I went full ham with the prose and made it ridiculous, but it still worked for some.
>>GaPJaxie, >>Trick_Question, >>Rao, and >>CoffeeMinion all felt was effective to some degree, and the only difference between them and the proofreaders is that I didn't tell them 'I wrote this to make fun of myself'.
So, is this story good? I can't tell. Horizon hated it, some other people loved it. I respect pretty much everybody in here, enough for their opinion to matter -- when someone raved at me on how good Flesh was on the Writeoff's discord, I was genuinely confused. I thought they were fucking with me.
They were not!
I honestly can't tell what I've learned from this experiment. I guess it's another proof of the good ol' split between writers and readers: I see this story as the entire process behind it (me laughing as I wrote the words 'LET THERE BE LIGHT' and feeling like William Shatner fighting a rubber lizard). The readers see it as an end product (a strange story about Fluttershy giving birth to the universe). Turns out, those are two REALLY DIFFERENT things.
It was interesting. Really! And a bit scary. The joke got out of hand quickly, and now I don't really know what to take from this story. I doubt I'll ever post it -- and if I do, I suppose I'll classify it as a crackfic. It's honestly what I think the story is. But if the readers -- most of them -- disagree... who am I to talk?
It's a strange experiment, the Writeoff. Makes for interesting situations. This was a bit of a dramatic round, so I'm honestly kind of really regretting writing this now of all times? But, eh, better to be honest than anything.
If you hated this story, I'm honestly with you. If you liked it, I'm actually really happy, if confused, at your reaction. I wrote this to make fun of myself, and don't ask me how, but I made a prank where the only victim is me backfire.
Honestly, at this point -- the only thing we can agree on is the fact that I really, really suck at artsy shit.
>>Aragon
No, we can't agree on that.
Don't talk down to us for liking your story; it's insulting. This is a good story, even if that wasn't your intent. You did a good job with it, despite your best efforts. Set aside the self-deprecation, and deal with it.
The challenge before you is to learn something from the experience that you weren't expecting to learn. Embrace that challenge, and try to work on appreciating what you've done here non-ironically.
Honestly, at this point -- the only thing we can agree on is the fact that I really, really suck at artsy shit.
No, we can't agree on that.
Don't talk down to us for liking your story; it's insulting. This is a good story, even if that wasn't your intent. You did a good job with it, despite your best efforts. Set aside the self-deprecation, and deal with it.
The challenge before you is to learn something from the experience that you weren't expecting to learn. Embrace that challenge, and try to work on appreciating what you've done here non-ironically.
>>Aragon
Sounds like a case of reverse-Magnum Opus Dissonance. :-p I for one hope that you do choose to publish this, as I think it's a strong little horror piece.
It's also true that you never really know how an audience is going to perceive something. I thought I was aiming pretty high this round but my story didn't rank anywhere near what I thought might be possible. But that's a learning experience too. I got what I needed out of writing what I did. There's lots to learn either way.
tl;dr: Writeoff good.
Sounds like a case of reverse-Magnum Opus Dissonance. :-p I for one hope that you do choose to publish this, as I think it's a strong little horror piece.
It's also true that you never really know how an audience is going to perceive something. I thought I was aiming pretty high this round but my story didn't rank anywhere near what I thought might be possible. But that's a learning experience too. I got what I needed out of writing what I did. There's lots to learn either way.
tl;dr: Writeoff good.
>>Pascoite
Yeah, that's why I was convinced it was going to medal. Declared first-place-on-slate finishes are almost always a good pre-results proxy for medal winners; the major exception is when a story is polarizing, getting both strong positive and strong negative feedback, and six hours before voting ended there was no clue that anyone else was feeling negative enough to bottom-slate it like I did, and acclaim from a number of normally-critical reviewers. (Though I do remember AndrewRogue's voice review being critical as well.)
And I stand by a thing I said in my review: for as much as I disliked it, it clearly worked for enough people to be doing something right. (I just am the exact wrong person to say what that is.)
>>Aragon
QFT.
Full disclosure: I was informed privately, early in the round, that Aragon had submitted a trollfic — but not what it was, or any detail beyond that fact. I wrote my review with a strong suspicion, but no confirmation, of the nature of this entry.
Based on that (and the general acclaim for the story with no real counterweight), I was more aggressive than I'd usually be. But that's not really an excuse for tone. In hindsight, I think my review was too mean-spirited, and I regret posting it on those grounds — even knowing the author agrees.
In between that, my role in the recent poetry debate, and general discouragement I may touch on in my retrospective, I'm beginning to question whether my contribution to the Writeoff is, on balance, a positive one. :\
Yeah, that's why I was convinced it was going to medal. Declared first-place-on-slate finishes are almost always a good pre-results proxy for medal winners; the major exception is when a story is polarizing, getting both strong positive and strong negative feedback, and six hours before voting ended there was no clue that anyone else was feeling negative enough to bottom-slate it like I did, and acclaim from a number of normally-critical reviewers. (Though I do remember AndrewRogue's voice review being critical as well.)
And I stand by a thing I said in my review: for as much as I disliked it, it clearly worked for enough people to be doing something right. (I just am the exact wrong person to say what that is.)
>>Aragon
I honestly can't tell what I've learned from this experiment. I guess it's another proof of the good ol' split between writers and readers: I see this story as the entire process behind it (me laughing as I wrote the words 'LET THERE BE LIGHT' and feeling like William Shatner fighting a rubber lizard). The readers see it as an end product (a strange story about Fluttershy giving birth to the universe). Turns out, those are two REALLY DIFFERENT things.
QFT.
Full disclosure: I was informed privately, early in the round, that Aragon had submitted a trollfic — but not what it was, or any detail beyond that fact. I wrote my review with a strong suspicion, but no confirmation, of the nature of this entry.
Based on that (and the general acclaim for the story with no real counterweight), I was more aggressive than I'd usually be. But that's not really an excuse for tone. In hindsight, I think my review was too mean-spirited, and I regret posting it on those grounds — even knowing the author agrees.
In between that, my role in the recent poetry debate, and general discouragement I may touch on in my retrospective, I'm beginning to question whether my contribution to the Writeoff is, on balance, a positive one. :\
>>horizon
I honestly don't think picking up that a story was fishy, and calling it out when you feel it is, is "a negative contribution". Honestly, it's kind of the opposite.
That aside, I'm fairly sure I'm not the only one who thinks the writeoff would be much worse without you; just this round alone you wrote two or three extremely helpful posts for the new writers, and your reviews have been a stable for quality criticism for ages.
As fucking ironic it is for me of all people to say this, don't undersell yourself, man. You truly make the writeoffs a better place, and I say that extremely cheesy thing with absolutely zero hint of irony.
I honestly don't think picking up that a story was fishy, and calling it out when you feel it is, is "a negative contribution". Honestly, it's kind of the opposite.
That aside, I'm fairly sure I'm not the only one who thinks the writeoff would be much worse without you; just this round alone you wrote two or three extremely helpful posts for the new writers, and your reviews have been a stable for quality criticism for ages.
As fucking ironic it is for me of all people to say this, don't undersell yourself, man. You truly make the writeoffs a better place, and I say that extremely cheesy thing with absolutely zero hint of irony.