#That this has just been a Lot of thing to go wrong for one fucking project)

[iamluzgar]

I completely disagree...

Veilguard has the following themes explored: leadership (through Rook's journey, factions, gods, Solas), corruption (of people, of gods), myths (how the myths from Thedas were changed from the original story that we now know), traumas (of losing someone, of being raised violently in a family, of losing your family, of being invaded, of being molded into a specific person, of being betrayed, of being forced to do actions you don't want to do, of duty, of accepting the past of your people), invasion and resistance (of the blight, of the Antaam, of the gods), family (through Lucanis and Taash, but also through the way Neve considers the Shadow Dragons, through Bellara), identity (through Taash, Lucanis, Harding, to an extent to Emmrich), culture (through Taash again, Bellara, but also through the way older games gave us so much propaganda about Tevinter, because they only hear about the upper classes, and we actually get to experience a bit of its culture ingame), the fake division between spirit/demon (through Solas and Spite), blood magic (through the old elven gods and Solas), old elven magic, fade, death (through Emmrich in something that specifically targets the player: "how would you like your remains to be dealt with?"), mourning (Not gonna go into that one but you know several people who die during the game), chronic illness and/or terminal illnesses, the dwarves' past and culture. I probably forgot a lot more.

Like... Does the game asks you whether slavery is wrong or not? No, but the answer to that is obvious, it event shows you slaves and it is sickening. Does the game asks you to take a stand pro/against magister? No, but the answer to that is obvious. Does the game asks you whether we should believe in Andrastian religion? No, but the whole DAI situation showed that the Andrastian church was bullshit already, we know it is, and we know how much now from Veilguard. Does the game asks you to take a stand pro/against magic? I think we're past that point now. We know magic is a nuanced topic and that mages shouldn't be oppressed for who they are. We know there are cultures and society allowing them to thrives without being imprisoned. Those aren't complex sociopolitical issues, those are things that were explored and resolved in other games with a clear yes/no question. Dorian sided against slavery, because he learnt it was bad. At this point everyone and their mother know it's bad. We don't actually need artifically made points like in DA2 where, if you help the mages, they still fuck you up to make you consider maybe they don't deserve the right to exist (I love DA2, it's my fav, but that is not a deep serious political idea).

One point very positive Point of Veilguard is its nuance to the question it was visiting during the game. Should Harding try to commit to her kindness in the face of intense general trauma, or should she accept her anger? Should Taash go towards the Qun or should she go towards Rivain culture? Should Emmrich go Lich or should he keep Manfred? Should Bellara keep her culture's past or should she keep it? Those are all question that have no good answer, because they all come with nuances, with no clear yes/no question, with happiness and possible fulfillment in all cases. Just like in real life, and it's up to you, the player, to make an arbitration of whether you would live preferably in such a way or in another way for your characters. It's a personal discovery journey of what it means to be a person, a leader, a hero, of different pasts, colors, genders, family status, traumas, duties etc. Of making a choice and owning it, for the bad and the good. Veilguard is probably one of the most emotionally mature AAA game in the history of gaming, and we're AGAIN (hello DA2) gonna have to wait 10 years before people realize it.

Like sure, it's not perfect, it's rushed, it doesn't feel like 10 years has been put into it, some stuff in gameplay, level design and UI inventory aren't right, some narration choices aren't great, their choice of focus is debatable, you can't even be a healer mage. But on the themes, thesis, sociopolitical and larger issues? I completely disagree. They also matured in their game design quite a lot in regards to open worlds, quests and its number, and little QoL things I don't remember that made me go "aaah... That's great design". It's just not how we imagined it would be. And yes, me too, I would have loved to have a DA2 in Minrathous, making havroc freeing slaves and beating the shit out of magisters with Fenris, this would have been my favorite thing. This isn't what happened, the game is still very good, it still has incredible qualities if you take it for what it is and engage with the story, the characters and the environment.

I'm realizing there are 3 types of Dragon Age fans.

1) Gamers who play latest big flashy action game

2) UwU kissy dating and besties simulator

3) Interested in the sociopolitical and theological themes and thesis statements the series is historically known for

Veilguard is not made for fan #3. It is a very pretty game that has absolutely nothing it wants to say--to the point that what it says by saying nothing is often times pretty offensive.

[adieutristana]

not sure why it won’t let me respond to this one, but i’d be happy to write it! thank you for the request <3

also yall know i sometimes share the songs i have on repeat. right now it’s ’wings of a butterfly’ by HIM. ugh, so addictive

summary; jinx’s girlfriend comforting jinx, who thinks she doesn’t deserve her.

characters included; jinx

tags/warnings; angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of poor mental health, a lot of crying and a panicked state, slight suicidal ideation, fluff

men dni.

jinx's mental state has always been... fragile, at best.

jinx never liked speaking of her past, preferring not to dwell on it. it was too painful for her, bringing tears to her eyes, her body quivering, sometimes even triggering hallucinations. as you spent more time by the girl's side, she began to slowly open up, dropping little details about her past every now and again.

she'll drop in anecdotes about her parents, or her childhood with vi, mylo, and claggor. she told you briefly about the job she went on that triggered the seemingly never-ending chain of unfortunate events that was her life, but she was always vague about it. shying away from the details, wincing when she even mentioned the incident on the bridge. most of what you had gathered about that time in her life was through word of mouth of others in zaun, bystanders who remembered it.

but you never push, never pry for more than she'll give you. it's not important to know every little detail, really, what matters is jinx here and now and how she's doing currently. how what happens has affected her and what you can do to support her.

in many ways, you've become the girl's crutch. her sanctuary of sorts, her safe place to come back to when the world gets too harsh or the voices become too loud. jinx navigates her life in fear, as much as she tries to put up a tough front- but you've never given her anything to be afraid of. that's one of the things that sets you aside from the other people in her life.

but tonight, it's all just so overwhelming. jinx can't shake the voices, can't shake the thoughts swirling around her mind. she's shaking, tears spilling from her eyes and lip quivering, her hands tugging at her braids and eyes squeezed shut. she tries to rock herself back and forth, trying to give herself some kind of comfort, but it isn't doing anything. she can't ground herself, can't shake the thoughts of worthlessness and the need to just disappear flying at her.

she knows that you're sleeping right next to her, and that makes jinx feel even worse. god, she's a mess. why can't she just let you sleep? be quiet and normal for once? you deserve better than this, surely, to be sleeping and have a girl losing herself next to you. she tries to stifle her sobs. the girl can't decide whether she wants your comfort or to just be left alone, leaving you to sleep and be okay without her. but it's all so much, jinx can barely form any coherent thoughts.

she hears you stirring next to her, blankets rustling, and jinx knows that she fucked up. her eyes blow wide, trying to rush over and coax you back to sleep, but you're groaning and blinking your eyes open.

"what... what's going on, love?"

you whisper, voice heavy with sleep.

"n-nothing, toots, just..." she sniffles, taking in a shaky breath. "go back to sleep... i'll be fine, i'll..."

she can't even finish her sentence before she's in hysterics again, you rushing to sit up beside her and scoot closer. sitting right next to your girlfriend's trembling form and taking both of her shoulders, trying to ground her somehow.

"jinx, baby, what's wrong?" you breathe out. "please, talk to me... i can't help you if you don't talk to me."

she's heaving, desperately trying to look at you, but her eyes are clouded with unshed tears.

"i don't deserve you. you should be with someone better than me."

she states, plainly. her voice is quiet and frail, holding eye contact with you... it's unsettling, frankly. you cautiously tighten your grip on her shoulders.

"what makes you say that? of course you deserve me."

she shakes her head slowly, sniffling.

"no. i'm a monster, a murderer," jinx mutters. "i've done bad things, babe. a lot of bad things."

you tilt your head, your voice dropping slightly. trying to use a softer, more soothing tone, trying to just get through to jinx.

"you think i don't know that?"

"you do. but i don't know if you understand it."

you're slightly taken aback by this, slowly swallowing and examining jinx's expression. she's so withdrawn, so cold. it's like she's not even there. you've seen your girlfriend in episodes before, shaking her head and screaming for the voices, the visions to stop. having to rock her back and forth in your arms as she settled down, gently shushing her. reminding her that everything is alright, she's safe, you're not going to let anything hurt her.

"honestly... maybe everyone would be better off without me."

this snaps you out of your thoughts, immediately grasping jinx even harder.

"don't you dare talk like that, jinx."

you say, voice stern. although, it makes jinx wince slightly, and that brings a feeling of harsh guilt, enveloping your very being in that moment. you can't bear to see her in any more pain than she's already in, especially to contribute to that pain.

"i just... i don't understand it. you're always so nice to me, and you don't bring up any of what i've done. even when i come back here covered in blood."

you gaze at her as she goes on, simply letting her talk. get it out, jinx. it's okay.

"why don't you care? anyone else would." she asks, a single tear falling.

"i'm not anyone else."

you whisper, hands coming to gently cup both of her cheeks. cradling her face in your hands, as if you were handling a piece of precious porcelain. that's not too far off, though. for you, jinx is the most precious thing in the entire world- far more precious than any money or items. she's your treasure.

"i know what you've done, jinx. i've seen it. and honestly, i don't give a shit."

jinx lets out a quiet gasp, feeling one of your thumbs coming to wipe her tears away, feeling sticky cheeks from all of the crying. poor girl.

"but-"

"none of that. i don't care. i know that there's good in you, because i've seen it. i see it every single day that i'm with you. you are anything but a monster."

your eyes are gazing into jinx's own, making sure that she gets every last word you're saying.

"you are a caring, talented, loyal girl, one who i've seen be gentle and kind when she wants to be. you've cared for me, loved me, protected me, all without asking for anything in return. that's rare, jinx."

she nods slowly, rosy eyes still locked with yours. she isn't saying anything, but you can tell that jinx is comprehending what you're telling her, taking it in.

"but you could have anyone." she protests. "i don't understand why you chose the crazy criminal."

"jinx, stop talking about yourself like that."

you say, pressing your forehead to hers.

"i chose you because you make me happy, and i love you, and again, i see the good in you. i don't want anyone else. i know that you get in your head like this, but i don't think any less of you for it. if anything, i admire your resilience."

you pause for a moment, before jinx finally lets up, slowly nodding along.

"...you promise?"

"i promise."

"you won't leave me?"

"i wouldn't dream of it."

jinx lets out a shaky breath, nodding again. slowly wrapping her arms around your waist and resting her chin on your shoulder, letting her eyes slip shut.

"let's get you in bed, okay?"

[niiwa-angel]

I've been dragged kicking and screaming into the Transformers Fandom so I'm going to make it everyone's problem. Imagine humans have weird but casual interactions with the Transformers.

You're a garage owner going about your day when this giant fucking robot knocks on your roof and asks if you sell tires. Apparently, there was a top secret battle between the military/Autobots and the Decepticons a few miles away and this dude got one of his tires blown out. They have more back at base but having a ruined tire is really uncomfortable so he's wondering if you have a possible replacement. And like, you do and these guys have saved the planet a few times so sure, you fetch a tire and replace his broken one while sweating balls because you do not want to upset this thing. Once you're done he just nods and thanks you and fucks off. You're a little jaded that he didn't pay but 1. He definitely doesn't have human currency and 2. He's saved your planet a few times so you can probably eat the cost of a tire.

And then the fucker turns up a few weeks later with a chunk of gold that he found in a mountain like Hey! This is valuable to humans right? And he gives you that, which is waaaayyy more than the cost of one tire but you don't know how to break a chunk of gold and he's driving off before you can ask if he wants change. That's just life sometimes.

~~~

Or! Imagine some poor impound worker freaking the fuck out when one of their impounded cars just turns into a robot, breaks off the boot, and is really pissed off about how they wound up there. And that poor fucker has to be the one to explain no overnight parking to an alien robot that is VERY upset about being dragged here. They're stomping off before the worker can explain to them that they also have to pay a fine which is probably for the best because how the fuck are you supposed to explain that?

Meanwhile, the robot is stomping off down the street muttering about how you can't even recharge on this Primus forsaken planet without some human bothering you about it. And what's the point of all those parking lots of you can't park there?

~~~

The Transformers being Awkward about human interaction and taking a lot from what they see, even if it's wrong. Bumblebee, Mirage, Jazz, and Arcee are flipping civilians the bird pretty indiscriminately while in town, which is really confusing. So when one of the military guys walks by, it gets pointed out and they explain that when they're in their car mode driving to missions, they often get flipped off by other drivers who are annoyed that they're driving so recklessly. But! They don't realize it's an insult they just think it's a greeting so they have to have a debriefing about it later. They apologize for the insult.

~~~

Everyone thought Bumblebee was the family friendly robot because he usually kept a civil tongue. But that was exclusively because what he had access too on public radio was pretty clean. With the widespread use of podcasts and streaming services, he actually curses like a sailor and it's freaky.

~~~

Somebody has one of those lawn mowing Roombas that's out doing it's fucking job when Starscream sees it from above and comes down to try and talk to it, see if it's a Decepticon. Even when he figures out it's not, he takes it anyway because it has blades so that might be useful. Meanwhile, poor dude is just in their fucking house watching their lawnmower get kidnapped without being able to do anything about it. Except call the hotline which leads to a very weird conversation.

"hey uh, so this isn't an emergency but a Decepticon just stole my lawn mower. Not sure if you can do anything about that."

"ah yes. Sorry sir, they sometimes do that. We'll try and send a replacement, what's the model?"

And then a few weeks later Optimus Prime shows up with an exact model of the one that was stolen, apologies for the inconvenience, and drives away. However, the Autobots are also fascinated by your lawnmower and so occasionally your yard is invaded by an alien robot that watches enthralled as your lawn is mowed.

~~~

Living in a cold area prevents you from seeing either Autobots or Decepticons in the winter time because it doesn't snow on Cybertron and they really don't fucking like it. Their best way of dealing with snow is to hide out in their heated lairs and just ride it out, they aren't going out in that shit.

~~~

They also hate hail so sometimes they'll hide under overpasses with bikers. It's a weird sight, a group of bikers and Mirage just hanging out under an overpass, shooting the shit, waiting for the weather to clear up.

~~~

Living near an American military base means sometimes you see the Autobots out and about. They get leave too and they like to explore. Favourite places to frequent include drive in theaters, parks, especially if they have animals, sports arenas (they can climb up on the roof and look in), and scrap yards.

~~~

Cybertronians can eat metal (we saw the robot dinosaur try eating cars in one of the Bayverse movies so I like to think all of them can do it.) so it's a frequent snack for them. They've figured out not to eat things that belong to humans but they consider the scrap yards to be fair game. If you see a giant robot ripping apart old cars to take some parts just leave it be, they're getting snacks.

If you see Rachet yelling at that same robot later, it's because processed earth metal is basically junk food and eating too much of it makes them sick. That does not stop them.

~~~

After a battle the local carwashes are pretty well filled with Autobots trying to wash the mud and gunk off themselves because apparently they can't get into the transport ships that dirty. The locals aren't sure if that's a military rule or a rule Optimus Prime implemented but it's sure fun to speculate.

[strangersteddierthings]

Platonic Stobin bodyswap AU idea I'll never write. This has been in my drafts for over a year (since July 2023 per the timestamp)

Post season 3; During the season 3 bathroom confession scene Robin came out to Steve, and Steve came out to her. She knows he's bi, and she's the only one who knows. Swap starts off slowly for Steve and Robin. Little moments of vertigo where the world doesn't look right for a few seconds, that progresses to black out periods of time spanning 5-15 minutes. It's them switching bodies but it's so traumatizing (they are FREAKING out) that they don't remember it. So, it's like they're just losing moments in time, which still freaks them out.

Then one day they wake up and they're... each other. And they just don't go back.

And Steve can't really pass as Robin to her parents but thankfully they just blame it on 'moody teenage angst' and "you can talk to us about anything babygirl we love you so much and we're here when you need us." Which. Yeah, Steve cries about. But it also comes with the side of GOD FUCKING DAMMIT I HAVE TO FINISH HIGH SCHOOL AGAIN??? I CAN'T PLAY THE TRUMPET ROBIN YOU HAVE TO DROP OUT OF BAND

And Robin also cannot pass as Steve at first, but she gets to see how that matters exactly 0% because the Harrington's don't even notice. They also aren't around near as much as Steve makes them out to be. But she does get to enjoy the freedom of a legal drivers license and no job currently. HOWEVER she has walked Steve's pretty face into several doors/poles/walls because cute girls keep looking at her with hunger in their eyes and she doesn't know how to handle this.

(It makes more girls interested in a suddenly shy, stumbling, nervous Steve because those girls think they're the reason Confident Sex God Steve turns into a mess but really it's just Robin not knowing how to exist in a world where woman want her and fish fear her (sorry bad joke))

Anyway, queue shenanigannary for a bit. Steve encourages Robin to go on dates because why not get some practice in while they wait to swap back again? (he's holding out hope)

Do they have the awkward discussion of 'what are the limits to what I'm allowed to do in your body????? I dunno yet.

Anyway, Robin goes on dates. ((Does she end up going on a date with Vickie? Canonically Vickie's got no problem dating older boys? How to solve this plot line for when(if?) they switch back bodies? IDK dudes, that's Future Jess's issue.))

At some point, the gang finds out. Probably Dustin realizing Steve isn't as Steve-like as usual. He'd sniff out something was wrong with his brother for sure.

But then season 4 starts. Robin taught Steve how to play the trumpet back in August/Sept and it's then they realize that they kind of share their knowledge? Like... Steve picks up how to play the trumpet EASY. At first they think it's just Robin's body using muscle memory but then Robin realizes she knows things only Steve should.

Anyway, Steve is in band with Vickie the night of the Championshipgame, chatting easily while also trying to hint that 'Hey, I think Steve Harrington is checking you out???" while trying to tell Robin with telepathy (that they don't have... yet? Decide if they end up with telepathy later) to try and subtly check out Vickie. But neither girl is subtle so they both just whip around to stare at each other and Steve is facepalming.

NO WAIT. DO I MAKE CHANGES TO THE NARRATIVE BECAUSE IF STEVE IS IN HIGH SCHOOL AGAIN, THERE IS NO WAY HE'D LET DUSTIN AND MIKE SKIP OUT ON THE CHAMPIONSHIP GAME. Maybe??? Will decide on this point later. Until then, above points stay.

Anyway, Chrissy still dies (sorry) and Eddie's still on the run, but like this time in the boathouse, Robin invites Eddie to stay at 'his' big empty house 'cause the parents are gone and Robin has no hangups about Eddie like Steve did in canon (he is the first person we hear call Eddie The Freak).

The end point here is that Robin, Steve, and Eddie spend A LOT of time together at Steve's house and then the angst falls in because Steve starts to fall in love with Eddie.

So, he has a breakdown in a bathroom with Robin about it, all sad and crying like "I really fuckin' like him Robs, but I can't- there- we can't-"

"I need you to take a breath and tell me what the issue is," Robin says.

"I like him Robs, but this is your body. I can't take things from you. Like your first kiss. And I certainly can't- I won't put your body through... you know. I can't do that to you."

And it takes Robin a moment to process what he means. Romantic entanglements that Steve might want to have would have to happen with her body. And maybe Robin isn't sure what to say/do because the thought of a guy and his dick anywhere near her body immediately freaks her out but... she's not in her body. She's in Steves, and has been doing things with girls in it. It never occurred to her that Steve might want to get hot and heavy with a guy in her body and maybe she's got something to unpack there???

Anyway, no time to worry about that. Vecna's gonna kill Max so they gotta go. Also, Eddie does NOT know about the body swap.

She does tell Steve to kiss Eddie, though, in the end. When they're not sure they'll live. So, Eddie calls out to Steve. "Make him pay." So, to Eddie, it looks like Steve gives him a nod and it's Robin who marches up, grabs his face, and plants one on him. Robin(Steve) doesn't stick around long enough for Eddie to kiss back (Steve wants him to because he wants a proper kiss from Eddie, but he also doesn't want him to because Eddie thinks he's kissing Robin and if he kisses back it means he likes Robin, not Steve, so Steve doesn't lock lips long enough find out).

Something something they all survive and then Eddie, hopped up on pain meds in the hospital, demands to speak to Robin. So, Steve slinks in, afraid of what's going to happen, and Eddie's like 'Robin. I appreciate that you like me but you are unfortunately a girl and I am not into that.' And Steve is like!!! my time!! It's come!!! I HAVE to get back to my body.

And then at some point they switch back. Maybe El doing some mind fuckery? Idk.

And for fun, here's the beginning of the fic that idea written out:

"Whoa," Steve blinks rapidly as the world tilts and shifts. It's very sudden, and over just as quickly as it started, but it still leaves Steve unanchored for a moment. It was probably brought on by the concussion he's been nursing these last two days, since the whole Starcourt shit. He leans sideways to try and use the wall as an anchor until everything feel right again.

He should, probably, be more concerned about this because this has been like, the fourth time this has happened and when he told Robin about it, she confessed it was happening to her, too. That Owens guy had told them there could be unknown side effects to whatever the fuck they'd been injected with and this might just be part of that. It'll fade, Steve's sure, as the days go on. Never mind that it has been happening more lately. It's going to fade. It has to.

Except, it doesn't. The sensation of be unanchored gets worse, and now it comes accompanied with loss of time. Steve will feel the tilt and shift while standing in the doorway to his room and the next thing he knows he's got a hand on his front door, keys in his hand, and doesn't know where he was trying to go.

Ring Ring

Steve shakes his head, shakes away the feeling of wrongness and goes to answer the phone. "Harrington residence, Steve speaking."

"Steve! Steve, it's getting worse!" Robin's voice sobs at him from the other end of the phone. "I-I was in the kitchen and then I was, like, huddled in the bathroom and I don't remember going there."

"Fuck, me too. I just came to standing at my front door, about to leave but I don't remember getting there, or where I was planning to go," Steve confesses back. It's strange, how easily Robin has become a part of his life. He was expecting her to not want to be withing five miles of him ever again, after what he got her dragged into, but it seems Robin isn't scared away. Perhaps it's just that he's the only other person she knows who went through Russian torture. Even if that is the case, Steve'll take it. He likes Robin a lot.

"Should we... call Dr. Owens?" Robin sounds so small when she asks.

"I don't want to," Steve confesses but doesn't elaborate. Calling Dr. Owens means admitting that something is wrong wrong. Steve doesn't want anything to be that wrong. He wants to get back to his life. He's got to get back to job searching, too, and Dr. Owens might deny him that.

[silkenwinger]

cherry

mdni. one sided enemies to lovers (?) konig x reader. 5k something

You wish he would just disappear. That some way or another, you could get him out of your hair. Sure, there’s always leaving your job, but that’s not really convenient, is it.

You wish he was outright antagonistic, mean or just an asshole. Someone who abuses his power over underlings. A self centered idiot who can only think with his dick, who gets other people in danger for his pride.

Yet he’s none of that, and you have to cope with it. Which you are unable to do.

“This fucking thing— ugh!” Snarls Roze, still trying to set up the new tent as shown in the diagram. It falls over with a soft thump and she kicks it again.

“These have to be the wrong instructions,” you tell her, turning around the leaflet. You’ve been at it for more than half an hour now, and they usually don’t take this long. Still, better the dryness of the desert to find out there’s been a manufacturing mishap than pouring rain. KorTac has deployed you here before, which is why you know you can’t just wing it and sleep outside. The night chill is unbearable.

“C’mon. Let me try,” says Horangi, holding out an arm. For all his male pride, he comes to the same conclusion as you and Roze. You’re collectively scratching your heads when a shadow falls over you.

“What is the issue?” König asks, hands on his hips and sun behind him, like some sort of Superman figure. Ugh.

“It’s not setting up.”

“Let me see.” He grabs the leaflet from Horangi’s hands, looks at it for fifteen long seconds, returns it to him and crouches down to pick at the tent. It’s odd, seeing such a big man working on something small. Comical, you’d say.

He sets it up in seven minutes (timed), but admits the instructions could be clearer and less misleading. He rises up and claps his hands on his thighs.

“I used to do a lot of camping, ah-ha,” he says, thumbing at his stupid hood.

“Well, thank you König. We would be sleeping outside without you,” says Roze.

“Yeah man, thanks,” Horangi adds.

You can feel his eyes on you. Those blue eyes, always in such weird expressions. Maybe you would read him more easily if he didn’t have the mask. You don’t care anyway. You muster a little smile so you don’t read as completely sociopathic to the whole group, and he seems happy enough. But you’re not satisfied with him being the hero of the night.

“Camping, uh? Wasn’t it hard, with your height and all?” It’s meant to be a jab to his clear struggles with his size. Something that only really shows outside of the battlefield, you have to admit.

“No, not really. Eh, my parents are tall as well, we would always buy big tents. With friends… a bit. I slept outside once.” His voice is shy revealing this. From previous conversations, you know he wasn’t the most sociable boy in his school. Neither were you but you didn’t end up wearing odd masks.

The normal reaction would be to commiserate him, coddle him for the harsh events of his youth. You’re incapable of that.

“Must have been a pretty clear cut decision from all the others.”

You can feel the side-eye from Roze and Horangi through your head.

“Ahah, yes it was… I was taking two whole spaces for myself…” he says, sounding a bit sad and lost in memories.

“That’s not going to happen now, this is pretty roomy,” interrupts Horangi, and your session of tormenting your team leader is abruptly brought to an end. Pity, but maybe it’s better to keep this a little more private.

“Dibs on the first watch!” Roze yells, and you groan. She always gets it before anyone else!

König, Horangi and you play rock scissor paper to decide the other turn. You lose first and you pout slightly: you hate second watch more than anything. Shaking it off, you start to head to the side, but you're stopped by an arm in front of you.

“We can switch. If you want,” says König, who got the third watch. You crook an eyebrow at him. Does he think you're unprofessional, that you can't even do your job? The fucking gall.

“No thanks. I don’t need handouts,” you turn your nose up. Horangi scoffs, which makes you turn to glare at him. König has no real reaction, just murmurs something between himself. This time you really leave.

Hour later, peaking your head out of the tent door, you shiver at the difference in temperature. You hate missions without safe houses…

“Ah, nice. Slept well?” Greets Roze when she sees you. You shake your head.

“More of a nap than a night’s rest,” you sigh as you turn to sit down next to her. You suppose she’s not really sleepy, but anyway, you enjoy her company.

“Hey,” she calls your name. You hum to show her you’re paying attention.

“You know I respect you. You’re a great fighter,” you preen at that, “but what is up with that?” Your face falls at that.

“What are you talking about?”

“You and König, c’mon. You’re bullying the guy! And I’m always in favor of mistreating men, but then he doesn’t fight back at all, and it’s just pathetic to watch. What even is the satisfaction in that?” She sounds genuinely baffled. Panic rises in you: you never actually thought you’d get cornered like this.

“He irks me, okay?” You try to justify yourself as you shift in your seat. You haven’t really interrogated much on why you feel this way. You figured it was just a normal reaction to König himself, and everyone was just better at hiding it.

“Irks you… yeah, he isn’t the smoothest guy or anything, but you’d think he was Satan the way you describe him. He really just fights, eats, sleeps and talks with you and Horangi.” She sits with that for a moment and just looks at you, really looks at you. “Maybe you’ve got something going on, I think he’s quite fond of you actually.”

“Fond of me… Roze, what the fuck are you going on about?” You exclaim, on edge. It’s far too late (or early?) to really express yourself in any way that makes sense. “He probably feels the same way I do about him, which is annoyance. He can’t be that thick not to realize I’m being antagonistic.”

“Hmm, if you say so.” She gets up and pats your shoulder, tiredness showing up in her limbs. “It’s not really my business. See you tomorrow,” she waves as she enters the tent, dismissively. It’s like she saw you being too defensive and thought you were a lost cause…

Your watch is uneventful and boring and cold and you can’t stop thinking about what Roze told you. Recounting your experiences with König, you think back to the first time you met. It stings to say it, but you’d felt intimidated, shaking the hand of a man almost feet taller than you, clad in an executioner hood. His hand was a bit cold and clammy, which was in contrast with his appearance. The way he shook your hand was unusual too. Men in the military are quick to establish dominance– the sadistic ones grip women’s hands so hard, it almost feels like they’re trying to strangle them. König’s handshake was delicate, and his eyes were oddly wide. Far from what imagination could conjure about his figure.

Starting from when you were put under his command, you’d seen König make an ass out of himself pretty often. Never on the battlefield– he was akin to a god on there, his strides decisive, his bullets accurate, and his violence lavish. For that alone you’d never send in a request to change teams: you know what you leave but you don’t know what you’re going to find. The issues with König lay in that creepy high pitched tone of voice he has sometimes while narrating stories, or the way he appears to have zero space awareness while moving around base. You witnessed him hitting his head or side on door frames far too many times for comfort. In some ways, it kinda killed the respect you could have for him as a leader. But then you’d watch him clear a room in a few bloody seconds, and you’d have to give it to him again. Unfortunately. But it’s now apparent that you can’t cling to any justification that will make sense to other people without you sounding completely out of your mind or like a bitch. Which you can be.

Checking your watch, it’s indeed time to go back to sleep. König hasn’t shown up by himself, the oaf, so you need to go wake him up. Ugh…

Crouching, you enter the tent. Horangi is still snoring away, thankfully not too loudly. You get on your knees to move more quietly and crawl your way to the horizontal column on the back. It’s hard to see well in the darkness, but König feels oddly still in his cot. You’d think he trashed around in his sleep like he does when awake.

Once you reach him, you touch his shoulder, murmuring his callsign not too loudly. No reaction. You do it again, this time a bit stronger, and he still doesn’t wake up beside grumbling some incomprehensible gibberish. Already irritated, you grab him by both shoulders and shake him alright. You realize you’ve made a mistake only when your arms are being coiled by something so tight you think your blood flow has stopped. Loud breathing can be heard in the closeness of the space– it is right in front of you.

“König,” you whisper, “it’s me. I’ve come to wake you up.” If there’s any fear in your voice you hope your disgust still dominates it.

“Scheiße– sorry,” he says, voice thick with sleep, and you think he blinks or starts to understand where you two are. You relax a bit in his hold, shifting on your folded legs, and he finally realizes he’s still holding you.

“I’m sorry, sorry. I was dreaming,” his hands brush the sides of your arms before releasing you, as if appeasing a dog he accidentally stepped on. You scowl. He finally starts to move and sits up, his torso an even darker mountain in the obscurity.

“Are you going to sleep here?” He asks, voice high pitched, you’d say almost nervous as you move closer and don’t retreat to the other side of the tent. Your scowl gets deeper.

“I’m already here and they’re all the same size,” you say, taking your place in the cot. It’s comfortably tepid, to your pleasure. “It’s warm, too. You can sleep on mine when you’re done.” Considering the affair over, you bring the cover over your body and settle down. It smells a bit like him.

König is still crouching next to you: other than his breath, you can tell he’s there by the noise of his nails scratching up and down on his pants. Still not hearing him move, you raise your head.

“Aren’t you going outside?” Your tone could be meaner and more acidic, but drowsiness softens you, too.

“Yes… I’m going…” He sounds uncharacteristically reluctant, like he wants to oppose but knows he can’t. What, is watch duty too common for your team leader? You tut and turn over, and finally you hear him put his gloves on and walk outside.

You wake up to the sound of people speaking some hours after. Sighing, you get up, stretching away the ache from basically sleeping on the ground. It takes you a second to understand you’re not in your own bed and you’re in König’s instead. Getting up, you grab your utilities from your bed and exit the tent. In the makeshift camp, you see Roze and Horangi chattering away with instant coffee cups, and König working on his rifle. Roze sends you a charged look, to which you reply with a confused expression.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty. That your new callsign?” She pokes at you, laughing.

You groan and walk over the coffee pot.

“Why didn't you wake me up?”

She shrugs, turning over in her thermal jacket. “We don’t have to be there before oh nine hundred. You can sleep on company time,” she finishes her coffee, throws the cup away and enters the tent again to dress up. You bite your lower lip and pour some for yourself, casually glancing over your male teammates. Horangi is just hovering, no doubt done with his preparations since he’s been awake for longer. König is still cleaning his rifle, and he hasn’t spared you a glance. You decide to fix that.

“You want to clean it so hard you can look at yourself during fights?” Snickering, you come up behind him. König slightly jumps, his hands clutching the rifle hard in order for it not to fall.

“Ahah, it was a bit filthy from yesterday. But now it’s clean,” he puts it down gently and carefully, always careful around guns. You look at him from behind your coffee cup. As always, it’s hard to tell what he’s feeling with the mask in the way, but he’s being particularly evasive today. To the point he hasn’t even looked you in the eye yet. Still, he turns to face you.

“What’s up with you today?” You ask him. You’re used to seeing him a little less down. If he isn’t feeling well, it could turn massively bad for all involved.

“Nothing. I hope the mission goes well.” He sounds more sure now. You shrug. His body moves as he stands up, and as always it unsettles you. But you refuse to address whatever that means, so you reply nonchalantly, “It seems pretty straightforward.”

“Ja…” He shuffles over his feet. You lean a bit over, wondering if he has anything else to say. He doesn’t, but he finally looks you in the eye: you keep looking at each other until Horangi speaks out of the blue and says it’s time to move. You turn abruptly and go join Roze in the tent.

It could have been over in a second. The building you were meant to go in, or what remains of it, has been reduced to a pile of burning debris, explosives turning it outside down. And you would have been none the wiser as it’d turn your guts out, too.

“Holy shit,” you whisper, and Horangi next to you urges you to move along, to follow König. König, who was the one to actively tell you and Horangi to not split from his command. You’d cringed, but followed him anyway, unkeen to disobey, and Horangi always listens to König anyway. And now you were alive because of a decision König made. Again.

Another successful assignment from KorTac. Please feel free to contact us again for any inquiry.

Looking outside the helo, you observe the silent dunes you’ve just left.

This always happens, you reason. Someone has a hunch. Another got a call from his grandma telling him not to go. You dream of a different path from the one that you’re supposed to take.

Why is König so good at this? It’s good that he’s good at this. You’d be missing your limbs otherwise. He sits across from you, knees brushing with yours. His eyes are glazed over, drowsy, hands folded together. An innocent visage, if one discards the blood over his clothes.

Ire crashes over you like waves. This fumbling man, almost stuck eternally in his adolescent, awkward state, is fucking great at his job. Far better than you could ever hope to be. Not only is he genetically built for hard conditions, but he’s also gifted with a natural sense for the battlefield and military tactics.

You’ve been thinking about him far too much lately. Looking at his back, at his incredibly toned legs. Torn between the long lasting distaste you’ve had for him and… whatever admiration you begrudgingly hold for him.

A light turns on in your mind.

That makes sense.

The Hungarian base is one of KorTac’s smallest. It’s usually bare from anything but the basic necessaries, and it has very few permanent workers. It’s the same case this time. The four of you and the pilot walk in a ghost town. One worker greets you like he had no idea you were even supposed to land there. They need to stop firing communication people in this company.

“König,” you muster a sweet tone, fighting the bile that comes up in your throat. König turns from walking with the others to face you, immediately alert.

“Can we go… somewhere private?” He freezes for a second, and then nods, eyes a bit wary. Fine. You honestly thought he’d be more hesitant. Maybe Roze does have a point.

You walk for a bit side to side and then open a random room in the corridor, furnished with just a long table and a number of chairs not appropriate for its length. You close the door and stand there, deciding you’re not going to sit. Yet?

Fuck, you don’t actually know how to go about this.

“So,” you start, “how do you think we’ve been getting along?” You ask, trying to test the waters.

“Ehm. Pretty good, I’d say,” he replies, accent thicker than usual. Your doe-like expression immediately changes to a skeptic one. You tilt your head, calculating.

“You don’t think I treat you a bit differently than the rest of our teammates?”

He looks around, like he knows this question is a trap. You’d be more annoyed if it wasn’t so fun to have him all for yourself to tease.

“I think we are friends… you get along more with Roze, but still…” He fidgets at his missing belt loop. Ah, goddamn, that’s another stupid thing about him, why can’t he put a belt on properly?

“Friends? We are friends to you?” You ask, tone clearly disbelieving.

“Yes… are we not…?” König’s voice is a whisper now, insecurity leaking over and filling the whole room. Oh Jesus. Now you really feel like a middle school bully.

“I think… that I kind of have a problem with you, König…” You tell him, weirdly meek. There’s no other way to go about it. You wish he had the same mixed feelings you obviously hold for him, but instead his are tragically simple and gentle minded… What a contrast from the cold, calculating man that saved your life this morning.

“What problem?”

“Nothing really… it’s just that you distract me… a little too much.”

“Distract you like how? Is it something I do?”

“Yes, but you can’t change anyway,” you confess. And, deep inside you, you don’t want him to change. Part of the reason you can’t stand König, after all, is how he embodies some part of you— the one not carefully curated to be as badass and hardhearted as possible, but one that instead just is, even if it’s uncool. You’ve desperately tried to hide it all this time, convinced it could only hinder you in your career– and then König shows up, and not only is he one of the best soldiers you’ve met in your life, but he’s also unapologetically himself all the time. And it doesn’t stop him from achieving anything.

This plan is stupid anyway. König doesn’t seem to be the man who agrees to casual sex. Hell, sometimes it doesn’t seem like he’s even aware of the concept.

“Maybe I’m the one that has to change teams… If we just can’t find a solution to this problem of mine…” This is bait: you could be more explicit, but maybe you really do need to change teams. You can’t be consumed by thoughts of your team leader, it’s just embarrassing. This sexual attraction (but also resentment) you hold for König can’t have you zone out in an active combat zone.

“No!” He says, voice loud and clear, his tone filled with panic. “Please… I…”

“You what?”

“I… I like you.” He confesses, eyes low. His hands are trembling a little.

Five seconds pass before you elaborate a reply to that.

“König, I treat you like shit!” The exclamation probably surprises you more than it does him.

“S-So?” He pants, what little of eyebrows you can see low, pupils dilated only a slight blue circle remains of his irids.

“So? How low is your confidence to like me when I insult you all the time?” You hiss, mere centimeters away from his face. How bad have his relationships with people been so far if he considers you a person worth liking?

You lower your eyes and see that his knees are bent in order to be closer to your height. If your mind wasn’t already made up, this would be the turning point. He follows your gaze down his body with his eyes and whimpers when your eyes lock on his bulge. Your little stress problem is going to get solved alright.

“You like me? Alright. We can go there, if you want. But remember, this is for me and my problem. Got it?” You point at his chest and he nods frantically at that, like he can’t believe this is really happening.

“Fine then. Take off your clothes.” You order, taking a step back and leaning your back on the absurdly long table. You’d make him remove his mask, but that feels like an additional step in intimacy you’re not sure you can ask of a man you claim to hate to the majority of people you know. And, most of all, you can’t force him. You’re out of bitterness for the day. It doesn’t mean that you’ll make it easy for him, though.

König clutches at his pants, taking one long leg out and then the other, remaining in his standard boxers, erection barely hidden behind them. He then moves to his jacket, which he drops to the ground, and then his compression shirt– his pecs are reddened by the blush you’re sure covers his whole neck and face. Your hand points down, and König immediately drops to the ground, so you can beckon him over with a slight gesture. He crawls over to you, stopping right in front of your booted feet.

You deeply enjoy ordering him around, so why stop now.

“Unhook my pants,” you tell him, “but don’t remove my panties yet.” He nods and brings his trembling hands to your belt, undoing it faster than expected, to then lower your pants to your ankles so he can move more comfortably between your legs.

“König,” you call out his name.

“Hmm?” he purrs, barely taking away his eyes from your clothed pussy. You think he’s been getting progressively closer.

“What are we going to do… with your mask?”

“Don’t worry,” he raises a thumbs up, like a huge fucking loser that you’re somehow attracted to, “I can manage.”

“Well then, manager,” you snark, irritated once again, “proceed. Eat me out.” He takes one hand off your leg to uncover his lower face– you only see a flash of it before it is hidden to you again.

He digs in, at first sniffing you, and then licking you through the cotton of your underwear. The warmth of his body is scorching in the chill air of the unused room. His tongue diligently brushes against your clit and slit until your gusset is soaked, and only then he moves them to the side to make direct contact with your pussy. You hiss as your elbow falls down on the table, your legs now spread open even further as he sucks on your clit. Apparently he does know what sex is.

“Can I use my fingers? Please?” He looks up, hood now covering him completely again.

“Hm… let me think on it…” you pretend to really ponder on it, and you see his eyes get bigger and wetter.

“Please!” he begs again.

“Alright, go ahead big guy,” you decide to throw in a compliment for his begging. After all, he’s being quite good. So much for the strict dominance.

His finger penetrates your entrance slowly at first, maybe afraid of going too fast. He takes his sweet time exploring, seeing which movements or spots really make you welp.

“Don’t get distracted now,” you tell him, kicking him lightly on his back with your heel. This is about you, not his curiosity. He straightens his back and starts licking you again, eager and enthusiastic. To think you’ve been just boiling over in your anger when you could have made good use of him.

You can feel your climax readily rising up, spurred by König’s slobbering care. Your hand reaches to keep him closer to you, and you think you can almost feel his hair under the hood. Longer than you expected. The mounting sensation and heat comes to a high and you come, strangled moan and head thrown on the table. König keeps licking and fingering you until you forcibly tear him apart from your pussy.

After the momentary bliss, there’s a moment there when you think about what you’re doing. If this is simply about getting off, the encounter can end here, even though you could be more satisfied. You’re not sure it’s only about that, though. König is panting in front of you when you raise your head, calm besides his breathing. You look at the sheer size of him, and think of his selflessness and his patience dealing with you. And then you look down at the stain of precum on his briefs and go what the hell, sure.

“Can I touch you?” You ask him, but before you can even finish the question he’s already saying yes yes yes.

Your hand brushes his bulge and he jolts, toes high. You scoff a little, entertained by his always so vivid reactions. When you take his impressive cock out, you give it an experimental jerk and see him jump even higher.

“God, König, keep it together, will you now?” You laugh derisively at him, to which he just grumbles a bit sadly.

“What do you want, huh? Want me to jerk you off? Want to fuck me?” You ask teasingly, getting even closer to his masked face and stroking his cock. Once again, he just mumbles. The still unresolved irritation rears its ugly head, and after squeezing his head until he yelps you let go of him.

“I’m not going to do anything if you don’t tell me. I’ve had it with your mumbling,” you snarl and cross your arms. König’s entire body animates and tightens at his panic, and his arms leave his sides to tentatively reach out to you.

“Y-You can do whatever you want to me.”

“Pathetic answer. Pick something, or I’m getting out of here and leaving you hard and leaking.” He finishes reaching out then, and grabs your hips softly, almost as if afraid of hurting you. One of your legs snakes around his.

“I want…” He starts, unsure and twitchy.

“You want?” You encourage him, squeezing his arm not so gently.

“... to fuck you.” He whispers, ashamed. You laugh in his face. He must come from a different planet, a different universe altogether. How can a man of his size be so submissive? It feels like an impossible combination, but you’re not complaining.

“Go ahead, then,” you tell him sweetly, and he nods only once this time, decisive. He grabs his dick then and reaches your entrance. Both of you are so soaked it’s almost effortless: his cock fills you and more, to the point the last inch of him takes more time and care. But you can almost feel him in your guts due to his length. König groans when settles inside you, and moves his arms to hold you in a lover’s embrace. You can feel his ragged breath next to your ear. A bit baffled, you move your arms to hold him too. The smell you inhale is the same you felt last night, so utterly him.

“Alright?” You whisper next to his ear, the soft brush of his hood on your cheek.

“Perfect… so hot…” he replies, squeezing you even harder. You sputter a bit at that, not expecting it, but squeeze back.

“You can start moving now.”

His first thrusts are uncertain and slow. You caress his mighty back to encourage him, and then your hand goes lower and you grab a handful of that ass. He gasps and you laugh again.

“You’re so big,” you tell him, “I don’t know how you even fit in me.” He straight up moans then, and drives so hard in you he almost knocks the wind out of you. Feeling him get more desperate, you sneak a hand between you to brush at your clit, helping yourself get there. König rushes when he feels you get tighter, and you have to hush him to calm him down.

“Just a bit more,” you tell him, “resist a bit more.” He just heaves as an answer.

He keeps a good pace, not too slow or too rushed, but when he starts jamming a little you know he’s close. He calls out your name, tone worried.

“I’m about to…” You grab him by the neck then, at least what you can hold, and he stills, in what is no doubt a great exercise of restraint. The torture could go on for longer, but all things considered he’s endured enough from you. Somewhere along the way this has stopped being about you and your problem, and has begun to be his as well.

“Let’s do it together,” you just whisper as you let go of him, hand going back to touch yourself. He mewls, this big puppy of a man, and you moan when his cock hits that special spot inside you. You come again, locking your legs around his waist, and he stutters and groans as he releases inside you, nosing at your neck. You swear you can feel his cum spilling out.

The two of you lay there for a moment, or two, or three. König’s face is still hidden in your neck, his back no doubt uncomfortable. He mouths something against your neck you don’t know how to decipher. Slowly, and reluctantly, you push at his shoulders. He rises then, and you immediately miss his heat and the feel of his body caging you in. Worst of all is when he takes his cock out of you– the gaping feeling is unbearable, coldness of the air hitting directly your tender core. König is looking at you like he doesn’t know what to do, which is exactly the case. You’re not so sure yourself. It’s the first time you sleep with a coworker you have a complicated relationship with.

“There’s the debrief…” you tell him, unconvinced. He knocks his head up, like you just reminded him, woken him from a spell.

You put your pants back on while König redresses. Looking at him, as those big muscles move and flex, you feel your desire for him rise again, but you’ve been gone for long enough. Roze and Horangi will already be suspicious.

Before you exit the room, you grab König by the arm. He takes a step closer to you, and you flex a bit on your toes to look at him in the eyes better. Moving your hand, you tenderly touch his face. He closes his eyes.

“König… you can’t let yourself be bullied all the time,” you brush his cheek through the mask and he leans on your hand.

“But I like when you tease me,” he says, head bowed. You giggle a bit at that.

“Then only I can do it, okay?”

He nods. You swear you can feel his smile through the cheap cotton of his mask.

[syscest]

hi im assuming the us vs them post is about a specific term, which one would that be?

so the sysmed out-group term being referenced in the joke post was (as the reblogs guessed) "endogenic", and I'll lay our thoughts out straight just once to avoid being potentially taken the wrong way

I've got two angles here, existential theological linguistic bullshit, and harm-reduction. stay with me here because even if you're not on board with the first thing you'll want to see the second.

so "traumagenic vs endogenic" is a false dichotomy, and I don't just mean "there's a secret third thing", I mean both classifications are fundamentally not real.

personally? we haven't the foggiest idea why we're a system. but the thing is, I don't think anybody else does either - I think it's genuinely impossible to know why your own consciousness is behind your own eyes and controlling your own body, why you *experience* existing in first-person at all. Like shit, lots of singlets believe it's because a soul has been created or introduced to their flesh, and a bunch of others think that's a load of crap and the chemicals just *do this* on their own. Singlets get this unalienable right to believe whatever the hell they want about why they're experiencing being themselves all the damn time, and I refuse to believe that systems are uniquely special in a way that singlets are not such that anyone can fucking flawlessly divine the cause of our consciousness all of a sudden. These are existential-tier questions and to deny their impossible complexity and the right to self-belief over them is, in my eyes, to deny systems something many singlets feel is part of what makes them human.

You can believe all sorts of stuff about the nature of your own systemhood just like how you can believe all sorts of stuff about the nature of your own existence - that doesn't make you definitively right, it's just a meaningful mechanism through which you understand your own experiences that other people should respect - it's like any faith, go figure.

Frustratingly, these words - traumagenic, endogenic - they're not talking about belief, they're objective buckets actively being used for exclusion. So every time we use the term "traumagenic systems", in saying "systems that objectively exist because of trauma" we are saying, loudly, "it is possible to know why a system exists". and frankly? no the fuck it isn't.

Anyway that's airy bullshit and reflects very idealised interactions so - practical, realist opinions, and harm reduction:

Saying "I'm pro-endo" is a net good, though I think "I support all systems" is probably marginally better because it doesn't perpetuate categories pushed by sysmeds for exclusionary reasons as being essential to defining systemhood - as we joked about.

Contrastingly, self-declaring "traumagenic" or "endogenic" in a bio is a net bad. Saying "I'm a traumagenic system" also says "Hello sysmeds, I believe in your dichotomy and I'm one of the good ones" (great way to get sysmed followers), and that factor doesn't go away if you go on to say that you support all systems - you've already thrown away your opportunity to shield more vulnerable systems from harassment through making who sysmeds need to target more obscure.

In fact, regardless of whether your bio says to sysmeds "I am a target" or "I'm not a target", by saying it explicitly, you're pressuring other, more vulnerable systems to similarly self-declare. It's like cis people putting pronouns in their bio to shield trans people from harassment through obscurity and embarrassment, but in reverse - if you shut up about it, and *just* call yourself a plural system, even if you do believe in their categorisations, you stop the propogation of the self-labelling and exclusionists are forced to make themselves look like idiots because most of their harassment would have to be done at random. It's basically herd immunity - nobody talks, everybody walks.

anyway yeah there's context for future, though honestly the section in plural respect is a lot more succinct lmao

[localplaguenurse]

I am so in fucking love with the stairway to heaven animation and the only ways I can express that is to either say I am bricked the FUCK up, or I give in to the uber instincts of my uber autism and write an essay on what I THINK are some of the references/inspirations used in the animation. I chose the essay because I need people to know why I am "bricked up."

I am fully willing to accept if I am wrong/reaching for some of these but even then, I think it's cool that I can still connect certain moments with things I enjoy. With that out of the way, behold my analysis/breakdown of Stairway to Heaven!

Spoilers below the cut not just for the animation, but also minor spoilers for Kane Pixel's backrooms series, Liminal Land, Skinamarink, and Mandela Catalogue. Also just a warning for the incoherent ramblings of a guy who's abnormal about analog/indie horror. Please please please please PLEASE go watch the animation if you haven't.

First, "subject 087" is in reference to SCP-087, the never ending staircase SCP. I actually didn't even catch that the first time until I scrolled down to the comments lmao. In my defense, when SCP was blowing up in the mid 2010s I wasn't really old enough to appreciate it or find the format interesting (and honestly it is still hard for me to really get into it, but that's more of a me thing. Conceptually a clinical approach to horror like with SCPs or in All Tomorrows is fascinating, but it can be a bit of a slog for me), so I only knew the main three's numbers. (173, 096, and 682).

"Motion detected" has been used in just about every analog horror series now, but Mandela Catalogue is probably the main series that popularized the trope when analog horror first started getting popular.

The backrooms is, obviously, the backrooms. You can probably assume it's Kane Pixels' backrooms because his version really blew up but it feels more like early days backrooms before we got all those monsters and almond water stuff. (Which btw it's so funny we got "almond water" from whoever the first person to say the air smells like almonds was. For reference, almonds smell like cyanide. OP was trying to say the air smells toxic, not that almonds are the safest thing to consume in the backrooms.)

This shot just reminded me of The Oldest View, ALSO from Kane Pixels. Tbh that's probably just me but I thought it was neat.

Next up, the door. Aside from the obvious 333 angel numbers which also appear very prominently in Mandela Catalogue (this series is going to pop up a lot, I'm sorry), but for some reason it reminded me of the Silent Hill 4 door. Again, that's just the tism probably.

Skinamarink ahh shot, was honestly expecting the door to just poof, disappear.

Next, the shot with all the houses. While KP's Backrooms do have that creepy neighbourhood, this exact shot and set up feels closer to H.O.M.E. from Liminal Land.

And then our most darling biblically accurate horror icon Columbina would make False Gabriel proud, and just... she is so fucking cool and creepy in this and I love her so much.

This whole sequence was for one absolutely horrifying and beautiful, but what caught MY attention were the settings and locations shown. These are standard creepy liminal spaces and analog horror gore censorship, yes, but they also reminded me of the locations Trevor Henderson uses in his art pieces, so suffice to say I think Columbina looks RIGHT AT HOME regardless of how you wanna look at these shots. And the animation on her face opening up into wings and eyes is just an absolute chef's kiss moment. Props to the animators, man.

This trope, the whole main character monologue overlaying the screen moment, very common in analog horror but for me, again popularized by its use in the Mandela Catalogue.

The smudged picture is a reference to one of the ending shots in Skinamarink, where it pans over the childhood photos only for their heads and faces to now be missing, which most agree is the movie's way of saying these kids were trapped her for so long they eventually just stopped existing/faded into nothingness.

And finally, the classic ending scene of KP's first Backrooms video.

I know for a fact there are probably other references to liminal spaces/analog horror that I either missed or they're like general concepts/tropes used in analog horror. I did almost mention the mill in petscop because of Columbina's "two in the mill, one taken, one left" because that phrasing felt really specific, but it doesn't quite fit the vibes of all the other references. Also her only being seen in the camera is a trope used in all manner of horror media. My first thought was the forest scene in VHS (2012) where the murderer could only be seen in the film static.

I just wanted to get the especially cool/unique moments out there. I didn't even touch on the storyline but that's because it seems pretty straightforward. I'm also aware not many people are gonna read my red string corkboard ramblings, which I'm fine with. I just needed to get this out of my system, but I do appreciate those who did take the time to indulge my ramblings!

That's all for now, back to whatever the hell I had planned for today.

[genderqueerdykes]

Hi. Here's a lot of words that y'all don't have to read and I have a question that y'all don't have to answer. I think you all make a lot of great points. I'm sorry if this is on the blog already.

I think I might be what you call an egg. I just try not to think about it. I'm going through a lot of stuff right now that needs processing and I can get to the gender thing when I can get to the gender thing. That said, I'm trying to let myself exist in queer spaces and it feels like everyday women are bashing men without batting an eye. Actually, that's happening not just in queer spaces. Nobody says anything except to agree. Even people that I've known for a while and know that I'm married to a cis man whom I love and respect (and who actually got me interested in feminism). I told one friend that I was uncomfortable by her comments and she flipped it around, pouted exasperatedly, and said, "I thought you were a safe space!" I didn't know that there was a safe space for sexism!

What the fuck do I say to people? I'm autistic and have an extreme sense of justice and can't just let things go but I want to be at least somewhat respectful-sounding because when you yell at people they shut down and think you're wrong/the problem. I also don't want to talk their ears off/write paragraphs like this. 😬

🌀

jesus, i'm so sorry people are treating you like that. it really hurts my head to see people do this. you don't deserve that kind of behavior, you're not a shitty person for trying to figure out your gender. you're not shitty for being happily married to a cis man. i have so many words so i hope i won't give you a reply that's too long to parse

no matter what people's beliefs are, everyone is reinforcing that women need to hate men. like you're right it's just everywhere. not just queer communities. it's weird. it's like, i get it, the way we force men to act is absurd. we need to focus on helping men snap out of the shitty things we force them to do and support them in growing and changing. also like i don't get how people dont see how terrible it is to openly admit that they see trans men, queer men, gay men, bi men, disabled men, men of color, intersex men, multigender men, and so on. there are so many groups of men affected by this i dont get why people don't care

this "safe space" thing has gotten abused to hell and back. it's out of control, now it's being used as a gatekeeping tool. it's weird to me but people are defining things like this:

general lgbt/queer communities = women's safe space

lesbian community = women's safe space

nonbinary community = women's safe space

butch, gender non conforming, genderqueer community = women's safe space

genderfluid, bigender, multigender communities = women's safe space

bisexual, pansexual, polysexual, & polyamorous communities: women's safe space

like it's gotten way out of control. people think that every experience that doesn't outright say man is a women's safe space. and even then, we see entitlement there in the transmasculine and trans man communities as well. the thing is is like. these are intended to be communities. not safe spaces. like

women's groups exist. there are groups dedicated to providing safe spaces for just women, irl. a lot of the time they're based out of crisis and sexual assault survivor clinics, but there's also ones for homeless women, and so on. like i honestly guarantee you that if you googled "women's safe space" you'd find some local, brick and mortar places designed to be there for women and only women. like. those. exist.

we don't have to turn the entirety of queerness into a women's safe space. i feel like women who have been hurt by men are running to the wrong place a lot of the time. or they expect every other queer person to have the same trauma as them. like i think people in general are very queerphobic and assume that most queer people are women, for some reason?

i don't know why people view this as the "running away from men club". that's how terfs define the lesbian community. if you want to show people why this is dogshit, it's because that's literally how terfs define lesbianism. that's how rad fems define lesbianism. the "we hate men, we never want to be around men ever again, men are inherently dangerous" club is the lesbian separatism club.

people often say "why is there a lot of talk of lesbian supremacy lately?"

it's because so many people got indoctrinated into rad feminism without ever realizing it. queer communities are not the "we hate men" communities. those are rad fem communities.

so many queer spaces need to involve men, because men are very important in so many queer experiences. erasing their experiences and denying them the right to be in those spaces isn't helping anyone. if people want to be in all woman groups, they need to search specifically for that. if someone defines "lesbian" as "women's only safe space," they're looking for a women's space. honestly, maybe people just need to be nudged in the right direction. maybe not enough people know there are literal all woman safe spaces irl that help women with homelessness, sexual and domestic abuse, childcare, substance abuse, mental health, and many other resources.

sometimes there are behavioral health and crisis centers that accept just women. some psychiatric hospitals have spaces for just women. it really is possible to create, nurture and participate in womens only spaces. people are just trying to take over something they personally don't belong in, and it's insane that that's the norm right now. people are obsessed with going backwards in terms of progress in accepting diversity in queer lives.

anyway, i hate this shit, so i hope things improve for you soon, people are just. so proud of being mean right now. people are proud to be assholes and they take it out on disadvantaged men. isn't that sad? people are pissed off about patriarchy, the establishment ABOVE us, so they attack poor, mentally ill, disabled, neurodivergent, intersex, trans, queer men and men of color, as if that'll solve anything.

[astroyongie]

Heyyyy

https://www.tumblr.com/astroyongie/771243053972357120/can-you-do-a-rexting-after-break-up-for-tbz-too?source=share

Seventeen?

Seventeen: Texting You After a Break up

Scoups

"I know there's no way back to this" "but still I have one last favor to ask you y/n" "Would you remember me? remember us?" "Just us and the moment that warm our hearts. Just remember our story on the beautiful side"

Mingyu

"Y/n please understand that I'm still full of the love you want" "Still waking up beneath it all, still waiting for you home" "I know you are mad but please lets talk it out yeah?" "I reach for you on faith alone, so please believe me when I say I love you"

Wonwoo

"I am so sorry for what I did to you, fuck" "I don't know what's got its teeth in me, I just felt like I had to bite back in anger" "I know I have sought a lot of fury and unlashed it all on you and I am so sorry.." "I know it will never bring back the innocence I took away from you. I am so sorry y/n"

Vernon

"So you have blocked me uh?" "Seems like your heart is locked up and I still get the combination wrong" "Or are you simply waiting to save your love for someone I am not?" "At least, you could have been honest with me"

Hoshi

"You don't understand do you y/n?" "You dont get to end his relationship without my accord" "Let the impulse of our love and the instinct of our lust, entangle to one yeah?" "In this light you are mine, ‘til the sweat turns to blood.”

The8

"I saw your new post.. seems like you are running forward with your life uh?" "And then there's me, who see our past on an empty ceiling." "I play along with the life signs anyway. Guess you never truly loved me" "But hope to God you don't know this feeling. I truly hope y/n"

Jun

"You are such a liar" "This whole thing about me hurting you, about this relationship not being enough and yet you fucking with someone else already?" "Is this what has become of us y/n?" "Maybe not that you conceal your feelings, they just don't exist after all"

Dino

"Please y/n, stop reaching for me" "You gave me nothing whatsoever but a reason to leave." "You say you want me, but you know I'm not what you need" "So please, just move on. I am your past now"

Woozi

"It's cute that you think that I would have really let you go" "oh and my love, do you really thin I would have mistaken you? I got all the signs. I know you are still in love with me" "Why are you trying to cast me off?" "Are you just trying to turn me on? cmon y/n, come home stop the games"

Joshua

"Please let's talk y/n" "You know I didn't meant what I said. you know that I'm caught up in your design" "How your life connects to mine. Please, don't leave" "I know we can fix things, I just want to be forgiven"

Jeonghan

"hey baby.. it's been a few days, and I need to tell you that I can't do this" "Let's meet up yeah?" "search the skies for a while, you and I.. talk this out of our chests" "Collide like two stars for a while, you and I. Fix this and love each other again"

DK

"I need you to understand that I hate who I have become" "Every time I wake up without you there, fuck it feels like I suffocate" "every damn days its new scars that I didn't ask for, and all I want is you back with me, y/n" "Can you call? ask for answers? please this can't be the end"

Seungkwan

"I understood the other day that you and I, we were never meant" "I spent time realizing that you were never the one I thought you were. you showed a side of yourself that I can't ever erase. Why are you never real? " "Please stop following me through" "Just let me go"

[tgmsunmontue]

PROMPT THIRTY - "Rings"

30 December 2024 - 2/3 parts (31st December is the last part)

(Set prior to events of TG:M, post break-up and making up).

PART ONE

              He waits while Bradley goes in and makes up reasons or excuses why he and Jake are suddenly leaving, mind whirling. Bradley wants to talk. It’s never been one of his strongest abilities, always preferred to cut and run, which had served him fine until…

              “Come on. I’m driving you to your place. Means you’ve got nowhere to run to,” Bradley says, shrugging into his own jacket. He bites back the sharp retort, because Bradley’s not wrong; and that stings in the worst way. He follows Bradley to a car he doesn’t recognise, realising suddenly that there are going to be lots of things, little and big, that he doesn’t know anymore and he takes a steadying breath.

              The drive isn’t long, they don’t talk, silence stretching between them. He doesn’t know what to say even if he was good at talking. Bradley follows behind him and he pushes open the door, heads to the small sofa before diverting toward the small circular dining table. The sofa is too small, doesn’t want to force them into uncomfortable proximity. Doesn’t know if he can cope if he has to watch Bradley walk out, knowing he’s going to have to see him nearly every day afterwards.

              God, what a fucking shit show.

              One of his own making. He’s not used to that. Not used to fucking up on such an epic scale.

              “Uh, did you want something to drink?”

              “No. Sit down Jake.”

              He sits. Wants to lean back and cross his arms but instead finds himself mirroring Bradley’s pose, one elbow one the table. Except while Bradley’s fingers are rubbing his forehead, Jake finds himself covering his mouth, afraid of what he might let slip out. He swallows against the tightness in his throat, knows he owes Bradley an apology, but they don’t come easy even when they’re deserved.

              Bradley doesn’t seem to know what to say either though, and they sit there simply looking at each other and he lets himself notice little details. A new scar he doesn’t know the story behind, a godawful shirt featuring roosters wearing santa hats, the slightly longer hair making his curls look even better.

              “You broke up with me because you thought I was breaking up with you. That’s what happened right? I’m not imagining or remembering what you said earlier?”

              “I – fuck. Yeah.”

              “Shit. When you said you weren’t good at communication you really weren’t underselling it…” Jake shrugs helplessly, scrubs at his face because he had warned Bradley when they’d first started dating. But that’s not an excuse. “So you were too busy hearing all the wrong things and jumping to the wrong conclusions. How, I have no fucking clue, but… you did.”

              He nods once, because now Bradley is going to repeat every horrible thing Jake spat at him, he’s going to have to relive it and then Bradley is going to walk out.

              “You… Shit Jake. You must have felt so hurt. To try and rip me apart like that.”

              “Try?” Jake laughs hollowly, voice watery, falls silent at the quelling look Bradley gives him.

              “Yeah. You tried. But judging from your reaction right now I’m pretty sure you didn’t mean a single word of it.”

              “I… I meant to hurt you.”

              “Oh. You did hurt me. I was so confused though. Couldn’t even find you to talk things out. Was just… hopeful that I’d one day cross paths with you again and maybe get an explanation…”

              Jake sucks his lips into his mouth, remembers blocking numbers and deleting photos and telling Javy he was sworn to silence. Getting rid of the rings that he’d bought.

              Fuck.

              “I’m sorry…” the words are so quiet he doesn’t know if Bradley even hears them, but he feels the hot track of tears as they spill down his cheeks and he ignores them, doesn’t want to draw Bradley’s attention to them.

              It doesn’t matter, Bradley notices and he’s out of his chair and there, brushing them away with the pad of his thumb and cupping Jake’s jaw in his hand, shaking his head.

              “My life would be so much simpler if I didn’t love you…”

              Jake hiccups, the terror that Bradley is simply going to walk away making him tremble, but he knows he doesn’t deserve a second chance no matter how much he wants one.

              “But I do love you. Never stopped. More fool me I guess… What do you want Jake?”

              “You.”

              “Well. You’ve got me. Always have.”

[occultbooks]

dylan's hilson playlist masterpost

THIS IS A LONG POST!

I have a lot of thoughts and opinions and you don't have to agree but they make me feel so sick to my stomach that I had to make a post. Music is, in my mind, one of the greatest things in the world. I'm very passionate about it. So, here is a (chronological) list of songs that remind me of House and Wilson.

You Don't Know Where Your Interest Lies (1967) - Simon & Garfunkel

S&G deep cut I love. One of their only singles that didn't end up on an album. This one is pretty straightforward. Could be from either perspective, but I like to think it's Wilson's perspective. The song starts:

You don't know that you love me You don't know, but I know that you do

and the second verse includes the line:

You may think that we're friends, all right But I won't let friendship get in my way

The vibe of the song is also much more musically intense than Simon & Garfunkel tend to veer in their love-related songs, making it aesthetically fitting to Hilson as well.

2. Starry Eyes (1979) - The Records

This one is slightly up to interpretation (not a very popular song so meanings aren't readily available) but it has a kind of melancholy unrequited "giving up" theme.

I don't wanna argue, there's nothing to say Get me out of your starry eyes and be on your way

I like to think of this one also as from Wilson's perspective, but he's pretending he's speaking on behalf of the hospital, offended at House acting in his own self-interest. Early season 8 "we're not friends anymore" vibes.

3. This Night (1983) - Billy Joel

Being on the same album as Leave a Tender Moment Alone, this one is very fitting to me. This one, in my head, is like House's perspective, alternate universe where Wilson isn't so repressed. The lyrics are so deliciously tragic to me even though the resolution of the song implies happy endings. Verse 2 makes me feel sick to my stomach:

I've been around, someone like me should know better Falling in love would be the worst thing I could do Didn't I say I needed time to forget her? Aren't you running from someone who's not over you?

UEGGHHGRHGAHGHR sorry this one I can't even be civil about. it makes me emotional

4. You Make Me Feel Like a Whore (1995) - Everclear

This one is self-explanatory but I'll preface a little bit before writing out some of the lyrics. This could be either House or Wilson perspective. Horniest middle-aged men in New Jersey. I feel like they're all over each other all the time. A bunch of freaks.

I take your word like it was gospel  I'm so eager to please  Yeah I like it when you talk to me  It feels so good inside your shadow  It's the place I need to be Yeah I know I need to climb you  Like a tree

Yeah. You guys know. The rest of the song is just as horny and I just...yeah.

5. Selfless, Cold and Composed (1997) - Ben Folds Five

House perspective for so many reasons. Many lyrics about someone telling you they're done with you and walking out, and you feeling like that's probably fair.

You don't owe me to be so polite You've done no wrong You've done no wrong Get out of my sight

but the one that fucks me up is

Come on baby now throw me A right to the chin Don't just stare like You never cared I know you did

Asking the other person to hit him to show that they care is such a House thing. Again: early season 8. This could realistically be any House relationship, really, but it's so Hilson breakup to me.

6. G.I.N.A.S.F.S. (2007) - Fall Out Boy

Fun fact: the song title stands for "Gay Is Not a Synonym For Shitty." Just thought that was interesting. Anyway, this is also from House's perspective. I could probably go into detail about every individual lyric but I'll try not to. This song is about yearning for someone you either can't have or shouldn't pursue. Post-canon (post-Wilson death) makes the most sense for most of the song but it could also be just House being in his own head and believing Wilson is too far away to reach.

Trade baby blues for wide-eyed browns I sleep with your old shirts and walk through this house In your shoes, you know it's strange It's a strange way of saying that I know I'm supposed to love you

I feel like House probably wears Wilson's clothes after he dies. It makes me unbelievably sad to think about. Anyway, the second verse followed by the pre-chorus kills me:

I've already given up on myself twice Third time is the charm, third time is the charm Threw caution to the wind, but I've got a lousy arm And I've traced your shadows on the wall, now I kiss them Whenever I'm down, whenever I'm down Figured I'm not figuring myself out Things aren't the same anymore Some nights, they get so bad I almost pick up the phone

Thinking about House grieving...augh. They make me nauseous.

7. Away Frm U (2012) - Oberhofer

This song is about resisting someone who is shutting you out to try and keep them afloat. It doesn't have a lot of lyrics. It's very Wilson though.

You're pushing me away from you And there's nothing I can do And I can't fight all of your battles for you

That's about it.

8. Everyone But You (2017) - The Front Bottoms

The vibe of this song is fairly cliche, but "I hate everyone but you" as a concept is so delicious. It's also a little bit about feeling numb, which is very House to me.

It doesn't get worse, it doesn't get better You just get old, it lasts forever Can't get happy, can't get sad It's hard to do When I hate everyone but you

It's so sad to think about how House just spends his whole life trying to be as numb as possible because everything hurts all the time, and the only one who is (somewhat) consistent in his life is Wilson.

I fell in love 'Cause no one saw me the way you did And no one's seen me that way since But for a short time that's how I lived

Again, this could be any House relationship (ESPECIALLY Stacy), but also thinking about post-Wilson death House reminiscing is so...argh.

That's all I have for now. I mean, I have more songs on my playlist, but this is all I feel confident enough to pick apart. Link to the full playlist here, though it is Apple Music so sorry if u don't have that lol.

[housewarningparty]

💙 Caitvi

It could be cute and hot, but there is obviously also a lot of potential for Angst here. Pit fighter era, Vi mistaking Caitlyn for a hallucination and Caitlyn going along with it?

Blue is for a drunken/tipsy kiss

ALRIGHT YOU ASKED FOR IT. also. look. i needed more room to work, this is a non-canon layout for vi's pitfighter hovel, you just have to work with me.

-

Caitlyn had imagined this scenario countless times.

She had imagined Vi screaming at her. Herself screaming at Vi. In her worst scenarios, it would become a physical altercation, Vi lashing out. Some part of Caitlyn thinks she would deserve this — she had done the same, after all, hadn’t she? If it happens, she had resolved to allow it — a single blow, she would offer Vi, unchallenged. Penance. She would have to respond after that, if it came to it. 

Of course, it’s not just fighting and arguing Caitlyn imagined. In her guiltiest, most indulgent fantasies, Vi reacted just as explosively, though with a far different intent. No, that’s not true — some of these daydreams are nearly as violent as the fighting Caitlyn fears. Some are softer — tears and warm hands, Vi pliant beneath her, baring herself for Caitlyn, giving herself to Caitlyn.

None of what she imagined or prepared for is this: being ignored.

Vi’s clanking footsteps on the rickety metal stairs leading to her front door are loud, uneven, heavy. Caitlyn can tell from the cadence, the force, that she’s drunk. She can also tell that Vi is alone, which is a relief. In all the time Caitlyn has been keeping tabs on her down here, she’s never known Vi to bring anyone home, but Caitlyn has come to expect that anything that can go wrong will. Part of her feared how quickly this confrontation would slip out of her hands if another party were here to witness it.

Vi spends a long moment fumbling with the door, cursing and pawing at the knob. So long that Caitlyn contemplates standing up, opening it for her, but before she can commit to the action Vi finally succeeds in opening it, lurching through the threshold with so much force Caitlyn’s almost certain she’s going to topple onto her face.

Vi catches herself, luckily. She knocks over several empty liquor bottles from the low shelf she catches herself on in the process, but she stops herself from hitting the floor. With a careless, sloppy kick backwards, Vi succeeds in closing the door behind herself before she pulls herself back to standing, swaying on her feet, blinking blearily in the dim light filtering through her dingy windows.

Caitlyn waits in the dark. Stock still on the edge of Vi’s bed.

Vi stares directly at her.

Words bubble up in Caitlyn’s chest — so many, so fast it hurts, she aches with things unspoken. Her heart thumps so hard she can feel it in her ears, mouth suddenly dry, stomach swooping hard enough to make her almost feel sick.

Vi takes a step forward.

And then stumbles, and blinks hard, shaking her head before shuffling off towards the bathroom, one hand on the wall as she walks to steady her.

Caitlyn’s too stunned to even speak.

It’s not that dark.

Vi doesn’t close the door to the bathroom as she hunches over the sink, heaving. Caitlyn winces preemptively, but after a few sick lurches and nothing vomited up, Vi just curses, ducks her face under the flow of the faucet and holds it there for a moment.

She knew  Vi saw her. Their eyes had met.

Vi glances at her again as she exits the bathroom. It’s a fleeting, anxious look, just a moment before Vi turns away from her, heading for a mostly-empty bottle of clear liquor tipped over on a low table. She tilts it back into her mouth and Caitlyn can’t help but wince as she watches the desperate way Vi sucks the last few mouthfuls from the bottle before throwing it to the floor with a frustrated roar.

“Fuck,” Vi slurs, hunched over with her palms braced on her thighs. Her shoulders shake, muscles rippling as she tears off the black leather jacket she’d been wearing, nearly tripping over it when she takes a step toward the bed where Caitlyn waits.

Caitlyn holds her breath again, but Vi seems to be deliberately not looking at her. 

It’s bizarre. Caitlyn should speak up, she knows — something’s not right here. But for some reason she feels bolted to her spot on the edge of the bed, mouth clamped shut as surely as if there were wire binding her jaws together.

The black grease paint streaking Vi’s cheeks is messy, smudged. The wraps around her hands are covered in grime and old blood. She smells like a brewery inside a locker room — sour alcohol and sweat. Vi collapses onto the bed, barely glancing at Caitlyn and groans, covering her face, sprawled on her back. She breathes hard, hands gliding through her own hair, tugging hard enough to make Caitlyn wince. Then she lifts up her hips, fingers undoing the button and the zipper on the front of her trousers.

Caitlyn nearly panics, unable to help the sudden, girlish flush of blood to her face, but Vi’s attempts at taking off her clothes are thwarted. The trousers are tight, she’s drunk, they get stuck halfway down her thighs before she gives up, going limp on the bed again.

A long moment passes in near silence — no sound between them but Vi’s rough breathing.

Slowly, gingerly, Vi shifts on the bed, turning to her side. Towards Caitlyn. 

She mashes her face into the mattress and whimpers, a sound so small, so incongruous with the dangerous, imposing figure she projects.

There’s nothing imposing about Vi in this moment. She draws her knees up to her midsection, like a child, and blinks deliriously at Caitlyn across the bed. Slowly, haltingly, Vi raises a hand, fingers outstretched towards Caitlyn.

She stops herself before she can touch Caitlyn, swallowing hard, rubbing her face again.

“Please,” Vi’s voice breaks in half. 

It’s a surreal moment. Caitlyn didn’t have a plan for this. She feels out of her body, almost like a spectator, suddenly seized by the real terror that if she breaks this strange moment, this tension between them, it will ruin things more than she knows how to fix.

Haltingly, Caitlyn lowers herself on the mattress. She lets her legs hang off the edge of the bed, but faces Vi, not daring to breach the space between them.

Vi lets out a shaky breath, blinks back tears as she offers Caitlyn a watery smile.

Caitlyn takes a breath. “Vi,” she begins, and then her breath catches in her throat as Vi stretches her body across the space between them.

It’s a clumsy kiss, awkward, artless. It sends a thrill through Caitlyn’s entire body anyway. Maybe it shouldn’t, maybe that’s wrong. They’ve literally spoken two words to each other, Vi’s possibly the drunkest Caitlyn’s ever seen anyone.

But Caitlyn is weak. Despite everything, she wanted Vi again the moment she saw her. And some part of her had hoped for exactly this, hadn’t it? That it could be as easy as showing up and Vi would want her back. That Vi would apologize, would say she understood what Caitlyn did and why, would say she shouldn’t have interfered that day, would forgive Caitlyn for striking her, would say, yes, of course, I’ll come home with you. I’m so sorry we were ever apart.

It could happen. It could happen after this kiss. Vi will pull back, and be clear-eyed. She will want what Caitlyn wants.

The kiss is fouled by the taste of alcohol, a hint of copper underneath. When Caitlyn’s tongue sweeps past Vi’s lips, the taste of blood is stronger — she’s had a tooth broken, Caitlyn can feel the grit of enamel on her tongue. She squeezes her eyes shut, tries to ignore it, reaching out to cup Vi’s face. The paint on Vi’s face has gone runny from the sink, it’s oily under Caitlyn’s hands. Worse, she feels Vi wince at the contact, knows she must have pressed into a bruise.

Caitlyn pulls back, eyes flicking up and down Vi’s body.

She’s a wreck, a collection of bruises and scrapes. Nowhere looks safe to touch. Caitlyn draws her hand back to her own chest, trailing a smear of black paint across Vi’s sheets.

Vi blinks at her blearily. She looks dazed, eyes heavy, mouth slack. After a moment, she rolls back onto her back, covering her face again.

“Fuck,” Vi breathes. She rubs her face so hard it looks like it hurts. “Fuck! God. I’m losing it. I’m fucking…”

Caitlyn watches, breath coming fast. Oh no.

“I wish you’d fucking leave me alone,” Vi moans into her hands. “It’s like nothing I do… I’m losing it. Fuck, I’m going crazy.”

Vi doesn’t think she’s real. A hallucination — like Jinx has? — a figment of her imagination. And maybe that’s easier to accept than reality: Caitlyn seeking her out in Zaun, waiting in the dark of her dingy little flat, kissing her while she’s drunk and in pain and not saying a single word to try to get through to her.

It’s the only explanation.

Caitlyn lets out a shuddering breath. A hot, dark wave of shame crashes through her. Her lips throb. She still tastes Vi’s blood on her tongue.

Vi rolls over again, away from Caitlyn this time. She draws her knees up tight again, curling into a ball.

Caitlyn doesn’t dare to move, just watches the muscles in her back as she shifts. Watches the rise and fall of her shoulders for long, silent moments as her breath evens out and slows. 

Once she’s sure Vi is asleep, she rises from the bed, as quietly as she can, gritting her teeth as the old box spring creaks and groans despite her best efforts. Vi doesn’t stir. Not when Caitlyn rises, not when she carefully unlaces and removes Vi’s boots, or shift her to lay fully on the mattress, not when Caitlyn drapes the single, threadbare blanket she finds over Vi’s body, and not when Caitlyn carefully slips back out the door to Zaun, locking it behind her.

Pausing outside the door she waits and listens for Vi to cry out, to call her back. There’s no sound from inside.

Gingerly Caitlyn touches her lips with two fingers, remembers the paint staining her hands a moment too late.

She’ll have to wash up before she gets back to the mansion. She doesn’t want to deal with questions from her father.

[wii-exist]

This actually makes some really good points, and if I end up having to write some essay next semester in literature, I'm definitely using some of these /pos

A lot of my teachers have had to go the extra mile to check everything for AI (especially since I do online school) and just

It's a lot of work on both students and teachers to check on stuff (on students to make sure their stuff isn't flagged for AI, and on teachers to do all the work to make sure their students aren't cheating). I have had my homework that I worked hard on put down as a 0, not because it was flagged for AI, but that it was just really close to someone else's that was flagged.

I personally have only used AI in school on assignments to help explain things better for me to understand (cause I am REALLYYYY slow when it comes to processing things) (and also my teachers aren't allowed to help students with any work past 4 PM which is just annoying when sometimes I start my homework at like 7 PM)

AI is basically one of those things that's like "don't let it fall into the wrong hands"

And yeah, I've love writing stories, and sometimes I just can't get what I have planned written into words (I have struggled with explaining things for so many years), so AI has been a huge help with that

AI is supposed to be used to help you do things, not do all your work for you

And I think that's one thing many people nowadays have completely forgotten about, leading to many people hating the overusage of AI and how it's gone from a simple tool to help with basic tasks to taking over those tasks. You aren't learning anything by copying and pasting some generated response into your homework and clicking submit.

And I swear to the fucking gods I can't express how much I absolutely despise AI "art". Yes, it's absolutely fucking great to help you with REFERENCES. REFRENCES.

Again, clicking a button and posing the image online just shows you did nothing to accomplish anything. You put no actual work into it. There's no learning from it.

Using AI for references or inspiration, THAT, you are learning at least something from it.

[actualaster]

i am too tired to function because of stress, but because i can't function well i am struggling very hard to get the things done that will help the stress so it feeds into itself in an endless cycle

[artanogon]

thinking more about being trans

[codacheetah]

I keep thinking of how I want to taxonomize Siffrin and Loop bc it feels significant to me that Loop and Siffrin both have inherently diverged from the same Traveler Mold they came from. But because I am like a 7 year old I keep sagely nodding to myself going "ah yes... just like mega mewtwo"