#there is a difference between a discussion and discourse

[doberbutts]

hello! I'm the one that sent you that ask a week or so ago. Sorry I didn't check to see if you'd answered for a while because I was just so upset and had to take a second. I will say I scrolled through a bunch of helpful posts you reblogged before I even found the ask again that helped a LOT.

Two things I thought you might want to know is that it wasn't speculation that you'd blocked the weirdo blog that sent me your way: they literally have "proudly blocked by doberbutts" in their bio which was why i felt safe coming to you lmao. Second is I guess my struggle with this issue was an overall struggle with how bad wider misogyny has gotten in general and how muddied it's gotten with the "male loneliness crisis" and like, centering men's issues under patriarchy and just how insanely upset it's been making me. Seeing cis MRAs identify with trans men freaked me out because like, yeah it's important to talk about how (cis) men suffer under patriarchy but it's just so rare for me to find men do that without devolving into misogyny, and I start to feel so helpless because I know validating these issues matter but women are being literally dehumanized openly. I do play oppression olympics with this specific issue and just of COURSE women suffer more under patriarchy, but the same men who demand space to air how they suffer won't acknowledge that truth. (sorry for soapboxing; some of them do! It's just...things are so bad for women rn lol it's really hard to have compassion when it feels like none is being given to me).

So the more I see this issue the more I think people are being affected by larger misogyny like I am, but are doing the typical thing that happens where you lash out at a group you can "reach." Policing and harassing trans men's behaviours is way easier than cis men. I've also been seeing some parallels between this discourse and the "gay men vs lesbian women" discourse. It's not really a one-to-one but the discussion of the role of misogyny re homophobia towards gay men who still have male privilege but, come on, if they have feminine affectation it's Different and the back and forth that used to happen when gay men and lesbian women did oppression olympics, it just feels similar.

idk as i type this I hope I don't come across disingenuous or like, my Too Casual Overly Respectful tone is trying to subtly incept you. I worry my vibes are too "women first" but I just can't help it misogyny really is ruining my life 😭. Anyways I'm very grateful for your perspective and your blog. I feel more settled and equipped to push back against anti transmasculine behaviour with rhetoric that can actually challenge people

To respond to each point in turn:

1: Again I still don't really know who that is, though I am somewhat bemused by the idea that someone I clearly don't really remember is still so obsessed with me that they're proud I've blocked them. For the record, my block list is as follows: people who send anonymous hate, people who continue to harass me after I've told them to stop, people I catch with posts containing inexcusable bigotry, obvious trolls, self-identified zoophiles and MAPs, and people who repeatedly send me fundraisers after I have already said I only share fundraisers from people I know and trust. Being on my block list is, um, not really good company, so it's kind of funny to me that someone is proud to be there. Yeah I'm sure they'll fit right in with the neo-nazis and dogfuckers and cyber bullies. Oh and I guess my ex but I only blocked them after they started harassing me about our failed relationship years later. Enjoy block hell I suppose.

2: I'm not really here to play who has it worse, not because I don't recognize the wider understanding of privilege vs oppression but because I think it is a self-defeating thread of thought because you will always find a "more oppressed" example, and I think that people should be allowed to talk about their hurts regardless of their status of "more oppressed" vs "less oppressed". Talking about the ways society has hurt them is not what makes MRAs dangerous. What makes them dangerous is who they blame, how they go about fixing their problem, and the solutions to their problems they come up with.

To be quite frank, the majority of MRAs are men who have experienced some form of social rejection or isolation. Most have been sold some patriarchal lie about how by being men they inherently deserve good sex with hot women on demand, a wife at home to keep barefoot and pregnant, a high paying job where they are respected and valued regardless of the effort they themselves put into it, and all the luxuries that lifestyle can afford. This is a fantasy, you and I both know it. And when these men realize the hard reality that we live in an age of extreme social isolation, that in order to have a partner you need to actually have more personality than a used dishrag and with only half the mess at max, that good sex is about give and take and not just yourself, that these high paying jobs are few and far between with most takers being born into some level of wealth rather than any merit they themselves have earned... they lash out.

It does not at all help things to understand that many of these MRAs are themselves marginalized in some way, but their framework not only doesn't let them see it but also advocates a harsh rejection of anyone who is self-aware enough to realize it. A lot of these guys are undiagnosed, have trauma, and are just as affected by the systems of racism, classism, homo- and trans-phobia, xenophobia, sexism, and ableism as the rest of us.

Quite frankly, I'd rather these dudes see a group of (trans) men fighting for our place in society by joining hands with other activists with more feminist, black-friendly, disabled-friendly, gay- and trans-friendly in an attempt to lift everyone out of the pit rather than continuing to fight over scraps... than to see them continue to blame women and Jews and then go shoot up a school or a mall about it. One of these helps. The other just kills people and excuses rape. There's a lot of value in deradicalizing people by offering them a path to resolving their pain that is perhaps less destructive and more constructive.

This is also why the constant comparison to MRAs annoys me. MRAs kill people in senseless acts of terror and despair because they're upset that they're not having the sex fantasy the patriarchy sold them. Trans men talking about our oppression- regardless of the word we use to express it- are mostly talking amongst ourselves about suicide and rape statistics and sharing ways to get hormones and surgery despite unwilling doctors and insurance companies. We're talking about how our social groups rejected us the moment we came out, or how people use us being men against us in ways that was not happening before we came out or passed. These are not at all equivalent conversations.

3: Again I ask you- I see people using both cis and trans feminist frameworks to hurt other people. Where is your concern for that? I am equally concerned about TERFs as I am about MRAs, as they have driven multiple transgender people and our allies to suicide and even have committed acts of violence against people irl as a result of their ideology. Most TERFs will also be the first ones to tell you that they have been hurt, deeply, by men and that they also are frequently undiagnosed or untreated, traumatized, and affected by the same systems of oppression. Does their existence and their determination to latch onto every feminist conversation including those of people who are staunchly against them then poison all feminism to you? If not, then why make that distinction for trans men and MRAs?

I am black. I am Indigenous. I am transgender. I am gay. I am disabled. I am poor. I suffer. People hurt me. I see every day how bad things are. Do you think I cannot see it, or that my ignorance is the reason for my request for compassion? Perhaps consider that it is rather my knowledge and my lived experience that fuel my call for compassion, instead. I never said it would be easy. But I do think it would make a better world.

4: I do actually agree that it is very similar to the gay man vs lesbian conversation and have said for a while that it's the same queer infighting discussion we've already hashed out for the last 50 or so years, but the target groups just swapped out. It's just butchphobia, it's just biphobia, it's just aphobia, it's just panphobia, it's just nbphobia- it's the same fucking shit over and over and over again. It was shit infighting before and it's shit infighting now. Privilege is a conversation that depends so heavily on context, and the way it has been bastardized by the internet's poor understanding of political frameworks developed by women of color and their allies into cute soundbites and phrases rather than a deep, nuanced knowledge will never fail to annoy me.

Do gay men have privilege over lesbians? As a class, sure, they would have male privilege. But what do we mean by male privilege? The privilege to not worry about being assaulted on the street? To walk home late at night unbothered? To marry who they want, to have the romantic partner they desire, to feel safe within a domestic partnership? You and I both know that doesn't quite match up to the lived experience of gay men worldwide or even here in the "gay paradise" US. How does this interact with other marginalizations? Does a black gay man have privilege over a white lesbian? What happens if he's a drag queen dressed up for an event and she's a butch that passes for cis male? Does that change retroactively if this "gay man" figures out she's actually a transbian 5 years later, and the lesbian is a TERF? I'm not saying this breaks the framework of male privilege- I am saying that sometimes the theory doesn't match the reality, and a nuanced and intersectional understanding is required when talking on an individual scope rather than class politics.

Additionally- as a side note- it is also incredibly annoying to watch people act like privilege = oppressor = dangerous, and oppressed = victim = safe. Privilege, and whether or not you have any, is not a moral indicator nor is it an indicator of the safety of the person you're interacting with. I have privilege over people who cannot walk, because I can. I am not objectively or systemically oppressing people who cannot walk by the use of my legs in my day-to-day life. Oppression is action- if I vote for policies and politicians that removes ramps and safety regulations and provisions to assist wheelchair users? Now I am oppressing people who cannot walk. If I block or move or interfere with the disability aids, if I mock people or assault or harm them, if I dump them out of their mobility aids or break them, that is oppression. The act of climbing the 3 stairs on my front porch to get into my house is a privilege, but the oppression stems from the people who built my house to even have stairs on both exits.

5: lastly to end a very long post, I don't actually think there's any harm in centering yourself when discussing things that objectively affect you, as long as you remember to include others who are affected and let them have their floor to also center themselves when they need to speak up. I am a black trans man. My politics are pretty centered on black feminism. I don't think that is objectively a bad thing. I prefer to let the demographics with similar problems speak for themselves- I would rather my trans fem friends get the mic when they open their mouths, my lesbian friends, my Jewish friends, my latino and asian and arab friends. I don't think there's anything wrong with them centering their own problems and outlooks, as long as they recognize that there's shared space to be had with others who feel similar hurts. I think it's pretty normal to center yourself. I think the difficult thing is knowing when to relinquish the megaphone to someone who's been dying to use it, while you yourself still have so much to say.

[randomnameless]

I feel like it's not even worth it to even attempt to discuss Three Houses with Edelstans any more. They're not even talking about Fire Emblem 16 any more but rather some combination of Treehouse's and their own fanfiction.

Well,

I'd say everything boils down to what you expect from a discussion, sometimes I don't reply because I'm lazy and everything's been said, and some other times, when an edelstan reblogs or sometimes comment on one of my post, I'm just considering what will be the probable outcome, and if I have enough time to waste with it.

Granted, I reconsidered Claude's actions in Sreng thanks to someone pointing it out, so I guess that counts as a positive interaction?

But whenever the discussion grows around "grooming" "State of Quo" "Crusts" I know it's usually a sign that whatever will follow isn't worth both time and effort. Then some other signs are the tone of the post, the aggressivity and whetever or not the person posting it has set as their goal to "convert" you to their side, or just to be agressive against what they perceive as "an enemy".

Like, seriously, it's fandom, go argue your headcanons with someone else by writing a fic, instead of sharing your salt with people who don't really need the sodium intake.

[celtrist]

It's okay to be emotional over a ship.

It's okay to be emotional over a ship. It's okay to be emotional over characters. It's okay to share grievances over a ship as much as it's okay to gush over a ship. It's okay to feel so overwhelmingly negatively over a ship just as much as it's okay to feel so overwhelmingly positive.

While it's always going to be better to focus on positives, it can also be just as good to let out any negatives you might have about something rather than bottling it in and, for some, feeling alone in your thoughts about it.

It is so, so, SO OKAY to be so heavy in emotions concerning a ship whether negative or positive because it means you're invested in the characters and their relationships. When spaces seem to allow only positivity when some people might have some negative thoughts on a ship, it really negates any conversations about it and even understanding sides of why someone may or may not ship something.

While understandable, there is a double standard between being negative and positive about ships (or portrayal of characters). If you feel overwhelmingly negative about something, "you need to go touch grass". If you feel overwhelmingly positive about something, "go at it queen". I would personally argue we all need to touch grass.

It is NOT okay to harass others. It is NOT okay to let your emotions dictate that you should attack somebody for LIKING a certain ship or DISLIKING a certain ship. Your emotions DO NOT dictate how OTHERS should feel.

It is okay to be negative about a character or ship as much as it's okay to be positive about them. Neither side of being for or against a ship is more virtuous than the others. It's okay to have some fucking emotions regardless if their positive or not, because it means you CARE about the media and the characters in it.

No, you should not revolve your whole online experience in negativity. Find positive in things you DO enjoy. But to brush off people who vehemently might dislike a character or ship as "losers with no lives" is to disregard a person's emotions on something. And if you do wanna think that mindset, congrats, people who obsessively love a character or ship are just the same by your logic. Obsession is obsession, regardless if it's negative or positive.

TL;DR, If it's okay to be overwhelmingly positive in liking something like a ship or character, it should be just as okay to be negative in disliking something like a ship or character. Just as long as it's not the ONLY thing you focus on and no one is actively being bullied, attacked, or harassed about it. And of course, either way, positive or negative, it is all fiction, and a real person should not be attacked or harassed for it. And if you don't want to indulge in negativity you might have, 100% valid. Both sides always need to take a step back into reality.

[lord-squiggletits]

Man, it doesn't matter what the medium or fandom is, truly the debate that ruins fandom discussions the fastest is when people try to decide which characters "deserve" what. Especially when it comes to them deciding which characters are evil, how evil they are, and how severe their punishment should be for their evil deeds.

It's really annoying/harmful on multiple levels. For one, morally speaking, the line between "evil, but can repent/compensate for their deeds" and "evil, cannot be redeemed, suffer and die forever" is harder to define than you think, and who has the authority to define it anyways?

But also, fictional stories (especially the better, more nuanced, more mature ones) are rarely ever about "deserving" and don't divide their characters neatly between the "good" and the "evil." Every time I see fans debate about "how evil" a Problematic Fave is, or if Fave 1 is better/worse than Fave 2, all I see is people ruining their own fun and stirring up bad blood between other fans. Why would you add this dichotomy of "deserving" to a FICTIONAL story and start real life beef with people over it? At that point you're getting more invested in your discourse over imagined good/evil binaries than you are invested in watching/reading/consuming the actual story itself.

[tennessoui]

new to the fandom and apparently theres anakins hair color discourse ??? this seems like an old fandom, so whats the general consensus there so far

hahahahaha let’s leave some stuff in 2021 it’s more fun that way to pretend there’s been growth here

[hairenya]

I HATE discourse about makeup and plastic surgery. Like yes you all have very real feminist concerns and whatever but it’s my face, not yours, and if I want permanent eyeliner I will get it.

[seonghwacore]

i open twt in peace just to find a new little inconvenience ateez had that twt atiny is "sick of" every single day. eat multivitamins, babygirl. drink warm water. put down your phone and bask yourself in the sunlight. laugh and smile at our little silly deeds and/or the boys' goofy act.

[inazuma-fulgur]

I will also defend trans men here, I see vitriol about both just by different people.

Men, and women keeping proximity to men in media/political circles, target trans women for being predators and for mutilating themselves

Same for trans men actually, just by women and men keeping a proximity to those women. This one is a little weird though, because trans men post transition are predators and trans men pre transition are always victims who are tricked into mutilating themselves.

This isn't just on tv, this is stuff my neighbors and coworkers tell me. Austensibly, in my experience, cis women are negative towards trans men and largely neutral or positive towards trans women, whereass cis men are negative towards both

Non binary people don't even exist because they don't touch on the framework people use to understand themselves, so they can just be denied and don't require any arguments beyond "lmao silly"

[randomnameless]

and of course the worse bit is that the leader of the religion is actually an Atheist cause God never answered his prayers.

If you played the game, that's not the worst Idore did lol

But bar the general implication that someone is using faith to push his own agenda that has totes none irl comparisons, there's the fact that Idore, in a way, manipulates his people and uses their trust to further his plans, getting rid of every Rozellian and ultimately seize control of Norzelia.

Then comes the game's "your religion is based on nothing!" very terrible take, and while the game doesn't spend a more seconds than necessary talking about post war Hyzante in the non Roland endings, how the fuck are we supposed to buy the "uh akshually they will be alright because Layla will develop medicine and they will continue on living!" nonsense?

To avoid dragging further irl events, I'd say this reminds me of the very emotional moment in FMA, when Bradley shits on Ishval's culture and beliefs, saying their God doesn't exist, since said God isn't striking him on the spot for leading an operation that basically consists or eradicating Ishvalians in Ishval.

Guess what happened after Bradley made Ishvalians realise their God "wasn't real" with the few survivors of this "war"?

That's why I love to think of future AUs in the Benedict ending, because it has all ingredients for darker gens - Gustadolf'n'Cornelia's kid notwithstanding, now you have Hyzantese who live in slums and are lower than trash being riled up by Idore out of all people, who also preaches to everyone left behind by Serenor/Benedict's joint rule, Roland is so going to be used as a rallying figure to gather all disatisfaction in the land by, maybe, Idore himself and give or less 15 years, the continent will be plunged in chaos, again.

a bit like eventual Jugdral 3rd gens AU

[sophie-baybey]

I think the invention of the term "traumadump" has done discussion of mental health a lot of harm. I keep seeing discourse vs whether or not it's okay to talk about heavy topics with your friends, and like... I feel like there is a very big and important difference between my definition of traumadumping (ie. Frequently and habitually diverting your conversations with others towards your own misery, often with the goal of focusing attention and sympathy towards yourself at the expense of those around you, and without recognizable effort to reciprocate your empathy towards those you are speaking to or to ensure their comfort) VS the mere act of having heavier conversations with those around you. I've seen a lot of backlash to the idea of traumadumping as a concept lately (they paywalled human connection etc etc) but I think it's worth recognizing there is absolutely a kind of behavior that can create a negative feedback loop with this stuff. Especially if you navigate a lot of spaces in social media, it's not uncommon to find people dropping really heavy stuff on complete strangers unprompted. Idk, I think there's a degree of nuance to be had that's maybe getting a bit lost due to everyone having different definitions of what it means to "trauma dump."

[capacity-for-wonder]

“the language of socialisation and conditioning conjures up this idea of a non-agentive, immutable relationship to gender (one in which gender is not something we do but something that is done to us)”

been thinking about this exact thing so much lately and I find this discussion really interesting!!

do you not believe in gendered socialization? not trying to be a bad faith ask btw im a leftist and i generally agree w all ur takes but i do pretty firmly believe in gendered socialization being like a thing w material consequences so im interested in ur take if you’re willing to give it

no. "gendered socialisation" is about a stone's throw away from "sex-based oppression" if we're being real about it. in discourse terms, it gets pulled out to denote an ineluctable state of "womanhood"-subjectivity in those coercively assigned femaleness and ineluctable "manhood"-subjectivity to those coercively assigned maleness; in other words, it gets used as a cudgel for gender essentialism coming from "progressive" types by which the claim that trans women/otherwise TMA people have "male privilege" ("male socialisation") can be smuggled into the discourse; the experiences of cis women and trans men/otherwise transmasc people are privileged as a standardised form of 'female socialisation' that pits them not as agentive within social forms of gender (and as beneficiaries of transmisogyny) but as unilaterally 'oppressed' to the unilaterally 'oppressive' male-socialised. there is no one coherent form of "gendered socialisation"; how gender is coercively socially imposed varies along countless axes that cannot be accounted for under one sole framework. if you want to say that experiences and subjectivities are shaped by misogyny or patriarchy then simply name misogyny and patriarchy as deciding factors. it suffers from the same fundamental issue as many contemporary feminisms ie. that even in its most charitable form, it attempts to present a complete account of "womanhood" and account for transfemininity only after the fact via hamfisted exceptionalism, rather than beginning with transmisogyny as the lynchpin of gendering and developing itself from there.

+ in general i try not to overrely on the language of "socialisation" and "conditioning" to describe behaviours and relationships -- unlike "coercion," which i think identifies the discourses of power + antagonism present in these modes of subject-creation, the language of socialisation and conditioning conjures up this idea of a non-agentive, immutable relationship to gender (one in which gender is not something we do but something that is done to us) which stands fundamentally at odds with what transness should articulate. i guess another way of putting it is that i don't really believe in appeals to what people do or do not "experience" [x does or does not "experience" misogyny etc] as a cogent way of developing an actual theory of oppression + liberation.

[puc-puggy]

the transandrophobia discourse is poisoned by separatist feminist theory that terfs and radfems have been maliciously injecting into feminist conversations, so here's The Will To Change excerpts by bell hooks again.

libratory feminism sees no difference between men and women except those manufactured by patriarchy. misogyny is a symptom of patriarchy the system, not a structure by which to interpret patriarchy the system. replacing "sexism" with "misogyny" does not change the nature of the analysis, which is a weak one. patriarchy the system can induce the symptom of misogyny in any person subjected to that system. using sexism/misogyny/male chauvinism is not a useful lens of analysis when looking at patriarchy because women are misogynists too. let's not move backward on that. women are misogynists too and men are allies.

the recent "trans men are misogynists" allegations I've seen lodged against trans men are:

unprepared to be treated like a predator, may cry about it

asked that only trans men attend a trans mens' support group

discussed male loneliness instead of talking about violence against women

all of these are actually feminist discussions. so the backlash seems like angry feminist reactions to Men Having Feelings, which is not a new thing. in fact, hooks addresses it directly.

i see men being mocked for having their feelings hurt, men being mocked for wanting to discuss their feelings, and men being mocked because they're thinking about men and manhood in new and complex ways. exactly what the doctor ordered.

i am not seeing challenges to patriarchy here. I am seeing reinforcement of patriarchal expectations of masculinity on trans men who do not want to perform those expectations. i am seeing separatist radfem bullshit in the assumption that trans men have lost or never had a valuable perspective on misogyny or gender or sexism and cannot tell when the shape of discrimination they're facing has changed. i am seeing toxic separatist radfem bullshit shut down liberatory feminist discussion because one of the speakers is trans in the wrong direction.

[livecrow]

You're out with friends and joke that you're “un-kidnappable”.

John Price and the lads think that’s interesting. 

Soft!Dark!John Price x fat fem reader

(cw: noncon)

You don’t recall exactly how it came up. Maybe it was the latest episode of a popular true crime podcast a couple of your friends mentioned listening to the other day.

All the same, while lounging in the familiar bar’s cozy glow, the atmosphere at the table stayed light and relaxed, despite the morbid topic. Between drinks, your friends detail stories of encounters with dubious men and swap self-defense strategies—anything to avoid an impromptu debut on a Dateline special.

They were mostly the basics. Remember to lock your doors immediately. Keep your phone on you. Never leave a drink unattended. Always travel in groups. Oh, and carry pepper spray. It turns out all of your friends carry some.

Not you, though. When you are inevitably questioned on the matter, you concede that you have some, "...somewhere."

Your mom gave you a little canister years back. But you admitted you don’t actually know where it is, much to the displeasure of your friends. Upon further interrogation, you guessed it’s probably in a drawer somewhere, lost among AAA batteries, tangled cords of unknown origin, and appliance instruction manuals. 

As one friend suggests the classic keys-between-your-fingers trick, some of the men at an adjacent table laugh.

“Best use for keys when you’re attacked is opening the damn door.”

Apparently, they had been following your conversation. It was the oldest man who spoke, rumbling over the rim of his glass with aplomb that leaves little room for argument. He has a resonance that makes you pause, reminding you distinctly of the distant rolling thunder that forebodes a coming storm. 

The dark, handsome man at his elbow agrees. “'Sides, they’re not brass knuckles. No stability. You’re not actually gonna cause any damage like that.”

“Aye, ye’r better aff jus’ takin’ one key an poppin’ the bastard’s een oot.” A man sporting a mohawk added with a grin, crudely miming gouging an eye out with his free hand.

“Fine, I’ll punch them out then!” the smallest of your friend group counters, palming her fist loudly while trying to keep a straight face.

That just earns more amusement, of course. The huge masked man at the end of their table scoffs, “Like that you’ll jus’ break your fuckin’ thumb.” He proceeds to instruct her how to make a proper fist. 

It's all in good fun. They’re an interesting bunch, probably military of some sort, you’d wager. Three Brits and one Scot. Your group welcomes the interruption, despite the biggest one of the lot looking particularly murdery himself, decked out in all black and a fucking skull balaclava. 

The gregarious, younger two made up for it. They were all smiles, speaking candidly as if they’d just run into some old friends. Before long you’ve practically joined tables. Why not? After all, the four certainly look like they know what they’re talking about, each man large and brawny.

The younger men did the vast majority of the talking, answering questions and enthusiastically offering techniques to their audience while Voorhees only interjected a brusque retort every so often. Your friends were utterly charmed by the Scot’s cheeky beam and the pretty Brit’s warm eyes as they moved from outlining bodily weak points with an emphasis on “soft targets” to discussing the pros and cons of different weapons.

But there was something about the man who initiated the discourse—some quality. He held an unspoken commanding presence, despite saying little. Here he was, the catalyst of the entire interaction, and yet he seemed content to observe rather than participate. It brought to mind some indifferent, deist higher power.

You estimated he was a decade his mates' senior, give or take. Apropos stormy eyes framed by heavy brows and the beginnings of crow's feet. Odd, antiquated facial hair, wood brown with smatterings of grey. Privately, you thought it suited him—looked distinguished. At some point earlier he caught your gaze. He introduced himself as “John.” Although, curiously, none of his cohorts called him that or introduced themselves in turn. Not that your friends seemed to mind; that, or they didn’t notice. 

Along with his name, he offered a subdued Duchenne smile that disarmed you, softening his gruff countenance in an instant. For an instant, anyway. You’d swear that, even in the bar’s low lighting, you caught his eyes twinkle. Some uncharacteristically childish sentiment swept over you for a moment, making you want to believe that the look was for you and that he wasn’t in reality only being polite.

“...honestly, if you have the stomach for it, your best choice is always gonna be a strap.”

The Scot readily agreed with pretty-boy, as he reclined, his chair balancing precariously on just the back two legs. However, they did quibble over the type of handgun, debating various specifications that were gibberish to the rest of you. While they all listen enraptured, only one of your friends really seems truly open to the idea. The rest unsurprisingly remain gun-shy. 

Another friend suggests a taser as a compromise.

“Not for me,” you laughed, “there’s absolutely no way my ass wouldn't immediately accidentally taser myself."

“No mace, no taser, no knife—not even one of those keychain alarms!” your friend groused. “You should have something—”.

Your eyes met again. You and John. Even with the subtle haze of alcohol relaxing you, it felt penetrating. 

Your eyes retreated down to his drink seeking relief. One of his large hands flexed slightly around his glass, thick tendons shifting under the skin and scattered vellus hair peeking over his cuff, dusting his knuckles. He seemed to be in thought as he took a drink. Whiskey you think it was. His shrewd eyes didn't leave you; maybe he was just looking through you—

“How do you keep yourself out of trouble then, love?” 

His timbre immediately cut through the chatter. If you weren’t feeling so fizzy from the drink, you might feel put on the spot when suddenly everyone’s eyes are singly on you.

You were effectively the token “fat one” of your group. While the rest of this friend group happened to be straight-sized, there was absolutely nothing “straight” on your body. Hell, there was hardly a part of you that didn’t jiggle, at least a little bit. You didn’t resent it; you were just self-aware. You were perfectly cognizant that you blended in among them about as well as a hippo “blends in" with oxpeckers.

If you were entirely sober, you might be a bit put out, might worry he’s being mean, poking fun at your expense. But no, the alcohol thankfully chased away any embarrassment from building in your gut. Besides, there’s no humor to be found in his expression, no edge of malice in his eyes. None of his mates crack a smirk either, apparently also interested in your answer.

You were mid-sip when the question was lobbed your way, and you used it to stall. You weren’t sure precisely why, but you found yourself squirming in your seat a bit before recovering half a second later. 

“Me?”, you grinned around your straw, cocking a brow. “Trust me, I’m not worried about it. I’m practically un-kidnappable,” you asserted, in a way that sounded suspiciously boastful.

John’s focus remains steady on you, appraising, but the other men share a glance. 

You could have left it at that, but pretty-boy chimed in, brow furrowing. "How do you figure that?" 

You weren’t completely sure that the men weren’t just being intentionally obtuse, but you’d entertain a ridiculous question with a ridiculous response. Flippancy came naturally. 

You set your drink back onto the table. You lean in, voice lowered to a grave tone, biting back mischief that threatened to give you away. “Listen, my strategy is airtight,” you paused. “If some guy comes along, tries something?" You hold again for dramatic effect.

"...Sit on him."

"Oh my god," your friends groan collectively.

But you went on, unfazed. "It's all over for him! Why would I need a weapon when I have positional asphyxia? Besides, if that doesn't kill him, the embarrassment will."

Any outrage falls on deaf ears considering your friends are fighting back grins.

Buoyed, you continue. "It’d be like someone trying to ‘kidnap’ an adult grizzly bear. I am not gonna get abducted unless the guy just happens to show up with a forklift—", that earns a swat from your friend sitting closest.

"—And if that's how I get caught? Honestly? I’d have it coming if I somehow missed the fucker rolling up and can't, what, power-walk out of there?"

Another friend beseeches, "Be serious!" 

“I am serious!" you shot back, laughing. "Those things go, what, 5 miles an hour, tops?"

Apparently, the rest of the group also found the image of a low-speed fucking forklift chase funny, judging by the Scot's almost spit-take that left him choking a bit. You were pleased that he and pretty-boy had a sense of humor and didn’t bother with the pretense of finger-wagging. 

You were disappointed you didn't get John, though. He only hummed thoughtfully, an odd liminal not-quite frown on his lips that was mostly obscured by his glass as he took another sip. 

Tough customer.

One friend challenges you, “Oh, yeah? You say that, but what if he pulls a gun and tells you to get in the car? What then?”

You pressed your lips together, tilting your head in consideration.

"Well, at that point, I guess I’d have to accept I'm going to die.”

"What?!"

You shrugged, "There's no way I'm getting in that car. You never go to a secondary location. Everyone knows that. Why drag things out unnecessarily when you can die in the street? After all, there are plenty of worse ways to go than by a bullet—besides, at least then my body will be found."

Worried the last bit would have more of a sobering effect on your company than you intended, you pivot and retrieve your drink. You tilt your chin up, gazing off into the distance dreamily, gesturing with your glass.

“My final words? 'Good luck trying to dispose of my corpse, asshole. Hope you know a good chiropractor.'"

With that you slurped down the dregs, ice clinking at the bottom, finally giggling with everyone else at your own joke. Cue lots of your name and "Stop it!"s. Hell, you even eked out a single low "heh" from Hot Topic that you’ll claim as a proper laugh. You were 3 for 4.

Your friends, bless them, are extremely predictable when you’re so candid self-deprecating. They laugh only to retreat to feigning scandal. When they recover, you’re peppered with more scenarios and protests. 

You’re barely able to suppress an eye-roll at their persistence. "I mean, it's a moot point from the start. I'm not the mark for that kind of thing in the first place."

Before your friends could cut you off, you clarified, “I’m not saying anything bad. I would just be—" you paused, searching for the right word—"an interesting choice." 

"No, I’m not the target demographic for something like that.” You waved a hand dismissively. “I'm simultaneously not preferable aesthetically and not worth the hassle logistically. So that ends up pretty convenient, considering I’d rather not be kidnapped." 

You swabbed the ring of condensation you left on the table with a bar napkin absently. "They want some dainty thing—they don’t want me,” you gestured to your person flippantly. “They want a trophy, but not the 'big game' variety," you gave a lopsided smile.

Your friends’ chastisement was swift, distracting enough that it didn’t quite give you a second to contemplate the strange, tenebrous emotion that was simmering just under the surface of John’s expression or that of his mates’. The nuance was lost on you. 

Mercifully, after experiencing a couple more variations of “You should be more careful!” from your friends, the topic finally changed. It transformed and split, becoming a bit too chaotic for you to follow in your current state; several simultaneous threads of conversation going at once turned into white noise.

After a while you must have zoned out a bit, because among the din you didn’t notice that John was now sitting near you. He leaned over discreetly, at a respectful distance that still made your head foggy and face warm, voice low.

“They’re right, you know. You might think you're an exception, but you’re not. Is dangerous to think that.” 

You're so struck by the intensity of his steely gaze that you were slow to catch up to the actual words. You couldn’t fathom how blue eyes could feel so searing; you’d swear you could feel their heat. Completely caught off-guard by the sudden seriousness, you struggled with how to respond to that. “I—”

Before you could say anything, you realized the Scot was talking to you, asking you something, reeling you back into the fray.

…

Time seems to pass differently after that; you have no idea how long it’s been, all talking and laughing, sharing bants. More rounds of drinks. It’s a good time. 

But the night is winding down for you; you can feel exhaustion creeping in. By the time one of your friends’ partners shows up ready to continue the fun elsewhere, you decline the offer. You hated being seen as a wet blanket, but right now all you wanted to do was go home and take a hot shower. Peel off your “going-out” clothes and change into something comfortable. Maybe order in and catch up on a show. A little, "dolce far niente".

They invited the men too, but apparently they had other plans. Your friends didn’t waste any time pouting, exchanging quick, tipsy goodbyes before heading out.

It’s much quieter after that. Even the light conversation between the men has fizzled out. The small bar that night was particularly slow, consisting mostly of your two groups to begin with. You pull out your phone to check the time, frowning when you find it dead.

“...I can call you an Uber?” John suggests, as you stand. The silence is loud, somehow. Oppressive. It looks as if the men are waiting. The air is heavy with something unsaid, some kind of significance that’s entirely lost on your fuzzy mind. You never noticed the inscrutable look Voorhees sends John after he spoke. You’d find too late that a lot of things skipped your boozy notice that night.

Your lip tugs at the offer. “Thanks, but I promise it’s fine. I actually live pretty close.” 

John just inclines his head, doesn’t press further. As you’re headed to the door, glancing back, you offer an earnest, albeit tired, smile. “Was nice meeting you. Maybe I'll see you around?” 

“Maybe.”

…

You were barely halfway home before suddenly, out of the darkness of a Cimmerian passing alley, arms locked around you, ripping an undignified squeal out of you.

When you catch sight of the familiar faces of your “attackers”, you clutch your chest, trying to calm your hammering heartbeat.

“Fucking hell!” you heaved.

If you weren’t so rattled and clamoring over your words, you would have been especially mortified by the incidental contact on your squishy middle. You couldn’t remember a time someone has grabbed you so brazenly. By process of elimination, it must have been Hot Topic’s large form who was holding you against his front.

“Shit! You guys are assholes,” you exclaimed between pants. “That’s not funny!” Your hands grasped at the large forearms around you, yanking fruitlessly.

It was John who was standing in front of you, thumbs hooked in his pockets, backlit by a streetlamp, haloed in faint breath vapor. It was the first time you’d recall seeing him standing; he was even bigger than you expected. They all were. 

“You left, what—” he pulled out his phone and glanced down at the blueish light in his hand, “20 minutes ago?” His eyes return to your face, raising his thick brows. “Not very ‘close’, is it? Your home.” John spoke conversationally, a picture of ease, like he was commenting on how chilly the weather was tonight and hadn’t practically jumpscared you.

“Dinnae even try tae throw a punch, no’ even one o’ those girly slaps—” the Scot muttered, not particularly quietly, to pretty-boy, who kissed his teeth in disapproval.

You’re running on fumes, so your brain is moving in slow motion, only just processing John’s words, not yet able to summon even a glare for the Scot’s commentary.

“It is close,” you insist, coming out slightly more defensively than you intended. You’re still embarrassingly working overtime to catch your breath while trying to pull away from the hard body at your back in irritation. “Besides, how do you define ‘close’? That’s completely subjective.” Not as if that’s any of your business. You held back that particular remark.

You took a measured breath or two more. “Look, of all people, I appreciate the commitment to a bit,” you clawed uselessly at Voorhees’ iron grip around you, “but can you call your dog off?” 

Hot Topic’s previous abridged facsimile of a “laugh” echoed in your ear, an amused huff so close that it made you flinch. That wasn’t really what you expected from your unadvisable barb. You think it was the material of his mask that you felt slightly graze the shell of your ear, but it was fleeting enough that you couldn’t be certain.

“You can call me Ghost, sweet’eart”.

On any other day that edgy moniker would have garnered some kind of mirth, but your clouded brain didn’t seem fit to supply a witty retort with some strange man at your nape.

While John said nothing, something in his expression must have communicated to Ghost. You instinctively relaxed when his arms released your middle. It soothed your nerves a touch, enough that you didn’t register that you were in the process of being edged backwards and were now partway through an alley you should have passed on your route home.

You crossed your arms, opting to ignore the introduction in lieu of another shaky inhale. “Just wait till my friends hear that you guys blew them off just to fuck with me. So much for having ‘plans’, huh?”

You tried to tease, still desperately attempting to slow your heart, recoup some composure, and match the men’s nonchalance. You’re not sure how convincingly you pulled it off. Some nagging anxiety still seeped out of you in a slow leak, despite your best effort to pull yourself together, to not be a buzzkill in response to a technically harmless pran—. 

“This is the ‘plan’, love.” John replied simply, not missing a beat.

You huffed in exasperation, brows pinched. “...What, ‘making a point’?”

John paused for a moment, seeming to weigh his words, “That’s one way to look at it, if you’d like.”

There was a pregnant pause, and suddenly the scrape of shoes on the dirty pavement seemed loud in your ears. The smell in the alley is particularly damp and musty now. Had you been moving this whole time? You’re getting all turned around—

Pretty-boy cut in, “You know, your whole premise was faulty from the start. ‘Sides you didn’t account for more than one person being involved”. 

“Involved in what?” you blinked, bewildered. 

“Your kidnapping, obviously.”

“My k—?”.

“—Speak for yourself, Gaz. I’d ‘ave ‘er either way.” Ghost interrupted, making you jump, a stark reminder of the presence still at your back.

You were stunned into silence for a couple of excruciatingly long seconds before choking out a pained laugh. “Ha-ha. Alright—alright, fine. I get it.” You raise your hands in surrender, head swiveling back to John as you turn to press your back against the rough brick of the alley wall, trying to keep them all in your field of vision. 

“I’ll get a taser or something, is that what you want?” you offered, wearing your best expression of deferent contrition.

When John finally peels his eyes from you, he just sighs heavily, shaking his head at the pavement; either in disapproval or disbelief, you couldn’t be sure which. 

“Bit late for that now.”

“…What—what the hell is that supposed to mean?” You stutter indignantly.

You were starting to feel woozy; maybe you drank a bit too much. Your sole scuffs against debris, almost tripping you up completely if not for the brick wall to steady you. Your palms sting as they slide slightly on the stone, but you don’t dare take your eyes off them to look down for even a second. 

Suddenly, with a furtive glance over Ghost’s shoulder, you realize you're almost out on the other side of the street. His massive form fills the alleyway, destroying any hope you’d be able to squeeze your wide body past him or John and the others on your opposite side.

Your mouth is painfully dry. Your throat works, trying to swallow but still managing to somehow choke on nothing. You force some authority you don’t feel into your tone, but it tapers off rather weakly.

“Listen, you’ve had your fun. I really need to get home.”

You were struck by how different they all seemed compared to hardly a half an hour prior. The shift was dramatic—made your head spin. It was hard to rationalize that the people who were just sitting across from you in the homey local bar sharing drinks and the people now caging you into a dreary, abandoned street corner were one and the same. 

An approaching streetlamp visible through the yawning maw of the alley cast harsh shadows on their faces. A literal “light at the end of a tunnel” that only offered you dread.

You swayed slightly on your feet, head darting around, desperately trying to keep an eye on the four of them. You were feeling suddenly inexplicably drunker than you felt mere moments before. As your knees quivered and you tried to steady yourself, John remained a pillar in your wobbly field of vision. Watching. Waiting. 

You're not sure which was preferable, the ominous comments or the ominous silence.

You weren’t small. You’d never felt small in your life. But with a group of large men looming over you, it was suddenly hard not to. It was not a feeling you were accustomed to and one you didn’t enjoy now. You needed air, it was getting impossible to think. You tried to speed your gait to no avail; you couldn’t gain any distance. They prowled, following you closely, as if there was a gravitational pull anchoring them to you. 

“Fine. Fine! Okay, you proved your point, alright?!” you exclaimed, getting more frantic by the second, louder. “Let me pass. I’m serious.”

“Oh, so now she’s serious…” Gaz teases, somewhere off to your left.

“You think I’m not?” John husked, sounding incredulous, forehead lines deepening as he raised his brows, tucked his chin to stare down at you through hooded eyes. “Love, I’m serious as a heart-attack.” 

He was smiling at you again. It looked the same as before. Sincere. But where previously it endeared you, now, now it makes your heart stall, then shudder in your ribcage; fill you with the sensation of a freefall, the one that jolts you awake while on the very precipice of sleep, leaves your heart racing, despite the tranquil darkness. 

His eyes flick over your head.

Before you are able to register the glance, Ghost is suddenly on you again, grabbing you round the middle quicker than someone his size had any right to be, this time actively herding your large form forward. You realized dully that his last grip on you must have been relatively loose compared to his grip on you now; it was clearly only a fraction of his actual strength.

“What are you doing?!” You cry, a hair's breadth away from a shriek. Your head whips back to John, imploring, “Stop—Stop, I don't know what you want!”

This is probably what it feels like to be a frog. Pounced on and scooped up roughly by some huge creature—some grubby kid’s scrambling fingers. Slippery, round body gripped tight.

You were finally out of the alley, pulled by Ghost as well as your own unsteady feet, your body's instinct to try and avoid cracking your cranium on the concrete abetting him, betraying you.

“What we want?” Ghost chaffed over you, mimicking your voice. “Go on then,” he urged, “give your ‘ead a wobble?” 

You could practically feel him cocking his head, feel his smile even with him against your back, even behind the mask.

The open air did nothing for you. It didn’t clear your mind or relieve the claustrophobia churning in your belly a single iota. After all, it wasn’t really the walls closing in on you—it was bodies.

“You’re just trying to scare me!” You accuse sharply, voice strained, grunting as you only manage to nearly heimlich yourself on the last attempt to free yourself from the steel grip around your midsection.

Gaz and the Scot chuckle.

John says your name. He utters it like it was a complete sentence, but you're not sure what it means, what he wants. Either way, it made you regret giving it to him. You suddenly preferred not hearing it on his lips in that rumbling baritone.

Ghost scoffs. “For ‘avin such a smart mouth she’s a bit thick, eh, Soap?” he comments meanly over your head.

Soap’s responding before you have a chance to voice any displeasure, somewhere between a laugh and a scold.

“A bit? Haud yer wheesht!” He turns his attention quickly back to you, leaning in close, “Aw, pet, dinnae pay him mind…Lt kens our bonnie is well thick”, he pats your cushioned hips affectionately.

A shocked gasp slips out of you unbidden at the brief but unmistakable gentle fondle of your fat love handles. They all drank in the vulnerable, little noise. It would be the first of many. It was impossible to interpret the gesture as anything but “familiar”.

Your body jolts. You would have practically jumped a foot off the ground if not for Ghost anchoring you. With the hold, stark realization floods you like a bucket of ice water—there’s quite literally nothing you can do to avoid any of their touch. Your skin crawls at the unfamiliar contact and doubly so at the threat of more yet.

“Dead fit,” Gaz says readily, sounding like an agreement if you’ve ever heard one, his eyes roam your form.

Words were stolen from your overheating brain, still trying desperately to reboot, to process what the fuck is going on.

“Captain ‘s a man of taste—such a pretty, dainty thing,” Ghost sneers in your ear. “Playin’ coy now, when she was practically battin’ ‘er lashes all night.” 

“—It’s not too late—it’s a joke, right? Let’s—we can just forget about this—”

Ghost completely ignores you. “Soft thing like you prancin’ ‘round, cunted at this hour, thinkin’ you're safe?”

“Cun—? I’m not fucking drunk!”

“You’re lucky someone with bad intentions didn’t hear you.” The grin is loud in his tone, oozes off every syllable.  

“You think I'm a dog? So you knew wha’ you were doin’ then? You were teasin’ a ‘ungry dog, waving a juicy steak under ‘is nose. Rubbing it in all our faces, of any bloke ‘n earshot?”

“What—what the hell are you talking about?! You—you can’t be serious!” You finally parroted uselessly, equal parts baffled and horrified. These men are crazy.

“She keeps sayin’ tha’,” Soap comments, perplexed.

“‘Denial’ ‘s not just a river,” Gaz shrugs.

Ghost continues. “Captain—” A big hand is suddenly on your jaw, centering your gaze back on John, ”—‘s doin’ you a kindness. Keepin’ you safe n’ sound, makin’ sure you don’t get yourself chewed up 'n some dirty fuckin’ alley,” nodding back towards the way they came, “Nice of ‘im, innit?”

You flailed desperately, hoping to catch Ghost off guard for even a second. You send your elbow into his ribs, as hard as you could manage at the awkward angle. It was akin to hitting granite. You sucked in air through your clenched teeth as pain radiated through your ulnar nerve. His grip on you didn't waver, he didn't flinch. He laughed.

A true, low “heh, heh, heh”, that you regretted ever wanting to hear—could have happily gone your whole life without hearing. It sent rogue shivers down your spine and piloerection up your arms as you gawked up in shock, pain forgotten.

“Och, that’s a bit better, Bonnie.” Soap feigns, judging your strike like he’s trying not to hurt your feelings.

“John—” you plead helplessly, turning your gaze back to him. But saying his name was a mistake, deepening the look already there. Rubatosis filled you.

“Think you're strong, eh? That you could ever ‘urt any of us? Show ‘im you can fend f’ yourself then.” Ghost wobbled you to and fro, shook you, as if you were some weightless bauble. 

As your world tilted, you instinctively gripped his arm for dear life, dizzy, afraid you would topple over. You knew he was right, of course; there is no point denying it. 

But a man like him, like them—saying it? It was wrong—it chilled your blood. It felt needlessly cruel, to rub in how weak you are compared to them. The provocation freezes you, making Ghost’s dark eyes crinkle. 

“Slim pickings, huh? Must be feeling desperate?” you bit out, before you could stop yourself, voice bitter and thick with emotion—panic and anger congealing into snark. A hole is a hole, after all. Bad luck that you happened to be the one around.

Who would you trade places with? Better you than someone else, your conscience whispered faintly.

“You really don’t get it?” John wonders aloud, bafflement mixing with a heady intensity.

“Imagine thinking no one would want all this—” Fingers grazed your curves. Touched every roll, every hill and valley on your side with a reverence that shocked you for the hundredth time that day, left your mouth literally agape. 

“—thought is an utter travesty. One of life’s greatest pleasures is a big, soft girl. Nothing sweeter,” he declared breathily despite himself. “Nothing. So much more to hold, to squeeze—”

There was a certain palpable greediness to his touch, even while he was restraining himself. Groping, not bruising. He only went so far, skirting frighteningly close to your more private bits. At least it appeared your actual debasement was not going to happen on this particular street corner. His hands make a slow jaunt, mapping your contours. Down your back, your side, your belly, your thighs—kneading and squeezing your ample flesh.

A pitiful, “Please stop—” is eked out of you. Your unadulterated fear on full display, sincere and raw. Begging. You were begging, or trying to, anyway. Your breath hitched, flesh jolting with every unwelcome brush against you, sending your nerve endings alight, already feeling overstimulated. 

There was that expression again, that you didn’t recognize before. But it was no longer just simmering under the surface; it was boiling. Emanating out through his pores, muddled with a touch of pity. You finally recognized it—hunger.

“I’m not cross with you,” he adds oddly. “You don’t understand now, but you will. This isn’t a punishment—it’s a consequence.” 

Your throat clamped painfully, words tumbling out of your mouth incomprehensibly, trying to find the right thing to say to make him stop. More hands were on you, pulling your wrists together in front of you. “Please, I don’t, I can’t, wh—”

“Am not going to hurt you. You have my word.” The solemnity of the promise rattled you. Maybe he truly believed it, but you certainly didn’t. After all, you’d wager you had different definitions of “hurting”. You’d die on the hill that this was “hurting” someone.

Somewhere inside you, your body was screaming at you to do something. You’d take the inspiration.

Scream what, exactly? You couldn’t be sure. You should scream “fire” not “help”, right? But you’d never get the chance, because on your inhale, John’d somehow divined your intentions, and suddenly a hand was clamped over your lips before a sound could escape them. The pressure of the palm was close to bruising this time, unyielding—he wasn’t taking any chances, apparently. 

Jerking your head did nothing to dislodge the hand, unlike those on your limbs. It followed the movement rather than impede it. As fate would have it, your struggles only left your head spinning, vision partially obscured by the force of the hand pushing your plump cheeks into your eyes. Whiplash pinched in your neck at the frantic jerks. God, you felt sick.

After that, everything happened very quickly. Suddenly it felt like there were hands all over you, everywhere. Grabbing, holding, pressing. You could hardly tell up from down.

You’d shut your eyes for even a momentary reprieve, willing the vertigo to cease. For everything to stop. For all of them to stop touching you. Hoping desperately that you’d wake up and find yourself safe in bed, this all a bad dream. 

Then there was a ripping sound, then a couple more. Someone was pushing stray hairs out of your face. The hands on your wrists moved up instead to grip your forearms. No sooner than you heard it, the large hand had fled your lips only to be immediately replaced by some large sticky substance that was stretched taut across your mouth, from cheek to cheek.

Startled, your struggles renewed, some expletives trapped by the stuff, transforming into useless “mphhhing!” as your hands jumped to pull the offending material from your face. An entirely fruitless endeavor considering the grip on your arms, which didn't budge an inch. John seems fit to ignore your pitiful struggle, simply smoothing it out carefully, layering a couple more pieces. He hums in satisfaction, wide palm patting his work, cupping your mouth and jaw again for good measure.

There was that sound again. With the fear it shot through you, it might as well have been a gun racking. You couldn’t see it, but this time your sloshy mind recognized the distinct creak and shrill shrrrrrrrrrrrp. It was duct tape being pulled from the roll, then wrapped noisily around your wrists, aided by the hands forcing your arms together. 

Trying to shove, to bully yourself between them was hopeless. They were all too close, too strong, too heavy, all bearing down on you. You didn’t have room to throw your weight around or even properly kick out at them. Round and round, the tape went, and round and round again for good measure before the end was ripped, smarting where it snagged slightly on the hair on your arms. 

You're quite literally fighting for your life, sweating with exertion and panic, panting behind the tape, but your desperate flailing didn’t deter them at all; you didn’t receive even a single hitch in any of their breath for your effort. Hell, it couldn’t even hinder some conversation. Not that you caught most of it with your head swimming, heart pounding loudly in your ears.

“—‘course she’s scrikin’, we’re nicking ‘er,” Ghost rolls his eyes. 

Something else was said, probably by Soap, based on the accent.

Ghost just doubles down. “No point tryin’ to talk sense into ‘er. Thing doesn’t know what’s good for ‘er—“

John took his time; he’s dedicated to his task. Precise yet generous with the tape. As soon as the hands left your forearms, more tape was applied where they departed, this time around your entire body, effectively pinning your arms down at your front, circling you enough times that you lost count.

Your struggles and thrashes reinvigorate, an absolutely method portrayal of a snared rabbit. It hurt—hurt how hard you were pulling against them. Bruises would undoubtedly bloom in the coming days wherever their hands gripped you from your wild jerking. That is, assuming you lived that long. Your chest heaves with anxiety. The men allowed you a bit more space, enough that you didn’t feel actively compressed on every side. By them at least.

Not John, though. It was his face that filled your vision, his eyes that pinned yours.

“Shhh. There’s a girl. It’s already over.” You hadn’t yet noticed the tears gathering, that you were so close to falling apart. He said it like it would be some sort of comfort, cupping your plump cheeks delicately. John spoke to you gently, in the softest tone you’d heard yet, softer than you would have believed his husky voice capable of, and yet, with an disturbing finality. “It’s done. Nothing you can do now,” he whispered into your terrified face. 

He was too close—there was a little mole on the right side of his nose you never noticed before. He smelled of smoke, and under that, something woodsy and spicy. A large, rough palm smoothed over your hair. Your terrified eyes squeezed shut, willing him out of your face, to stop looking at you. You’re certain he could feel your terror; hell, he could probably feel each little panicked puff of air forced out of your lungs on his face as you tried vainly to regulate your breathing through your nose. “There you go,” he praised, “In and out.”

Shining tears wobbled precariously in your waterline. You tried with all your might not to let them loose, to salvage any shred of dignity. Any sense of control. As if that would somehow make things worse, as you sucked in a wet, sniveling sound.

Your internal pleas for space were less than useless, as John leaned in ever closer, cradling your skull in his hands, pressing his lips to your crown in a chaste, whiskery kiss.

The sheer intimacy of the gesture made you balk. Held and boxed in, there was no way to move away, making you whimper pathetically. Sounding foreign to even your own ears. A savourable sound, that went right to John’s belly.

Trying to hold it in was all for naught; as soon as John’s lips touched you, your resolve shattered. Shattered into so many pieces even Kintsugi couldn’t repair it. Your face was soaked with the onslaught, tears traveling as far as down your neck. Dizzy with panic, the duct tape swallowing up most of your damp sobs. You couldn’t recall the last time you'd broken down like that in front of another person, much less four near strangers. 

“I’m keeping you.” He says suddenly. He waits for you to take in the words, thumbs stroking slow circles into your cheekbones.

You hiccup behind the tape, teeth chattering in your clenched jaw as you realize you’re shaking. Face tacky with tears. You angrily tried to pull away again, but John just held you still as you quake. 

…John didn’t need Ghost for muscle, you realized dully. His grip was an epiphany, the promise of strength in his hands alone—it made you feel all the more useless.

Calloused thumbs rasped over your cheeks, wiping away the wetness there, only for more to replace them. “I won’t try to stop you from crying, won’t punish you for being upset,” he rumbled, “but, you have to understand it won’t change anything. What'll happen. From now on, you’re mine—but I take care of what’s mine. You’ll see.”

Why?! Your heart ached. You couldn’t understand how people you’d been chatting and laughing with mere minutes ago could do this to you. People who had seemed so normal—

Gaz smirks, nudging Soap, murmuring, “Oh, don't worry, she’ll feel heaps better when she’s creamin’ on—”

You didn't think you were capable of feeling worse. Your eyes bulge in horror, breath snagging again in your throat.

John sighs, interrupting him with a harsh jangle of metal as he pitched some keys to Gaz, who caught them easily in one hand. “Bring the car ‘round will you?” John asks, but it’s really not a request.

“On it!” Gaz’s reply is prompt and cheery as he steps off the curb into the darkness beyond the reach of the streetlamp, practically a spring in his step. 

You sniffled, sinuses starting to burn, following your eyes’ watery influence. Feeling humiliated as you can feel your nose start to run, tickling your philtrum. Soap cooed over your teary face. You flinched as he raised his hand to you, but he only wiped your nose, disgustingly with his own sleeve. 

He had the nerve to look chagrined at your reaction. When he spoke again, it was uncannily quiet compared to his familiar boister, as if he was trying to soothe a spooked horse. “Dinnae fash, it’ll be awricht, bonnie, swear it.”

His words were worthless; didn’t pacify you at all. You were possessed by a primal terror of a cornered animal that couldn’t fathom what was going to happen to it. Your eyes flooded, everything in your vision warped by tears. You couldn’t see, couldn’t hear over your own hammering heart. Soap’s cursin’, saying something. Maybe it was fucking Gaelic, you didn’t understand what he was saying.

“—Wee lamb, greetin—”

“‘Nough fussin’, Soap. You’re almost as bad as ‘er.” 

“Ah ken, ah ken…”

“I did warn you, even gave you an out.” John sighed, commiserating, as if he weren’t the source of your angst. It wrung completely hollow, he didn't sound disappointed in the slightest with any of the events. If anything, you'd suspect we has trying to tamp down the opposite.

“Jesus wept, Cap—” Soap blurts, any remorse apparently long forgotten as he suddenly grips your ample belly possessively, making you shriek“—almost made us lose out.” he grumbled “Ah knew ye were tryin’ tae tip ‘er aff”. You thrashed in his rude hold, face hot, but he just grinned, loved how your squirms just showcased your enticing bounce.

Despair and humiliation ached in your chest, heavy like lead. You just wanted to go home.

Headlights round the corner.

In a last-ditch attempt, you allow yourself to completely go limp, following through on the threat of being unmovable. You barely start tipping before Ghost and Soap are on either side of you, holding you up between the two of them, completely halting your descent.

Your mind shuddered to a halt with the idea they might actually be able to lift you. When you tried to buckle your knees, they went ahead and confirmed your fears true. Not even a slipped grunt of exertion gave you any satisfaction, when you were being half carried, half dragged practically kicking and screaming to the car. Well, as much as you could through the tape. As you’re urged onward, you lock your knees as your legs jam against the car’s running board.

“You’re going one way or another,” John calls simply, tapping something into his phone.

“Watch your head, trophy.” Ghost grins, huge hand spanning your skull, pushing you down past the door frame, but you think you just might have preferred the concussion. Your own weight does the rest of the work, sending you sprawling belly first onto the back seat, teary cheek smooshed against the cool, leather interior.

You should have been prepared to be absolutely as difficult as possible, regardless of whether or not it’d change your fate, but you were utterly spent. Your limbs ached at all the struggling. You couldn’t muster any more fight as Soap and Ghost maneuvered you into the middle seat. Your plentiful "handholds" aiding the process.

The lone lap belt buckled tightly across your lap before Ghost and Soap followed you in, sandwiching you, sitting in the seats on either side. You were practically spilling over onto them, it was a tight fit. 

You couldn’t quite swallow a yelp as rough fingers were wedged under your plush form on either side. Apparently unsatisfied with your positioning, you were swiveled so your ass remained in the seat while the rest of your body lay flat. Your upper body in Ghost's lap and legs curled in Soap’s, the seat belt digging into your soft belly at the awkward angle.

You were normally hyperaware of the space you occupied and tried to be as respectful as possible about it. You would be mortified, feel a bolt of white-hot shame if any squishy bit of you even accidentally brushed up against someone else. You’d do anything to risk a stranger's look of annoyance or disgust, god forbid someone say something. And yet, here you were, your fat body draped across two men's laps, both looking quite fucking pleased with the arrangement. There was nothing you could do about it, as Soap paws at your thigh, humming happily.

“Behave, you lot.” John stoops, smiling at the group fondly as he shuts the door.

The car is moving.

You were completely adrift. Maybe you were in shock. All it took was a handful of seconds for your life to become entirely and irrevocably derailed. 

While lying prone, the motion rocked you slightly. Outside the window, the world flitted by. All you could make out from your vantage point was the wide expanse of sky, purplish, the color of a dusky developing bruise, only swagging power lines and the tops of towering street lamps flashing across the horizon.

Just like that, slow conversation started up again, right above your head. It was as if they were back at the bar; the normalcy of it was chilling. Soap’s hands were still resting over your thick thigh, petting you. Repetitive strokes up and down your thigh that also eventually blended into the background. The car was so warm now—John must have cranked the heat. You feel the warmth dust across your face where it filtered into the backseat.

You're feeling floaty—disconnected. Your body couldn’t sustain the level of terror that should still be at the forefront of your mind. Adrenaline burned everything out of you, drained you till there was nothing left but fog, thick and cloying. It became a task to keep your eyes open.

You were so tired. 

Your limp body bounced lightly as the car went along. The voices were even more distant now, a muted background noise, like someone speaking on the phone in the next room over—you can just hear the mumble through the wall but can’t decipher any of the words.

…

“—get some proper rest on the plane.”

(I horked this up originally after re-reading one of @391780 posts. I think it was the one where Simon calls dibs on you while you're out with friends? Clearly things deviated a lot, but still. Do yourselves a favor and read all of their stuff.)

[aingeal98]

Headcanon that Tim introduces Cass to reddit and helps her make an account. But she mostly uses it to ask questions and user batgirlfan99 accidentally becomes a meme and an urban legend. Half her posts are AITA situations listing either horrible trauma done to her which she doesn't acknowledge as trauma or moments where she was most definitely the asshole but seems massively confused as to why. To make things more baffling the other half of her posts are questions to various subreddits like "Why does food have out of date labels when it tastes fine?" or "How many bones can I break when I'm fighting someone before it becomes cruel and not OK?" and "How can I get a real passport if I don't technically exist?"

She's so completely serious about all of this people aren't sure if it's an elaborate bit, shitposts like dril, or if someone should call a hospital and get her help. Tim's having too much fun watching it all happen so he strikes a deal with Babs to make sure Bruce never finds out and shuts it down. Babs agrees because it's nice to see Cass interacting with civilians even if it's anonymous and online.

Unfortunately Cass goes a little too locally viral on a discussion thread about Gotham water, insisting that she drank it for two years both during and after No Man's Land and she's fine, so people are clearly exaggerating about the chemicals. Bruce gets wind of it and starts making plans in case the account is run by a new Gotham joker variant but the more he looks at it the more these questions seem familiar...

The next time they're having a family dinner he mutters to Cass: "I still don't think I was the asshole during the Soul fight. You didn't give the full context ."

After this reveal, the rest of the dinner is spent with both of them arguing their case and everyone voting on if Bruce was NTA. Dick, Tim, Duke and Damian vote YTA. Cass and Bruce vote NTA. Dick says Cass was also the asshole for punching him in the face which sets off a whole new round of discourse.

batgirlfan99 deletes her account the following morning, leading to widespread mourning across her frequent subreddits. Cass still thinks it was worth it. She knows the difference between laundry detergent, fabric softener, and fabric conditioner now.

[ominous-horse-noises]

as someone who fell off of genshin for similar reasons (gameplay loop became meaningless busywork way too quickly, the story became too self-referential and unfocused, etc.), i also want to add that i feel like the writers wrote themselves into a corner from the start with the traveler.

the traveler's motivations are kind of counterintuitive to the interests of players. from lumine's (the twin i played) perspective, she wants as little interaction with this world as possible, and thus any story conflict she's drawn into has to be kind of against her will. sure, lumine can make connections with the characters, but genshin isnt really written well enough to express a lot of those relationships as organic and a meaningful obstacle to her objective of grabbing her twin and leaving teyvat. there are exceptions (xiao, for instance, has actually been built up to have a close bond with the traveler specifically), but overall, the writing strongly implies that if it wasnt useful for her to be helping others, she would have stopped by now.

full admission, i stopped playing soon after sumeru dropped- partly because i had gotten bored with the gameplay, and partly because a lot of the new mechanics and puzzles introduced were too dense to parse easily. however, from streamers i watch who've played up to fontaine, there seems to have been an overarching arc of the traveler's good nature being taken advantage of so often and for so long that they're starting to become embittered over having to lend a hand at all in all threads of the plot- because the writers keep having characters (usually the archons or similarly high ranking members in each nation's society) promise them progress and then go 'teehee guess i can't help you after all' in a cycle that feels a little like the writers taunting the players themselves.

now, i say this is counterintuitive to the players because the players WANT to linger in the world. they want to get to know all the characters, they want to explore every inch of the map for puzzles and chests, they want to do all the quests, they want to understand the lore. so now the story is caught between inventing more and more grating reasons why the traveler has to get involved with the narrative of the world against their will, the characters seem more and more like assholes for being able to provide nothing useful in return (bc as op accurately pinpointed, the writers keep holding their story cards tight to their chests), and the traveler becomes more exhausted and cynical about doing the things that the player is playing the game to do. its basically a running joke in the fandom at this point.

the difference between botw having a similar 'racing to save someone dear to the protagonist but getting involved in the minutiae of an open world' and genshin is that botw is VERY clear why link can't just grab a few overpowered allies and run straight for the castle. in genshin, because the story is so bloated and yet underdeveloped, the player doesn't get a real sense of the scope of the danger beyond cryptic allusion and other characters just saying so.

and the tragic thing is hoyo knows this is, objectively, a bad set up to tell a story like this from, because the first thing they did with the protagonist of honkai: star rail (i have complaints about the storytelling from the second world, but overall, the writing is head and shoulders above genshin by every metric) is give them no past and stick them on a crew of people who are literal do-gooders. amnesia is a cheap writing trick for player avatars, but it ends up working because the avatar is put with a group of people whose whole motivation is to travel and help others, which gives them an easy and plausible reason to get involved in conflicts of both A plot and C/D plot importance.

so. uh. in short, writing a protagonist whose express purpose is to get out of the world the entire game takes place in as soon as possible punishes players who want to try and be immersed in the story and their avatar's goals with endless frustration.

i kinda really wanna see a big ol vent/rant from you about genshin now lol. I would read an essay

I'm not sure you understand the insanity you just unlocked in me but ok

genshin impact is probably the clearest modern example i can think of of capitalism absolutely eviscerating a creative project. For context, I started playing genshin in 2021, just after the 1.4 update. it was venti's first rerun/the first windblume festival if that means something to you. and I really genuinely thought that it might have had something special. It was a gacha that didn't FEEL like a gacha, which was a huge feat to me.

it began with a very simple story pitch--you, the protagonist, are one of a set of twin siblings traveling through space. you come upon a seemingly unassuming world and your attempts to continue your journey are suddenly stopped by a mysterious, all-powerful figure. you are separated from your sibling and wake up alone on the shores of this planet you were attempting to leave together. throughout that opening cutscene and scattered through the world and your character's dialog there are implications that all is not as it seems, that your character is something unique to this world and that they possess powers and abilities that you've yet to unlock. You are told that you must travel the seven nations of this world in order to find your sibling, which is great--a simple, zelda-like objective which drives the player to explore the secondary narratives of the world. none of this is bad on the surface. in fact i'd argue it's pretty good. there's a ton that can be done with these story bones. even at launch the map and combat system were full of potential as well.

Note: for ease of reading, i'm going to label the different storylines of the game now. A-plot refers to the central objective of the entire game; the find-your-sibling plot and everything that encompasses, including the abyss order/dain, the heavenly principles, the fake sky, etc. B-plot refers to the secondary objective present in each new nation, usually meeting the archon and/or solving a problem for the archon. (A and B-plots will occasionally intersect.) C-plot refers to any story, location, or background information which remains in permanent gameplay but which isn't directly related to the A or B-plots, such as dragonspine, the chasm, enkanomiya, etc. D-plot refers to any story, location, or background information which is confined to limited-time events and does NOT remain in permanent gameplay, regardless of its connection or lack thereof to the A and B-plots, such as the golden apple archipelago, the infamous albedo/dragonspine event, the infamous kaeya/diluc event, etc. Lore as i will refer to it in this post refers to any information which is present in permanent gameplay but which is not directly told to the player within the A or B-plot story quests and objectives, including books, weapon, artifact, and item descriptions, world quest dialog and puzzles, etc.

So now we're in mid-2021, there are two nations' worth of B-plot story quests released in full, and we've run into our first problem, which is that the game isn't finished yet. I don't have any actual information about how the game was/is written, but based on what i've observed over the past few years, my best guess is that the A-plot has been fully written since the beginning, at least in some form. there were very early-game events and information pertaining to the A-plot that would take years to see any actual payoff in the main story quests (kaeya's origin story, the 1.3 scaramouche fake-sky drop, the flowers in lumine's hair, etc.) but those kinds of A-plot story easter eggs very quickly dropped off when the game absolutely EXPLODED during the pandemic.

this sudden burst in popularity was the true beginning of the end for genshin, i think, because suddenly they had a HUGE fanbase that desperately wanted more content faster than they could pump out new A-plot or even B-plot story quests. one of the most pervasive complaints about the game when I began playing in 2021 was that there was nothing to do between story quests. update 1.4 (which was the update I started playing at) was important in that it was the first time since genshin's release over a year before that players recieved any new A-plot, in the form of the archon quest We Will Be Reunited, also known as the quest with the most fucking misleading name of all time. you'll never guess what doesn't fucking happen during this quest. anyways. we were a year into gameplay, two nations out of seven released and a third on the not-so-distant horizon, and it seemed obvious that players were owed some sort of A-plot payoff. and that's very much what WWBR was advertised as, from the quest's name to the banners full of art of the twins staring wistfully at each other. The thing is, what i'm describing as A-plot payoff was actually. not really A-plot payoff at all. WWBR was the reveal that the protagonist's sibling was working with the abyss order, and that the abyss order was connected somehow to Khaenri'ah, which at this point casual players would only have known about from THAT QUEST and MAYBE kaeya's character descriptions if they were diligent enough to get him to friendship level 10 (which, btw there is no indication that you should do to get important context about the story of the game, because kaeya is a 4-star starter character and the only character in the entire game that actually has genuinely important story hidden in his character descriptions.) So what I'm calling A-plot payoff felt at the time a lot less like A-plot payoff than it did like an abyss sibling cameo in an attempt to satiate everyone who was begging for more story. We actually gained almost net 0 information. this is very quickly going to become a pattern.

As I've already alluded to, the motives behind this writing decision are transparently obvious. Genshin is a free gacha game which relies on a consistently active and engaged userbase to make its money. With fans getting restless about the lack of engaging story at the time and a new, very ambitious B-plot quest gearing up for release that would require major support from that fan base in order to remain profitable, the writers were backed into a corner. they HAD to throw the fans some sort of bone in order to keep them engaged with the A-plot, since it was originally pitched as the driving force for the story as a whole, but they were also clearly not at a stage of the writing process where it was prudent to give the player any REAL information about the A-plot. This is how we ended up with a 10-second abyss sibling cameo and an offhanded mention of Khaenri'ah, a nation whose plot-relevance was at that point still basically unknown.

The real problem is, WWBR worked. at least, it worked as intended at the time. It satiated story-focused fans in the interlude between B-plot nations, as hyv was gearing up to release inazuma, which required a lot of time in preparation. WWBR was followed almost immediately by the C-plot golden apple archipelago in 1.6, widely regarded as one of the better events of version 1. GAA was memorable especially because it was the first event that involved an entirely new, limited-time-only map, meaning the event had much more longevity than the standard events players were used to. This is, imo, most likely the update combination that led to the standard formula which hyv uses for its quests and events nowadays. the back-to-back release of WWBR and GAA satisfied both fans who wanted A-plot story AND silenced criticisms about the game lacking endgame playability, which at the time must have seemed like a goldmine to writers desperate for a solution to their content-to-fanbase ratio problem.

From here, genshin started following a standard method of release for their next three nations--inazuma, sumeru, and fontaine. the formula generally went as follows: one major version update (usually version x.0) containing a major map update which included all B-plot relevant locations in the new nation, and the first chapter of the B-plot story quest relevant to that nation. this would then be followed by 2-3 version updates which would each contain the next chapter in the nation's B-plot story quest, sequentially. After the nation's B-plot quest ended, during the downtime in which the next nation's story and map would be finalized, subsequent updates would be largely C-plot, and would contain minor expansions of the map to increase endgame playability via exploration and world quests. This is how we ended up with updates like the chasm, the several extra islands in inazuma, and the quite frankly ridiculously large sumeru map, as well as the offloaded maps like enkanomiya and the sea of bygone eras. with the possible exception of the chasm, none of these areas are A OR B-plot relevant. hyv has realized that artificially inflating the map makes their game technically more engaging during the downtime between nations. However, this comes at a price. While the scenery and set design of the game remains consistently beautiful, the actual, mechanical gameplay that populates that scenery very quickly became mind-numbingly boring if not borderline unplayable. While the 1.0 questlines were not perfect, there was at least an emphasis on the player actually DOING things. 1.0 B-plot quests would have you going to mini-dungeon temples and completing challenges which would acclimate you to the combat system while also serving narrative purpose. There were quests that required you to navigate open-world dungeons. Because your characters were lower-level, combat challenges that arose during these quests were CHALLENGES, rather than two-second buttonmashing segments. By the time we get to sumeru, though, both B-plot AND C-plot quests have become little more than moving your character from location to location and tapping through (usually unvoiced) dialog. there's no GAMEPLAY in the quests anymore, because gameplay isn't what makes money. What DOES make money is giving players 300 hidden chests to find in an open-world map segment, each of which gives them 1/80th of a gacha pull. And so the story suffers and the map gets bigger.

Along with the map expansions, downtime between nations usually also nets us one A-plot quest, usually involving the character dainslief, who was the driver of the initial WWBR quest. This is the second half of hyv's magical formula for keeping fans happy between major releases. the A-plot quests will, as a general rule, give players either very little new information or no new information at all, but will dress up the delivery in such a way that it ALMOST feels as though the protagonist has moved forward somehow. the most recent example of this writing style, the 4.7 quest bedtime story, amounts to about an hour and a half of gameplay and, while it DOES contain a segment in which the protagonist finally actually has a conversation with their sibling, that conversation literally begins with the line "I have so many questions, but for some reason I don't want to ask them right now," ensuring that the sibling will not actually be required to give away any plot-relevant information whatsoever, and the quest ends with the protagonist FORGETTING THAT THE CONVERSATION EVER HAPPENED IN THE FIRST PLACE.

As I think I mentioned before, the cardinal problem of genshin impact's writing is that fans want answers faster than the writers are prepared to give them. I don't doubt that there's a game bible or relevant equivalent somewhere within hyv which contains the explanations we are currently lacking in regards to the A-plot. the game is consistent enough in its storytelling for me to believe that this isn't all just being made up as we go along. But I'm also certain that a lot of the late-game A and B-plot that is planned (especially if the Khaenri'ah is truly planned to be the 8th nation of the game) hinges on the player knowing very little about the A-plot. this would be fine if genshin was a standard single-release video game that players could work through at their own pace, but it isn't. it's unfinished, and each nation in the game releases months to years after the last, leaving the writers to scramble to fill in the gameplay gaps and players struggling to remember plot-relevant information when it's brought up literal years after they last heard it mentioned. Not only does the time between updates leave players frustrated about the lack of A-plot, it makes the A-plot harder to understand when it is brought up, because the writers are required to throw in so much dense C and D-plot just to keep engagement high enough to make the game profitable in its downtime. we joke about the insane convolution of genshin's lore, but that is first and foremost a byproduct of its financial model. the game requires engaement to be profitable, and adding lore for players to look into drives up engagement. The fact that having so much story with so little plot relevance muddies the waters and makes the A and B-plot stories considerably harder to understand doesn't matter as long as money is being made.

I want to take a quick detour here to talk about the release of sumeru specifically, because this is when I really began to clock the fact that genshin was declining. on paper, racial sensitivity issues aside (Not that they're not important, but i'm doing this deep dive from a storytelling and game design point of view, nothing else. that's a whole can of worms i don't have time to get into here) sumeru was a really promising addition to the game. The new B-plot quest which was set to drop in 3.0 was highly anticipated for several reasons. Two fan-favorite characters (kaeya and scaramouche) were expected to play major roles, because of earlier C and B-plot quests, and much of the nation's scenery that was teased in trailers and promotional content appeared to tie into the A-plot. the most exciting draw about sumeru and version 3.0, though, was the major update to the combat system.

Arguably genshin impact's most interesting feature upon release was its combat system. The map was basically a botw clone at that point, and the story quests, while decently engaging, were rough around the edges to say the least. What genshin DID have going for it was a unique real-time combat system that rewarded strategy and quick thinking.

Genshin's combat system is elemental, and on release there were 6 elemental affiliations: anemo (wind), cryo (ice), pyro (fire), hydro (water), geo (rock), and electro (electricity.) in a sort of pokemon-like system, certain elements were weak to other ones, but more importantly, certain combinations of elements could drastically boost combat stats. Players got to construct four-slot teams of characters, each with an elemental affiliation and certain "skills" which would match their element, and you were encouraged to use the interactions of these elements to build teams. very quickly, a huge community formed dedicated to optimizing teams and tiering characters. People would even make a game out of building teams specifically to do high-level damage with "bad" characters or characters who weren't designed to be damage drivers (my 100k jean burst was an incredible moment fr.) this was, of course, also a picture-perfect driver for the gacha aspect of the game, which was how players obtained new characters.

Pre-3.0, combat was... well i won't say it was balanced, but there was no elemental reaction that had any MAJOR advantage over the others. when you actually ran the numbers, i believe vaporize was the best reaction in terms of damage output, with the best team being raiden national with kazuha for EM buffs. but a well-built freeze or melt team could do similar numbers, or even better numbers depending on your artifact rolls. (ayaka permafreeze you will always be my #1.) Despite a steady stream of new characters with each update, characters from the earliest version of the game like xingqiu and xiangling were still topping the charts in terms of usefulness and versatility in teambuilding. However, as early as 1.0, players had been teased that a major update to the combat system was planned. There was a seventh element, dendro (plants) which pre-3.0 only existed as an elemental affiliation for menial enemies. there were no playable dendro characters, and the only elemental reaction that existed relating to it was very low-level and not particularly useful in combat.

Originally, dendro was projected to be added to the combat system somewhere in version 2, but its release was delayed substantially, meaning it came out along with its affiliated nation, sumeru. And as soon as it came out, it basically broke the combat system. I assume that the scaling they ended up going with may have been out of fear that players would be hesitant to integrate a new element into their pre-established team builds, and thus they may have been worried about sales on their dendro character banners, and i assume that the fact that 3 elements are required to get the highest-level reaction was an attempt to make the meta more balanced in the face of that scaling, but, well... it didn't work. At this point, the genshin impact combat meta is basically "if you're not using hyperbloom what the fuck are you doing." there's basically no reaction in the game that comes close to it in terms of both damage and ease of use. you are not going to beat a hyperbloom team with anything other than a better-built hyperbloom team. combat is now very heavily skewed in the direction of dendro, meaning that if you DON'T want to use a dendro team, you're going to be doing significantly lower numbers. And since enemies are added with each update, post-3.0 combat becomes difficult and annoying if you don't have a hyperbloom team on-hand.

The major gripe i have with dendro isn't even the scaling, though. I mentioned offhand earlier that the 1.0 B-plot questline had a section which taught you the basics of the combat system via mini-dungeons. These mini-dungeons, of course, taught you the version of the system that existed pre-3.0, so there's no tutorial for dendro reactions. Rather than integrating the tutorial into the story and world like they did in their early quests, upon playing 3.0 for the first time players were given a popup that explained, very wordily, how dendro reactions worked. there was no opportunity to test these reactions in an environment without consequences--if you wanted to try them you'd have to remember the relevant information, build yourself a team, find an enemy to try them on, and just hope you got it right. This lack of integration is something i began to notice more and more with genshin as it progressed, especially in sumeru. where in mondstadt and liyue open-world puzzles would be explained to you by an npc or via environmental context clues, in sumeru you'd be stopped while exploring every two seconds by a popup explaining some puzzle or another which, of course, you wouldn't read, because you didn't want to do the puzzle right that minute anyway, and then by the time you DID want to do that puzzle you'd have no in-game way of figuring out how to do it. The puzzle popups may seem like a small thing, but it's one of the clearest examples in the game to me of the fact that the player experience is so clearly not being prioritized here. the game doesn't even TRY to be immersive anymore. they have no qualms about pulling you out of the story to read a paragraph about how the puzzle works. they don't care how your character, in-universe, is supposed to have acquired that information. they don't care why your character, in-universe, is doing the puzzle in the first place. because they know the reason YOU are doing the puzzle, which is to unlock a hidden chest that gives you 1/80th of a gacha pull.

That was not "a quick detour" was it lmfao. ok anyways. back to the story. Now i want to talk about D-plot, meaning limited event stories, and lore as i defined it earlier, meaning contextual details not present in quests or playable story. This is where i think genshin's story becomes completely inaccessible.

Already, we've covered the fact that in order to consume the very basic story, players have to be willing to wait years between A and B-plot quest releases, punctuated by irrelevant map expansions and interlude quests. I mentioned before that genshin's incompleteness is one of the major problems of its story. the fact that players have to wait years, remembering plot-relevant information that they have no way of knowing will even BE plot-relevant, for the payoff of these narratives is frustrating at best and actively malicious at worst. But in theory, there should be an obvious way to circumvent this. One could just wait until the game IS completely finished to play the whole thing. Sort of like buying a game in early access but waiting until it's actually finished to play it all the way through. that's theoretically possible. but, as i have been hammering home this whole time, genshin is a free game, and therefore genshin relies entirely on a consistently engaging fanbase in order to remain profitable. if genshin does not have a base of players who are willing to log in every day, or at the very least once every update, the game's financial model collapses on itself. therefore, genshin puts on limited-time events. this is a standard in gacha games, as a way to keep the fans consistently engaging. What is not standard, however, is the way that genshin uses these events as vessels for its story. about 19 out of 20 limited events in genshin impact will be useless menial bullshit with no effect on the story or really even the player aside from maybe making you fucking angry. 1 out of those 20, though, will be innocuously named, with nothing in the banner or event description to indicate that it's special in any way, but it will contain serious A or B-plot relevant information that exists nowhere else in the game. My personal favorite example is the infamous 1.3 scaramouche appearance, in which he showed up, told the protagonist that the sky was fake, and then immediately fucked off again. Scaramouche did not show up again until at least 2.0, and the fake sky wasn't so much as MENTIONED again until 3.2, almost TWO YEARS LATER. but there are others, such as the (almost equally infamous) albedo doppelganger event in which a major character's loyalties are called into question, or the event where major biographical information is revealed about kaeya, the only playable character with major known connections to the A-plot and Khaenri'ah. With all of these events, once the event period ends, the information contained within them vanishes from the game completely. there's no way to replay old events that you've missed, even sans rewards, so if you miss a plot-relevant event the ONLY way to catch up on that story is through word of mouth. again, this is a transparent way to keep genshin's userbase engaged during downtime between B-plot quests; if you don't log in and play every event, how will you know if you've missed something important? You might not be able to fully understand the future story if you miss out on the D-plot now!

The D-plot problem is something that I think could, in theory, be circumvented by dedicated record-keeping. if the wiki had anything resembling an easily accessible event database that marked story-relevant events and contained summaries or gameplay videos, at the very least you wouldn't have to fear being completely lost on the off chance that a random throwaway line in an event from fucking 1.3 becomes plot-relevant. but hyv obviously doesn't want that, because it undermines their financial model, and the sheer number of events and the amount of rerunning of irrelevant events they do makes the task of recording and categorizing them all daunting if not impossible.

Then, of course, there's lore. this is arguably what genshin is infamous for in certain circles of the internet. You know that unraveled video where bdg reads every book in skyrim? if you tried to do that with genshin the video would probably be about 10 hours long. and it's not just books; genshin hides (potentially) plot-relevant information in weapon and artifact descriptions, in random hidden world quests, in character bios... the list goes on. and 9 times out of 10, the information is essentially written in code. Plot-relevant characters will have multiple names, or the relevant information will refer to them as vaguely as possible, presumably to further the "mystery" and encourage theorizing among fans. but the sheer amount of information like this that exists within the game makes it all but impossible to determine what is plot-relevant and what isn't. For a topical example, the most recent A-plot quest bedtime story mentions the name Rhinedottir in connection with events in Khaenri'ah, suddenly making that name A-plot relevant. Rhinedottir is an alternate name for the character Gold, whose existence you would only have known of before this point if you'd unlocked and read the character Albedo's character bios. (Albedo is a limited-run character who hasn't been available since november 2022, btw.) the only other information about Rhinedottir permanently available in the game comes from the description of the weapon Festering Desire, which was only obtainable from a limited event back in 2020, anyway. So basically, if you wanted ANY context for that remark, you'd have to have been playing the game since AT LEAST 2022, AND you'd have to have taken the time to go over your weapon and character descriptions with a fine-toothed comb. keep in mind that as of right now (june 2024) there are 85 playable characters in this game, each with 10 unique unlockable character bio sections, and over 150 weapons, each with their own unique descriptions, not to mention over 50 artifact sets, each with 5 unique artifacts, which all have their own unique descriptions as well. there are also 51 different collections of books which contain written lore as well. the idea that any player could keep up with all this, or that anyone could even sift through it all to pick out the important things that they NEED to keep up with, is insane, especially when the game makes a point of withholding crucial plot information from its players within the A and B-plot quests. this amount of written lore only exists, again, to drive up engagement in the hopes of subsequently driving up profit. Even if the average player isn't reading and absorbing all this information, the fact that it's there coupled with the fact that the writers consistently refuse to reveal anything beyond surface-level A-plot information means that there's basically ENDLESS theory fodder. and THAT means that people will be posting their theories and talking with each other and getting into arguments. it means "genshin impact" trends on twitter. it means engagement, and engagement means money.

basically what it comes back to is that everything is so transparently money over player experience with this game. I think what we're witnessing with genshin is what i would call an end-stage gacha game--a gacha game that's gone on a little too long and gotten a little too popular, and so the veil has started to slip a little more than usual. Gachas work primarily because they operate by toeing the line between what is fun to play and what is a predatory mechanic. As long as the actual gameplay remains engaging and rewarding, players can ignore the unsavory business practices underneath. At this point, genshin has swerved too hard into the money-hungriness and is still hoping that they can use their old tried-and-true engagement farming methods to remain popular regardless. currently, it seems like those methods are still working, unfortunately. Like I said in the post that prompted this, i really can't wait for the hyv writer NDAs to expire 10 or so years down the line, because I can only imagine what an insane shitshow writing for this game must be. I want to see the tell-all articles. I want carnage.

That being said, I played genshin impact religiously from 2020 to 2023. I loved the game. Despite myself, I am still really, REALLY interested in the A-plot. I want to know what's going on with the protagonist and their sibling; where they came from, what happened to them, what the heavenly principles are, what role celestia plays in all of this. I want to know Kaeya's full backstory, what role Khaenri'ah plays in the overarching story, and what happened to it in the past. but I don't really have any faith that I ever will, because I know that as long as keeping their fans in the dark and stringing them along remains profitable, that's what hyv will continue to do.

Do I think genshin impact is unsalvagable? in its current state, yes. If I was given the ability to turn back time and convince a bunch of executives of the profitability of this venture, I would change almost nothing about the story of genshin and completely rework the mechanics of its release. I would make it a series of single-release self-contained games rather than a constantly-updating gacha. Each game would be one B-plot quest, or one nation, eight games in all, preferably released once every year. Removing the gacha mechanic, players would be given access to a certain pool of characters to build teams at the start of each game, and then periodically unlock new characters as the story progressed. for example, if you were playing the inazuma game, you'd start out with only your protag, and after progressing to a certain point in the story you'd get a pool of inazuma 4-stars to teambuild with freely. Then, as the story progressed and you met plot-relevant inazuman 5-stars you'd add them to your pool. I'd change basically nothing about the combat system except for a properly integrated introduction of dendro when it makes its appearance in sumeru. Once you completed the story in that nation, you could move onto the next game in the series if it was out, or if it wasn't, you could continue to explore the open world while waiting for the next release. Would this be as profitable as the gacha model? probably not, but what it WOULD do is allow for much more consistent pacing and writing, with the added bonus of not making your userbase feel like you'd shoot them in the head for their pocket change.

[sodomit]

TRANSUNITY

Transunity is a political theory that was actively talked about on Tumblr a couple of years ago, but has since fallen out of the public spotlight. And this is unfortunate, because it could have really improved a lot of the discourse around gender.

There exists a blog under that name ( @transunity ), but it has been inactive for a year. I am not affiliated with that blog anyhow, I never had any personal contacts with its mods, but I want to get their general ideas to circulate again, so I'm trying to bring this back up in a semi organized fashion. My take on transunity is just my take, if you're one of the original coiners, and you disagree, I encourage you to talk about it, because we still have much more in common with each other than different.

GENERAL VIEWS

I believe that one of the fundamental ideas more trans people need to understand is that we're all more or less in the same place in the eyes of the society (when other factors, such as ethnicity or disability, are considered). To be trans is to fail the gender role system, from the point of view of cis people we can no longer be proper men or women. All kinds of trans people regardless of identity are affected by misogyny and misandry (not a type of marginalization by itself, but turns into a vector of oppression when overlapping with a different marginalization), which forms the foundation of transmisogyny, transandrophobia, and exorsexism*. These types of bigotry are not exclusive and unique to specific gender identities either and may be applied to any trans person for as long as it's convenient to the oppressor.

Trans people do not have gendered power over each other, and intra community bigotry is better conceptualized as a form of lateral aggression.

Gender assignment and sex are never strictly binary (especially with inclusion of intersex people, who belong in gender conversations even if they don't identify as trans) and need to be understood as much more fluid and not strictly correlating with one's actual position in life.

WHAT WE NEED TO REDUCE

The following things should be discussed more critically:

- "Powerjacketing" - implying someone has gendered privilege as a means of delegitimizing their words, while in reality they do not have this privilege;

- Malgendering - forcing trans people to choose between being gendered correctly and speaking up about their mistreatment (e.g. questioning trans women's womanhood on the basis of them aggressively defending themselves or trans men's manhood on the basis of them asking for help) or implying there's something wrong with them in a way that reinforces gender stereotypes;

- Assuming that some trans people are exempt from some forms of oppression on the basis of gender assignment/sex (e.g. by calling all trans people who were assigned female "tme"** or claiming trans people who were assigned male are inherently incapable of understanding fear of sexual assault);

- Assuming that oppression of trans people is rooted in gender assignment/sex (such as, calling reproductive oppression "sex based oppression"***);

- Gatekeeping certain identities, such as "transmasc", "transbian", "femboy" as exclusive to any gender assignment/sex;

- Creating a duality out of "transsexual" and "cissexual", where not medically transitioning trans people are assumed to have some kind of a gendered privilege, or to not be trans in any meaningful material way. Various transmed ideas about dysphoria and transition go there too;

- Accusing trans people who take inspiration from each other of appropriation (trans headcanons, kinks, drag culture, etc).

SYMBOL

The following image is the official transunity symbol developed by the original transunity bloggers. Sorry about the glitch effect, I wasn't able to find one without it.

* Transmisogyny, transandrophobia, and exorsexism are not exclusive to specific identities, although they do primarily target traits associated with these identities. They can be conceptualized as bigotry and oppression towards people who are recognized as incorrectly entering respectively womanhood, manhood, and a status beyond gender binary (for the latter no normative form exists****). However, it's not wrong to use them to mean "oppression of trans women" and so forth, for as long as you're not claiming it's exclusive.

** Labels like "tma" and "tme" still may be used, but solely in a self assigned manner. I believe that an individual trans person is capable of evaluating whether they're affected by transmisogyny and in what way, and they should be trusted on this. However, no gender assignment and no current gender identity makes anyone inherently tme.

*** "Sex based oppression" instead of "reproductive oppression" reinforces the idea that people who share a specific body part (e.g. an uterus in context of conversations about abortion) are inherently of the same sex. This type of essentialism is desperately needed by terfs in this discussion, as they're trying to sell the ideas of "sex based oppression" and "sex based privilege" to people they want to recruit in their ideology. Invoking the idea of "sex" as something trans men and some nonbinary people are oppressed through is not the correct way to respond to people who say we don't experience any gendered violence besides "just transphobia", it has shitty implications and helps shitty people.

**** Lack of existence of normative nonbinary gender does not mean that these genders are not recognized by the society as a deviant, marginalized identity, and that binary people cannot be pushed into this zone.