#what i have to do to get it back) is like. zero. but anyways i have to go to college without a phone

[dduane]

Dear DD, I'm wondering if you could show examples (from your own work or otherwise) of what really, *really* rough drafts of fiction writing look like. I'm talking the earliest stages of the process that normally most people don't show to the public; whenever I look around online, what folks seem to post as "WIP" samples are usually more like 80-90% polished excerpts.

While my brain logically knows these are the late-stage stuff, it has an ill-advised habit of trying to draft to that 80-90 level of quality from the get-go--I think it might help to see what the equivalent of "thumbnails" or "sketches/doodles" look like in writing, especially from someone who's been At The Work for a long time. Hopefully it's an alright request! I understand if for various reasons you can't.

I'm more than willing to show people my stuff in process, every now and then. ...But in my case, your initial query poses an unusual challenge. And it's this:

After pushing fifty years of doing this work (or indeed, you had it right, this Work) for money, everything comes out looking fairly polished.

And this can't be helped. Once you've been doing this work for long enough—once doing it well starts being the thing responsible for keeping you and your family fed—you will inevitably (eventually) evolve the ability to exude smooth-looking prose at minutes' notice. Over the years your internal prose filters will get trained into being increasingly fine-meshed... and the longer this goes on, the more flatly they'll refuse to let clunky stuff out onto the page any more. You don't really even think about it. You just keep refining a given phrase/sentence/paragraph in your head until it feels acceptable.

After a couple/few decades, this ability becomes an ever more finely-honed survival characteristic. You can no sooner emit actively coarse prose (without trying purposefully to do so, which is another story...) than you can stop breathing for minutes at a time without suffering the consequences. (shrug) It's just the way your life experience has taught your Drafting Brain to conduct itself, going forward.

Now... this doesn't mean at all that the drafted material, be it ever so polished-looking, is necessarily what you intended (or needed!) to write. Oh no. I could this very day show you some prose that by my standards is still really rough, because I wrote it five minutes ago... and you'd look at it and be very unlikely to be able to see what my problem was with it.* Whereas I'm sitting staring at it and muttering "Dammit, something's missing here. No idea what. I'll come back to it tomorrow."

And indeed I wrote something about three hours ago that (as I got it onto the page in its earliest form) left me literally gasping about how obtuse I'd been about the situation and emotions described in it, as recently as early this afternoon before I had lunch. It was a scene that had been missing from something I'm completing at the moment—indeed not merely missing but completely uncontemplated—and as it spooled itself out on the page all I could do was shake my head at my own idiocy at having missed the opportunity earlier, while I was nailing down the plot.

And I would love to show you that piece of prose right this minute, so that you could see what minutes-old prose from me looks like. Except it's seriously spoilery, and I refuse to sabotage a larger work by allowing out any material that's so loaded... and which viewed out of context would deprive it of most of its power. So, as we say around here, 'Sorry not sorry.'" Though I promise I'll come back to this and talk about it "in the clear" later, when that work's published.

...Anyway. The best advice I have for you just now is that trying to make your filters-in-training less effective is—to put it as gently as Captain Amelia might—a mistake.

That urge to have the first draft—or the "zero draft" as some are calling it these days: I use this myself—be as good as possible is frankly a lifesaver. Indulging it, sentence by sentence and paragraph by paragraph, will only leave you with less frustration, less editing and re-editing, and way less Flat Forehead Syndrome over time. You are going in the right direction, even if it makes you feel like you're losing valuable time.

Your brain's attempts to draft to the highest possible level are not ill-advised. Indulge the urge to get your drafting more right, even if it makes you suffer a bit. No one ever said this writing lark was going to be all fun. (And if they did, they lied to you.) Also: hunting through other people's WIP excerpts, be they rougher than yours or more polished, in a search for something that your excerpts or drafting style should or could theoretically look like, will do you no good in the long term... and may do you harm. All you're likely to be left with, after you haven't found anything useful in the wake of the shoulder-peering, is a sense—almost certainly an inaccurate one—that you're somehow doing it wrong.**

You're not. You're finding your own way, at your own speed. This is the Writer's Journey. (As opposed to the Hero's, which I have characters shouting at me about at the moment.) (eyeroll) As you continue going your own way, your drafting will gradually pick up speed without losing quality. ...And don't neglect your outside reading. You need to be reading outside your own genre and your own century to pick up, as it were, new (or old) plugins for your filters.

Anyway. If (as it seems) you're in this for the long term: get right down here with the rest of us and suffer your way (briefly) through it. We all agonize unnecessarily over the effectiveness of our process from time to time. The only cure is to say "fuck that noise" to the back of your Writer's Mind, and get back to the actual writing, where these problems are worked out in the only way that counts.

So: go do your thing, and let the chips fall where they may. And I hope this has helped! Let me know, over time, how things go.

*This situation is also, BTW, a bit of a problem for a writer in a career stage like mine. In an inversion of the usual rule—where "the Perfect becomes the enemy of the (Merely) Good"—the "Really Not Bad At All" becomes the enemy of the "Could Have Been Way Better If You'd Given It A 'Should I Maybe Sweat Over This A Little More?' Pass". Because the Not Bad At All genuinely isn't... but if you're not careful, you stop seeing where to kick it into the next stage when you're distracted by all the other junk going on in life.

**...But this is one of the downsides of the community, and communality, of the writing life online. We wind up endlessly looking over each others' shoulders to try to find answers that—in many cases—were already sitting between us and the screen, on the keyboard.

(And now a suggestion for those who find these occasional excursions into the Advice Barrel useful: at various folks' request, I have a Ko-Fi now. If you find the advice useful and you feel so inclined, send me a sign.) :)

[wtfaniii]

Okay firstly hi. I saw u take req for wlw stuff so wondering if u could do like In-ho's daughter (reader)also joining the games with him and they're stayed together most of the time until in mingle where when it was two players in a room reader first didn't know with who she should go with so she was playing on staying alone since nothing would happen to her but then she got pulled in a room with 380 (Se-mi) where she totally falled for her and now has an identity crisis because she still believes she's straight

Ok I made this right after seeing a pov with her and I was inspired, I hope you like it

I Wanna Be Yours

Summary: You, a girl with many problems from the life you were leading, decide to follow your father on a mission as an infiltrator, at first you are not very interested, you just wanted to get out of your comfort zone, but suddenly your eyes meet... ¿her?

Warning: typical violence of the series, internal conflicts, In-ho going out of character to be emotional support

Se-mi player 380 x fem reader blonde¡! (wlw)

English is not my original language!

master list!¡

When you infiltrated these games you had low expectations, you had already seen before through cameras and a mask but doing them yourself, being another player certainly awakened the adrenaline in your body.

You already knew that they would play, you had helped the frontman organize them and choose each one but now you regretted a little for having given the brilliant idea of ​​having the lights turn on and off constantly just to increase the fear in the players.

The platform turned and turned under your feet, your heart was beating normally but for some strange reason your breathing became more intense, once again adrenaline began to flow through your system as you heard the children's music echo throughout the place.

—¿What do you think the next number is? —Jung-bae asked next to you with notable nervousness.

—Dos —respondiste sin pensar mucho.

—¿How do you know?

—The number of players and the number of doors —Young-il said quickly, you hadn't noticed the small mistake that could have put your identity at risk —There can only be two players per room, the first to arrive will be saved.

You nodded in agreement and continued looking forward, knowing that your father would reprimand you later for that mistake.

"Two"

The robotic voice rang throughout the place and in a matter of seconds each player grabbed his partner and ran without looking back.

You ran through the crowd without knowing exactly who to grab because the rest of your group had already grabbed their respective partner and only you were left, "great dad" you thought rolling your eyes but he had his reasons for leaving you there, anyway they weren't going to kill you even if you lost.

Despite the disturbance, you walked calmly through the place looking for an empty room so you could go in alone, you didn't realize that the counter was about to reach zero.

Ni siquiera te diste cuenta cuando un jugador corrió hacia ti, simplemente sentiste que alguien tiraba fuerte y firme de tu brazo y te introducía en una sala verde.

As soon as you heard the "click" of the door close you looked up to see who had dragged you there, at that moment, you were sure that your eyes shone like they usually do in the fairy tales that mom told you when you were little.

—A thanks is enough —Se-mi said with disdain while taking deep breaths.

Her short black hair caught your attention, it fit perfectly with his features, his skin looked so soft and shiny from the sweat that adorned his face, your eyes landed on his lips, pink and thin, pretty.

—Stop seeing me like that —She demanded and you immediately looked away.

Hearing her voice for the second time was like music to your ears, it sounded so firm, confident, the complete opposite of the expression that was forming on her face, you frowned, ¿why did you feel this? Damn.

You reviewed her words mentally, you hadn't even realized that you completely ignored the life or death situation that should torment you and the sound of gunshots coming from outside, it was as if she had stolen your brain and rational sense just by looking into her eyes.

¿What the hell was happening you?

—Thank you —You said, feigning more anguish —You saved me

Se-mi remained silent this time but looked at you curiously, ¿why did you seem not to be afraid? ¿Were you very brave, very stupid or were you hiding something?

For the first time you felt the room around you suffocating, it was strange, you wanted to get out and get away from her because of what she was making you feel but at the same time you didn't want to do it, her aroma filled your nose, a sweet mixture, traces of the perfume she used before coming here, mixed with the adrenaline that her body emanated.

The seconds felt eternal, for the two girls who were there, and as soon as the door opened you were the first to leave at full speed.

However, as you let your feet guide you back to the huge room with the other players, your mind still wandered to the features of that girl with the number 380 emblazoned on her clothes.

—¿Are you fine? —Your father's hand on your shoulder brought you out of the thoughts.

You nodded.

But you didn't feel good.

You had never before experienced these mixed emotions that accumulated in your stomach, you had not had a boyfriend or girlfriend, you had arrived on this island since you were a girl and therefore your social life only focused on masked soldiers and your father.

In-ho was a busy man, you knew it, therefore you had never talked to him about love or relationships between couples, incredible, you knew how to handle all kinds of weapons and hand grenades but you didn't know what people felt when they liked others.

—Not really —You decided to correct your previous answer, it wasn't the time but you needed your father —¿What did you feel when you saw mom for the first time?

Your question caught him off guard, he stopped walking down the endless stairs and turned to look at you with a raised eyebrow.

—¿Really? ¿Now?

You raised your shoulders and put your hands in the pockets of jacket, the other players behind you complained about having stopped the line and continued moving forward with him telling you that would talk about it at lunch time.

As you continued walking you felt a pair of eyes on you so turned your head a little to discover who was looking at you so much but instantly regretted it when you met their 380 gaze.

Once again your heart beat with speed

¿Why was she looking at you? ¿Did you catch her attention the way she caught yours? ¿Was she having the same doubts? Without realizing it your hands were sweating inside your pockets.

—Well… talk to me —In-ho sat next to you, a little apart from the rest of the group because they didn't know what your family bond was or your respective true identities.

Cautiously and without omitting any details, you told him exactly how that person made you feel since you saw, how his eyes captivated you and his aroma attracted you like a mouse to hot bread.

After a couple of minutes in which he listened to you attentively and in silence, he finally spoke with a soft smile.

—I'm glad you experienced the attraction for the first time —He paused and his smile diminished a little —but I don't like that you did it in this place... You have to keep in mind that if he dies…

—She —You interrupted him, looking down at your food —It's not he… it's, She...

In-ho looked at you in silence for a few seconds, increasing the anxiety in your body until he spoke again calmly and confidently.

—Listen… I know you lived under rules and orders for several years but this is not like that… For love there are no rules or a guide and in this case, you don't have to worry if it's a he or a she, but here…

—I know —You said with slight frustration running your hands through your golden hair, you didn't want her to die, whatever the reason she was here you didn't want her body to end up in a gift box.

—Just don't do something reckless.

And with that short conversation your father stood up and left again with Gi-hun to continue with his plan, you were grateful for the little time he gave you but you still felt confused.

During the next few hours you were not focused, you cast fleeting glances around the huge room looking for her and you did not see her until the votes, she voted by scratch, she wanted to leave, strange, when you saw her you noticed the blue circle on the left side of her chest.

The votes had been tied so they would repeat the votes the next day but you could feel the tension between both sides and the last straw was a fight in the men's bathroom where five players died.

You knew what was coming now, you had seen it several times before, the special game

At night this place would be a battlefield full of blood, hatred and death, the forks in your food would be weapons and the players themselves would become killing machines as soon as the lights went out.

Gi-hun gathered a small number of players on his side to come up with a plan, they would form a rebellion to get out of here, how naive, if they knew they had the leader of this place among them maybe would have won this fight, you thought silently.

But your head was also thinking about someone else, about a certain black-haired woman who was in her bed playing with the rings on her fingers.

Your eyes looked at her analytically, she looked so calm but at the same time worried, there was something that worried her, immediately your eyes moved to the opposite side where you saw player 124 looking at her with hatred, contempt and other negative emotions that only meant one thing in this place.

Kill.

"Don't do anything reckless"

Your father's words resonated in your head, you lowered your gaze and continued listening like 456 but occasionally you turned to look at her once more.

So until the lights of the emorme room went out, the glow of the figures on each side was the only thing visible among the darkness and the soft murmuring mixed with soft breathing became present, you followed the plan and the instructions and went under the bed to just watch as the players killed each other.

But you heard a scream that caught your attention, you saw 124 attacking the girl who had taken over your head and without thinking twice you came out of your hiding place despite hearing your father's protests, here he couldn't protect you, in this game you could die like any other player but you didn't care.

You ran until you reached them and with a kick you pushed him away from Se-mi who fell to the ground exhausted from the confrontation, if it hadn't been for you she would already be dead.

—Get away from her —You hissed, watching him with disdain as he stood up again with a broken glass bottle in his hand.

—¡This is not your business! —Nam-gyu raised the bottle and tried to stab it in your face but you skillfully moved away and hit him in the chest with a strong, concise movement.

As a result, he lost his breath and his balance for a few seconds, but being highly drugged, the adrenaline was in his favor and he managed to throw himself at you once again, this time managing to make a cut on the side of your abdomen.

A stab of pain invaded you and you stumbled back, he was going to attack you again but Se-mi took him off of you and pushed him down the stairs, she was barely going to ask you if you were okay when you took his hand and pulled away from there, both ran through the chaos and hid under a bed.

—You're bleeding —She said seeing the wound in your abdomen, it was not lethal but it was scandalous.

—I'll be fine —You responded with a soft smile.

The closeness between you and her was great, you could now see with perfection and fascination each of her facial features, her bright eyes, her thin lips, the piercing that decorated her nose and the black ribbon that hugged her neck.

You could practically hear your heart beating.

And you knew you weren't the only one, she also kept her gaze fixed on you.

—Thank you for saving me... —She murmured close to you to the point where you could feel his breath hit your face.

You didn't answer anything but millions of words crossed your head, you wanted to tell her many things "you are beautiful ¿what did you do to me?" maybe even kiss her but you knew this wasn't the right time and you still weren't sure what you felt or if she felt the same.

When the lights came back on and the guards came in to remove the bodies, you ignored the plan that 456 had said, you just stayed with her, you wanted to do it.

Even when Young-il talked you into going with them to the rebellion you refused and stood by Se-mi's side, receiving an unreadable look from he.

But he didn't insist and left you with the other players while he betrayed his entire team.

—¿Won't you go with them? —She asked you curiously as she bandaged the wound on your body, her hands felt like heaven on your skin but you kept your face serene throughout the entire process.

—No, I'm where I should be.

You had changed sides, you would not be a soldier again, you just wanted to be with Se-mi, get her out of there alive and pay any debt she owes.

Incredible the things someone can do for love.

And In-ho understood that which is why he gave you full control over the decisions you would make from now on.

[would-you-punt-them]

Your technology curse is my roman empire.

Honestly, for the past couple of months I've been having more tech problems than usual, and if anyone has an explanation for this I'd love to hear it.

It started last year when my desktop finally stopped working; it would power on, attempt to start up, and then immediately shut itself down again.

I decided to just leave it, because for as long as I can remember it's always kinda done whatever it feels like. Like, I have to unplug it when I go to sleep because it likes to turn itself on in the middle of the night for literally no reason.

I thought maybe if I just left it alone, there was a chance it would eventually decide to wake itself up on its own. But after a while it became pretty clear that this really was the end. I mean, the thing was pretty old and already barely functional, so it was bound to die sooner or later.

I left it at home collecting dust for a couple months until I went back for the holidays. When I got back, I tried it again, and still nothing.

If modern technology had failed, then clearly the only reasonable solution was to tap into what little vestiges of dark power I still possessed to summon its soul back to the material plane in a profane ritual. Also I was super bored and didn't have anything else going on that day and desparately needed something to do.

So, I spent that afternoon using salt to draw out what I imagined a magic circle might look like, put the computer in the centre, covered all the windows and then spent two hours in a dark room pretending to commune with its machine spirit dwelling on the other side or whatever.

I swear to god, two days later the stupid thing turned itself on at like 1 in the morning for the first time in three months. Then the next day the lights in my room stopped working with zero warning.

For some reason ever since then my life has basically operated on the law of equivalent exchange; whenever one thing is miraculously fixed, within 24 hours something else will inexplicably break.

Someone came round to fix the lights, and later that day my electric razor (which was pretty much brand new) randomly stopped working. About a week after that, my night light that hasn't worked in forever magically became functional, while my kettle immediately broke even though it had been fine that same morning.

Just to prove I wasn't going crazy, I went and dug out the oldest thing I could find, my 3DS that's been broken since like 2018, and tried to get it to work, which should be straight up impossible. Except it now works fine, and like clockwork the next morning my toothbrush wouldn't turn on. This shit just keeps happening and I'm not sure what I did to deserve it.

Anyway, my phone has started going on the fritz, so who knows, maybe it'll shut down in a week and bring my fucking Bop-It back to life.

[sleepyorchidmonster]

Okay, but what if Riddle attempts to fight Malleus alone to buy Idia some time?

Like, we know Riddle is both reckless and confident in his power, also, if timed correctly, Off With Your Head can be make a difference in a fight, and even Leona was having trouble with it (granted it was normal not-overblotted Leona and this is Malleus we're talking about).

It can also play with the reveal that Riddle thinks everyone hates him, so he convinces himself that the least he could do is make sure Idia stays safe, both for the mission and Ortho (and maybe he's feeling guilty because last he checked Ortho required urgent repairs and it's his fault). Or maybe Riddle just feels like his lack of understanding of technomancy is not being helpful enough andhe is eager to actually do something right (he doesn't understand the situation and, as far as he can tell, everything went wrong after his dream).

And then Idia has to stop his doomed typing with a side of panicked ramblings to take a deep breath and tell the 17-year-old kid to "Calm Down. We're not dead yet, and I'm not letting you go on a suicide mission."

And before Riddle can make a counter-argument, Idia is already following up with some extra points:

1) "Yeah we're both housewardens and troublemaking SSRs. I'm also older so I'm supposed to be the responsible one here."

2) "Technomancy is my domain, so if I say you're doing okay, you're doing okay. It's natural for veteran players to carry the noobs when they're just starting out!"

3) "You're a powerful DPS, but you're also a glass canon. Meta dictates that good DPS units need great supports, and I'm trying to summon them with negative gacha pulls and a dream here!!!!"

4) "If we open the door to let you fight Malleus, then the door will have been opened anyway, and that guy can multitask like a PRO..."

5) "You know chess right? Great. We're currently in check, with the only thing between total anihilation being a Rook (A.K.A. my precious door) and the Queen (A.K.A. you). The lil' pawns may have metamorphosized into a murderous army, but there's still a whole board between us, so we have to hold on!!!"

6) "And before you get the chess analogy wrong, I am NOT keeping you around just because of your magical power. You're a TEENAGER not a weapon, for crying out loud. Did you really think I'd be that stupid?? Ortho is literally my brother and I'd rather DIE than treat him like a weapon!"

7) "Is it really that hard to understand that I don't actually hate you? Sure, you have zero E.Q. and is in my "Top 5 Most annoying Students in NRC", but I don't want you dead! Who would drag me to dormhead meetings then? Vil and Ortho need a buddy who's not afraid to break the doo- NOT NOW MALLEUS"

8) "I actually like being alive and don't want Trey and Cater to kill me, and neither that freaky cat friend of yours. Or Floyd, Kalim, Sebek, Silver, Vil..."

Idia: And that would be all! Thank you for coming to my TED Talk! Now, I know the Final Boss is right outside that door, but why don't you read a manga or two to pass the time? You've already helped me A LOT, so why don't you rest a bit?

Malleus, from the other side: You should listen to Shroud, Rosehearts. I will even refrain from tearing the door down while you read, rest assured!

Malleus: Also, who gave you the idea that everyone hates you? I just want to have a pleasant chat with them! Lillia taught me the importance of understanding the point of view of others! :)

Meanwhile the others are trying to use Meet Me in a Dream while driving a gigantic Blastcycle so they can speedrun the dream hopping and get back to Idia's dream so they can make sure Idia is okay (Ortho), complete the final stage of the plan (the others) and locate Riddle (Heartslabyul and Equestrian Club mostly, but everyone's at least worried that he's MIA). Also Silver is resting while Ace uses his UM and Deuce drives.

Leona got what he wanted (a better mean of transportation between dreams) but at what cost (two freshmen at the wheel, and they're not the competent robot kid).

[multiheadcanons]

TF2 GAMEPLAY RANT: I AM A BAD MEDIC AND I WILL NOT SWITCH CLASSES.

subtitle: having fun playing games as a support main with horrible habits

i’ll stick this under a read more since it is literally me going on a full blown rant about gameplay. you can read it if you’d like! i exclusively play medic, i don’t play any other class. and the way i play medic influences the way i write him. so if you want heavily removed source musings of tf2 medic and having fun playing games, feel free to peruse yourself!

you heard it here first folks.

i am a bad medic with about 100 hours on the guy.

i am a chronic overextender with zero movement finesse, i am almost always entirely out of position— if not completely lost on the map as the team’s healer, i will favor power classes with my heals unless i can use a scout as a taxi to get closer to the front lines faster, i will run into the same sniper sightline five times and give the surprised pikachu face when i am headshotted every time before i think to take a different route, i can’t hit a crossbow shot on an enemy or a teammate at point blank, i regularly forget what team i’m on and if i’m not laser focused on spies and spychecking (see: not doing my job as a medic which is to have that medigun out and on at all times) i will die to them every single time.

i am a bad medic.

i just spent the last three hours getting my absolute shit rocked on casual badwater basin, and about thirty minutes to an hour of that getting harassed by a guy— not even on my team, or maybe he was, i don’t know lmao— about how dogshit of a medic i was.

maybe i didn’t heal him enough. i was definitely dying before i could get a full uber nine times out of ten, and i have a horrible habit of running directly into fire on the field, and i cannot time an uber to save my life or my team’s. there was a point where there were four medics on the team and i had to genuinely ask myself damn… am i really that bad of a medic?

we were getting our asses kicked. so bad. it wasn’t even funny.

but here’s the thing: i was having fun.

even with three other medics joining me in the joyless work of healing the team and not dying and popping your uber right when it’s needed and not dying before you get the uber and not wasting the uber (i died so many times with an unused uber bc i didn’t know when to use it to best help the team) and checking your back for their spy running around with the YER not to mention the rest of the enemy team which is for some reason functioning like a well oiled machine while we have taken an active hit to our damage output because we now have four medics—

or maybe i just suck.

but i had fun.

support classes, healing classes in any fps really are for the people like me— who can’t hit a shot and frankly refuse to learn. for the people who don’t want to be directly in the action, because we refuse to learn how to aim on a computer, so we are easy pickings for anyone who has half a braincell and working eyes and minimal carpal tunnel, but close enough to it that we see the carnage. people who cannot reliably toggle through weapons, are trying to learn the maps, can’t jump high enough to even reach some of the places the other mercs are and at this point are too scared to ask.

and it makes me think of the other day, when i hopped on for a few hours and (after dying repeatedly) saw multiple messages through the chat with what i could only think at the time were sarcastic jabs at a medic, there was two at the time and i was the one dying, so you know— if it looks like a duck, quacks like a duck…

it’s not been my week on the servers, i think. but i am still having fun.

i love playing medic. i am normally the only or one of two medics on a team at any given time. and i like it that way. and i love having a second, better medic on the team. i try to study them, see how they stay alive so long. it’s hard in the heat of battle. but i’m dead half the time so i’m watching through the killcams anyway. and it looks to be a lot of staying behind corners, standing, crouching, watching, waiting. and that’s… fair.

i just don’t want to play that way.

i love the way i play medic more than i actually want to be strategically good and effective to the maximum extent as a medic.

i love jumping into the heat of the front lines, getting that soldier that’s at 22 as he falls back to reload then quickly moving to the scout at 10 to get him the fuck out of dodge so he can get to a medkit and maybe if i’m fast enough getting to the demo at 64 and taking more damage and dying anyway to the sniper before the payload even reaches the next checkpoint, hearing the ding of the checkpoint captured while i wait to return to the realm of the living. i love getting lost on the maps, standing on an empty edge of the map as the team is yelling for me, and i’m not listening. i love taking in the scenery. i can’t help but laugh when my kamikaze stunt of jumping in puts me in the middle of the enemy team. i love making batshit pushes for intel with two heavies. it is a rush to place myself behind aggressive players and do my best to keep them alive. i screech when we succeed. and i feel as though i am a good sport. if a spy gets me, they got me! that’s on me and my team for not spychecking! we know they exist!

and i like having aggressive and knowledgeable players help me and in extent the team by telling me what to do! i am a support class! i am not supposed to even be on the front lines! tell me when to pop my uber! tell me which way we’re flanking! warn me if you peek the corner first and see the entire team charging at us! i am your doctor! i will throw myself in front of those bullets and die happily if it means you will get those extra hits! i will be back shortly! just don’t die before then! let me know when i’m overextending, when i need to fall back, i want to be a good medic, i want to be the most use to my team i can be!

but i also want to have fun! i just don’t want to learn how to aim!

i am just the healer. and my motto is if you’re taking damage and you’re by the payload or on a point you are my top priority. if my job is to heal you, and we’re on payload, get to the cart, because that’s where i’m headed if i’m not there already. if you want to push for the intel on 2fort even though they have five sentry nests put up but you need a doctor to try to keep three to four of you alive as long as possible to at least bust two of the sentry nests, though you’ll settle for one, i’ll be right behind you each step of the way. and honestly, know that i am a bad medic! my doctorate is in crayon and the syringe gun is for show! i’ve never consensually removed a body part in my life! i’m here to have a good time and die a whole lot doing dumb shit!

and i will not switch to soldier. i will not switch to pyro! i will not switch to a class i don’t want to play, an “easier” class, a “less important” class and leave the team down a doctor entirely in the hopes someone better decides to pick the class! i like to play the medic! i want to play the medic! in fact, i almost like being a bad medic more. anytime someone groans about a bad medic i snicker a bit, and i heal them less.

appreciate the medigun or die without it.

anyway. remember when playing games was fun and people didn’t act like they were getting paid for the shifts they put in on team fortress 2? i initially titled this “medic and spitting in the face of meta to embrace in the arms of theme” because it is essentially what i do. i stomp all over the meta of what it means to play a support class, what it means to be a healer and heal your team to instead do team fortress 2 battle roleplay and giggle the whole time. and again, i acknowledge i am a bad medic. but dammit, people get healed. and when the shit works, it works. and the feeling i get can only be matched if i injected meth directly into my bloodstream and took five bumps of coke. because i like to have fun when i play my sexy german man. i follow the better medics so i can die before them. im like bait for the enemy team. even if i can’t make it to the full uber, what you don’t know is there’s another medic behind me about to pop. but back when i first started playing i was exclusively a battle medic. the medigun never touched my hands. i was just a stock medic running around bonesawing people.

so maybe it truly is old habits dying hard.

i’m still having fun either way

and i won’t switch classes.

and truly, am i that bad if all the medics are averaging the same amount of heals?

like if it’s just me and i average 10k heals, and another medic joins and we both average 5k, and another one joins and we’re each averaging 3-4k; is it the medic sucking caged cock and balls or is the team just not as good as they think they are?

but that’s a rant for another day. i’m gonna stop it here.

anyway. pick a class, and if you like playing it, don’t change. play until you get better.

and if you end up on or against my team, know i’m not gonna be mad if i die to your YER forty times. i also won’t be mad if you take me by my scruff and say i’m your medic. i’ll do my best to stay by your side. don’t die without me.

and if you’re an enemy medic i will never attack you as a medic i’m sorry you will never get your medic on medic fight. all enemy medics get free bottomless kills on max if you can catch me to do so and don’t put yourself out of position in my team.

i’ll fucking destroy you as a pyro though. don’t pray too hard for those random crits because my w + m1 is constant.

[flovoid]

WTH. SINCE WHEN I REACHED 1K FOLLOWERS IN SIMBLR WHAT-

[tinystepsforward]

ngl it makes me want to die a little bit that it's so often trans people who feel that sex is mutable but oppression is always-forever based on asab in ways that allow them to demand that information from other trans people. like it feels fucking bad. it feels bad when it's people holding up someone who posts a lot of selfies as transition goals to a degree they have to clarify what they have or haven't done or what "direction" they're going in, it feels worse when people are out there like "caster semenya is not tma" or whatever the fuck. i am, as always, not a trans woman, but here's a sentiment echoed by many of the trans women around me who log the fuck off, quoted directly from one: "people who draw a clear line where they say that semenya or khelif are tme and then call me tma are just calling me male at this point".

like i get it. i really do. we seek community and shared experiences, and we feel betrayed when people have less in common with us than we thought they did. [*more on this later.] but that's not those people's faults and my god in the case i'm seeing play out on twitter rn this poor person did absolutely nothing to intentionally mislead people, just posted pictures of their actual kid self. who looks a lot like i did, because shockingly enough "we can always tell" doesn't fucking work for trans people either!

on the one hand i move in intersex circles which are unapologetically welcoming in cis "dyadic" people with pcos, because it serves nobody to draw a clear line where mutilation or genetics or some ineffable childhood suffering are what make somebody intersex, especially when most of us (esp in places like nz) have never been karyotyped and are being treated for symptoms without a pinned-down cause anyway. the more of us there are the stronger we are, the more pressure we can exert on a medical profession which doesn't like to consider how common outliers are, how uneasy sex is at all. and then on the other hand there's dyadic trans people on the internet who've yelled me out of spaces because a couple of traumatised incarcerated trans women i worked with as a prison abolitionist assumed i was also a trans woman and i didn't immediately tell them my entire csa-involved history of being sexed in varying ways as an infant and child and/or exactly how big my phallus was at birth or where in my junk config my urethra lives so they could decide i was tme or whatever.

returning to the * for a related but not identical thought: i think presuming shared experiences leads to some fucked shit in general! "oh we all had a radfem phase" or "oh we all were channers" no we fucking weren't and it's particularly obnoxious when me & mine are trying to build trans community locally to organise and resist the growing wave of far-right backlash against our existence, and there's just white people in there on a spectrum from "straight up being antisemitic and trying to get the n-word pass" through "handwringing about how they need to make space for people who aren't politically correct" to "handwringing about how brown people are right to be mad at them but doing shit fuckall". and then the other fucking brown people in the space are on some identity politics shit where they're like "trans joy inherently excludes those of us who could get deported" or "big city white queers are killing us by being visible instead of going stealth bc it stirs up the discourse" or whatever the fuck i've heard pulled out this year. there's a bunch of reasons i primarily organise outside of trans spaces and that's one of them. i've never felt more alone in spaces where people claim we're all the same than being left as the brownest moderator or organiser in a space full of people to whom "this is a safe trans space" apparently means they get to abdicate all other responsibilities not to lapse into presumed shared patterns that are fucking racist or otherwise alienating. i've never felt more alone than surrounded by exclusively trans people who sort people into boxes and assume everyone in those boxes has the transition goals they have. like i was on cypro until it disagreed with me to the point of endocrine crisis and now i'm on t and at both those points people were so fucking presumptive or entitled to my reasons or journey or personal relationship w my body

literally just submitted on (and was invited to consult on) the nz law commission's review of the human rights act and like. it's straight up fucked how many nz trans people fully do not comprehend that any "sex assigned at birth" type definitions fundamentally exclude migrants who have no way of proving it and many intersex people who happen to have been reassigned later or many times or never assigned at all as a baby. we can't make law with this shit and that's why we have to have symmetrical protections for all genders/sexes/expressions/presentations, bc naming and defining a protected class here often leaves the people who already are left out from those shared experiences of marginalisation out in the cold when they face violence

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

y'all i am starting my *checks notes* seventh (7th) book of the year tonight, which as i'm sure you can see means i am coping Very Well with all of life's stressors thanks,

[airenyah]

it's really funny seeing everyone salty posts about the hidden agenda finale and i actually agree with everyone but the thing is!!!! i'm just vibing!!!!

i went into this show with absolutely ZERO expectations (and in fact, i would have been extremely surprised if this show ended up being actually good dkfjkfddf), i've never given a single shit about the plot and/or the writing bc i came here for the joongdunk vibes and the joongdunk vibes alone and i had a blast watching this series

like, i'm not even gonna bother criticising this drama bc from the beginning i didn't expect it to be very impressive anyway and so i'll just keep sitting here in my pile of garbage and vibing with it <3333

[starlooove]

When ppl talk about customer service workers being dehumanized it’s not even the insane freakouts it’s the lack of personal space that pisses me off

[orcelito]

Sometimes I get the urge to be like "Well, they can't live forever" when it comes to shitty situations with shitty people. But then I remember that A: shitty person dying might not be the result that someone wants, and B: it actually can take quite a while for people to die, in many cases

Idk I'm just so used to death being right around the corner that I'm like "Well maybe he'll die soon and that'll fix it" but he probably won't die that soon and it also might not fix it. Or be wanted.

Idk it's such a specific mentality that I have now. People can die with such short notice that you Never Know! The solution to all your problems may be short at hand. You never know.

[airanke]

Every day I sit here or lie in bed thinking about how much purity culture destroyed me.

[keeps-ache]

need to be exploding something but i Can't for some reason. just Can Not. my ability to do is just. Nay

[bibiana112]

There's nothing wrong with people having their dearest most specialest blorbo be Eric ztd it is unironically good for the ecosystem and I always love seeing the different perspectives from other fans but what I am here today to ask is why is no one like that about Mira. whatever happened to feminism.

[kavehayati]

I cannot fathom the level of self importance some people must have to behave this way

[miss-anthropyxx]

casually spiraling and dont think there's anything i can do about it at this point anymore. i wanna just give up and let myself spiral.