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coalswriting · 10 months

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returning home to her - lottie matthews

summary - lottie struggles to reach the wilderness after (y/n) goes missing (approx. 1.7k words)

a/n - i was a lil tipsy while i wrote this so sorry if there's any mistakes!! i'm going to go to london tomorrow to see boygenius so idk when i'll post more :')) i'll be gone a few days. nonetheless, i hope yall enjoy this <3

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the first day you didn’t come back with natalie, lottie lost a spark of hope in her eye. she had looked up at the familiar thumping of the cabin door closing in the evening, and instead of seeing the love of her life beside her best friend, she only saw a frazzled natalie, diverting her eyes with guilt.

“wh-where’s (y/n)?” lottie gasped, getting up to confront the blonde. she hoped immensely that her girlfriend – her sunshine – would walk into the cabin, with some silly excuse about how she got carried away in the wilderness. but, the thing about life is that it would never be fair when you most needed it to be, and the thing about (y/n) is that she didn’t come back that evening.

to say that lottie matthews didn’t sleep much that night was an understatement – she didn’t sleep a wink. her body was full of a static worry that rose in her chest with every grounding breath she took. lottie felt suffocated, as if she was being crushed by a mixture of her own guilt and a crippling anxiety for her beloved, and god, she wanted to just run out into the wilderness and search for her girlfriend, but she knew that she would get lost and probably die.

the following morning, lottie walked to the sacrifice tree with natalie in pursuit. “be careful,” natalie warned before giving lottie a nervous nod, “i’ll keep an eye out for (y/n), okay?”

lottie was silent as she watched the blonde walk away, her figure getting smaller in the snow. she wanted to scream and beg for the wilderness to bring her beloved back, but lottie knew that she had to be a reliable, collected leader. so lottie matthews did what she knew best; she gave a blood sacrifice.

“holy shit,” natalie hissed, grabbing the blade out of lottie’s right hand a few hours later when she had come back. lottie was still at the tree, bent over the snow, face practically blue from the cold. her eyes met the blonde’s and she was expressionless for a moment before she looked behind natalie to see if (y/n) was with her. no sign. “lottie, have you fucking been here all day? your hand is a wreck!”

helping the brunette up, natalie brought her inside the cabin to bandage her hand up. the wound was deep and blood seeped through the thick fabric of the bandage.

“why didn’t any of you bring her in? the fuck?” natalie snapped after sitting lottie next to the fireplace.

taissa scowled for a moment, a sorrowful expression soon following, “we tried to bring her in a few times but she wouldn’t move. we figured she’d come back on her own eventually.”

“well, ya should’ve fuckin’ dragged her!”

as her teammates began to argue, lottie felt her senses slowly return. she felt the dull pain in her hand, heard the ringing in her ears, and saw the blurriness of her vision as teardrops welled. but, lottie couldn’t cry. she wouldn’t let herself be seen as weak in the eyes of her friends, so she shook her head instead, trying to clear her mind.

however, her thoughts returned to those of you – (y/n) (l/n). where were you? were you okay? were you alive? lottie could feel the presence of the wilderness; it called for her with every whooshing of the trees in the gentle winter breeze. it just didn’t want to help, or maybe it couldn’t. she didn’t know.

“the wilderness didn’t accept my plea for help,” lottie murmured, everyone in the room falling quiet to stare at her, “it didn’t help me,” she reiterated.

“maybe… maybe it’s just taking a while this time around?”, van suggested quietly for a corner.

“for fuck’s sake!” shauna interrupted, voice full of annoyance, “the wilderness isn’t real! stop playing into her delusions!”

and thus, another argument broke out.

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lottie wanted to set the entire forest on fire. it’s omnipotent force was taunting her. she would hear snippets of your voice in the breeze, but whenever she would look up to find you, there would be nothing other than the distant horizon of flora and frost.

it was day four at this point and lottie felt a heavy pit forming in her stomach – like there wasn’t much hope any longer. she cursed herself for thinking such distressing thoughts; javi was missing for weeks but he had come home fine! maybe you were wherever he was; somewhere, somehow.

she sighed as she looked out the window. it had become routine at this point, but lottie had nothing better to do. she had woken up while the sun was only beginning to rise and everybody else was still asleep. she didn’t mind too much, but the lack of your presence made her brain feel like it was eating itself. it was easy to spiral alone, and you were the only person who understood lottie; you understood the complexities of her brain and her disorder. you helped her differentiate her schizophrenia – you stopped it all from bleeding into reality.

she leaned her forehead against the cold glass, closing her eyes gently. something was itching in her consciousness. she had an urge to do something, an insatiable urge. then, everything clicked and lottie opened her eyes up again. she gently snuck over to where her warm jacket and shoes were spread out by the fire. lottie felt, genuinely, as if today, she would find you.

so, she put the warm clothes on, and she left the cabin.

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lottie only walked about two minutes in the knee-length snow before she had to stop. today was unbelievably colder than it had been before. she shivered, looking behind her at the cabin. it wasn’t far away from her, but she already wanted to return home.

but, the wilderness called, and lottie had to answer. she needed to keep walking because she felt your presence more than she ever had prior. she subconsciously picked at the scar in her palm, and then she continued to strut at a confident pace.

it wasn’t long until lottie saw a figure in the distance, stumbling in her direction. her eyes widened in shock. she didn’t need to come closer to understand that the person ahead of her was you. lottie began to run, nearly tripping on the deep snow a few times on the way, but she didn’t care. you somehow had lost your warm headgear, and your lips were purple, contrasting against your rosy cheeks. though you looked far from okay, you still resembled an angel. lottie matthews swore that she could see the halo that illuminated your perfect face.

you were out of it, looking through her as she approached cautiously, and the moment her hands wrapped around your starved form, you fell into her.

your body was stiff and sore as lottie held you tight, not caring that the snow was currently seeping through her jacket. she was pulling you closer and closer, tightly, as if you would disappear or dissolve.

and you didn’t. because lottie matthews was holding the real you.

she bit back tears once again, like she had done only a few days prior, and after a few minutes, she helped you stand up properly. “(y/n)?”, she finally whispered, and your eyes met hers, exhaustion lacing them. “let’s return to the cabin, baby, okay?”

you nodded gently, and you threw an arm over her shoulder, careful not to put too much weight onto her.

everybody was awake when the both of you returned. lottie wasn’t sure how long she was out for, but she was glad that they had woken up, because the moment they saw you, they immediately acted to heat you up and give you some sustenance.

natalie stayed by your side, apologising for losing you, but you just smiled at her gently, shaking your head.

after a while, everybody went off to do their morning tasks, and it was just you and lottie in the creaking front room. the air felt thick, and the gravity felt heavy; as if things were tense, but you only felt warmth and comfort exuded from the brunette sitting before you. her big, brown eyes studied you as you ate and pulled the blanket that was given to you by shauna around yourself tighter. your orbs fell and lingered on her bloodied palm, the wound only a few days old. lottie quickly diverted your attention by reaching to fix some hair that had fallen into your face.

��are you okay, (y/n)?”, she said, gently.

you leaned into her touch with an affirmative “mmhm.”

“where were you? can you tell me?”

lottie looked at you with hope in her eyes; as if you had found an out, but the truth was that you didn’t know. you blanked the last few days out, not even sure of how you survived the ordeal.

“to be honest, lot, i think i disassociated a lot. i must’ve been running on adrenaline or something, because one moment i was with nat, the next i was alone. i don’t even remember the days passing,” you explained, sadly, “i’m sorry to disappoint you.”

lottie softened more than you swore she could’ve; she wasn’t even upset at you, yet you somehow felt guilty for providing an inadequate answer. still, you truly had no explanation for your brain fog.

“the wilderness didn’t help me find you,” she eventually said, an undertone of deep dejection contaminating her voice, “i thought that it was too late.”

you both fell into silence for a moment before you broke it.

“lottie,” you grinned, reaching out to hold her face with your now warm hands, “i don’t know what happened to me, but i want you to know that the wilderness will never, ever, need to help. i will always find you, and i promise that no matter what, i will always come back to you.”

lottie stared at you, lips parted in an o shape before you pulled her in and kissed her gently. lottie’s lips, though slightly chapped from the cold, felt incredible against yours. she was warm, and sweet, and so, so tender against you. her hand rested on your cheek as her other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closely, as if you were fragile. you never wanted to let go of her again, but eventually the kiss came to an end, lottie pulling away from you. her cheeks were stained red, and for the first time in months, a tear rolled down her cheek. you thumbed it away, pecking her nose, and she laughed at the ticklish contact.

you knew that you would stay by her side forever, and maybe lottie began to understand that too.

#yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets #lottie matthews x reader #lottie matthews

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ceasarslegion · 2 months

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I know i have a lot of teenagers who follow me because i dont baby talk to them regarding things like drugs and alcohol and sex. So i wanted to throw out some advice that still saves my ass every day as an adult that i learned to instill in myself as a teenager:

-Learn how to keep house. I know that every adult is beating job skills into you right now and its overwhelming to say to least, but no matter what you end up doing with your life, you will need to know how to cook and clean and budget and go grocery shopping and do laundry and the dishes and x y z. You will need to know how to work with cleaning products like bleach safely and without creating mustard gas by accident. If you figure that out now, you will be able to take care of yourself for the rest of your life. Those are skills that you WILL need every day in the real world no matter what.

-i want to asterix the budgeting part. I know way too many grown adults who could be doing very well for themselves who are broke as shit and actively getting worse because they cant budget to save their lives. Managing your finances is what will often be the difference between living relatively comfortably and struggling to get by.

-dont get roommates if you can help it. I know you will want to, and it will seem like a fun idea to live with your friends and like nothing would go wrong, but roommates ruin friendships. If you can afford to live on your own when you first head out, do it. Trust me, paying the full rent is worth not having to deal with other peoples bullshit taking up your living space. I learned this the hard way, dont be like me. The only people you should be actively looking to live with at the young adult stage of your life are any permanent partner(s) that might come along the way, and you should rush that either. And taking some proper time to be on your own will do you so much good in the long run in realizing what kind of person you are and what you need in things like work, relationships, life in general, etc.

-you don't need a brand new car, and your first apartment doesnt need to be high end and fancy. All your firsts for those things need to be are functional, safe, and reliable. And you will love them regardless if theyre your first car/apartment. And you dont really NEED a car if youre an urbanite with a reliable enough transit system, either. Thats more of an individual thing if thats your situation. I live in an older apartment building with a stove from a brand that doesnt even exist anymore, but its real spacious for one person, in a nice part of downtown where everythings still right outside my door, and all my utilities are included. I pay 500 dollars less in rent a month for this than my coworker who lives 2 blocks away from me and has half the space i do with none of the utilities included because its all smart tech and luxury suites in that building. You don't need all that, you will not notice the difference when you actually live there.

-no one cares about high school tier drama when you hit your college years, especially if you go to an academically-based school. In my experience at least, the schools the nerds end up at think the d&d club is the coolest one on campus. This will pass, you will be fine. The nerds really do inherit the earth after you graduate, and all those bullies really do peak in high school. The guy who was the worst offender towards me in high school now literally pumps gas for his dads gas station because nobody else would hire him. Which is fine, its honest work, but it IS a tad ironic how things worked out there after so many years of telling me he'd be my boss one day. Yeah sure, howd that work out bud

-please dont get into drugs and alcohol just to be cool. I know every adult has treated you like some porcelain doll to be handled with baby gloves regarding any sort of substance, but if you choose to partake in them, all i ask is that you be informed about the risks, you do it safely, and dont do it for social clout. Its not the substances im most concerned about there, its that when you do them for social approval, you dont know when to stop or how to listen to your body telling you thats enough, which is a straight shot to a potential addiction. Its your choice whether or not to consume drugs and/or alcohol, but its irresponsible to act like theres no real risk involved in them, especially if you have the kind of personality more susceptible to addiction. Do them for yourself, in safe environments, as cleanly as you can get them if possible, and only after you educate yourself about what the risks are and what resources there are in your area for healthcare and counseling if you do develop an addiction.

-be selfish, but dont be a dick. Your young adulthood is when you should be selfish in the sense of prioritizing your own mental health, work ascension/schooling, etc, but you can do all those things without being standoffish or disregarding other people in the process. You should be there for your loved ones if you can, but if you cant, give them the common courtesy of telling them. A simple "hey, id love to help you if i could, but i have too much going on right now to spare anything. But im always here to talk about it if you need it, ily and im wishing you all the best <3" is way better than "i cant help you right now, i have my own problems to deal with."

#some thoughts

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bomberqueen17 · 4 months

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noodle bowl recipe/technique

When I'm not at the farm it's always a struggle to eat as many vegetables as my body wants me to eat. Like it's just confusing to go out and buy vegetables when you're really used to just kind of going to the walk-in cooler and being like "ok what have we got too much left over of, time to Eat That", and I need to overcome this by having a recipe in mind beforehand but one I can adapt if they don't have the thing I'm thinking of at the store. So I'm trying to collect not recipes so much as techniques, because I have this problem where it's hard for me to follow a recipe because I accidentally skip reading the middle of it. Ha.

(I saw a good post about how "measure that shit with your heart" is misleading and like, mood. I am a very experienced cook but I have attention problems and can't follow a recipe if I'm tired or distracted or in pain. So I'm trying to link to real everything is measured for you recipes where I can, so if you haven't made this before and don't know what it should look like, you've got a tested version with proper amounts to start with. Just like I do! And then once I have the technique down, and the relative amounts, I'm sharing my method, which is less so on the measuring and more on my mother's technique, which is "you put in enough and then cook it until it is done", which when I was new was so frustrating, but now that I am old, I know it is 100% based on practice. And that's all, there's no mystery, it's just "I've made it before and I know how it should look so you just make it look like that." Now that I can't reliably read a whole recipe and not miss a big whack of the middle of it, I rely so much on having practiced and generally knowing what things look like when they're "right". But it's not magic and I'm not measuring with my heart I'm measuring with my practiced eye and hand.)

Anyway. Rice bowls or noodle bowls are a fantastic way to just throw a bunch of vegetables into a nice yummy sauce over a good comforting starch and have that be a meal. I tend to do a noodle bowl, and then any left over ingredients get incorporated into a fried rice scramble thing later, so you can keep that in mind if you want to try this.

I found this recipe for butternut squash mushroom noodle bowls. And I tried it as written, and it wasn't bad, but for me, roasting everything in the oven was very hard to time and didn't turn out fantastically well. YMMV, but I have more experience sauteeing things. (My first attempt I also used bok choy instead of spinach so I roasted it separately on another sheet pan according to a technique I've done before for roasted bok choy; this approach would probably work just fine if you were paying more attention than I was; my main issue was that noodle bowl recipe linked above gives far too little time for the butternut squash to roast so mine was unpleasantly crunchy. It's wrong, give it longer, and so I found it best to just not try to squeeze anything else onto the sheet with it as that recipe directs.)

So I changed it up for a second try.

First thing I did was peel the butternut squash with a vegetable peeler (I find it easiest to do this if I kinda cut it in half crosswise first), then scoop out and set aside the squash guts, then cube the thing up and roast it on a sheet pan, drizzled with peanut oil and salt and set at 400.

That's gonna take like 45 minutes or so, so I set most of my timing around that. Check the directions on your noodles or whatever, figure out what order you've got to do those in. (Soba are best for the protein, but I had rice noodles and they needed a pre-soak and it messed up my timing, which is why I'm making this note here.)

dice an onion. preheat skillet, add oil, begin to sautee onions.

rinse and prepare bok choi or other green of choice.

when the squash is part of the way cooked (like 25 minutes or so, give it a stir and check it to see if it's softening at all), take the seeds you set aside. separate them from the guts (I squeeze them with my fingers out of the assorted gut-fibers, works pretty well), spread in single layer on small baking sheet. turn oven down to 350. drizzle seeds with sesame oil and a tiny bit of salt. put them in the oven for like ten to fifteen minutes. (Turning the heat down is my attempt to have them not pop and fly all over the oven. IDK if it'll work. Be prepared to wipe seeds out of your oven tomorrow morning. They're not messy at least they just fly everywhere.)

Now throw your mushrooms and some diced garlic into your onions and saute. Add the bok choi or spinach or kale or whatever as you're stirring. Cook it all down.

Now make your sauce-- I did not measure anything this go-round, I just grated a bunch of ginger (I keep my ginger root in the fridge and it's easy to microplane off whatever you need) into a wee prep bowl, then added soy sauce, some honey, a couple spoonfuls of water from the boiling noodles to melt the honey and clean the spoon, and then a spoonful or two of chili crisp ("happy lady sauce" [lao gan ma]) because i don't stock sriracha currently.

When your noodles are ready, turn the oven off. Drain the noodles and divide them into your serving bowls, top with squash, add sauteed veg, squash seeds, the sauce. top with sesame seeds.

This was awesome, and I have leftover cooked squash cubes I'm gonna put into another recipe later cuz if you're gonna roast a butternut you might as well roast a pretty big one. I particularly like using the squash seeds because they're so tasty and crunchy and deserve to be eaten rather than thrown out.

#recipe post #comfort foods

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decolonize-the-left · 2 months

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If you don't have plans coming up.... Start organizing them. We will be okay if we work together.

We will be okay if we work together.

If we have each other, we'll be okay. We have to rely on each other. You have to be reliable. You, person reading this, have to show up. That's how this works.

I have your back if you have mine. Do not leave me to the wolves and I won't leave you.

I keep rereading these words for the huge comfort and safety they give me even though I'm such a baby at doing in real life organizing. I'm eighteen and I'm struggling to figure out how to show up. Right now I'm doubting if true change is even real, if its possible to find a community I can serve and who will help me in return, with the multiple genocides, Project25 coming up, I'm not sure where to begin. We fail each other in so many ways I can't even describe. But I want to believe we can take care of each other, help each other, that we can survive this, that a better world is possible even if I don't live to see it. Fuck, man, when I was younger I used to not understand why adults postponed their own dreams for the younger generation, but now I get it. If in the future if even one child is able to be free, then everything is worth it. And of course, if one kids free that means everyone is free.

iam going to a memorial service for Nex Benedict this week, may their memory rest in peace. And show up to Palestinian protests. I hope to find other people who are more experienced with organizing, so they can point me in directions. I want to show up for people, and I want to learn and build networks of care where we rely on each other

That's how you do it, you're stunning. Youre trying. Making an honest effort. That's how you earn trust. That's how you build community and solidarity. You take a risk.

And that will be what saves us. People like you. Scared people so full of compassion that we can see how it moves you to show everyone how much you care.

You have my back. I'll have yours.

Thank you.

I wish more people had your bravery and dedication. You're hardly 18, so give yourself some credit. You're learning how to be a grown up in a world on fire and decided helping others was just as important as anything else. More than a lot of others do at the very least.

You are my hope and dreams anon and I'm so so happy we can build a better future together.

#asked #answered

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iraprince · 2 years

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Hi Ira! Do you have any tips for drawing characters in perspective/foreshortening? I’ve been trying to learn recently but I keep feeling like the characters end up way out of proportion.

sure! it's a complex thing that i'm sure other ppl have covered more thoroughly/coherently than i have, but i can try to throw together some quick notes on the stuff i tend to keep in mind.

the first one is one i'm sure you already know about and that everyone is sick of hearing but i'm reiterating it anyway bc it's just that important: REFERENCE!!! ref ref ref!!!! even though the intent is often to exaggerate or stylize well past what ref can offer, it's still a great way to train yourself and to start to build up a kind of visual library in your head of how certain body parts tend to behave in perspective, what overlaps look like and how to stylize them, etc. if you can't find reference that suits what you're drawing, try to take it yourself -- this can be tricky w foreshortened poses but if u have a housemate etc who can help you it's worth it. (i always feel kind of goofy when i'm taking my own ref but like, nobody ever has to see it. do it for the art)

the thing w ref tho, and i think this comes out with exaggerated posing/foreshortening even more often than usual, is sometimes u can really faithfully follow ref and stuff STILL looks bad/wonky/just OFF -- because sometimes in real life things just look dumb! that's how it is! that's when it becomes our job to just fudge it, and a reliable way to do that is by returning to basic construction.

so here's an example of a wip layout where i had to figure out a bunch of bodies in perspective. the camera is above the group, looking down at the central figure -- that central figure laying on the floor is not foreshortened, because it's laying flat and kind of directly facing the "camera," but all the figures standing up around it have to be foreshortened bc their heads are much closer to the viewer than their feet. when you think of them as just a bunch of complex bodies, that is really overwhelming.

what helped me a lot was to remember that you can put basically ANYTHING into perspective if you shove it into a box! then you can use those boxes -- which are MUCH easier to accurately draw in perspective -- as a guideline, and basically make sure everybody's respective body parts "fit" into those cubes.

you can do this in conjuction with using perspective rulers/setting up vanishing points/etc, but with enough practice you can just eyeball it and you'll already find yourself way ahead in terms of simplifying stuff and giving yourself guidelines. this is also really helpful with more complex poses -- in this case, the figure in the top right is standing pretty square, with all the different segments of her body facing forward, but hopefully you can imagine how breaking the body into boxes like this can help immensely in cases where, for example, the shoulders are twisting one way and the hips are twisting another, etc. simplifying all these different parts of the body (which are frequently putting themselves into DIFFERENT perspective by moving independently from each other) as boxes or other simple shapes stacked on top of each other lets you organize things visually and figure stuff out one piece at a time, instead of the mental nightmare of "oh my god i have to draw all this wiggly organic stuff all at different points in space"

here's another example. i freehanded this one, but i can try to kind of retroactively break down what i try to keep in mind when drawing stuff like this; a lot of it boils down to just trying to be consistent about how different body parts relate to each other + how that's all framed from the viewer's pov (stylized below as a camera angle):

it helps a lot to think of exaggeration in size as just a tool you're using to tell the viewer how close something is to the "camera." (if you've ever struggled to draw a leg in forshortening because the ankle is thinner than the thigh and trying to honor "closer thing = bigger" while still keeping that in proportion -- this is where using basic shapes in perspective helps!)

i'm struggling a little to explain it in words so i hope the diagram helps; basically, dole out the heaviest foreshortening to the parts that "deserve" it most (are coming most aggressively toward the viewer/"camera"), and worry about it less on body parts that aren't doing anything crazy (for example, in the main image, the torso's relationship to the camera is pretty neutral, so the body is drawn without much foreshortening or exaggeration. in the little camera angle diagram i drew in the top left, though, the body IS heavily foreshortened, because viewed from the front in this pose the head + torso would be sticking out straight ahead.)

this is a way more loosey-goosey approach than the boxes in perspective of the first example; i found this pose less difficult than a multi-character situation so i was winging it. is the "perspective" of this body probably correct? i'm like 99% sure it isn't. but 99% of illustration is just making sure things LOOK right, not necessarily actually DRAWING them right, and you can gloss over a LOT if you just try to make sure the spatial logic in your drawings is like, more or less consistent. once you've tricked the eye of the viewer into being like "sure, i buy that one leg is further back than the other and we're looking UP" or "yeah, it looks like we are looking DOWN at the tops of these character's heads", you can pretty much get away with murder in terms of actual perspective/anatomy, esp if u have a very stylized art style. be brave!!!!

#tutorials #i am fully incapable of being concise lol

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sprout-fics · 4 months

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Just read your John Price fic "Mind the Drop" and oh man I loved it! Excellent work lol. But it got me thinking about the dom/sub world in it... there's a thing called subdrop, but is there also domdrop? When a dom accidentally makes a sub feel unsafe and vulnerable (like not registering a safe word during a scene for example) and causes them to subdrop, does the dom also feel terrible? Do they also spiral, feeling like their biological tendency to dom only leads to harming others? Are they consumed by an ache to be seen as reliable again, the same way the reader in your fic ached to feel safe again?

I like to imagine it takes a sub to willingly put themselves in the dropping dom's hands to provide them the reassurance that they're a protector, a caregiver, a leader and not a monster. That the previous scene was an accident.

Anyway, I headcannon that Captain Price was so willing to help the reader through her drop because he's experienced really intense dom drops before and doesn't want to see someone he cares about drop either. He's a real mentor figure to the rest of 141 as well, advising them that doms like them, military men like them, are capable of just as much comfort as they are harm.

Anyway... just wanted to write that out somewhere. I know this was kinda long, but if you can, I'd love to read your interpretation of the dom drop idea. Anything really, fic or otherwise. Thanks!

You are VERY correct! Domdrops absolutely are a thing, both in this BDSM-verse and in real life. It's exactly as you described. I am not familiar with domdrop (I've also seen it referred to as topdrop) as I am with subdrop, but it is very similar to what you've written.

I've seen it described as a horrible realization of sorts- of questioning yourself and your ability to be a proper dom, to wondering if your partner has compromised their boundaries so they can please you in their submission, the guilt of making your partner feel unsafe, of feeling gross and awful and disgusted inside.

In this BDSM verse with Price- I have no doubt he tangoed with domdrop as a younger man. In his age now, he's much less prone to it because he intensely vets his partners and their willingness to communicate their needs and boundaries. I definitely think when Price was still learning his role as a dom he made some mistakes with his partners- mistakes he's learned from. But he still remembers the ache, the disgust, the guilt, the depression over having failed someone in a way that inherently went against his designation as a dom. I imagine he had assistance- be it from one of his dominant superiors or another familiar sub.

I also think Price is someone who would be the one to remind his subordinates that domdrop does exist, that is isn't a myth. He also provides a welcome space for those who may be struggling. Personally, I see him assisting Simon with domdrop at some point as well.

All very interesting thoughts! I'm a big fan of the sociology and psychology behind BDSM dynamics both real and fictional. Thank you for sharing! ❤️

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safiraandocs · 2 years

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Humans are space.. pets? (Entry 9)

Entry 1 Entry 8

I sat at the window a lot today, trying to observe the changes in the sky that indicate time passing. The Lumarians left the house while I was napping, so there’s been no way for me to get back outside and study the flora/fauna.

If you have time to think about it, as I have, the two suns really aren’t all that different than a moon and sun in terms of placement in the sky at specific times. I just have to be able to differentiate between them, which is the part I’m still struggling with. Obviously I cannot stare directly at them for any period of time to get an idea of size, shape, minute color differences, etc, and they’re similar enough that at a glance they look the same. In addition to this, there’s no time when they’re both in the sky and I can see both from this window to compare them. Because I don’t have a direct comparison and cannot differentiate between them, timekeeping has been a full-time job. I have to learn the patterns of the rest of the world relative to the minuscule changes in light outside. I can’t rely on outside patterns to help me forever, so I have to figure out what’s triggering them instead. So far, I can say with some certainty that the Lumarians leave at noon. Which noon, however, I am still unsure. I’ll use that as a benchmark for the rest of my timekeeping though. From now on, when the Lumarians leave it is zero hour. The time between this ‘noon one’ and ‘noon two’ may not actually be twelve hours, but given as that is about as close of an estimation as I can make and relates to the cycle I’m used to, we’ll go with that.

Given that standard put in place, right now it’s probably 3 o’clock. The main difference between keeping time here versus on earth is that you actually have to pay close attention to which sun is where- the light levels aren’t as reliable of an indicator. You can’t see it’s dark and say ‘oh it’s nighttime!’ or see the sky is red and decide it’s either sunset or sunrise- and then decide which one based on where the sun is. Because there are two suns and it’s never dark.

Also, time is completely made up and is just an idea put in place to keep us organized. Because nothing ever actually changes with time here. It’s always day, all the time, and there’s no night or indication of passing days. I don’t even know how long I’ve been here, really, if you think about it. I crashed, then slept twice, and now I’m here. So is that two days? Three? Or has it been longer? Who knows. What’s the definition of ‘today’?

I’ve been thinking about time way too much, and for far too long. Staring out this window for so long is making my head hurt. I’m going to go run around the house until reality feels real again.

Captain Crow, yours truly, having an existential crisis.

Entry 10

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{Taglist <3}

(you can comment or message me to be added or removed! Thank you all so much for your support!)

@fishtale88 @anactualvelociraptor @dyn-mellt @ace-cat-nerd @thatquietkid108 @arataya @klltsun-25 @librowyrm @und3rta13tra5h @felicityroth @crystalalice99 @walk2574 @spindler-spider @automated-engineer

#humans are space orcs #humans are weird #humans are space pets #humans are strange #humans are space oddities

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byrdtrollsunoreversearchive · 4 months

Text

Nightmare Blunt Rotation

What’s one thing you never expected to happen in February 2024? Is it an Ervmir Demork Drabble?

(hehe, a short little side thing I wrote)

It’s late into the day. You are playing an indie dating sim on your laptop in the front hall. It is the only place in your penthive apartment where there are reliably no other people or servants. Though the dark glow of security cameras reminds you are always being watched all the same. You like to stay up late in the day, when it’s quiet and most of the staff and your father’s ‘friends’ have long since gone home. You are completely bombing it on all these conversation options. You like to do no-mercy runs on kiss in the dark demon quadrant simulator and get all the bad endings.

Suddenly, the doorbell rings.

“Uh, sir?” You hear from behind the wood.

“Hello?” You reply.

“Ervmir” The voice replies, and you recognize it as the buildings security guard. “Can you get your father?”

“Depends why” You answer.

“This woman is demanding to see him, I tried to get her to leave, but I think she’s lost her marbles-“

“OPEN UP HASCHA” insists a demanding, female voice who begins banging on the doorway.

You curl up into a little ball on the couch.

“You’re a really bad security guard!” You yell. “Who the fuck is that!”

“She’s like eight feet tall! What was I supposed to-“ The guard argues.

“Figure it out!” You squeak.

“I demand to speak to Hascha” Orders the woman.

“I’m going to tase you” the guard says to her. “If you don’t leave.”

“Less warning-more tasing!” You order.

There is a sound of a large thud, and a scream.

You back further into your corner, hoping the security guard has been triumphant in whatever struggle just occurred, but the universe would never be so kind.

“Open the door” says the woman. “Hascha will recognize me”

“Yeah well” you stutter. “If you hurt the security guard! He’ll be angry!”

“Go to bed Erv,” Says a male voice. “Two in the damn morning.”

You jump as your father enters the room from behind. Against all logic, he walks over and opens the door.

A giant, horrific beast of a woman dressed like Mary Poppins straightens her back, covered in blood.

Hascha glances at the bottle of wine in his hands, and then back at her.

“Haha” he says. “I wondered if Eponin and all those bitches were crazy.” He says. “Are you real?” He says, waving a hand in front of her.

“Im real” she says. “I'm standing right in front of you” she says, sidestepping your father into the hive, much to your dismay.

“Verula, did you fall from heaven because I thought you dropped dead 50 sweeps ago” Hascha jokes.

“Ha ha. You’re drunk” she says.

“I must be. Did you kill my security guard?” They stutter.

“My kismesis was murdered right in front of me” Verula replies.

“Right” your father says, wincing, scratching the back of his neck. “Bummer. That is so rough Buddy.”

“Do you still have that cask I gave you 60 sweeps ago from that off world winery?”

“Now you’re speaking my language. But also no, I already drank it.” Your father says, leaning on the wall.

“Hascha!” You squeak. “Who the fuck is this! She killed our security guard!”

“I’ll explain to you when you’re older. Go to bed, Erv.”

“Why. It’s not like I’ve got shit to do tomorrow” you retort. “In case you forgot, you fired me”

“Who is that?” Verula says, staring at you.

“Oh this grub I adopted” Hascha replies.

“Why?” Verula.

“I dunno. For fun. To make my life worse”

“Whatever” she dismisses. “Can I stay at your place for a couple nights.”

“Of course,” he says, leading the woman upstairs. “Everyone’s trying to kill you by the way. They’ve all lost it.”

“Wonderful” the jadeblood says, wiping blood off her face.

And then you are in the front hall, alone. You sigh. It’s just you and the dead security guard. You try to ignore him for a moment, but you have not yet sunk so low morally that you can continue to play a dating sim over a fresh corpse. You take a deep breath, closing your laptop, and walking over to him. Shakily, you reach over and pull his id out of his vest, and go to call this guy's family.

You are in the front hall again the next time you see her. You had to wait even longer for the hive to empty. Hascha and their mysterious undead fling had been having some kind of kismesis grief bender for the past week, and avoiding them at very nearly any time of night or day has become more difficult and frustrating. You are trying to finish a demon’s route in the game when you are once again interrupted.

The two large trolls are walking into the kitchen, giggling with each other.

“Maid!” Hascha calls. “We can cook something- Where is the- Maid!” He says, stumbling around.

You sigh. This was not the first time he’s lost track of time and forgotten the servants go home at day. Hopefully Verula could be a voice of reason to him. You don’t want to have to tell him again. For some reason he always gets upset with you, like you were insane for reminding him the hive staff slept.

“Maid!” Verula calls. “Maid!” Oh, wonderful. You think. They’re both on something. They’re both intoxicated.

The calling out for the maid and wandering around the hive and resolving into giggling continues for some time, before you snap.

“It’s two am! The staff went home!” You shout.

“Motherfucker.” Hascha complains. “Go to bed, Erv!” He says, hypocritically. “Whatever. We’ll order online.”

“You can order food online? Like through a computer?” Verula says, like a woman who’s been dead for a long time.

“New age magic darling- the miracle of computer.” He says, taking a moment to try and doordash on his phone. The jadeblood plucks a joint from his hand.

“Do the robots deliver it?” she jokes.

“Nah, just app people” he dismisses.

The woman coughs.

“What?”

“Like the people who work for the app” he says. “They get a message and deliver the food” he attempts to explain. The jadeblood takes another hit.

“An army of people in the app?” She says, looking over his shoulder.

“Yeah” he says. “Wait- give that back” he says, trying to grab the joint.

“What?” She says.

“I forget if I laced that one.” He says, taking back the joint.”

She stares at her now empty hand.

“You know Hascha” she says. “I didn’t think you’d still be like this.”

“What?” He says.

“You know. When you got kicked out of the fleet and put on planet arrest” The jadeblood says, giggling. “And you were like, I’m gonna spend every day partying like there is no tomorrow and doing hard drugs and shit. I thought you were just like. Going through something. And you’d come to your senses in like, a few sweeps at most. And get back on your feet. And weasel your way back into the fleet or something. And you’re still doing this shit? And you have a kid?” She says

“Hey” he says. “I own a billion dollar news company.”

“You’re having a laced joint on a Tuesday night after we already drank the rest of that wine.”

“One you just stole from me” They retort. “Glass hives, darling.”

“If I were a better person,” She says. “I’d be worried about you.”

“If I were a better person” He replies. “I’d want you to worry about me.”

“You’ve really been doing this?” Dentry says. “For 50 sweeps? Did 857 truly break your pan so badly?” She says, miming a knocking motion on their head. It’s unfitting the seriousness of the conversation, but he does not seem to mind.

“Maybe not all the time,” He says. “Sober up for a couple weeks, or a month, your tolerance builds back up, you can put your life back together just enough that everything looks fine on the surface and money keeps flowing, and then go have fun again.”

“Sounds like you have it down to a science” She says. “What a miserable way to live.”

“Oh it's a wonderful way to live” He argues. “Probably gonna die someday” They admit. “But it’s a wonderful view from halfway down.”

You turn up the music on your headphones, and try your best to return your focus to the game. But it’s too late- it's ruined. You are clicking through the options but your brain is barely processing them.

Eventually there is a loud thud from the other room.

“Fuck” you hear the jadeblood say. “That is- shit” the woman says, clearly having a sub optimal time.

“What?” Hascha says.

“I think it just hit me” she stumbles. “I think that was laced. That is- too much uppy. Not enough downy.”

“Don’t freak out,” he retorts.

“I’m not freaking out. I’ll be fine. Do we have more wine? Or normal weed? I’m just need something more downy”

“Maybe-“ Hascha says, and then proceeds to look in all of the various places in the hive where they kept alcohol. This takes a long time. There are many places.

“Fuck” he says. “I think that’s everything. Where’s- MAID!”

“The maid went home!” You snap, again.

“Erv” he says. “Perfect” he says, stumbling into the room.

“I need you to go to the winery on 5th and downing. The one we like. I need you to grab like 15 Domaine Leroy for the lounge and 10 Corton-Charlemagne for the cellar. Make sure it’s the one with 18% alcohol from that place in Tuscany. Take the spaceship.” He says, dropping the keys in your hand. Fascinating, how he’s able to remember everything about the winery so specifically except a very key detail.

“The winery” you say. “IS CLOSED! IT'S THE MIDDLE OF THE DAY.”

“Christ, well you don’t have to yell you little shit.” He retorts.

“I don’t think you need more wine” You say.

“Verula’s freaking out” They say, waving their hand dismissively.

“Exactly why you should not give her more alcohol, genius” You say softly.

“What was that?” He snaps.

“Nothing” You mutter, losing your nerve.

“Okay” Hascha says, turning and stumbling away. “Here’s what you do-“ he begins, and then walks out of earshot. Several minutes pass. You begin to silently hope he has gone and passed out someplace, muttering to himself, but right when you are going to go back to bed, he returns, holding a crowbar, which he then hands to you.

“Okay Ervmir- here’s what you do. You’re going to break into the winery.”

“What?” You say, hoping he is joking.

“Step one: you break the winery window. Step two, you leave 5 hundred thousand Caegar bills on the desk in reimbursement. You take all of the liquor you can fit into the spaceship- actually I don’t trust you with the spaceship. You WALK to the winery but still carry as much alcohol as you can fit in the spaceship. And everyone wins”

“I lose,” you say. “I get arrested.”

“No you don’t- you do it all very quietly.” Hascha reassures.

“I can’t WALK to the winery!! It’s day! I’ll get burned!”

“Erv, Verula is really freaking out. And her freaking out is freaking me out. And we really do need new alcohol.” Hascha says, picking you up, and placing you in the hallway outside their penthouse apartment.

“What! No! I’m not stealing you booze! What if a paparazzi sees me!!” You plead to deaf ears as he takes your keys, holding them out of your reach.

“Listen” he says. “I’m going to lock you out. And you aren’t allowed back in. Unless you go to the winery. Okay? Thank you. Goodbye Erv.” He says, and he shuts the door in your face. Motherfucker. You are going to kill him for real someday. You bang on the apartment door, part in hopes he’ll change his mind and part in an expression of anger and frustration.

Before eventually, your breathing evens enough that you pull yourself to your feet, and storm off in search of an umbrella.

Two whole hours later, you bang on the door again, with a cart full of wine from the winery.

Hascha opens it.

“Ervmir” he says. “What took you so long”

“Ha Ha” you reply, voice layered with contempt. “It takes a while to break into a winery”

“It seems like an in and out kind of deal” he critiques.

“You’re lucky I came back at all” you say.

Verula, the woman herself, peeks out of the hallway.

“Thank you Ervmir.”

“I hate you both and I hope you die. I poisoned every one of these” you say, shoving the cart into the room.

“He’s joking” Hascha reassures the jadeblood, who true to his word, looks a little freaked out.

“One of these days I won’t be!” You snap. “I’m gonna go call Esveri.” You say, your voice cracking.

“You’re gonna call your boyfriend at, what is it? 4am?”

“WHO ELSE WOULD I CALL?” You snap. “Hire me a twenty four seven therapist! You might as well pay someone to parent me if you’re going to try this hard!” You yell, storming off to your room.

You shut the door, but linger by it.

“He’s a good kid,” You hear Verula mutter softly to your father, popping the cork off a bottle.

“He hates me.” Hascha replies

“Yeah, well, no shit” the jadeblood answers.

#alcoholism tw #drug use tw #addiction tw #emotional abuse tw #ervmir writing #my writing #fantroll #fantroll rp #homestuck #homestuck oc #homestuck rp #hiveswap #friendsim #pesterquest

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justtogetthrough · 28 days

Text

Background info: I was finally diagnosed last month. My manager is like a mother figure to me. She’s been super supportive emotionally and tangibly, eg driving me to surgery/picking me up more than once, care packages for me and my cats, etc. She truly truly cares about me and offers so much love and support that I miss in my life from actual family. She is reliable and has always come through for me. She has taught me how to get by in the world and has always willingly helped me script work interactions on an ongoing basis, and when I don’t understand what’s happening socially she’s always patiently done her best to explain (which is often). She has taught me very explicit ways to perform socially in professional ways which has been so helpful and appreciated. I feel like to some degree she MUST already know. How many grown adults would she mentor to this extent, who lack such basic social communication skills. She’s been so supportive through all my work-caused emotion dysregulation/escalations and my rigidity/inability to cope with change and my rage at feelings of injustice. To a large degree I feel like telling her I was just officially diagnosed will be a very “oooooh yeah that explains a lot”. Part of me suspects she must already know, or at least suspects something is very delayed in me despite being bright. She’s been so accommodating and has taught me so much, has helped bring me up to speed about how to function as an adult as much as my brain wiring will allow for. She’s a major reason I’ve been as successful as I’ve been.

On the other hand, she’s my manager and after a few years of really oversharing, I’ve been trying to rein it in. She already knows a ton about my mental illness and life history and I’m not sure it’s appropriate given our professional roles. I don’t think she’d discriminate against me but you never know? Ableism slips out in sneaky ways sometimes? And then the dreaded, “No you’re not!” “No, you can’t be!” “No, you ____ too well!” Part of me feels it’s none of her business. But part of me wants her to know why I’ve been so fucked up lately, that the real reason I’m on leave now is because of autistic burn out. I feel like I’ve been lying by omission to her for several months as I descended to new levels of hell because I feared professional consequences if she knew how unstable I was. But I bottomed out in a very unstable way so to some extent we’ve already crossed that bridge I guess. But if I tell her I was diagnosed with autism, there’s no going back? Will the label make her start to think I’m incompetent? I’ve always been incompetent lol I functioned because she micromanaged me. But it’s possible now that she knows why I needed that, it’ll change how desirable I am as an employee idk. She seems to think I’m great at my job despite how much direct support I need from her to do it so maybe it won’t change much, but for all I know the stigma of the label may change how she views me even though she knows exactly who I am and what I struggle with already.

I’m very torn.

#I’m in my 30s and estranged from my family for further context #actually autistic #polls #further context my manager is a boomer devout Christian white lady with a big heart but limited understanding of true mental illness #she lives out the most wholesome tenets of christianity and I admire that in her. she’s so accepting of people #but no one is immune from cultural lessons on bigotry. it’s only ever a matter of degree #she has said some really ignorant things about my PTSD which have been surprising but not damaging to me #so I’m kind of weary about just how far this ignorant thread goes and what it looks like #personal

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i-can-even-burn-salad · 3 months

Note

For Aurelia

2. What kind of skills did they learn in childhood and adolescence?

16. What's something they'd spend significant money on for themself?

For Laurent:

4. How often do they dance? Do they dance by themselves? Significant dancing moments, if any?

27. Have their morals changed over time or stayed relatively the same?

Thank you for the ask 💜 from this ask game.

Meh, it's gonna be long *snips*

For Aurelia

2. What kind of skills did they learn in childhood and adolescence?

As a child, she learned the normal things children in a major city with access to schools would learn — reading, writing, calculating, basics of history and some natural sciences (don't come at me with worldbuilding). She already had bad vision, so she struggled with some things, and when their parents got a third child, they kind of... dropped her.

They didn't bother teaching her any but the most basic life skills. In a way, they're still convinced she won't make it on her own — and she's 44, hasn't lived at home in over 20 years, and runs her own store. On the rare occasions she visits home, they still ask her if she's found a man yet to take care of her 🙃

When she was around 12, she began to hang out at a candy store and befriended the owner, Rachel. Rachel let her help for fun at first but quickly realized that Aurelia really loved what she did. So she began to teach her for real, and When Aurelia became of age, Rachel let her move in.

Finally out of her parents' house, she grew much more confident. She found a group of other blind people who shared their knowledge with her, she learned how to navigate the city, and how to live on her own. When Rachel's health began to decline, Aurelia took over more and more responsibility, ultimately inheriting everything.

The latest thing she learned is this world's equivalent of braille. It started to spread widely a few years back, and since she now has barely any usable vision left, she gladly embraced it.

16. What's something they'd spend significant money on for themself?

She loves her store, but I don't think any kind of rare ingredient or machine she doesn't have yet is really in the spirit of this question 😂 She totally would.

For herself, there is little she needs or wants. She inherited everything from Rachel, store, living quarters, furniture and all, and sees little reason to replace anything. She likes to buy nice clothes, but she also would not spend *significant* money on them.

She would probably pay people do to some things for her. At the moment, she pays to has her laundry done and her store windows cleaned, but she would gladly get someone to do all paperwork for her, clean everything else, or perhaps cook, because she doesn't like cooking. She would also love to hire and teach an apprentice, to keep the art of candy making alive and have a pair of helping hands around.

If she didn't have a contact in the Order of Fire, she might buy some of the assistive devices they make. That would probably take a while longer though; many are still prototypes and it's unlikely she would have access to one to figure out what she likes and can use if Cecelia didn't keep her updated with the newest developments.

For Laurent

4. How often do they dance? Do they dance by themselves? Significant dancing moments, if any?

He dances occasionally. Yvan refuses to show up at any pompous parties, so Laurent sometimes accompanies Cedric. He did learn it to fit in, or perhaps to get close to someone for information, it's been a while. Whatever the reason, he realized he liked it, though he prefers smaller occasions to the grand balls of Caldeia's elite.

There's something about the rhythm and pattern of steps and movements he likes, and it gives him a reliable framework of established rituals to interact with people oh no, please can one of my chars stay NT for once.

Significant dancing moments, you say? *giggle*

27. Have their morals changed over time or stayed relatively the same?

He has been friends with Cedric for over 20 years. Let's just say, with time, I think all their morals changed. In their 20s, they were much more idealistic, but they quickly figured out that being good gets you nowhere.

I think at the core, there's still the fact that they would never willingly hurt innocents—it's just that their definition of hurt and innocents has become, uh, flexible. Stealing some small things from rich people won't really hurt them, and someone who's a threat to them or their friends isn't innocent 😅

I would love to say that they're helping those in need and shit like that, but while that sometimes happens, their primary goal is their own lifestyle and the lives of those close to them.

#salad-ask #starlit-hopes-and-dreams #Laurent is a guy to count on #Aurelia is a sweetheart #wip: lies #and now that she has one they'll pester her about when they'll get married #if he even has money #if she'll finally give up this silly store #let's just say she will keep contact to a minimum

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meraus · 1 year

Text

Ghost has DID au

Takes place after events of cod:mw2(2022). Ghost knows he’s an alter and Simon doesn’t know he has an alter. Soap is at ghost’s place for reasons when he agitates ghost enough to pull off his mask and reveal Simon, who’s immediately hostile to this stranger that’s standing in his living room acting like they’re familiar. Soap thinks ghost is pulling his leg, but when he gets Simon to put the mask on and ghost comes back, he finds out just how real it is. Soap realizes ghost can’t possibly be cleared for duty, and ghost confirms soap is the first and only one to know.

Not a full fic, more a complete outline- lord know that will take so many more words and I’m not up for writing all of them. Written entirely in my notes app which doesn't recognize soap and ghost as names lol.

Ghost can suppress Simon for short amounts of time without the mask, but only if he’s prepared. So when one day they’re in the field facing hostiles and the mask comes off by accident, soap has to get to a severely freaked out Simon, in his experience a civilian dropped in an active war zone, before anyone notices. Or at least before Simon gets himself killed or ghost’s absence fucks the mission.

Where ghost grows fonder of soap, Simon starts seeing him as a bad omen. When Simon sees soap, shit has usually hit the fence and will only get worse, considering the quickest way to get ghost back seems to be to intimidate Simon into relinquishing control. This development of Simon wanting to avoid soap makes it significantly harder to bring ghost back in critical moments. Soap also struggles with the morality of letting it go on like this, enabling this set up ghost has created.

When he brings it up, suggesting ghost gets treatment, ghost immediately shoots it down. Simon also doesn’t want to hear it, he doesn’t even want to speak with soap. Trying to tell Simon what’s going on builds his anxiety and triggers ghost to take over. Enough repetition of soap forcing ghost back in causes him to become another trigger for Simon.

Soap doesn’t see Simon anymore, and doesn’t think he ever will again. Ghost doesn’t mind. He doesn’t want Simon there with soap, maybe doesn’t want Simon at all. He gets on fine, better even, when it’s just him. He likes what he’s got set up for himself and Simon compromises that. If the army ever finds out about Simon, everything he has will go away. And what does Simon even have for himself? He doesn’t have family, doesn’t have friends, doesn’t have a job or way to provide for himself. Hell, he doesn’t even know who he is or what he’s capable of. All Simon has is fear and memories of things best left forgotten.

So it works, right up until it stops working. Because the thing about soap is that he’s safe. He’s trustworthy, reliable, on his way to become a better man than ghost’s ever been or can hope to be. If soap is there, if the environment allows it- ghost can drop his guard. He thought it just meant being able to sleep on transport and the like, but soon finds out that sometimes what feels like sleep to him is just Simon being shoved back to the forefront.

The first time, they’re in a car with two other people. Soap hears ghost mutter an expletive, sounding taken aback. It puts the others on high alert immediately, and himself as well, but for a different reason. There’s nothing out of the ordinary, no imminent danger, ghost doesn’t sound like this usually, and when he snaps his head around to look at ghost, he can see the switch clear as day. Simon is occupying the body even with the mask on. Soap covers for Simon’s slip up and silently warns him to keep his mouth shut until they can figure this out.

Through these moments of unplanned control, Simon slowly starts learning about his other side. Ghost and Simon don’t blend together, it’s more like both of them are breaking each other down. It’s messy and more importantly, dangerous. Ghost decides he needs to cut soap off, for his own well-being. Simon decides he needs to keep soap close, to guide him through the unknown and fill in the blanks.

It’s a losing battle for ghost. He can’t very well cut clean ties with soap- they’re on the same team, always in the same places, always having to share information. And besides that, soap is… he’s soap. He’s who ghost would consider his closest friend and ally. He doesn’t want to cut soap off, even if he needs to. And considering soap isn’t planning on going anywhere, cutting him off would mean uprooting the life he’s built so far. The best course of action, ghost decides, would be to somehow kill Simon off forever.

Simon, however, isn’t eager to go. Not at all. Maybe once, when he had nothing and not a clue about the world he was living in, he was easy to keep down. Now, though, he feels he has a place in the world. People who admire and respect him, even if it’s not really him they’re looking up to. And maybe even if he doesn’t know entirely how to keep that, earn it for himself, it’s alright. He’s comforted by knowing he’s got a good friend in soap, helping him to find out.

Soap doesn’t want to help him there, though. He can’t risk it. Simon can’t do the things ghost can, even if he has the muscle memory, he doesn’t have the instinct or training. Simon is a liability in the field, and through him, so is ghost. Soap is more pressured than ever to tell their captain what’s going on and in doing so betray the trust of his best friend- both of him. Ghost switches to Simon during a mission and it gets people killed.

Soap comes to a breaking point and he confronts ghost. They have what would be a shouting match, if there wasn’t a need for discretion. Punches are thrown and threats are made. Ghost does things he wouldn’t normally do to preserve who he is, fully seeing the irony in it but not knowing another way to achieve his goal. Soap and ghost break apart, much to the dismay of Simon. Soap is avoiding him now, regardless of which him he is. He’ll only do what’s mission critical and leave it at that. Simon finds it’s much harder to be in ghost’s shoes when he’s not told where and how to walk. The only upside is that what’s wrong with ghost gets blamed on whatever’s going on between him and soap.

When it’s Simon’s turn to confront soap, he gets told if he can’t handle it, then do them all a favor and stop trying to be ghost. The stakes of his fight for dominance with ghost get laid out for him. Simon already knew, but he never truly realized, as he does what he’s always done when it becomes too much; he makes ghost deal with whatever is too difficult for him. Simon doesn’t want to do that anymore. He realizes if he wants to live, he needs help. He needs to destroy ghost. The prospect is frightening and thinking about it allows ghost easy access to slip back in, overhearing soap’s words meant for Simon. He realizes he’s done for if Simon gets control again, so he clings to consciousness, digging his nails in until they break.

Ghost is reckless. He’s purposely putting himself in danger, going out of his way to scare Simon into obedience. If it’s too much, he won’t come out. Maybe if he finds the absolute limit of what his psyche can handle, paralyzes his other with fear, Simon will never want to return. He’s aware that he has no way out. If he slips up, he dies. It’s just a question of where and how.

Soap can’t do it anymore. He curses ghost for letting him find out, putting this responsibility on him, putting him between a rock and a hard place. He informs the captain of ghost’s condition, even knowing he will also face consequences for keeping it hidden. When asked how long he knew, he answers ‘a while’. When Ghost gets dismissed, he is also asked how long soap knew. He says soap only just found out.

Life for ex-military personnel with a dismissal on grounds of a pre-existing condition is rough. Even more so when the years of combat are marking your skin like a neon sign reading ‘danger’. Ghost gets a few weeks of psychological help and no benefits. Price can’t do much for him there, it’s bureaucratic bullshit- a one size fits all solution that lets the army wash its hands clean of him and his problems. He’s saved up a nice sum, but not enough that it’ll let him go into early retirement. Not that he’s the type for retirement, anyway. He doesn’t know what to do with himself out here. Going home- if you can call it that- between mission is fine. He doesn’t have to stick it out long. It’s different now that he actually has to settle. He considers letting Simon figure it out.

Simon who got them into this fucking mess, never actually considering what his actions will do to them because he’s never had to deal with the consequences of them before. Simon, who’ll probably get so overwhelmed by it that he might finally decide it’s best to put ghost in charge, after all. Active war zones couldn’t cut it, but the realization that beyond that the only thing awaiting them is the monthly psychiatrist bill and endless jobs applications without response might do the trick. Even if the thought amuses him, even if he starts considering dying might be best after all, he still clings to control. It’s his own fault anyway, for showing soap, for not being able to keep it under control afterwards. Soap, he thinks, who he’s never going to see again.

But he’s wrong. There’s months of radio silence between them, and then suddenly soap is on his doorstep. He hadn’t texted or called, despite having ghost’s number, just shown up. Soap takes one good look at him and knows which him he is. Ghost looks back and for the first time in months he feels his control slipping. He’s about to tell him to get lost and slam the door in soap’s face, but before his mouth can form the words, soap asks him why ghost covered for him. Why didn’t he face consequences for helping ghost cover up his medical status?

Really, there’s only one answer. The same answer that has ghost step aside to let soap in. It’s because he’s not done right by soap, and soap didn’t deserve to get any shit for or from ghost.

They catch up. If it were an interrogation, ghost would be in the hot seat. He’s got more to tell and the majority of what soap’s been through can’t be told. In that afternoon they find a new foundation. It’s brittle and shaky, careful not to touch on the important pieces, the things that need to be said, because saying them wrong could have the whole thing collapse, but it’s something. Soap sticks around, coming back every time between deployments, and they have something.

Ghost finds a life again. It’s not satisfying, it’s not something he thinks he’ll ever gets used to, but it’s his and it’ll do. He picks up some dangerous jobs to keep Simon at bay, but it’s not enough. He’s comfortable, he’s got it figured out, and he’s terrified. He’s the alter. If Simon comes out again and settles in this cushy life, he loses it all again. He can’t let Simon take this from him. He actively works against his treatment, stopped going at all in the last few weeks. There’s things that are his that he’s desperate to keep. There’s soap on his doorstep every few months, smiling at him wide and calling his name.

And that’s the most pressing issue. He keeps slipping around soap. The time he wants to be in his body the most is the time he feels the least solid in it. He thinks Simon wants soap, too. Not like ghost does, though. He doesn’t crave him with an edge of desperation, ghost knows, because he hasn’t lost yet. If Simon wanted it bad enough, he could win the struggle.

He takes up sparring with soap. If his adrenaline is high and his body goes into combat mode, it’s easier to keep Simon down. He puts on his face mask and takes soap down to the gym he frequents. The employees greet him by his name, what they think is his nickname, just as everyone else does.

He knows soap will press the issue, yet he’s still not prepared for it when it happens. Soap asks him if he’s just going to continue like this, if he’s planning to never let Simon out again. Ghost is honest with him, to a degree. He tells soap he doesn’t want to give up what he has and that Simon will erase him and take it for himself. He says Simon doesn’t deserve it.

Soap reminds him he’s in the best place he’ll be to figure himself out. Maybe he won’t be erased, maybe he’ll be merged. There’s no way, he says, that ghost can just cease to exist. Soap doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Ghost knows he doesn’t, because he’s spend hours researching it. There’s too many unknowns, too many likely to happen worst-case scenarios. There’s a dread that seeps in when he thinks about not having his life for himself.

What then, soap asks, is so important that it can’t be shared? Ghost hesitates to answer. This is the part of their foundation that can’t be touched, for fear it’ll break. It’s the part they’re always stepping over, have been for years, even when all was right with them and soap didn’t know Simon.

Ghost is in love with soap. He doesn’t want to say it. He doesn’t want to risk it. What they have is enough, it’s a lifeline he can’t afford to cut. Still, with the pressure on him, with soap in his face and trying so hard to do what he thinks is best for ghost, with the thought of ‘what if’ plaguing his mind, he confesses.

Soap physically, noticeably, backs down. He’d known, on some level, that ghost felt this way about him. He was different to ghost, special, it was obvious in how they interacted with each other. He’d caught ghost looking at him, not in an indecipherable way, but clear as day in a way he told himself must be his wishful thinking. Soap can pretend it’s not there, even when he looks at ghost that same way, even when ghost’s undivided attention makes his whole body tingle with excitement, a moment where he thinks if he reaches out then ghost will meet him halfway.

Even so, soap can’t reach out. He feels if he tries, ghost will live up to his name and soap’s fingers will go right through. Ghost isn’t a person, so much as a personality. How am I supposed to love you back, he asks ghost, when you’re like this? There’s no security- ghost can disappear at any time. It would be a constant state of dread, a form of torture where he thinks he’d much rather gets his teeth pulled. Soap wants to say yes so bad, he’s a risk-taker anyway, in his line of work he could die at any time, so why wouldn’t he just dive in head-first? But if he did, it’d be unfair to ghost- to Simon- either of them. Both of them. Ghost can’t progress if soap holds him back. Figure yourself out, he tells ghost, and then tell me again.

Soap deploys again. Ghost, like before, is unsure if he’ll see him again. He curses Simon, breaks the mirrors in his house, hates the face they reflect back at him. Ghost is at his lowest point, and Simon takes over.

Simon has no clue where he is, ghost had moved to a new place, more suitable for full time occupancy. He snoops around and discovers what ghost has been up to. He makes a new appointment at the psychiatrist.

The woman who greets him wears a friendly smile and says she’s glad to see ghost back. When Simon tells her she might have to wait a bit longer on that, actually, her smile turns from friendly to beaming.

I don’t actually know shit about dissociative identity disorder and the treatment so I’m not dipping my whole toe in for this part, consider everything I say on the topic to be absolute trash for realism BUT Simon makes progress. A fair amount, really. He does his best to settle into the life ghost set up, confronts the trauma that created ghost in the first place, and discovers trauma he wasn’t responsible for acquiring. He has memories now that don’t feel like his own. He flips back and forth between himself and ghost and the lines get blurred. The more he learns, the more he feels sorry for ghost. As well as a strange type of guilt. He viewed ghost as his adversary when he learned of him, but really he was a scapegoat. A crutch Simon has depended on for so long that even he feels it’s unfair to call himself the host. He still has trouble seeing ghost as a part of himself, but the more he dips into his psyche, the more familiar he becomes.

Ghost is a whole person, Simon realizes. That’s why it’s so difficult to work with him. He’s complex and intricate and it’s not just a detached caricature of what Simon as a child thought a tough guy should be. Every time he connects with things that are distinctly ghost, it’s overwhelming.

Ghost doesn’t fight him when he goes looking, Simon feels like he’s almost showing off. But that’s not entirely right, if there’s one thing that defines ghost it’s his need to remain unknown. Simon doesn’t know why ghost is letting him access all of it without push back, until he digs too deep. He touches on a memory that seems recent, it’s in his new place and soap is there. The words sound like gibberish and it’s not a clear picture. When he tries to focus on it, suddenly he’s shoved out. It’s not the easy pull he’s become used to, the feeling like reality shifts and everything becomes hazy. It’s like getting pushed off a cliff and landing on a rock.

The psychiatrist asks ghost what happened there. He’s not ready for that, ghost tells her, he’s missing the pieces that make it come together; he needs to earn it first. And ghost, surprisingly, helps him. Sometimes, it’s like he’s being fed pieces, things he didn’t go looking for just appear before him. Every time he gets that feeling, he sees soap. Simon realizes that’s the thing ghost really wants him to understand; why soap is important.

He’s noticed before that ghost has many memories he doesn’t really care for, victories and milestone anyone else would hold dear. What he's careful with is his memories of people. Simon has to be delicate when he encounters a person whose name he knows but never learned, but even then soap is a special case. Memories of gaz and price come flowing in seemingly randomly order, but almost everything soap-related is chronological. Like ghost is telling him it’s important to get this one exactly right, really understand.

They work at it for a year and some months, and Simon understands ghost now. He still can’t fully see ghost as himself, but he’s not a separate entity either. It’s like they’re opposite sides of the same coin; different on the surface level, but ultimate the same. They’re through with almost everything ghost deems important, and that means he can’t stretch for time any more. Simon has a good feeling he knows what this final memory of soap is, the one he touched on too soon and hasn’t been allowed near since.

He feels the hesitancy in his own mind to dig it up. He feels exactly what ghost is feeling when he recalls it. It hurts. It’s elation turning to horror turning to grief and a cocktail of other emotions swirling around in him. And it’s the missing piece of the puzzle. It’s why ghost wanted him to understand after fighting him for so long. It’s the turning point that allowed Simon control. They’ve been doing all of this because if they live, they want a future, and he’s in love with soap. Ghost, Simon, either and both, just him. He’s in love with soap. He wants a future with soap in it.

It’s been too long for him not to realize soap must've come back from deployment without going to see him. He’ll have to take the initiative. He opens his contact information and goes into the text window. He knows he can’t text this, but he’s afraid to call. Besides, who knows if soap can even call, or what time zone he’s in. Their last message exchanged was over two years ago. The anxiety is eating away at him. What if soap’s given up on him? What if he took too long? What if he’s not adequately recovered, and soap rejects him again?

It takes him another few days to send a message. A curt and demanding ‘let’s talk’. He send another text, this one reading ‘please’. He drops his head in his free hand and groans. He should’ve waited another few days and come up with something good.

Soap texts him back hours later, waking him up by the distinct ping of a new message. Blending with ghost unfortunately also meant taking over his annoying, paranoid, militant habits, like any unexpected noise stirring you awake. Soap texted him ‘now?’. Simon replies ‘what works for you’. His phone rings right after he sends it.

The conversation lasts over an hour. Simon bites through the anxiety of sharing his personal life when he doesn’t know where he stands with soap and tells him how the treatment has been, how it’s going, what life is like, everything he deems important for soap to know. What might convince soap to come around again. Soap seems unsure of how to talk to him, too. But soap is good with people, he’s a natural conversationalist and he’s got his charm to fall back on. It’s not as bad as Simon feared it might go. Soap says he’ll stop by next time, though he doesn’t say when next time is.

Simon thought next time would be when he talks to soap again, but turns out that comes a lot sooner. Soap texts him the next day. A few days after that, they’re on a call again. Soap laughs more freely and becomes less guarded with every exchange and soon he’s saying stuff like how nostalgic it is to have ghost in his ear. Asks Simon to say some military shit, anything really. He laughs loud and long when Simon says, ‘how do two oceans greet each other?’. He hadn’t even said the punchline.

Soap also tells him how gaz and price are fairing, as well as sparse updates on Alejandro and rodolfo, who he’s still in contact with. Simon’s glad to hear about them. When ghost still had control, he’d been in contact, though always short messages and nothing meaningful. When Simon took over, he didn’t know how to talk to them. He barely knew them, didn’t really know anything about them. He’s come to know them through the memories and it’s a bittersweet feeling to know he has had these people in reach and kept them at distance. Though, now that soap opened the gate way, he starts receiving more wake up texts.

Then one day his phone stays silent. He slept through the entire night. It immediately sets him on high alert. He texts soap, and thankfully rather quickly receives a response. ‘Busy. In a bit.’ It reads.

In a bit turns out to be five hours, when there’s a knock at his door and there stands soap, smiling at him, saying ‘my schedule’s all cleared up now, so if you’re not-‘.

Simon interrupts him to say what he’s been wanting to say all this time, what he hopes soap has been waiting to hear. ‘I love you.’

And soap says, ‘I love you, too.’

#can you believe i wrote all this without even going here?#one of my mutuals started posting cod and my third eye opened up and went 'wouldnt it be interesting if-' and now ive got all this #literally saw ghoap posting and took psychic damage. the brain rot a good ship will give you is REAL #soapghost #call of duty #cod:mw2 #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghoap #ghostsoap #call of duty fanfic

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funnier-as-a-system · 2 years

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hey hi help i thought i might be a system but then i spiraled and long story short my Boys AREN'T RESPONDING AND I DON'T KNOW WHERE THEY ARE IT'S LIKE BEING ALONE BUT WORSE

like they were there and then they weren't and every time i tried to talk to them it felt like i was just talking to myself and making a fake person to respond? is this normal??

i'm panicking a little, sorry for the rant

Alright, first thing: let's try to calm our panic a little bit. Take a deep breath or two, splash some water on your face, do whatever helps you calm down. Panic Mode does not help the majority of crises, this one included, so let's turn our attention to the issue at hand.

By the way you speak, it sounds that you recently figured out you're a system, but your troubles with internal communication are causing you to doubt yourself. I'm going to be responding under the assumption that that is what's happening. If I've misunderstood, feel free to send a follow-up ask.

It is very common, especially in newly discovered systems, to struggle with internal communication. Internal communication is sort of like drawing – you may have a knack for it right off the bat, or you may not, but either way you're still going to have to work to get better and figure out what works for you. It's a whole new skill to learn – one that can be finicky for some people! You are not alone with having difficulty internally communicating; we had the same sort of problems when we first had our syscovery. It took us a good few months to build up a reliable communication system in our brain, during which we had to figure out things like how to send each other our thoughts, how to listen to each other without accidentally blocking people out, what to do if an intrusive thought was shared via internal communication, etc. When you're first starting out, internal communication can be really hard, and sometimes this means you may struggle to hear anyone at all.

In fact, related to that last statement, it's not uncommon to have periods of not hearing anyone at all, even for systems with good internal communication. Sometimes, headmates are just away from the front, or your brain has decided it's going to shut down comms for a few days, or some other nebulous problem has reared its head. It's uncomfortable, and it can be scary, but not hearing anyone doesn't mean you're not a system. Some systems don't have any internal communication, after all!

There is one important thing I want to bring up, however. The feeling that you're not talking to a real headmate, and rather just making up responses with an imaginary person? We've been there. Other systems have been there. Sometimes even headmates mistake themselves as imaginary. Think about it – you are engaging with a hypothetical (because you're not sure yet if they're really there) person who shares your body, the very concept of which goes against a lot of what we're taught, and you are trying to set up a method of communication with this hypothetical person via what is essentially one-person telepathy. It's a situation that is prime for self-doubt to grow.

But – fantastic news – there are ways to help yourself battle this self-doubt. Here's some of the tactics we came up with while developing internal communication:

Ask your headmates to say random things to you. Just random words that pop into their heads! Sometimes, you may be able to guess what they're going to say before they say it, since their head is also your head, but other times they may be able to surprise you. Hell, as I was writing this, someone in my system just told me, "Baseball," and I have no idea where the hell they pulled that from.

Write down internal conversations after you have them. This helps in two ways: one, you will have records to look back on the next time you're doubting yourself, and two, you can add notes about the conversation based on what your headmate says about it. For example, when I write down quotes from my system, sometimes the person who said the quote will tell me how they want it formatted. If you're writing down on paper, you could even set something up where your headmates can tell you what pen or marker they want you to write their statements in! Make your conversation journal a fun activity for all of you.

Play Simon Says. A headmate can tell you what you want to do, and you'll act it out in the physical world! It can help to see a physical world impact on what's going on inside your head (which, btw, also relates to the pen and marker suggestion). We didn't do this much, but we did do our best to fulfill small requests that other system members made, even when they were somewhat inconvenient for us. Nothing like asking for a particular candy brand you don't especially like just because you know a headmate likes it to kick self-doubt in the shin, am I right?

Think about how your headmates have influenced you or your actions. This can be by asking you to do certain things, making you smile or laugh, moving a part of your body through partial possession, or giving you a headache from switching, just to name a few examples. Focus on experiences that have affected your physical body or the physical world around you, and you'll feel less like it's all just in your head.

Set up a code word to let other system members know that you're struggling. We have a code system with certain words that will communicate to other system members how secure we are in the knowledge that we're a system; if someone says an emergency code word, we know they need reassurance right then, and can do our best to pull them out of self-doubt by talking about the issue or pulling out one of the other self-assurance tactics. It can be especially helpful if saying, "Hey, I feel really insecure right now, can you guys help me out?" feels like too much in the moment.

That's about all the advice we have to give on that matter. We really hope this helps you, anon! And remember – internal communication is not the end-all be-all of being a system. It's okay to struggle; it's okay to be unable to hear your headmates. That doesn't "prove you're not a system." It just means you're going through a quiet period right now. Give it some time, and your boys will probably return – in the meantime, enjoy the quiet and take some time for yourself. You're going to be okay.

TLDR: You're not alone in your experiences, this is a normal thing for newly discovered systems to go through, and having trouble hearing your headmates does not mean you're not a real system.

#thanks for the ask!#really hope you feel better soon anon #we've been where you are and it's not a f.un experience #long post

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