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#but this is something I've struggled with for years and I feel extremely guilty for keeping people waiting like that

northern-passage · 1 year

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one thing i find really difficult about navigating the IF space is the direct line of contact between readers and authors. we share the same space, and i think that plays a big part in this weird blurred line we have in this community and overall lack of boundaries.

for a lot of people this is a fun hobby and while i personally try to keep it... semi-professional most of the time, it's easy to get wrapped up in having fun on tumblr (or the forums, or reddit, wherever it is that you mainly post/interact) and have a lot of personal interactions with both readers and authors alike - which is fun! i like it more often than not, but i also think that's why a lot of comments in this space can end up being really entitled, over-familiar, and inappropriate.

it's no secret that most authors get really weird messages on here, and while this is also a problem on social media at large and not just specific to IF tumblr, it is still definitely a big problem in this community.

and to be clear i'm not saying that you can't be friendly with authors or readers (i've become friends with a handful of readers myself) and i definitely don't mean to imply that there needs to be a huge divide between us; that's silly - again, most authors are readers, most readers are authors, we’re just people on the internet sharing the same space. but all of us deserve to have our boundaries respected. this is my story, and we are strangers. as a general rule of thumb: if you wouldn't say it out loud to someone you just met, you probably shouldn't be saying it to a stranger online. especially anonymously.

#i also think this is why some criticisms get so messy in this space as well #authors should not always be in the same space as the readers/reviewers #and readers shouldnt be able to directly @ authors with their extremely negative reviews esp when it's subjective #(‘’i hate this’’ as opposed to pointing out genuinely harmful content or other criticism)#for everyone's sake #& on a kinda related note: speaking as someone who has been receiving targeted harassment for *checks watch* over two years now #some people really need to reevaluate the way they interact with certain media #i think IF feels very personal due to the interactivity and the customization of the mc #but not everything is written for you. and it's fine to just not like something #without sending weird harassing anonymous messages for 2 years straight to a stranger on the internet. lol #honestly criticism is another can of worms and that's not really what i'm talking about here #but i do think that's also part of the entitlement and overfamiliarity as well #so imo it's connected a little bit. something to think about #at the end of the day my advice to other authors about this is to know your limits and know when you need to extract yourself #and know that you don't have to respond to every ask #especially if it makes you uncomfortable #and im definitely not trying to sound like the authority here this is something i've struggled with as well #like i said it is hard to navigate #and authors can be guilty of this too. wanting to defend yourself or insert yourself into conversations where you shouldn't #i've done that myself #and i've also had other authors i dont know be way overly familiar with me in the past #all of this is just an unfortunate part of online community i think. but im trying to be more mindful about it #anyways. this post brought to you by the weird messages in my and my friends' inboxes lately #i just think you should not be telling authors about pesonal bodily functions in anonymous asks #as an example. lol #personal

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snifferish · 2 months

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Never in my life did I think that re-tweeting resources for SA, and supporting victims would be considered problematic or performative.

I should not have to bare this, but I'm going to tell just one of my stories, because I need you to understand where I'm coming from. TW // Sexual Harassment

When I was 15, I had my wisdom teeth removed. I wanted to avoid using the pain medication they prescribed. I struggle a lot with sensory issues, medications and substances made it worse.

However, my surgery was for impacted teeth, and only two days in one of my stitches fell out. I was in so much pain, and couldn't eat solids w/ out pain for up to three weeks.

So, a week into my recovery, one of my friends invites me to their house. They were having our friend group over, it was just a little bonfire get together kinda thing. I took my pain meds a few hours prior, and only half a dose, but I was out of it to some degree, and somehow still in pain.

I was sitting on a lawn chair outside, when one of my close friends came over and asked to sit on my lap. Honestly, I said yes at first, because this was my childhood friend, someone I trusted, and I thought our relationship was incredibly platonic. Then he started to shift/grind about in my lap, and I started to feel things of theirs I did not want to. They made a noise that deeply unsettled me, and I told him to get off, they didn't. It was only when I told them that he accidently triggered the emergency call shortcut on my phone (it was in the pocket of the lawn chair, yes they were moving that much and I was moving trying to push him off) that he finally got up.

I was bewildered, and a bit confused, and also embarrassed that my phone nearly called 911. I claimed I wasn't feeling well, and went home early.

That was the first time someone touched me in a remotely sexual way, but I didn't dare to label it until I talked to my therapist. It made me dwell on a lot of experiences with this person as well. How obsessed they were with being taller than me, how often they'd grab me and force me to see if they were stronger than me. At the time, I was in a friend group of predominately non-men, and they were all friends with this person.

However, when I told them about this, when I expressed the discomfort it brought me. I was brushed off. "He's just like that!" oh "He probably didn't mean it" etc.

I didn't feel comfortable in the same room as this person. My friends would continue to invite them to hang outs. One of my other friends told everyone about what happened without my permission. I started having breakdowns in my classes with him. I had panic attacks all the time. I felt as if I had to continue this façade of being nice to him, or else I would lose my friends of years and years.

I was happy when covid started, because for the first time I had breathing room, but by then so much of my trust was dismantled.

Due to my friends association with this person, and the fact that not being their friend excluded me. I eventually got over it, and told myself I'd grown past it.

Three months ago, this same person admitted to me they hold extreme grudges against me, that they projected their "mommy issues" on to me, and quite literally said the words, "Yeah yeah, you're a woman who's outspoken and challenged me and that bothers me yeah yeah." in regards to that. They said it with sarcasm, like it was something they knew, and their mother was reminding them for the 12th time.

I bring this all up, not to make you feel guilty, but to discuss the harm of not supporting victims, not listening to them. It puts them in a position of isolation, and in a position to potentially be hurt again.

So yeah, I'm gonna be a little upset when people say I'm being "performative" about supporting victims of sexual harassment and SA. I'm not doing this because it benefits me, in fact it's caused a lot of backlash, horrible dms, and very triggering memories.

I'm doing it because I was once not heard, and i've sat with Caiti behind the scenes for months watching her lose passion for something she loved (content creation).

I didn't do this because I'm secretly sniveling behind the scenes tapping my fingers praying on peoples downfall. I'm not a Disney villain dude lmfao.

Honestly, this narrative that is being pushed, that people are doing it "because it benefits them" is quite ironic, considering most of the people talked about within the last 72 hours were under Wilbur's weird ass apology doing just that.

I hate it, I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. I hate how people are okay with this narrative, the misogynist undertones of it. I've seen people admit that they didn't like me or my friends the entire time, while simultaneously "calling us out" about this, so I ask you,

Are you calling us? Because it benefits your motives? Your feelings?

#snifferish #tw sa mention

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halfagone · 3 months

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Cassandra Cain and Communication

I've been noticing an interesting trend in DPxDC fanfics lately where people write Cass like she's psychic, or in simpler terms: she can read someone and in an instant know how to help them. And while I can definitely see the merits of this kind of approach, there are a lot of things to keep in mind.

I cannot stress enough how isolated Cass' childhood was. When it's said that David Cain trained her only in the language of killing, it is not an exaggeration. In many early renditions of her character, Cass cannot speak at all, and if she can, only in short, brief sentences. Cass goes the first seventeen years of her life not knowing how to read.

That is a canonical plot point too. We see Barbara teaching Cass to read in Batman Volume 1 #567:

Based on the context surrounding this scene, this is a regular occurrence between the pair. Cass has also sought out Stephanie before to read something for her (Batgirl Volume 1 #20). If you're curious about more analysis surrounding this particular subject, this post has some interesting points and shows the gradual shift in how DC handled her character.

But this is early into her time with the Batfamily. What about later on, when she's more assimilated to the Waynes and her fellow vigilantes?

Well, you don't even have to be a hardcore comic fan to see how she continues to struggle with expression and communication. In Wayne Family Adventures, episodes 32 and 33, we see how Cass' ability to read body language has also hurt her and her relationship with the people around her.

She doesn't mean to hurt Stephanie's feelings in these episodes, but the damage is real and it happened. Cass means well, ultimately, but she still doesn't know how or when to address these problems. She sees that Steph is hurting and wants to help; those are all admirable qualities! But in the end, she only pushes Stephanie further away, and is left feeling guilty and carrying self-loathing in the wake.

Here is also a reminder: Cass killed her first man at the age of 8 years old, and consequently ran away from her father when she realized killing was wrong. She did not know what he felt was fear. She did not know the definition of fear, nor the word for it. She just saw the expression on his face as he died, and realized that something was wrong, and ran away.

Cass doesn't arrive to Gotham until she's 17 years old, around the No Man's Land era, if I remember correctly. She is on the run for 9 years in this time, and sadly, she did not pick up many- if any- language or communication skills during this period. This isn't a fault on her character either, when she likely had to keep moving and didn't have time to connect with anyone like she did with Barbara, who could teach her how to speak and read.

But at the end of the day, it makes sense that Cass doesn't know how to socialize. Think of a real life example: some kids who grow up homeschooled struggle to make connections once they reach adulthood and start looking for a job. They've never had to make small talk, or address strangers face-to-face, so they don't know how to interact with people. Cass' situation is a more extreme version of this scenario, but with blood, brutal training, and child abuse involved.

At her core, Cass is a good person. And she will continue to be that good person. But she doesn't always have the answers. Nobody does! She'll continue to help people to the best of her abilities, but sometimes those abilities can be limited.

Cass is not a perfect person. When Bruce was lost in the timeline, and the remaining Batfamily members started to splinter and fall apart in the wake, Cass didn't remain in Gotham to help with the rising violence with Batman's absence. Instead, when her family needed her most, she went to Hong Kong, because she didn't want to be there without Bruce. She did briefly meet Tim in Paris, when she had saved him from the Daughters of Acheron, but she still doesn't accompany Tim, nor does she return to Gotham even after finding out the city is extremely understaffed.

Cass is well-meaning, but she is not faultless. We might not like to acknowledge the flaws of our favorite characters, but those flaws are a part of them! Just like how Bruce consistently fails to express himself is a part of his. Or how Dick tries to pretend that everything is fine so he doesn't have to address his own problems. Or how Jason can be inconsistent with his motivations and people get hurt as a result. Or how Tim keeps too many secrets and pushes people away, ruining multiple relationships in turn.

I could go on and on, but all these characters are more than just their flaws. The same thing with Cass.

So don't be afraid to show a Cass that doesn't know how to fix things. Don't be afraid to show a Cass that doesn't know what to do, but just tries her best. It's one of her most admirable qualities: always trying no matter what.

#dpxdc #cassandra cain #character analysis #with yours truly :D #look cass is my girl okay #i can and WILL talk nonstop about her

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velvetures · 3 months

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Helluuuu!! I saw your post about sending requests and mine is actually a really simple one cause I don't have a creative but I just though about a ghost hurt/comfort story

Little Secrets

A/N: So this is very self-indulgent... I hope you don't mind. I think there are quite a few people who struggle with taking meds for depression/anxiety or feel guilty for it. Me included. Hopefully, this helps everyone feel valid, seen, and supported. Summary: Task Force 141 is where you belong. But it doesn't make the work easy by any means. You finally get the help you need and try hiding it. Ghost notices and is the one who sets you straight. T/W: depression/anxiety themes, medication, guilt, insecurity of reader, fem reader, and I'm sure I've missed something, so let me know.

photo by: pedropcl

You couldn't keep fighting it for any longer.

Staring down at the two orange bottles of pills in your hands and the directions packets in the other, you felt like you'd failed despite the psychiatrist you'd spoken to reassure you that this was certainly not a failure. Your brain kept refuting that this was a step in the right direction. Working as a professional and legal murderer should've meant you had no feelings. No failures of regulating your emotions or having such miserable trouble falling asleep at night. That nice woman who'd put the prescription in for you said it would take two to three weeks to see a difference. It felt like no time, yet an eternity all at once. Relief felt so far away, but insignificant compared to other people you often compared your personal struggles with.

You weren't homeless, you could eat without worrying, you had clothes and shoes all of the time, and never needed to wonder if you would have enough money to take care of your responsibilities. Education hadn't been a problem, you were well-respected despite being a woman in such a male-dominated field and kept up with your work extremely well. At least, when your brain decided to deny that you had the ability to do anything. Or... repeatedly try to convince you that nothing you did was worth a damn or actually made you useful. Vicious cycles of fighting with your own brain, knowing that you shouldn't feel or think this way but have no strength or way of stopping. None of the "hacks," meditations, or affirmation bullshit touched that panicky feeling you had mere minutes after laying down at night.

The pills shaking around in your hands were your last resort. And they made you feel so fucking embarrassed as you tucked them in your pockets before entering back into HQ. Praying to god that none of the 141 would see you with them or hear that slight sound of them rattling in their bottles. By grace or luck, you were able to avoid all of them and got back to your quarters to stash them under your bed in a small ammo box repurposed for some personal belongings. The directions you'd thrown away on your drive back, just taking a picture of them for reference and ditching the paper copies so you wouldn't have to keep track of those.

"This better fucking help," You breathe out heavily to yourself.

Staring up at the ceiling and almost dreading having to take one tonight before bed and the other when you wake up the next morning. Daily reminders of how you couldn't be hard and cold like the others. Cool and collected like Gaz, confident like Soap, unaffected like Ghost, or just so very reliable like Price. It made you feel like the weak link needing support. You'd never needed it before, and within two years you'd suddenly realized that your own mind was winning in a fight you'd never even been aware of fighting in the first place.

Keeping all of them in the dark about this would be safest. If they didn't need to question your stability, then it wouldn't feel like such pressure to perform. And hopefully, after a few weeks, things might start to shift a little. Maybe enough to where you could begin sorting out the other problems without the image of a cluttered attic representing the state of your head. Taking care to not raise the alert of the 141 wouldn't be easy. Always noticing everything out of sheer training and sharpened instincts. Having no other good ideas... You just settled on doing everything you could to keep your little secrets under wraps.

In the following couple of days, you’d become adjusted to the routine of taking your medications on the surface level. While the one tasked with easing you anxiety and depression wasn’t going to take effect for quite a while longer the other -a sleeping aid- was definitely making a significant impact. You were able to actually fall asleep and stay that way, problem was, with a couple missions impending in the near future, you were getting concerned that if you took them when you were supposed to -on a schedule- that staying awake would be next to impossible. And if you didn’t take them at all… you didn’t want to deal with the consequences of breaking a much more healthy habit.

And the reason you were so worried about the missions was because of a reoccurring problem that the 141 began finding you falling victim to. Thankfully you were all on leave, making it a lot more acceptable, but they still began walking into different rooms around HQ to see you sleeping soundly. No matter the noise level, temperature in the room, or the space you’d fit yourself into. And no one was quite as intrigued with your sudden change in behavior was the Lieutenant.

Ghost liked things to have order, and often used regiment or habit as a very small form of comfort when he felt that his physical situation was one that could be trusted. And while the others just thought you’d found a new safety in HQ and enjoyed sleeping somewhere safe, Ghost could see that something much different was happening. Your sleeping wasn’t a new habit.

It appeared far too quickly, and you oftentimes didn’t look like you had much control over it. There had already been three times where he’d watched you fall asleep on one of the guys late in the evening without as much as a single attempt to fight the drowsiness. While Ghost didn’t like to think that he cared that much about you, he found himself paying even closer attention to you than he had before.

“There she goes…” Soap chuckled quietly, pointing to you on the couch; head laying in Captain Price’s lap, eyes closed and sleeping deeply with your arms tucked against your chest and lying on your side.

Price had a loving hand on your head, and had been idly petting your hair much like a father would despite being hardly of age to act it. Yet, Ghost felt that Price’s warmth towards you wasn’t the entire reason you had yet again fallen asleep before 11 o’clock. Purposefully he’d been keeping count, and this was the fifth time in a week. More than enough to raise alarm with the others… but he was still waiting silently for someone else to bring it up.

Price chuckled, glancing down at you. “I carried her to bed last time,” His pointed look at each of them was more than enough to guess what he was about to say. “Someone else needs to, otherwise you’ll be voluntold.”

Ghost internally groaned. Not only was that kind of behavior what made people soft, but it also made seeing through the mask of affection far more difficult. But before Soap or Gaz took initiative, the Lieutenant was up on his feet and approaching Price with every intention of being the one to take you back to your quarters. Looks got thrown around the room, and Ghost wasn’t stupid enough to not notice. It was the first time he’d gotten this involved, and there was certainly a spectacle of him picking you up carefully enough to not wake you.

Even though he was quite certain it would take a lot more to get you up than that.

Your door opened up into warm, glowing light from a little lamp you’d left switched on. He catches sight of your quilt on the bed and the little rug that made the polished concrete floors look so much less like the jail cell his own quarters resembled. The whole room smelled like you too. Sweet, and a lot like cinnamon rolls. Probably some type of candle or other smelly thing that you had thought was worth spending money on. Plenty more reasons added to the list of what separates the two of you. Debating your differences or the reason you preferred your quarters smelling like a bakery wasn’t his purpose for bringing you back to your room.

But even with laying you down on your bed and pulling the sheet and blankets over you, Ghost wasn’t seeing any of the possible signs that could lead him to better understand what was going on with you. Nothing is out of place though. Your room is pretty much spotless save for a sleep outfit you’d laid out for tonight, but wouldn’t have the chance to get changed into. And right about the time Ghost decided he’d been looking into your business too much, he bumped into your nightstand.

It knocked something off into the floor, bouncing under the bed and clattering a bit.

Ghost sighed, eyes rolling up towards the ceiling and having quite the frustrating experience of dealing with the sudden responsibility of making sure you were cared for. And that meant picking up whatever shit he’d been too busy watching you, to not knock somewhere under the bed he’d have to fish around and find. So he knelt down and pulled his phone from his pocket and used the flash to spot a tube of chapstick near the bed frame foot.

That, and an ammo box with your initials spray-painted onto the side of it.

Compared to everything else, it didn’t look like it fit amongst the rest of your things. And damn if Ghost didn’t have a sudden gut feeling that it was the reason you’d been sleeping so much. Why you’d been so out of character; Setting his teeth on edge. Reaching out… Ghost grabbed the lip balm and got back to his feet and sit it down on the nightstand where it couldn’t be as easily disturbed again.

“G’night kid.” His whispers fell on your unconscious ears as your Lieutenant dismissed himself from your room and back down to his own space.

***

You woke up in your bed after falling asleep somewhere unintentionally, for the who-knows-which time. Just like before, left in whatever clothes you’d been wearing and all of your blankets tucked up tightly around you. It left a lingering sense of disappointment in yourself. A little pinch of sadness rested like a rock in your stomach. You couldn’t really remember falling asleep to begin with. If you ended up keeping this little habit going, there’d be no doubt you would risk everyone on a mission falling asleep at the drop of a hat.

All because of this damn medicine.

One that you needed to grab from under your bed, and sneak into the kitchen so that you could have some water and food. You'd seen one of the tens of sites -during your research of your pills- that it would help digest it better... whether it actually worked or not wasn't something you could tell. But either way, a doctor had said it, and plenty of people taking it agreed. So you grabbed the pill, shoved it in your pocket, and went out into the kitchen to find a glass.

The floors felt cold even with socks on. And while a steady rain poured from the sky, you were more heated with concern that someone would notice you. Notice your sleeping issues, the way you crawled around in the morning for the first couple hours before the pills began working, or the shady way you hid your face in the refrigerator while swallowing down your medication. Surely the stuff had to be working since you'd not been struggling to get your work done throughout the day. But maybe that was the hard part. Taking pills to fix your head, but needing your brain to recognize whether or not you felt better.

"Oh god help me..." You mutter quietly, searching past Soap's energy drinks and Gaz's revolting jug of green juice to find something you could make for breakfast.

A cabinet door shutting behind you nearly stopped your heart. Seeing Ghost's dark eyes evaluating your reaction didn't make your heart rate drop back to normal either. In his typical day-off wear, a pair of well-worn jeans hung low on his hips and an old SAS t-shirt you'd seen him wear countless times stretched tightly over his chest and shoulders. No doubt he'd been up since four. Quite certain he never actually slept, you wondered momentarily if he could benefit from the sleeping tabs you took. But quickly that got covered in anxiety when his eyebrows furrowed at your expression.

"Nothin' to eat?" He asked with a smooth voice, nodding to the refrigerator door you still held open dumbly.

"N-no... just a bunch of shit drinks." You reply, letting the door shut and noticing that he's got a brown bag with grease spots at the bottom corners. He just nods, looking off into the empty common room. Like he's trying to think of the right way to talk shit about both Gaz and Soap's bad choices in hydration.

"Sit. I've got enough to share." He jerks his head to the other side of the counter, turning that wide back to face you, leaving no room for argument.

You're swallowing down a thick bite of a bagel with god-knows-what in British style as Ghost brews tea. Silently making you a cup as well and standing stiffly with both milk and sugar on the table with the expectancy that you tell him how you like it. Not really unusual behavior from him... typically you get along just fine. But it's the fact that he watches so heavily.

"Just sugar, please." You say through a mouthful, covering your mouth with your hand.

He nods, but then starts putting the sugar in, mentioning something about fucking Americans before sliding the mug closer to you with a couple of fingers. Those damned eyes are just as observant as ever when you crumple up the finished sandwich before he even steeps his own drink. It made you nervous. Wondering if those pills were helping with your appetite too. The psychiatrist said it could; Something about feeling less stressed can give your body more opportunities to worry about being hungry. It was one of those facts on the medication packet you'd taken pictures of.

"Plans for today, L.t.?" You ask, sipping the tea, eyes grazing over the cup rim as you stare at the back of his head.

Mask rucked up high enough to eat and drink freely he nods his head. Leaning his lower back against the edge of the kitchen counter

and resting one hand back.

“Yeah, you?”

You shake your head uselessly, “No. Maybe some laundry, but I’m not really even due. Wouldn’t be worth the water in the machine.”

He hums lowly, taking a drink of his tea. You can hear his swallow and a steady exhale of air that follows. Whether it’s him cooling off the steaming cup or just breathing, you cant tell. But it’s so steady that you actually mimic the tempo of it. Feeling the way it expands and contracts your lungs smoothly. Almost settling. Much like L.t. himself in that way. Terrifying until you see just how easily you can be around him. He’s always quiet and composed, even when there’s plenty of reasons not to be. You wished it was something you could do too. Maybe it would help the task force if you didn’t have to spend your energy keeping yourself at an unnoticeable level of consistent panic.

“Know anythin’ about cars?”

“No,” You’re quick to add on. “But I can learn fast.”

You watch the way the back of his mask slides down further and how his head tilts from side to side to settle it comfortably. Seeing the rest of the tea get dumped into the sink and his own sandwich bag get crumpled up. He’s silent as he washes the cups used and methodically cleans up after the pair of you. Even reaching across the counter to swipe a couple of crumbs off your t-shirt with a subtle nod to his own satisfaction.

“I like to hear it,” His hand palmed at the back of your neck. Gently tugging you off the barstool, and grabbing your jacket to toss it to you. “You’re comin’ with me then.”

Learning about cars actually became quite easy… when Ghost was teaching.

He explained the parts clearly, what his goal was, and didn’t get pissed when you handed him the wrong size socket wrench on the first try. On the other end, you’d only been working next to him -well, sitting on the wheel well- for a couple of hours when you started getting tired again. Almost helpless to your own frustration, you yawned. Fighting the sleepy feeling valiantly, and taking as detailed of mental notes as possible while watching Ghost’s greased knuckles tighten a bracket holding his master cylinder in place. Surely it was a cosmic joke. L.t. was fixing his brakes, and it felt like someone had stomped on yours.

“Hand me that,” He muttered, head stuck down in a gap between his engine block and alternator, still effortlessly pointing at a pair of channellocks. “And get in for me.”

You did as he asked, yawning one more time. Trying to blame your sudden exhaustion on the rain pelting the metal roof above you. Sliding into the back of the car and kicking off your boots to let them rest on the concrete floor outside of it. Attempting to be polite by not getting any dirty spots on the mats of the -very original- DB4 GT Aston he’d given you trust to even sit in. The leather seats help you glide into the driver’s seat, giving you a very slim look at Ghost through the gap in the hood.

“What exactly am I doing in here?” You ask, loud enough so that he can hear you.

It prompts his head to pop up from inside the engine bay, giving you those same, observant eyes from earlier. He looks back down, reaches in and taps on something harshly, then looks back to you.

“Roll it over.”

The car starts effortlessly. Practically purring under you, and echoing in the metal hangar making it sound all the more ruggedly beautiful. The whole car hums, and as you watch Ghost go back to focusing on something in front of him, you feel the heat come through the dash. It’s a perfect storm that lulls you even closer to sleep. A dangerous thing, considering the one man who could figure out what was wrong with you was the only one close enough to see. Hell, you weren’t even sure he didn’t already have it figured out, and wasn’t planning some way to tell Price about it and have you removed from the task force.

Unfit for duty.

You could just picture it now. Red pen in Price’s handwriting detailing your medications and how it was grounds from honorable discharge. Perfectly common in the military, but it felt like death in your hazy mind.

Not that you could fight it for much longer.

Because by the time the Lieutenant had finished his little bit of work, he came into sight of you, slumped over in his driver’s seat with you lips parted and your arms wrapped around yourself. Nothing short of a pretty sight for sore eyes. His car had damn near rocked you sleep, and for once, Ghost felt his heart couldn’t take the feeling of waking you up. He’d watched you all morning. Gauging your reactions, your lack of conversation, and the way you tried to keep from showing him any sign of being tired. Initially he wanted to be angry. Mad that you were hiding something from the team… from him. But seeing you sleeping there, he knew there was a fight in your head. A fight he knew well. So he left you there to sleep.

Turning off the engine to keep from filling the garage with exhaust, but pulling up one of the small space heaters close to the open door to keep you from getting cold while he worked. Making small adjustments, looking over future jobs, and even entertaining the thought of adjusting you over in the seat a little bit so that he could drive-test his handiwork. But that didn’t come, because Soap arrived with a grin on his face and no idea that you were sleeping.

Until Ghost told him to lower his goddamn voice.

“Sleepin’ again bonnie?” Soap chuckled to himself, looking at you before back to Ghost. “How long’s she been out?”

Ghost shrugged, “Few hours.” Really he hadn’t been watching the clock; far too comfortable to concern himself with it.

“I know you’ve been tryin’ to figure it out,” He started back, resting his hands on the hood. “Why she’s doin’ this so much. Have ya’?”

Ghost shook his head. “No. Not yet, but I’m not concerned.”

Johnny laughed softly, slapping Ghost on the back and beginning to walk away. “I never took you for the type to be worried, L.t.. But since you’re so reassurin’ I’ll take it t’heart.”

Any way Ghost came at that statement, he felt himself on the end of a losing battle. Maddening. Losing a fight wasn’t in his nature. Even if that meant he had to take some of the most fucked up torture to reach it. But what bothered him more than Soap knowing he was concerned about you was the knowing you weren’t okay.

Days out in the field were bad enough. But when they got worse, you were always there. And maybe you didn’t feel much better than he did, yet you always held softness. For everyone. For him. A kind of understanding and acceptance that wasn’t required, or exactly approved of in this line of work. You could keep a secret better than anyone he knew, and while he didn’t burden you with a single one of his, there was always the foreign comfort in being able to come with them if he wanted to. Hiding your own feelings wasn’t right though.

Selfish maybe. Thinking it was okay to linger in his own issues and still demand you give him yours.

But hiding behind his rank and position over you meant he could make that kind of decision without any questioning. A type of don’t fucking ask why that saved him face when carrying you from his car back to your room after you still hadn’t woken up nearly seven hours after passing out in his car. Shouldering open the door just like the night before, he expected to see nothing out of place. The same lip balm on the side table, the same rug, and maybe a different night shirt since you’d mentioned doing laundry. But there was something out of place. And damn if it didn’t make his gut twist up in a ugly kind of feeling. One he’d not felt in years, but certainly recognized as soon as he spotted the orange pill bottle sitting on your bed.

It made sense.

The sleeping. The different behavior. The reason you’d practically swallowed a whole fucking sandwich for breakfast when a cup of tea would typically be all you stomached until afternoon. And thank god… you were finally starting to look a bit fuller. Getting prettier every day, and he finally had something to place the blame on. All hesitations about you being able to handle the upcoming missions faded once he got a good look at the bottle. A medication, funnily enough, that Ghost was well-acquainted with. It wasn’t part of his own personal line-up in his medicine cabinet, but it was one he’d taken for a while.

You’d been in need of some help, and luckily for you, it hadn’t been nearly as hard for you to get help as it had been for him. Actually asking for what you needed -and while frustrating- decided to try and manage it without anyone else’s knowledge. Ghost couldn’t think of a better scenario. Realizing that the only thing he needed to know about was your side effects, and how to best manage them alongside you. Thank fuck you weren’t sick… well… sick in a way that someone couldn’t help you with. A way that he couldn’t help.

So, he sit down in on the floor in your room and waited.

Your wake-up call came in the form of sleepy eyes opening to see the massive silhouette of Ghost sitting in your floor. Dark eyes much softer than you’d expected, and a much more concerning sight of your pill bottle resting in his massive hand. A sight that sat you up ramrod straight in your bed, gasping softly and staring at him with wide eyes.

“Don’t tell Price.” You sputter, rushing to get the words out of your mouth. Terrified that he’s going to get up and run out the door. Just sitting long enough to let you get a good look at his plan before exposing you to the Captain as some sick kind of satisfaction.

His eyes narrow a little, “Don’t tell Price?” His voice sounds hoarse. “Don’t tell Price?”

It sounds that much more broken and gritty when he repeats it. Standing up to meet you a bit more level, fisting the pills in his hand, and lightly making them shake. He can’t understand your fear. Completely blind to the fact that -much like him- you’re fearful of being shamed. Misunderstood for it. Or worse. Ghost can’t recognize why you’re looking at him as if he’s going to be the reason your life ends. When in all reality, you don’t see how he’s trying to figure out why you didn’t feel safe coming to him.

“You’ve been takin’ these… fallin’ asleep on everyone, and-and struggling for who knows how the fuck long…” It’s hard for Ghost to keep his tone even, thinking about it. “Why didn’t you tell me. you should’ve told me. Said something. Anything.”

Caving in on itself, your chest burns. Eyes locked on his and scanning every confusing moment of emotion and each shift as it comes and goes.

“You wouldn’t…”

Ghost takes a fast step closer, “I wouldn’t what?” His hand drops the pills on the bed and quickly grabs your face, soft fingers pressing into your jaw. “I wouldn’t get it? I wouldn’t do what you needed me to? Wouldn’t let you sleep on me?”

Your lips open in surprise at the softness in him. All of him. The gentleness of his fingers, how his eyes lay silkily on you. Even his voice, falling so softly despite it’s rough tone and deep sound, feels like he’s terrified of you being scared away from him. Like that gentle hold on your face is all he can manage, and he’d rather do anything other than let you pull away from it.

“You have to know…” he starts weakly. “You have to know that - that I would do… anything you needed me to. Anything to make this easier for you. Even somethin’ small, I’d do it for you, honey.”

reblogs & comments are appreciated 🤎

#simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #cod #cod mwii #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #velvetures writes #velvetures #anon <3 #velvetures answers #anon answered #anon ask

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paxcallow · 11 days

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Shoutout to your Raz for being a little cutie patootie anyway can you spare a headcanons about him for the poor *holding out my little orphan lad hat*

hehehe thank you also OH BABY YOU KNOW I CAN! i may have like 3 hours before i have to get a train to georgia but i always have time for RAZ and TALKING about RAZ!

PAX RAZ HEADCANONS GO! NO PARTICULAR ORDER OR THEME.

raz becomes pescetarian after the meat circus. i say pescetarian and not vegetarian because of his toxic relationship with Crab Sandwich. crab sandwich is raz's friend. but raz kind of wants to eat crab sandwich.

^ raz is kind of a freak.

like all things, raz picks up hydrokinesis pretty quickly, but for a while the Hand of Galochio Aquato will not grant him access to water deep enough to swim in. he beats himself up over this somewhat because neither queepie or frazie struggle with the hand like he does and while they're learning to swim, he's standing on the surface of the water like jesus.

actually, i feel like the Hand was always the most physically real to raz than any of the others because of his lack of denial about being a psychic. all the others felt the unnatural fear at a body of water and it grew much more violent and undertowed in the presence of the psychics, but a young razputin aquato heard the name "Hand of Galochio" and took that very literally.

sorry for the sadcanons. bonus augustus headcanon for your trouble. this barrier to water is something raz and dad can bond over, because while augustus can physically get in the water, he is utter ass at swimming and learns it the slowest of anyone in the family. he is so brave but after a lifetime of water curse, being in it feels the most unnatural. you know that clip from golden boy of kintaro(?) drowning all the way across the pool before turning around and very badassly going "So! How do you like my swimming. >:)" that's augustus while raz runs across the water beside him cheering him on.

he got his goggles from true psychic tales magazine, but he uses them now mostly to combat visual overstimulation. it takes him several years to realize that's what he's doing. projecting through a psi portal is very visually intense and that's why raz is convinced for the longest time that those things actually did anything psychic.

a combination of what donatella calls "sibling survival instinct" being surrounded by so many kids his age at camp, needing to blow off steam after just having run away from home, and wanting to make a good impression at his big new job is what explains the difference in raz's rudeness between psychonauts 1 and 2. in psychonauts 3, raz is going to repeatedly say some out of pocket shit to some fellow kids and then feel really guilty because he's a professional now.

i know i've said this before but it bears repeating that raz is a little menace about tickling. he just genuinely likes it and can't imagine that anyone might not. but he's soooooo shy so his primary way of getting tickles himself is being a little shit. that tends to do the trick. he's definitely not extremely obvious about it every single time. everyone totally doesn't know what he's doing.

raz proudly eats food off the floor. raz thinks wasting food is a crime!! he'll eat your leftovers. he'll drink the rest of your soda. he'll eat the other half of your sandwich. empty your unwanted snax into the grumpus that is razputin aquato.

this is sometimes the only way to get him to eat because often he forgets to until his stomach is screaming at him to spare its life. when he is very focused on something for a while, raz's neglect of himself hits him all at once. man im tired- ooh wait im hungry- oh im thirsty too- AH my eyes hurt have i not been blinking- whoa how is it after midnight already- OUCH i have a headache! my feet hurt! etc. he. needs people looking out for him.

raz is going to be a really good dad one day.

raz knows he is cute. intellectually. he uses this to his advantage to subtly manipulate adults into letting things slide or giving him floor bacon. but he has not internalized the fact that he is genuinely a little cutie pie not through his genetics and social engineering skills, but by being a little dorky smush face who is always earnest, borderline transparent, so so so brave, easily embarrassed, wanting to be friends with everyone, being a little baby bean,[i am slowly dragged off the stage with a cane]

#psychonauts #razputin aquato #not art #headcanons #i got carried away #uh oh i missed my train!#there are more. there are so many more. these are what i could think up right now

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deathknightrea · 6 months

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I've seen a few people complaining about Anduin's new look and how he looks too "old" now, also they dont understand why he's acting so distant from his friends, so I figured I'd break it down from my perspective and a tiny bit of my own character analysis as a long time player since Lich King and have read a lot of the books. Also I'm a huge fan of Anduin as a character, so I'm sorry if it might be a bit biased.

He was 18 years old in the book Before The Strom which takes place right before Battle for Azeroth, (he probably turned 19 around the beginning of BFA) so by the end of BFA he would've been between 20 and 21 since the war was fought over 2 years. He was fighting that war while still struggling with the death of his father as well as running the Alliance and his own Kingdom. He even said he had never given himself a proper time to grieve his father's passing. If you read Before The Storm, you know all the heartbreak and disappointment he suffered in that book. Including everything that happened with Calia Menethil. (I know not a lot of people view the books as canon, but I do believe the legit Warcraft published books to be part of the Lore.)

In Shadowlands, which was stated to be over the course of 2 years as well. Anduin would've been 22 or 23 when it ended. Let's not forget that while imprisoned by the Jailer, everyone was tortured mentally and physically. Anduin obviously had the worst of it, constantly being controlled by the Jailer and the Mourn Blade and forced to do horrible things that made him feel extremely guilty and question his own heart. Let's be honest, if Arthas had been able to break free from the Jailers' influence and not fallen so far, he would be struggling just as bad as/or worse than Anduin.

We were told 5 years had passed between Shadowlands and Dragonflight so that puts Anduin around 27 or 28 years old in War Within. The biggest clue to how much Anduin has been struggling, is his sword. The first thing I noticed is that the yellow glow that for us symbolized his role as a Priest was gone. He even told Thrall there was no Light left in him. It seems he's to a point where he is giving up and still can't accept what he was forced to do in Shadowlands.

I think they did a good job on aging him in the new cinematic. He isn't the hope filled, peace seeking, bright-eyed, boy King we all knew. Now he's the war-torn, mentality struggling, man who needs help coming to peace with himself. The trauma of constant war and loss have finally caught up with him. We also don't know where he's been or what he's been up to since he left. However, just looking at the scars and cuts on his face, he's clearly been through something rough while he was away. You can feel the pain in his voice and see it in his eyes. They really did a fantastic job putting that cinematic together.

I feel like, as an Alliance players and due to the connection our characters have had from quest lines and side Quests over the years with Anduin, through Pandaria to Shadowlands, we will be doing a lot of Quests with Anduin to help him regain his connection to the Light and bring back our Priest--but that's just a my Alliance fan heart wishing.

If you actually read all this....WOW! 😂 Thanks for reading my rambling.

#world of warcraft #world of warcraft The war within #king anduin #anduin llane wrynn #anduin wrynn #blizzard

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deesi-academia · 6 days

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rough ttpd review because i need to get it out.

people who love this album, don't read it.

if news came out that taylor's ex thought of another woman in bed while dating taylor... if the ex told her taylor to get over her depression quicker so that they can get married and have a happy-ever-after... if the ex rebounded to a very problematic person and defended them from everyone...

yeah that ex would be dragged into the dirtiest pits of hell by swifties. but now that it's taylor who did all that and admitted it openly?

oh then she was just going a tough time :( oh she's just being raw and vulnerable about her messiest decisions because she trusts us! oh she was in a such a bad space because her ex with mental illness was exhibiting signs of mentall illness around her :(( it really took a toll on her, she was trapped trying to fix him :(( she's lost her youth to that man!! she's sharing her regrets with us omg she's so brave!!

Meet taylor, always the victim, always the oppressed, always the wronged, and calls herself a monster in the most passive aggressive way I've heard in a song. (I've rhymed here more than 60% of the album)

I cannot, with a clear conscience, listen to this album and like it. Not to mention the downgraded lyrics and repetitive basic production which covers at least 80% of the album. Most songs feel like a diary entry she put into whatever tune she got in a second.

Some songs here and there yeah I really do love them and want them on repeat, but majorly? I can't deal with this album. This album makes me feel guilty as sin.

With the marketing of this album, I genuinely expected some dark academia folklore type vibes and lyrics. Something like 'carolina' and yes, 'the albatross' and 'so long london'. But overall the marketing was WAYYY off, specially how taylor made everyone believe for a YEAR that Joe was the one who cheated on her. Now that the album is out we know Joe was just struggling mentally, taylor got bored and went to the nearest 'spark'. She was the one who definitely emotionally cheated first, no evidence to say she actually cheated but yeah.

The entire marketing being about bashing Joe and high-class lyrics and dark academia vibes falls FLAT on its face. The album is mostly about her shitty rebound and how she suffers through all of it. It's extremely one-sided and biased ofcourse but tone deaf too, specially with that 'without all the racists' line. The line feels like she's trying to save face after defending Matty throughout the album.

The album just leaves a sour taste in my mouth and on my moral compass. The album just proves how taylor owns the double standards in her favor because of the massive fan-base she's accumulated.

Tldr; this album is for people who are ready to defend taylor because she's their icon. its not for swifties/people who can be critical of taylor too.

#swifties when they make a good interpretation of a bad decision: ITS MY OPINION #swifties when others make a bad interpretation of a bad decision: NO YOURE WRONG #well this is my opinion #i have my own moral compass to follow and im not apologetic about it. go cry.#anyway yeah this album took a toll on me in a bad way #not tagging because i dont want to get attacked #@others who read this pls dont tag it either if by chance it resonates with you

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sarah-denial-cq · 2 months

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It's been a few months, how is Sarah doing? cw SA, addiction, family health issues, bigotry.

Fair warning: this isn't a sexy post. We'll try to get back to those when we can.

So first things first, I went off denial in November, meaning my 2023 denial period was about eight months of edging, teasing, serving, and zero orgasms. I'm really happy about it, it was fun and made me feel good, and I met tons of wonderful people in the community. I don't know when I'll next start medium-term denial again but I hope I get a chance to.

Anyways, I stopped in November because I had just so much going on personally that it was impossible to devote the energy and wound-up tension that denial creates in me to its practice. Work became more and more stressful. I was "promoted" at work, taking on responsibility for over twice as many people and deliverables, and was given no raise and also a new manager between me and my previous manager, who I had to train in addition to my new responsibilities. In addition, a close family member started radiation treatment for cancer. For the first time in my life, I didn't visit my family for the holidays, because political developments have made it unsafe for me to travel to where they live.

And then Megan assaulted me.

I was sharing a hotel bed with her - as friends - and woke up on the last day in the morning feeling her fingers groping me. I didn't know what to do, I froze and kept my eyes closed and waited for my alarm to go off and got up and went to work and then flew home. The next couple days are kind of a blur. I relapsed into a finsub addiction and sent a bunch of money to someone. I think Rose and I might have had sex that next day but I'm kind of not sure. I ended up talking to Megan about it a few days later.

"No, I didn't do that. I wasn't groping you. That didn't happen."

I told Rose about what happened. I was extremely nervous and also felt so stupid because all the tropes around women like me were playing out. I had imagined it. I had done something to lead her on. I was making a huge deal out of some minor petting. I was going to lose a friend over something that wasn't worth losing them over. I was going to blow up Rose's relationship with Megan and she wouldn't get to fuck my hotter friend anymore and it would be. My. Fault.

Eventually, things have cooled off a little. I talked to Rose and we made each other feel better. I talked to Megan and explained that I don't know or care why she thinks it didn't happen, but I think it did, and it can never happen again. Rose is still going to fuck Megan because she's hotter than me. Megan is still going to come stay at my apartment for several days this weekend. I'll probably be kicked out to the guest room while they fuck in the master bedroom.

I'm still struggling with the addiction relapse, and feeling guilty and sad about the really good friendships I made here during denial that I've been too messed up to maintain, and whether I still have value as a girl not in denial. But I trust that things heal with time. And nothing - *nothing* - is going to take away from the fact that Rose is going to *marry me* this year. Even with everything that's happened I'm the luckiest girl in the world.

I'll post some more soon, I hope.

xoxo Sarah

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koraesrambles · 2 months

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GREAT READING ADVENTURE PART 1 (CW: pictures from the Sandman comics may be disturbing to some)

I started with the Sandman, by Neil Gaiman. A legend in comic spheres, and one that I'd been wanting to read for a while.

I found 10 volumes at my local library and have made my way through two of them so far. First off, as a horror book DAMN. DAAAAAAAAAAAAMN these books do not pull punches. They come at you like a gut punch and just keep going. I like to describe myself as someone who enjoys "horror lite" I love monsters, I love angst and crazy situations and some messed up stuff, but I'm kind of a baby about it. Things like Supernatural, Gravity Falls (It's kid friendly, but there's blood!), Buffy the Vampire Slayer, that's my jam (wow, that list makes me feel about 5 years old, but whatever! I like what I like!). The Sandman Is Not That.

The Writing

Don't get me wrong, it is beautiful in every way, but it's also a lot for a wussy like myself. I'm enthralled, captivated, unable to look away, but there have been multiple times where I've needed to close my eyes for a second and remind myself that this is a comic book, and the world isn't necessarily this dark all the time. I'm pretty triggered by children in danger/getting hurt/dying and these books don't shy away from that. But they're also just . . . so beautiful.

The writing is annoyingly amazing. I expected nothing less, it is Neil Gaiman, but sometimes as a writer you look at other people's writing and just sit back in awe. I wish I could write something like this. Or, if not exactly like this, something as beautiful and poignant as this. The story flows so beautifully. Every scene perfectly blending in with the next. Every word feels like it has a point, which makes you want to pay attention to everything to make sure you're not missing anything.

Writing is my main background, but comic writing is so different from prose. This is what I struggled with the most while drafting up OUTCAST ODYSSEY, how do I get everything across that I need to when I can't just write it all out? How do I pace it when telling a story with pictures vs words feels so different? But Neil does this so well. It felt lyrical, and I could see his influence on every single page. The art was done by someone else, but the ideas, the imagry, the way the story flows from one idea to the next, is all a result of absolutely phenomenal writing.

It reminded me to trust readers to read between the lines. It's difficult to find the line between "subtlty" and "confusing" and I am often guilty of feeling like I need to spell things out to my readers so that they won't miss anything, but more often then not that just slows down the plot and makes the whole experience clunky. You don't want to go too far in the other direction either, but Neil knew who his audience was and trusted them to at least give things a second glance. I was worried at the beginning that I'd be too dumb to figure out what he was hinting at, but he was able to patiently feed me the information without me getting frustrated or lost.

It's a skill that comes with experience and practice, but I feel like this story really really shines at it. I found myself studying the way he handled exposition and wanting to emulate it in my own work.

The Art

The art is also stunning. It's not "cute" art. It's not something that I would want to hang up in my house or look at for hours. It's amazing from a skill standpoint (which is easy for me to tell just due to my own extremely obvious shortcomings) but it's not concerned with everyone looking like hollywood movie stars.

Which . . . I mean, that's definitely a feature, not a bug. This story is not supposed to be cute, and a cutsy art style would absolutely ruin the atmosphere. It is rough and full of sharp points. it doesn't shy away from nudity or gore. The characters are not attractive, these are not anime stars, but they are compelling, and distinct enough that I was able to easily tell who everyone is, which is more often then not extremely difficult for me (i think I may be a bit face-blind).

The art adds to the horror of everything. Even when things are supposed to be calm, or sexy, or whatever, there's an edge of panic and unease to it. Part of that is the reader knowing that there's more going on behind the scenes then the character knows, but it's also the style. The heavy black shadows, the hard lines, the emphasis on some details while the obscuring of others, it all combines to perfectly compliment the writing. It's not a pleasure to look at, but that's absolutely the point. It's also extremely difficult to look away FROM. How can something simultaneously look jarring, eerie, and unpolished, while also whispering "Yes. This is beautiful art. Look at it. Bask in it."?

I'm a newbie artist. It's way beyond my skillset to even begin to figure out how they were able to accomplish this. But someday I hope I figure out the secret.

The art perfectly compliments the writing, and the two work together to tell the story. I remember feeling a little annoyed on the artists' behalf that the Sandman is always known as "Neil Gaiman's" when the art side of comics is so incredibly important. The art sets the tone and compliments the words. It helps with reading between the lines and helping us know how seriously we should be taking the words.

Characters

All of the characters are great! Except the ones I already knew. I'm not saying they were bad, just bland compared to everyone else. Constantine, the Justice League, every cameo that came up and I was excited for felt . . . not quite out of place, but not quite seamless either. I was most excited for Constantine, and he was fine, but I probably have enjoyed him more in every other comic I've ever seen him in. I know they were all included just to try and sell the first few issues of a new story, and I respect that (the amount of comics that I've read just because my favorite character showed up for a few panels is . . *cough* embarrassing), but I was kind of bummed by how little conflict they added to the story.

Constantine immediately agrees to help Morpheus (which, okay, he can see how powerful Morpheus is and doesn't want to get on his bad side, totally in character. But I like Constantine best when he's being a bit of a dickhead), when I was really expecting a bit of tension or at least antagonism between them. We briefly see Etrigan but he is so quickly outshined by Lucifer that I nearly forgot about him, Scarecrow shows up but I didn't really feel like he added much besides a familiar face, we see Scott Free (who I know very little about) and J'onn (whose reaction to Dream was probably the most interesting) but all they do is immediately tell Morpheus where he needs to go. Why were they so quick to be okay with this obviously terrifying powerful force just grabbing stuff? I guess I understand why J'onn was okay with it, since he knew who Morpheus was, but it still felt weird that there wasn't even a single moment of hesitation or resistance. They basically served as a plot GPS.

Again, there's nothing wrong with any of them, they just didn't feel as vibrant as all of the other characters we were introduced to. Even the woman who gave Dr. Destiny/Dr Dee a ride was more vivid and felt more real and purposeful than the cameos did. At least to me.

The original characters (or at least everyone I didn't recognize. Was Dr. Dee a Gaiman original or had he shown up previously? Cuz he was very much A tier villain for me,) were all amazing and vivid and lively. I cared about them way faster than I normally do, especially at the very beginning of a story. The cameos felt exactly like what they were: Cameos to sell the book.

Final Thoughts

This book is, objectively, better than anything I will ever create. And that's not even a diss on myself, it's just objective fact on the quality of this piece. I learned a lot looking through it, trying to figure out what Gaiman did that worked vs didn't. The lyricism vs crassness of the writing, the way the art complimented the dialogue, how the panels flowed and where it was easy for me to follow vs where I got a little confused. It's a beautiful book and I can absolutely see why it's a graphic novel must read. I'm planning on reading the rest of the series, but I can only read one volume a day, because the horror of it all absolutely follows me after I close the last page.

#reading analysis #reading challenge #the sandman #morpheus #the sandman graphic novel #comics #DC #learning to be a better writer and artist #studying the greats #the great reading challenge of 2024 #neil gaiman #best graphic novels #list of best graphic novels

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system-of-a-feather · 4 months

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Nostalgic Campfire Rambles: Childhood Fictive -> Primary Host Ramble

I feel that is a good title to summarize what this is generally probably going to be centered on cause I got back from watching the new Wonka movie, and I always forget how much "Pure Imagination" and it's variants and the themes surrounding and shows that use it have always really hit home a lot as a part

Cause for those that don't know (which I don't think I've talked much about it because I personally don't even think back to it often let alone talk about it) before being host, before being really anything, I was originally introjected first and foremost as a "knight" "guardian" and imaginary play friend to keep our previous host at the time both company, having fun exploring both internally and in external play, and to generally keep said host and a few other parts hopeful and believing in a better end for us than what most of the system really stuck with.

And when childhood moves resulted in a lot of social stress and high pressure demands to adapt to new environments and make friends rapidly, I ended up also taking on social protector for a combination of positive and negative reasons, but one of which being that my ability to both engage other kids with fun imaginative worlds to self express in and ALSO my affinity to appeal to those struggling / outcasted by the fact I solely existed to accompany a traumatized outcasted child made me very good - as a child - for making friends.

And at the core of it, that was 85% of my function and existence for the first like 5-7 years of me "existing" and I always forget - having been primary host for at least 8 years now - that I was not *meant* to be out this long, that I wasn't *meant* to be host, that I wasn't *meant* to be a complex or elaborate part or anything like that.

And I don't mean that in a derogatory or doomer manner, but more so that the very means of which my perception and way of approaching the world was solely meant to be used as a survival mechanism in shitty situations to nurse and soothe high levels of distress. I'm *supposed* to be unbelievable, undying, and unrealistic hope and optimism that the system can blindly believe in when they are at the lowest of lows and that isn't *supposed* to be something that is meant to be kept up for *eight years* as the *primary fronter*.

And I forget just how extremely hard and long it took to modify the shit I was "given" and reconstruct it into something that could work as a host.

And I remember back in the first like 5-6 years of being "host", I almost always approached it as a "I am here just to fix it so that one of the True Owners can come back to a better life" and for those 5-6 years, being a "host" was a temporary job I "stepped up to" (more so got chucked it after one of the two original hosts completely dipped into dormancy and the other one already had 'given up on reality') until it was safe for one of the two to take their life back.

But over the years, and a lot of DID focused therapy, did I realize it was very much not going to happen and that this was a "for the foreseeable future" position and that if it were to change, it would almost certainly be through fusion / splitting rather than anything else. And it was a really guilty thing to realize for the first half year to a year and it was something that really didn't work for the longest time.

Honestly it only worked because I have one of the most fucking complex subsystems (which we fuse and unfuse regularly these days as its convenient) which made it possible to be functioning at an IMPOSSIBLY unsustainable manner for so long.

These days, being host is a lot more sustainable and easier and its honestly most of what I know and I'm good with that because I've really learned how to live As A Host in a sustainable way and really managed to hang up my "caretaker" and "protector" default lens in favor for a default host lense. Instead I pick those lenses up as they are helpful and it's done a lot to help my mental state, functioning, etc etc

But every so often, I think back to where I came from as a part in specific, and I realize.... despite all that growth, all that splitting and fusion that honestly leaves me HARDLY identifying with my source at all, I still very much operate on the same "machinery" of my original split-function as a very core aspect of how I engage with the world, the system, and how I just perceive things.

If anything, parts split and fused and shaped partially around it, to make it so that my natural nature and my role could co-exist sustainably - its part of why XIV and I are a "must have" duo for either of us to sustainably host.

But in the end of the day? I, as a part, am still a part very deeply driven by a very ideal and desired image of what I want to see and what I want to make happen in our life and in the world. I have very clear images of what I intend to see and intend to do and I am really anchored in making that a reality and making people - internal and external - believe in my ability to make that a reality.

I always have done that, I just have gone and taken it to the real world and our system had to adapt to the fact that its not something you can really separate from me as a part and thus something that we had to work safety plans and adaptations around as to make it possible to be undyingly dedicated and fully confident in my own vision. And it's honestly kind of an unnatural and unwavering confidence, dedication, and stubborn patience that I think really only comes from someone who originally split off as a fucking Shounen Protagonist troped character who sat around talking about escaping and exploring far away worlds and the conflicts of light and dark and nothingness and overcoming shit and all that crap.

I don't really operate well in a way of "I dream" or "I want" or "it would be nice" because I don't - from my original splitting off purpose - have the understanding of having luxury of being at all unsure or doubting in my vision of a better future for our system. It's all "I will" and "when I", because growing up, within my original function, if we were in crisis and completely low on hope - telling the traumatized depressed and desperate kid I existed to be the hopeful best buddy of that "I hope" and "I would like" and "I dream" that we would be able to be happy, be free, have anything worth living for, would not suffice to keep us alive and engaged in our own survival.

Back then, there wasn't room for "it would be nice" - there was only room for me to AUTHENTICALLY say and believe "Hey, you know, when we get the chance, we will go out and do this, we will have this and that and we will have these things to make sure we are always happy and safe. Of course we will because I have a plan. I know what we are doing, where we are going, and I know how to navigate obstacles. As long as you stay with me, I promise, there is no world where I will fail to show you that future that we can make when we get the chance"

And for better or worse, it's really gotten us far. It came at a huge fucking cost because the sheer number of times I had huge mental breakdowns and massive collapses and the system had scary crisis moments back when we were trying to figure out a way to keep me mentally sane WHILE literally having other severely depressed and suicidal parts literally (they had admitted it) waiting for *me* to give up and loose faith so they could feel ok *fully giving up* and thus forcing me to sustain the unrealistic and unsustainable sense of confidence and vision.... but like

Honestly, ever since XIV has been co-host, that hasn't been an issue because the two of us serve as eachother's "hope providing unwavering best friend" so now that there are two of us, we can both alternate and fill in for one another in the system when one of us is "down" and we can also serve the same role back to pull one another up.

And its been like three years or so since we established that dynamic and it really almost completely negated the "unsustainable" nature of the whole way our part of the brain approaches things and instead almost like... developed a "infinite unwavering confidence and faith in our ability to make whatever we think of a reality glitch" cause XIV and I loop endlessly in supporting one another and both of us exude enough dedication, ruthlessness, and vision to provide hope and engagement to the entire system

And it's really neat. Cause for the most part - this whole thing also applies to XIV as we are split from the same "original introject", we just both internalized and adapted our original functions in VERY drastically different ways.

But I dunno, I was just feeling a bit nostalgic and wanted to ramble and share. Feel free to chat and comment and add on if you like to this. This isn't really a vent but just kinda a "I wanted to share a story / reflection with you all" and so I gladly welcome and encourage anyone to be nostalgic and/or ramble and/or chat about anything this post might bring up in yall

Imagine we are at a cozy campfire in the forest with clear skies and bright stars just sharing the story of our lives. If you all wanna share, its the nature of the campfire and are more than welcome

I honestly might make that a tag "nostalgic campfire rambles"

-----

(Endos and anyone who identifies as someone with DID, someone with a CDD, plural, and/or a system are welcome to engage in this post. We're just out here chatting about life and existence, it doesn't have to be clinical or too serious and I just like chatting)

#nostalgic campfire rambles #alter: riku #fictive #fictional introject #actuallydid #dissociative identity disorder #sysconversation #conversysion #system conversation #endos welcome #endos safe

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septembersghost · 10 months

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i do have something to say, and my pulsing head is maybe not going to allow it to be particularly articulate, but fearless was special to me because it was when i became a swiftie, red was special to me because it's my cherished and beloved album. speak now is special to me because it was the first album i got to experience with taylor in real time, from the announcement, to watching music video premieres (on cmt!), excitement building up to it, the thrill of release day.

but it was an especially big deal to me because i had spent the entire year before (almost to the day, because a final conversation was had on october 26, 2009, and speak now was released on october 25, 2010) planning, or expecting, to not survive it. there are many times i've battled through that since for varying reasons, but that was the first time, and the most traumatic. i had vascillated through extremes of sobbing through the night to screaming in rage to complete and total emptiness and cynical numbness - imagine me not feeling anything, or only feeling the tearing of anger in my chest - beyond holding tight to my precious dog, and i feel guilty often reflecting on this because i don't think i did the best for her at that point either. my passion and solace in music felt stolen out of my hands, and had narrowed intensely in that pain, to the point where i only had two pillars to lean against. one was fall out boy. the other was taylor. both had been the only comforts i could reliably turn to, turn up, in the dark. debut and fearless felt like they'd been given especially to me, to express what i was struggling through, how the girl in me who'd lost so much of her life, health, time, and then had her heart broken and betrayed by multiple people, felt. fob stopped me once, very directly, from hurting myself. (thus why their feature here has profound significance to me.) my mom, who had never been through such a difficult time with me (and there are gaps in my memory, but i still feel guilty for what she went through then too), hardly knew what to do, but she bought me a pink ipod nano that 2009 christmas, and that music was basically all that was on it. they were the lifelines i clung to in the tumultuous storm to keep myself from drowning.

by speak now's release in 2010, i'd gotten to shore, but was still battered and cold and exhausted. that album was an aspect of my recovery. that music was what warmed me and woke me back up. and a huge part of that was taylor's own honesty and sensitivity. she was still dreamy and romantic, she still displayed vulnerability, sincerity, and compassion, but she was also angry and bitter and petty and scathing. the fullness and unflinching open-heartedness of that journey cracked me back open and allowed the light back in. the storytelling and lyricism proved her prowess, talent, and growth, but it was often the simplicity that got me, that allowed me to accept even the sharp edges of what i felt, and the softness too. a careless man's careful daughter. i liked it better when you were on my side. i see it all now that you're gone. all you are is mean. please don't be in love with someone else. never imagined we'd end like this. wish i'd never grown up. can't turn back, i'm haunted. the girl in the dress cried the whole way home. long live all the magic we made, and bring on all the pretenders, i'm not afraid. it cast a magic spell, transformed my spirit and allowed me to start to become the person i am again.

it's turned out over the years that some of it is tough for me to listen to because of this, because of that visceral tie back to the things it opened me up to, but tonight i'm thinking yet again about what a miracle it is that i'm still even here, after not expecting that gift of time over and over. every re-record she's released has given something back to me that i didn't even realize i needed, and reading taylor's prologue for speak now, the feeling of her catharsis and reclamation feels so much like my own too. she's brought us in and held that reciprocal experience close, and the embracing connection in that speaks deeply to everything her music represents and means to so many of us.

she writes now, "i had no idea how much this pain would shape me," and also, "i'm still idealistic and earnest...but i'm less crushed when people mock me for it. i know now that one of the bravest things a person can do is create something with unblinking sincerity." this is something i believe too and hold onto fiercely, and she's helped consistently remind me of it.

to those of us with our palms outstretched in the light, still hoping, still having faith in art and knowing that it's good, whose voices quiver with tearful emotion but still share it earnestly, who sometimes wish we could still hear bedtime stories, who hold on to spinning around. i've had the time of my life fighting dragons with her, and with you.

#taylor swift #speak now #long live all the magic we made #thrown out speeches #bubble wrap around my heart #jess.mess

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rainsandrains · 6 months

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in all honesty, i'm having a hard time with my atheopaganism. it's nearly hallows, and my focus is still set up for spring - i was here (in cambridge) until july, then i went home (to my parents' house) until the start of october, and although i've been back for about two weeks i still haven't touched my focus except to put my two spiritual notebooks back on it. i have hardly engaged with any of the things i consider spiritual practices.

the last time i was in cambridge, i was extremely unhappy. i was still in limbo regarding issues with my phd, i was having issues with my relationship to certain close friends, and i was, to put it bluntly, bordering on suicidal. i then went through hell for two weeks in july, and spent all of august recovering from that. i finally got good news about my phd and in september i started studying again, and i managed to make a tiny bit of progress with another personal goal i won't talk about here in case it's triggering to people. i engaged in my first proper full moon ritual, and managed to keep the promise i made to myself that night - a certain set of tasks for an entire lunar cycle. things were looking up. and then i came back to cambridge, to the place where so much went wrong and where i had felt so so bad, and it all fell apart again. i relapsed into a very bad coping mechanism and haven't yet had the energy to feel bad about it. i'm struggling to enjoy my main hobby because the choir is full of new people and because i'm tired and drained.

so no wonder the whole "connecting to the natural world" thing has fallen away. i'm just trying to get through the days, get my work done, and not snap at the poor freshers who haven't done anything wrong. i don't feel guilty about abandoning my practice. but i do feel like i'm lacking something. i do feel sad, and regretful, that i'm not feeling connected to the world.

and, for some reason, when i feel this way (and when i feel low and lonely in general), i've recently (as in over the last year or so) found myself drawn to polytheism. i know that gods aren't real. but i wish they were. i find myself... playing pretend, for lack of a better word. talking to apollo and lighting a candle i imagine he'd like, and then catching myself and feeling stupid. when i have to sing christian music with my choir, i think "khaire apollon, if you want to take any of this music as an offering, even though it's about the wrong god on paper, feel free. your presence would be appreciated" - because i feel so isolated even in that space, and because i need something overtly pagan to counteract the icky feeling christianity gives me. i know plenty of naturalistic pagans engage with deity as myth, as story, as metaphor... but i want it to be more than metaphor. but it isn't, and it never will be. i need to find a new way to engage with these ideas, something that fills the emotional void but that aligns with my naturalist worldview. i never think about apollo this way when i'm at my parents' house, probably because i'm less lonely than here where i live alone. maybe i need to spend more time with my friends, but it's cambridge, they're so busy all the time...

i don't know. i may well delete this post - i've never rambled so personally on this blog before, and it's not really in line with my original intention that this would be for reference and inspiration. but i'm stuck, and frustrated, and struggling, and i don't have anyone irl i can talk to about it because i don't know any other naturalistic pagans irl. only a couple of people even know i'm pagan, and while both are open-minded and kind about it neither of them are remotely similar (one is my college chaplain, and the other is a friend who is jewish - both lovely, neither likely to be on the same page as me about naturalism).

#atheopaganism #suicide tw #e.txt

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blueywrites · 1 year

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Hi, I noticed TD&TC only has 2 chapters on ao3, do you have any plans of updating it there? I just wanted to know since it's easier for me to read it there when I'm commuting, since tumblr closes stuff if it's idle for too long

Hi babes, thanks for checking in about this! Your ask is not really about all of this but this has been weighing on my heart for a little while and I wanna just address it with everyone following me.

When I first joined Tumblr earlier this year, I was very much in the midst of my Eddie Munson fanfiction hyperfocus that had lasted since June of last year. I know the word hyperfocus gets thrown around loosely sometimes, but I really mean it. I was diagnosed with ADHD last year at 30. I don't wanna get into the specifics of all the challenges my disability brings me right now, but the relevant stuff is that the motivation and good feelings provided by hyperfocus make you feel basically superhuman, like you have a never-ending font of energy to pull from when it comes to your area of interest.

At the beginning, it was so, so easy for me to answer every DM, every ask, every comment and reblog on my own work, as well as read and reblog and write extensive commentary on others' work.

That hyperfocus has since waned. This is not within my control, and I often feel at the mercy of my own brain. I share this because, while I still love writing and interacting with you all, I've been feeling for awhile extremely guilty for not being as good as I was at the beginning with everything: answering your comments, reblogging your reblogs to answer you, updating AO3 and Tumblr simultaneously, answering DMS... even just writing about the guy we all love. I've just generally slowed down, and everything has gotten more difficult. And I've been worrying you might think I am not grateful for the interaction and the love you show my work.

The biggest challenges I face with ADHD in general, I think, are worry, guilt, and shame. I'm feeling all of those things in regard to how my interaction with you guys has slowed, and it's taking a real toll on my mental health and my ability to function.

So I wanted to let you know how just... really fucking grateful and appreciative I am for every single comment, reblog, like, ask, DM, idea, suggestion - everything you guys share with me. I hate to think that if I don't answer right away, or don't answer at all, you think it's because I'm getting an ego or something. It's really just because I get overwhelmed, then guilty, then avoidant, just like everything else that becomes hard for me in my life.

So, I just wanted to be transparent about it. I love you all, and I am so in awe of your support for me and my work, even if I am struggling to express it.

Please continue to comment, reblog, send asks, DMs to your hearts' content. Even if it takes me awhile, or I forget to reply, or I just get overwhelmed and have to cut myself some slack, I carry all your words in my heart always. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Love, your Bluey.

#blueynews

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genderqueerdykes · 1 year

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I feel kinda bad sending this ask in, so don't feel obligated to respond.

I am, as of rn, a cis woman. I've been growing into my femininity as of late, after years of struggling with mental illness making it hard for me to feel interested in anything related to gender presentation. Like, a few years back, I had a good chunk of my hair chopped off just because I couldn't stand taking care of it - but as of recent, I've been letting it grow out, and it's nearly to my shoulders and I'm happy.

But also...I've been questioning my gender. This is where the guilt comes in. I think I might wanna be trans? I don't really know what my deal is. Maybe I'm just a cis woman who likes the idea of occasionally indulging in gnc expression. Maybe I'm actually under the trans umbrella. Or maybe I just wanna commit some gender fuckery - go out and confuse people by dressing masc/drag.

Maybe it's all three!! I don't fucking know.

And I'd feel guilty if I did go through with stuff like that - like dressing masc and such - only to find out I don't like it. It would feel like wasted resources and time. Maybe that's just my OCD talking, haha...

Yeah the OCD doesn't help either. I've had SO-OCD as a theme for literal fucking years and only recently reached a tentative answer in bisexual. Just...nervous.

Don't wanna waste my time, others time...it's a pain. Plus it's not like I have any dysphoria - I feel perfectly content as a woman socially and physically. It's moreso just...curiosity, you know?

hey, i get what you're saying. it must be extremely hard dealing with OCD and questioning your gender in that situation, as you'd be having a lot of intrusive thoughts and it's only natural that they're going to get to you, and make you question. it's really easy to get caught in questioning spirals, too, so i feel you there, that must be a lot to deal with

i would say that no time is wasted when you're exploring your options. you do not have to commit to one identity or gender for life, it's okay to try something for a while and realize it wasn't for you. you learned something from that experience, and grew from it. maybe you're a demigirl, maybe you're nonbinary, genderqueer, or like you said, make you like to be gender non conforming or commit genderfuckery. i think the number of options can be intimidating at times, but it's also okay to give yourself lots of time to explore

also keep in mind you don't have to abandon your femininity in order to be trans or gnc as an afab person. i think you're on the right track, i hope you can figure things out soon, it's okay if you get confused at times or anxious due to your OCD. that's a lot to deal with and if you need extra time to sort things out, or if you need to try a few things, that's okay. i'm cheering for you. take care

#asks #answers #questioning

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jerzwriter · 6 months

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Can you answer for Trystan x Carolina?

what kinds of music do they like?

are they a frivolous spender or a miser?

Hey Nonny, thanks for the ask. From this list.

NGL, the first one was one of the tougher questions I've had, but I really appreciate the Trystan x Carolina questions. I need to flesh them out more! 💜

What kinds of music do they like?

Carolina: I swear, Spotify is as confused about her as they are about me because I imagine she has very eclectic and varied tastes in music.

Like most people, the music that was popular during her high school years always sticks with her. For that reason, The Black Eyed Peas, Lady Gaga, Eminem, Rihanna, Pitbull, and Owl City will always be on her playlists.

But she was also very influenced by her father's favorite music, which included two things: Latin music and classic rock. Some of his (and her) favorites from the former are Luis Miguel, Tito Puente, Marc Anthony, and Willie Colon from the latter: Pink Floyd, Queen, Rod Stewart, Van Halen, and one that combines the two, Santana.

With that said... I think she also likes electronic music, she is 100% a Hozier disciple, and, thanks to Uncle Tommy, she has a love for the standards, like Frank Sinatra and Louis Armstrong.

Trystan: This was a struggle for me... what would an exiled Eastern European Prince love? Carolina is my world. Trystan couldn't be more removed. lol

I'm sure he was raised on classical Drakovian and Drakovian folk music, and I'm sure he rebelled against it... but now that he's older and more at peace with himself, he finds himself listening to it again. (OFC, since there is no Drakovia, I have no real-life examples of this lol)

I don't have any idea why... but I see him as a Red Hot Chili Peppers fan. Like so much I think I need art of him wearing one of their shirts lol He probably dabbled in Foo Fighters and Pearl Jam, also.

I also see him as a club kid, so dance music (especially long ass remixes) would be something he likes as well. I'm thinking David Guetta and Calvin Harris-esque, but also some of the old disco classics (yeah, he's got Abba on the playlist; the man is THE Dancing Queen).

His guilty pleasure is the Backstreet Boys (and Luke tortures him when he finds out) and when he's sad, you will find him listening to very dramatic classical music, think Stravinsky and Mahler. And Carolina totally gets him into Hozier. lol

Are they a frivolous spender or a miser?

This one feels very straightforward... Carolina is very cautious with her money, and Trystan loves to spend his. I don't think we have to get into how this came to be. lol

One thing about Carolina that is a bit out of character for her is that she loves expensive purses. So even as a younger woman, she would splurge on them, but not frequently. She didn't have many, and they'd get a lot of use. But to her, splurging was Kate Spade, Michael Kohrs, and Coach. She never even entertained Dior, Louis Vuitton, or Prada... but once Trystan finds out - he starts buying her stuff. At first, she's giddy, but then she makes him cool it - she will never be comfortable with such extreme extravagance.

These were SO FREAKING MUCH FUN to answer. Thank you!

#carolina rose #trystan thorne #trystan x carolina asks #character asks

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