#Also I'm like 60% certain I'm going to do sort of a mix of snippets here leading up to like a three shot culmination posted on Ao3

[cthulhusstepmom]

Fae!Soap Superstitious Bastard! Ghost: Gifts

(Just a heads up this got way more intense than I meant it to but that’s kind of the Fae for you.)

TW: mentions of torture, human remains

Soap is a collector, though not of any one thing that Ghost can discern. He’s seen the man pick up anything from an abandoned rolex to a nondescript piece of broken glass. It doesn’t seem to be about size, it’s not shape and definitely not value; Ghost had thought he’d pinned it down as things that caught the light a certain way but was swiftly proven wrong when Soap went on a spree of collecting pebbles and sticks. He’d glared sullenly at the first jagged gray rock when Soap had picked it up before swiftly changing the subject when he was noticed. There was no apparent rhyme or reason to any of it… well not quite. There was one singular pattern that stood out in his mind, a single thread that held firm no matter how much he rearranged or plucked at it.

 Anything that Ghost gave him, Johnny kept. 

The first had been a bit of pretty blue ribbon that was a close enough approximation to Soap’s eyes. It’d snagged on a bramble bordering the clearing where Ghost had set up for overwatch. Without even thinking he’d snagged it on his way to RV down the hill, offering it to Johnny in the armored car taking them back to base. Soap hadn’t said a thing. It was then that Ghost realized maybe giving your subordinate a piece of trash you’d found in a bush perhaps wasn’t the most well adjusted way to express affection. He’d been about to play it off with a quip, beginning to retract his fingers ever so slightly, when Johnny snatched it lightning quick from the palm of his hand, holding it close to his chest for a moment before stuffing it into his chest pocket next to his journal. Soap had given him a small strangled “Thank you” as they sat the rest of the ride in an awkward but warm silence. Johnny disappeared almost immediately after they got back to base but Ghost could see light in the space under his door so he wasn’t too worried that he’d done permanent damage to their relationship.

After that his eyes just seemed to catch on things that he assumed Johnny would like. He couldn’t help it. Little glass marbles, a river stone with an interesting marking, a large brown feather; Somehow it all made its way into the hands of his Sergeant. Usually with a gruff “Here”, barely waiting for Johnny to hold out his hands before he dropped his small offering into his gloved palms. Soap has also gotten over whatever his episode of silence had been, responding with a blinding smile and enthusiastic gratitude and a happy quip. (“Thanks Lt!” a piece of antler, Montana “Y’ shouldn’t have!” an old toy car, Finland “Find this on sale?” a scrap of pink fabric, Brazil “Ghost you’re spoiling me.” green river stone, India etc.(no he didn’t catalog all of them that would be creepy. He only wrote down his favorites.))

The next time Ghost thinks he’s permanently damaged their relationship and scared Soap off for good comes after an operation sweeping out an AQ base in Afghanistan. 

It’s stuffy and dark, the blistering heat of the day beginning to fade into the bitter chill of the night. The compound has long since been abandoned by all but the stubbornest of rats, slowly being reclaimed by the wild desert it carved its blackness into. They roll into the courtyard through the open front gate, the outer walls have seen multiple breacher charges and calling them walls at this point is more out of respect than any dedication to accuracy. The whole place has already been swept by drone and Laswell has had satellite eyes on it for months confirming just how fucking dead it is. They’re here for information, the drone identified documents left behind as well as at least two hard drives. 

The 141 has split off, each clearing their own section and radioing in at even intervals, they’ve learned the hard way that it’s better to be safe than sorry. Beyond extra caution, the whole place has an eerie, black aura that drags forth memories of scorpion stings and dull knives biting at his flesh. Assisting in his nightmarish stroll down memory lane, Ghost is assigned the lower levels of the compound. Each room is another scene from a past he tries to forget, filled with rusted over implements of pain and brown stains no one cared to clean. 

Something in the last room makes him pause. 

A small barred window allows light from a waning moon to pool into the room, catching on something on the table. Small, most no bigger than his fingernail, a collection of about five objects sits in a tray on the corner of the table. Brilliant white patches shine in stark opposition to the bed of rust brown they lay on. 

Teeth. Human teeth.

His mind is acting on autopilot when grabs them and stuffs them in a pocket, so similar but so different to his first experience with the ribbon months ago. He finishes his sweep of the room, conveying his findings back on comms (“Seems like we’re late for the party.” “If only you didn’t take so long to get ready.”-Soap “Shut the fuck up the both of you I just saw a rat the size of a terrier.”-Gaz “I’ve got the hard drives if any of you fuckers remember why we’re here.”-Price), and turns back to rendezvous, his mind now firmly on finding his comrades and getting the hell out.

As they start readying themselves to duck into the humvees they arrived in, Ghost’s muscle memory kicks in to complete his self assigned mission objective. He turns to where Soap stands almost expectantly at his side. It’s not every mission that he has something he’s decided is a worthy offering but it has become more often than not. Mind already halfway back to base, a gloved hand chases down each tooth where they’ve burrowed themselves in the pocket of his tac vest, collecting them and dropping them in Soap’s proffered hand with a grunt. His brain turns back on when the bloody bones hit his Sergeant’s glove, panicking because what the fuck did he just do? What kind of fucking sociopath gives his friend(more?) human fucking teeth as a souvenir. Much less human fucking teeth that were pulled forcibly out of some poor bastard’s skull during a bygone torture session. 

His hand is trembling. 

Ghost forces himself to look down and meet Soap’s assuredly outraged and disgusted gaze. 

Only he doesn’t.

Johnny is staring down at the teeth in his palm with a look of fucking reverence. His pupils are dilated beyond just the darkness surrounding them and Ghost’s detail oriented eyes catch the slight flare of his nostrils on every inhale. Soap slowly tilts his head up to meet Ghost’s eyes and a gasp lives and dies in his throat.

“Oh Simon, you treat me so well.” His voice is gravelly and thrumming with an emotion that Ghost doesn’t know the name of. But, god if this is the look he gets after bringing Johnny desiccated human remains?

He’ll rip the teeth out of some unworthy son of a bitch himself.

[literallybyronic]

hi! your post abt polari in the sandman popped up on my dash, and while i haven't watched the sandman at all, i do have an interest in polari. do you have any resources you'd recommend for someone wanting to learn about the history? books, documentaries, whatever. a lot of the stuff i've found is the same surface-level information, but i'd love to dive a bit deeper, especially its usage diachronically. thought i'd ask since u seem knowledgeable. thanks!

Hope you don't mind, but I've put some Sandman-specific commentary at the bottom as I've had several people in the tags of that post asking stuff as well so it's easier to just make one response to the whole thing and link to it. I'm also not by any means an expert, I learned of Polari initially from 70s-80s UK tv comedies and then learned a bit about it studying linguistics in general. Unfortunately there's not as much material out there as one would hope, being that while in use it was mainly a sort of under-the-table thing used so someone who heard a snippet of your conversation couldn't immediately clock you or what you were saying, and when being gay became legal/less stigmatized it fell out of fashion because it wasn't necessary. But if you want truly thorough academic sources, particularly that analyze its roots, Paul Baker is the man you want. Polari: The Lost Language of Gay Men and Fabulosa! The Story of Polari, Britain's Secret Gay Language are about the history of it, and Fantabulosa: A Dictionary of Polari and Gay Slang has a lexicon of Polari and other LGBT-specific terminology (mostly 20th cent. IIRC) Now, if you want to get hold of these works you'd likely have to find them in a library or purchase them. If you know of a site that offers discount or free uni textbooks, you may find it there as well- I know I have seen these sorts of sites floating around tumblr but I don't remember them off the top of my head. If you want something completely free and easy to grab, I found this paper (UofM dissertation) which seems like it has a decent, fairly detailed overview of the language as well as details of some of the initial linguistic sources of various bits & pieces of it- it has many different bits from different sources like thieves' cant, carnivallers' cant, yiddish, romani, italian, latin, sailing slang, cockney rhyming slang, it's a bit of a mixed bag. If you want to hear full Polari in conversation, Putting On The Dish is a short film almost entirely in Polari. Note that full Polari is near-unintelligible unless you know it- this video is a presentation on Polari that breaks down Putting On The Dish line by line into modern layspeak so you can get an idea of what's actually being said in the film.

Now, while full Polari went very quickly out of fashion after the decriminalization of male homosexuality in England in the 60s because it was no longer necessary to avoid arrest, certain specific terms and bits of slang were carried through into mainstream gay and drag culture in the latter half of the 20th century and the populace at large were made aware of them via pop culture- duck/ducky among them. Which is why throwing it haphazardly into Hob's speech is an issue if you don't know the etymology- if you're not a granny talking about her grandchildren in an old fashioned way, but a young (appearing) man talking to another man in casual conversation, it's extremely camp. It would be something like having him go around calling people "hunty" today, minus the AAVE connotations. Could he get away with it today, in the 2020s? Sure, although it might come off a bit strange for a younger guy to be throwing out nigh Dame Edna levels of old-fashioned queenieness. But during the 80s, during the renewed backlash against homosexuality that occurred during Margaret Thatcher's term and the passing of Section 28 and the AIDS crisis? Not so long after decriminalization, but long enough that the entirety of Polari slang wasn't a secret anymore, long enough that everyone knew what it meant when you used that sort of language, even if they couldn't parse just what you were saying? The decade in which you can find "ducky" used as a homophobic slur on BBC One in one of the most popular britcoms ever made? Not so much. Sure, it wasn't arrest worthy anymore. If you were out in pop culture/performing arts circles, or even among college students, likely no one would bat an eye. But if you wanted to keep your respectable establishment job teaching children of conservative parents and not have whatever the 80s UK equivalent of One Million Moms was breathing down your neck trying to get you fired "for the children", it wasn't something you would do unless you were very sure you were safe being out in that particular company and that it wasn't going to get back to your employers. So, while I'm not saying DON'T use it, I'm saying, be aware of its context in the 20th century in general, and in that time period (1970s-1990s) specifically, its potential to be used as a stereotype and/or slur, and when and how it would be no big deal to use it and when it would be potentially dangerous.