#never felt that it was one that i identified with

[under-write-reblogs]

Soooooo...... I actually DID end up writing a fic using this BEAUTIFUL piece as inspiration.

(Fic below cut if you prefer to read on Tumblr)

It was a perfect night.

The air is cool and crisp, with soft, rhythmic waves splashing against the shore, creating a soothing symphony. A gentle breeze carried the smell of salt and sand. The stars overhead twinkle like distant diamonds, and the moon adorns the center of the sky like a crown jewel, casting its glow over a sleeping world.

It felt as if the world had paused, wrapped in a blanket of tranquility.

Mist curls around your feet, diffusing the moonlight and giving everything a sliver halo. The calm breeze and quiet echo of waves splashing against the shore give the night an almost ethereal feel.

The ambiance allowed your thoughts to flow freely. Drifting. Loose and pliant… allowing you to absorb the tranquil stillness of the night and all the comforts it had to offer.

It was different here. So different.

The vast stretch of a nearly endless sea with monsters living below the water instead of above. A place composed of an element so opposite of the open expanse of air to which you belonged.

You had grown up on a highland of cliff faces surrounded by a span of dense forests and small lakes.

But here, there were just waves.

And yet… despite the polar opposite elements, there was a similarity. A kinship exposing the openness and freedom unknown by so many others. Neither you above nor the monsters below were impeded by the same rules earthbound creatures were.

You could make fulluse of all three-dimensional spaces. Freely moving side-to-side, forwards-and-backwards, and up-and-down with little effort.

You could never get enough of that freedom.

You took a slow, deliberate breath. Expanding your ribs to full capacity, you took in as much air as you could hold before slowly exhaling. You checked one last time that your jewelry was properly secured and snapped open your wings. They shimmered with iridescent hues of emerald, catching the moonlight and reflecting like precious jewels.

Such a perfect night couldn't be wasted.

With a great whoosh of air, you thrust your wings downward, launching yourself into the sky.

Wind rushed over you, attempting to force you down, but you only felt your SOUL pulse harder with a thrill. The strain was welcomed as you pushed against the air’s currents. Entry to the sky required strength, and you refused to be denied.

This was where you belonged.

The currents of air were yours to command.

Making an adjustment, you shifted to allow your wings to catch the wind and soar, driving you effortlessly up into the sky, propelling you amongst the stars.

Up, up, up you went. Defying gravity with powerful wing strokes, you advanced further. The gentle splash of waves below faded away, replaced by the rhythmic beat of your wings and the rush of wind.

The higher you climbed, the more breathtaking it became. Not because of the effort exerted in making the climb, but because of the absolute beauty that surrounded you.

You couldn't even begin to pick out the constellations. …Not because you didn't recognize them, but because there were so many stars, you couldn't identify the familiar outlines. The North Star had gone from being a prominent feature in the sky to being lost in a crowd, vanishing amongst its thousands of twinkling counterparts.

It was an inky canopy strewn with an uncountable number of majestic, wondrous stars. ...No wonder the sky was referred to as the heavens. You could almost believe you were close enough to reach out and pluck one from the sky to keep as your own.

Finding a strong air current, you leveled out. Began to swirl and glide and play. Soaring in an intricate, uncharted dance born of utter delight and freedom.

The world spread out before you. An infinite expanse, all open and waiting to be explored… with one exception.

Glancing down, you saw the ocean.

Waves danced far below you, displaying an inky void, an infinitely black ether, with the dark skies above only making the abyss look deeper. The only light shining back was the path provided by the moon's gaze. The deepness of the water combined with the reflection of moonlight created an untouchable moving canvas. An infinite void of secrets you would never know.

…But you could come close.

Taking a breath, you arched into a backbend, curling your wings close, and allowed gravity to regain its hold on you. The rapid descent caused the world above to begin blurring into a kaleidoscope of silver streaks, almost as if falling comets surrounded you.

You watched as the waves came closer, and closer. Began counting down the seconds.

Waiting. Waiting. Now!

You snapped open your wings and twisted, slowing your descent just enough to allow you to glide inches above the water. The splash of a nearby wave sent the taste of salt into your mouth. Stretching, you let your toes skim the surface.

The aerodynamic taper of your wings allowed for agile and cutting maneuvers such as swooping out of free-falling dives and you had always taken advantage of it.

A powerful flap allowed you to begin climbing back up into the atmosphere. Reaching a more reasonable height, you corkscrewed, rolled, dove, and flipped through the air.

If anyone had been around to see you, one might think you were putting on an acrobatics show.

On and on you continued, reveling in the rush of the wind and the freedom your flight allowed you — only pausing once you noticed the moon had begun receding. The deep stillness of the night beginning to decay with the appearance of a soft glow indicating the rise of dawn. The sky had gone from a portrait of inky black to a spectrum of deep blues and soft purples.

Time to head back.

You had a feeling that even the sunrise would be different here.

Orienting yourself, you began the journey back at a much calmer pace than before, similar to a runner's cooldown. After all, as invigorating and euphoric flight was, to deny it being a workout would be ridiculous. So if you wanted to avoid feeling sore later, you needed to take a moment to recover and redistribute your energy.

By the time home was in sight, you had calmed the frantic thundering in your chest and caught your breath. Easily gliding down towards the dock, you make a smooth landing. The wood beneath your feet glossy and worn thanks to its frequent use and the occasional wave.

Despite not having been here long, this was already your favorite spot.

Taking a seat at the edge, you dangle your legs just above the water line… allowing a small wave to wash over your feet before watching the horizon.

The sound of the waves. The open expanse of water and air merging at the horizon's edge, where color slowly began filling the sky. The smell of the dock, the salty sea, and beach sand meld into a perfect blend. …All these sensations blend and blur together, mixing into a blissful background hum carrying a note of peace and contentment. You allow your eyes to close for a second to appreciate the feeling.

You're warm.

Not because of the rigorous flight — it's a warmth that comes from the inside, from your SOUL. You feel such a deep sense of satisfaction, of freedom, of… belonging. You adore being here, in this moment, and this place in general. 

…There was something special about this place.

Opening your eyes again, the glow had gotten stronger. Warm arcs of light had spread across the sky. Instead of a deep navy blue sky, it was now a soft pastel pink, indicating the rise of dawn, even if the sun had not quite peeked over the horizon yet. The light grew, tentatively eating away at the dark, becoming more and more confident as the traces of stars disappeared and the moon slipped away.

Soft yellows, oranges, and reds joined in to paint the sky and sea as a sliver of golden white emerged from beneath the distant waves. As the sun began to ascend further and further, its radiant glow further pushed back the darkness, awakening the world with its warm hues. The waves glowed, reflecting back the beautiful skies and making the colors even richer.

A new day. A new start. A new place to call home. …You couldn't wait to see what the world had to offer you here.

Commission for @under-art-reblogs

Thank you for the support, this was so fun to work on. ✨

[reclaiming-antiradinclus-memes]

Found this meme that I thought would be worth doing because of how hilariously inaccurate it is.

This is Alyssa, and her pronouns are she/her. She is a transgender woman. She grew up in a conservative household and spent most of her life thinking transgender people were just “crazy”. It was later in life when she learned more about them that she realized she could actually be one, and she started referring to herself as a woman in safe environments. She still prefers masc clothing, and her issues with hand-eye coordination mean that she doesn’t shave. She doesn’t understand why she has to shave to be respected as a woman. She met Beth and Kennedy through her work mentoring the younger generation of trans people, and became informed about transids other than transgender. She enjoys getting coffee with them (and Samuel too) to expand her horizons.

This is Beth, and she uses she/her pronouns. She always felt like something was “wrong” about her, but was never able to put a finger on exactly what. She went through a short period of identifying as transgender, but decided she was happy as a woman and that that wasn’t the cause of her dysphoria. It was through conservative news websites mocking the concept (and self-identity in general), that she first learned that being “transracial” was a thing that some people were. She joined trace/diaracial spaces on social media, and discovered she was transblack. She’s still afraid to transition due to fears of being mocked and accused of racism, but now she has words for her experience. She met Kennedy, another transid person, in her college classes, and they became roommates. Later, she met Samuel and Alyssa, and befriended them as well.

This is Kennedy, and her pronouns are she/her. She always struggled fitting into human society due to her neurodivergence (ADHD and mild autism), but it was in high school that she began considering it was something more than that. She discovered the nonhuman community and related a lot to them. The final puzzle piece was sneaking off to the park to do quadrobics (after double, triple, and quadruple checking that no one she knew could be spying on her) and realized just how “correct” this all felt. She initially identified as a cat therian, but got fed up with the community’s constant claims of “we don’t actually think we’re animals” and switched to transspecies cat. Part of her wants to transition via tattoos and surgery, but she wants to become a doctor someday and fears her patients won’t take her seriously. Meeting Beth at college meant she finally had someone to relate to.

This is Samuel, Kennedy’s older brother, and he uses he/him pronouns. He is a devout Christian who goes to worship regularly. He opposes those who use Christianity as a cudgel for hate, and instead believes in Jesus’s message of love for all. He was the first person Kennedy told about her transspecies identity. He didn’t really understand one bit, but he respected and loved his sister regardless.

This got really long, but I was sick and didn’t have anything better to do. Hope you enjoy!

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Hi, good [time of day]! I was hoping to get your thoughts on a sex question, but it could be considered close to one already in your FAQ, so I’ll in no way be offended if you ignore this ask. I’m curious if you know/have heard of the extent to which antidepressant medications affect interest in sex and ability to orgasm. Everything out there says they have an effect, of course, but I’ve been on them since I was 12 and am now in my mid-20s, so I haven’t ever had sex without being on meds. There was a period of a few months in there where I was off them, and I felt notably more romantic and sexual interest, but I was not in an excellent place emotionally and didn’t have time to worry about having sex. Essentially, I’ve never had an orgasm, or even any sort of pleasurable sexual experience, and I’d be interested to know whether sexual pleasure tends to increase when a person discontinues SSRIs. Thank you for your time and consideration!

hi anon,

I appreciate your consideration of the FAQ! and I'm sorry to say that there's not exactly a straightforward or simple answer to this.

SSRIs have different effects on everyone, because we all have a unique combination of shit happening inside of our brains and bodies and exactly how we'll react to any particular medication is an educated crapshoot at best. to offer a contrasting perspective on your experience as an example, I didn't start on SSRIs until I was in my early twenties, and now having been on them for something like five and a half years I can say with absolute certainty that the orgasms I have now are WILDLY better than the ones I was having in my teens and early twenties. so SSRIs are by no means a definitive boner killer; there are too many factors at play for it to be a simple on/off.

the same is true of going off your meds. some people see an immediate shift to a higher sex drive; I've known more than one student who stopped identifying as asexual after switching up their prescriptions and experiencing a rush of new hormones. for others, I'm sure, the drastic change in brain chemistry could tank their libido even further, and it could well be on a long-term basis.

ultimately, there's no reliable way to know exactly how a change in your med routine will impact you.

[myersesque]

ok. so. viktor is my favourite character in arcane. i am also physically disabled and hate the Magical Miracle Eugenics Disability Cure trope with a fiery passion. naturally i have a lot of opinions about where his character is going, but for now, here's a relatively simple one:

internalised ableism has always been part of viktor's character. he describes himself as "a poor cripple from the undercity" (yes, quoting how other people speak about him, but still); he shies away from the spotlight even when jayce encourages him; as a child, he directly acknowledges his disability as the reason other children don't associate with him.

i watched a video essay recently ("how arcane writes men" by schnee) that identified viktor's tendency to just suck it up and push through his problems rather than dwelling on them as a stereotypically masculine trait, which he is written to both subvert and lean into. whilst i agree with that to some extent, i think for viktor specifically it's more of an insight into a very common mindset for disabled people to have; a lot of us do not want to be pitied, and understand that acknowledging our hardships will often unfortunately lead to being treated as attention seeking. he doesn't dwell on things because he can't, unless he wants to be looked down on more than he already is; he's already had to fight to even be acknowledged as more than somebody's assistant, or respected as a zaunite living and working in piltover. i can't imagine he's keen to show any further "weakness"; he only ever cries when he's alone. it makes sense that he'd want to save himself rather than relying on anybody else.

the dangerous thought process of "fixing" people with the hexcore begins with that desire to save himself. at first he's just trying to stop his illness from killing him, but then he progresses to carving runes into his leg, seemingly in the interest of fixing his limp - which works, albeit temporarily. he seems aware enough of the implications of what he's doing to be somewhat ashamed of it (or, at the very least, enough to hide it from jayce). i've seen a lot of (mostly able bodied) people interpret the scene of him running down the pier as victorious, but it always felt bittersweet and scary to me; the dark, painful fantasy of "fixing" the thing the world has always looked down on you for, and the unsettling knowledge that you were never supposed to exist that way. a man experiencing a moment of joy only when he has detached himself from a core aspect of his being; self hatred disguised as progress. he only seems to register the horror of what he's doing when it kills sky.

it's not a leap to say that, with the hexcore dulling his emotions and blurring the lines of his ethical code, he would turn this externally. self loathing so insidious that he mistakes it for kindness and mercy and points the blade of it at the people he swore he'd help. before merging with the hexcore, he was desperate to destroy it and rid himself of its influence, hindered only by his physical inability to do so; under its control, he's seemingly lost all those inhibitions, wiped clean of his understanding of its danger. no longer "clouded by emotion", no longer human enough to know better, no longer suspicious of the arcane.

what viktor becomes in season 2 is, i believe, a hellish mix of his own internalised ableism and the hexcore's desperation to spread and survive. his genuine desire to help people has been warped into stripping people of their individualism, forcing them into some predetermined ideal in the name of healing (very "the empty child" from doctor who). it's his own character flaws mixed with the inhuman apathy of the hexcore. the road to hell is paved with good intentions, and also dressed up so nicely that you don't even realise you're headed downwards.

this is not what viktor stood for, but rather a perversion of his own insecurities, with a fresh coat of hexcore paint to stop him (or his followers) from scrutinising it too closely. they took the guy who dedicated his life to bettering humanity, and warped him into something doomed to destroy it.

(or something like that. idk. i haven't slept.)

[goodqueenaly]

What do you think of Corlys Velaryon and Rhaenys Targaryen? I specifically ask about their political attitudes toward Daemon, Rhaenyra, Rhaenyra's children, their own children (Laenor and Laena), etc.

Corlys is a character I like; but I see him acting out of ambition rather than love. But I wonder how far his ambition has gone: did he suspect that Daemon killed Laenor? Did he really like Rhaenyra's children? Did he just support Rhaenyra in power or was he also afraid of her and what she could do to him?

These questions I also extend to Rhaenys. I feel like we got little from her (And she wasn't the only one, as F&B has a lot of issues), so it's hard to say to what extent she supported Rhaenyra because she was also a woman who had her rights taken away, or if it was just out of ambition (or both).

As I know that Fire and Blood has a lot of problems (even more in the Dance), I understand if I can't do a great analysis on these two. But I would love to know what do you think about them and their attitudes!

Sorry for any grammatical errors and thanks in advance for your response!

First off, and the ask somewhat identifies this issue, one of the major problems in relying on Fire and Blood to understand the personal feelings of any of the characters within that book is that the very nature of Fire and Blood severely limits such analysis. Because we are reading about Corlys and Rhaenys (and everyone else in the roughly century and a half of history the book covers) from the ostensibly objective historian perspective of Gyldayn, a figure who lived and wrote more than a century after Corlys and Rhaenys died, we can only experience these characters at arm’s length. We are not in their heads, nor are we in the heads of any individuals directly interacting with these figures; we can only glean elements of their personality via those historical anecdotes Gyldayn chooses to share, quite the difficult prospect. Although GRRM, via Gyldayn, does sometimes invent more personal moments for his characters despite the absence of in-universe sources for such moments or the practical implausibility of Gyldayn knowing about them - think of, for example, Cregan Stark’s conversation with Alysanne Blackwood - many figures are left frustratingly vague in terms of their internal characterization. 

Consequently, Corlys and Rhaenys are, along with (albeit to varying extents) every other character in F&B, something of an enigma, at least in terms of personal thoughts and feelings. Just as I once discussed with Daemon Targaryen (in the question of his love for Rhaenyra as well as his feelings toward her “Velaryon” sons), there is very little to extrapolate from the (themselves limited) actions we have taken by Corlys and Rhaenys to determine how they personally felt about many of the people and events around them. Corlys, so far as we know, never reacted to the rumor (I think true rumor) that Daemon had his son Laenor murdered (and indeed, given his open bounty on Qarl Correy, I don’t know that Corlys ever knew or suspected as much); moreover, even if Corlys and/or Rhaenys were part of the “court and commons” outraged by the news of Daemon and Rhaenyra’s hasty marriage, this anger could well have been simply the expression of grieving parents shocked at the indecently quick remarriages (to one another) of their sometime children-in-law, and not necessarily also a reflection of any particular suspicion of Daemon. Likewise, both Corlys and Rhaenys obviously acknowledged Rhaenyra as queen following the death of Viserys I - but whether they did so solely because either or both wanted to see their “Velaryon” grandchildren on the Iron Throne, or also (and not mutually exclusively) because either or both wanted to support the claims of a female ruler in lieu of Rhaenys not becoming queen in her own right, is unanswerable. 

On top of this, I think it’s important to note that for Westerosi aristocratic society, love and political ambition aren’t necessarily mutually exclusive. This is a point I made when talking about whether Ned and Catelyn would have allowed their children to marry for love alone, and it bears repeating here; even the parents (like Ned and Catelyn) who most clearly care for and love their children are operating in a socio-political system that mandates marriages be made for the advantage of their dynasties, not simply the dictates of their hearts. Rhaenys and/or Corlys can well have loved their children while also using their marriage arrangements for political advantage - and indeed, may well have seen the latter as an expression of the former, with either or both parents working for the advancement of their children as a way of showing their care for their children. To be clear, I don’t want to say every politically ambitious parent in Westeros is necessarily a loving one - Randyll Tarly had clear ambitions with both of his sons’ would-be or actualized marriage arrangements and is simultaneously a horrible human being, and that goes even more so for Tywin Lannister - only that I don’t think we as readers should automatically equate “ambitious” with “unloving”.  

In that context, I think Corlys and Rhaenys are a bit of a mixed bag. The Velaryons certainly seem to have been willing to betroth Laena at a very young age, first to King Viserys and then to the son of the Sealord of Braavos - and in at least the former case, the apparent expectation that Laena would give birth to children sooner rather than later. I’m not saying that I consider Corlys or Rhaenys equivalent to, say, Unwin Peake (and his (unnamed!) daughter) - but just as I criticized that mega-creep Rodrik Arryn for not looking after his own daughter Aemma’s welfare in marrying her off at eleven to Prince Viserys himself, I think there is room for criticism of any Westerosi parent, Corlys and Rhaenys included, who participates in the disturbing pattern of shoving their daughter into marriage and childbirth at an extremely young age. Likewise, that Corlys and Rhaenys wished to have Laenor marry Rhaenyra despite Laenor’s own, almost certainly apparent unwillingness to do so is a reflection of their participation in that same socio-political system of dynastic continuity, and the unfairness inherent to that system; Laenor was no Loras Tyrell-esque third son whose elder brothers could wed and breed (or, indeed, a Daeron I-esque eldest son who could outsource the production of an heir to a younger brother), but the only male heir of a couple whose royal ambitions predated Laenor’s own birth. Still, while I hesitate to give Corlys and Rhaenys real praise for not marrying Laena to the Sealord’s son, given that the match seemed to be as politically hollow as it was personally disastrous, but I would like to imagine that Laena was more pleased to marry Daemon than she would have been that wastrel Sealord’s son (as indeed, her marriage to Daemon does not seem to have been facially unhappy); in that light, perhaps we can give a crumb of credit to the Velaryons for matching Laena with a more personally suitable husband. Too, I do think it’s worth noting a certain sense of fondness Corlys seems to have had, perhaps less to Rhaenyra’s elder sons as individuals as much as toward their identities as specifically Velaryons: when Jacaerys loftily declared that “[o]nly Targaryens ride dragons" (emphasis in original), Corlys supposedly  “grumbled at this, insisting that the three boys were Velaryons, yet he smiled as he said it, with pride in his voice”. 

Ultimately, and frustratingly, so much of Corlys and Rhaenys as characters is left to the imaginations of readers. Unless (and probably not until) GRRM writes a novella in their POV or interacting directly with them, they remain at arm’s length, sketched rather than fleshed out as personalities.

(Once again, this is not about That Other Show and please do not use this post to talk about That Other Show.)

[your-highnessmarvel]

cotton candy | s.riley

CHAPTER TWELVE

Pairing: Simon Riley aka Ghost x Original female character

Warnings: language

Chapter Summary: Ghost has never felt the need to protect her as much as he does now.

A/N: There's no much here but the continuation and sort of closure from last chapter. This was more of a transition from where we left off last time (LMAO) to what's next.

Masterlist

Find it on AO3 HERE.

MINORS DNI BELOW THE CUT

When she awoke, Laura wasn't blinded anymore. In fact, she wasn't sleeping against Ghost's form anymore. It was Soap whom she leaned against, Soap that she was curled up on, his hands in her hair, his fingers caressing her jaw.

He was shaking her awake.

The room had darkened when she rose on her haunches, looking around with puffy eyes and brain fog.

"We're cleared to go out," Soap was saying, but Laura was looking for Ghost.

She groaned, reaching for her pants, and standing up to put them on.

Soap stood, watching her with a corner smirk. "You okay?" he asked when she lost her balance with only one foot in her pant leg.

She sighed, straightened, and slowly put her other foot through, pulling her pants back up. She hadn't noticed how sticky her panties were, and it made her so uncomfortable to put her pants over it.

"I'm okay, just tired, and I want to shower."

Soap grabbed her wrist gently, looking out towards the door as if someone would come bursting in.

"No I mean..." he trailed off, searching her eyes. She kept them averted, looking at his feet, the floor, the cot where everything had changed between the both of them. The three of them.

He gently brought her face to his with his thumb on her chin, dragging her eyes right back to his baby blues. "Are you okay?" he repeated, much slower, much more emphasized.

She swallowed hard, feeling her face flush with embarrassment. "I'm just... what do we do from here?"

He smirked, cockiness etched onto his features. "That's all up to you, lass," he answered, gruff. "But right now, let's get you back to the RV, back to Laswell, and then a shower!"

---

Alejandro and Price were both pacing in opposite directions of Laswell's small office. The lights had been dimmed, the screen of her computer turned off. Laswell kept appearing in glimpses, between the interlacing bodies of Alejandro and Price, as they paced back and forth, meeting in the middle.

She was sitting at her desk, hands clasped together, her chin rested on top of the net her fingers made. Her eyes were huge, glassy, dissociated.

"How many?" she asked--again.

"Eight," Price confirmed.

Eight members of staff dead. Nineteen injured. Twenty six shadows identified--Twenty dead, six missing.

All for Laura.

Ghost's insides felt like hot spaghetti, twisting and slipping around under the skin of his belly. Churning. He could picture it, piss yellow noodles in a pool of his blood, angrily coiling into each other, stretching and pulling at his sides.

It was hot, burning, scalding--his anxiety. It was so unbearable that he had to bend over in his chair, elbows on his knees. It made him tense, like his stomach was made of lead, like he was physically sick.

It made him hypersensitive to all the sensations in his body--this anxiety. The way his t-shirt was scratching at his chest. The way it was too tight on his shoulders. His neck seemed to itch, but it wasn't an itch, more of an oversensitivity.

He suddenly got up, the chair scraping against the linoleum.

Laswell looked up suddenly.

With two feet planted on the ground, Ghost faced his team. Price stopped pacing near the wall. Alejandro right near Simon.

"We know exactly who did this," Ghost said. "We know exactly who ordered this hit on Laura, on us."

Everyone remained quiet. Ghost was stating the obvious.

"And we know where his safe houses are. We know where his businesses are. We can hit him where it hurts, draw him out like venom in a snake bite. We can track his convoys, his trade offs, and show him we're watching him."

Laswell breathed in through her nose, then sighed loudly, shaking her head. "I like the enthusiasm, Ghost, but Alvarez will just go underground. Right now, he thinks we don't know where he keeps his guns, his drugs, his women. He thinks we have no idea where his men lay their heads at night, where they shit, eat, shower." She got up, putting her palms down on her desk.

Ghost could see her visibly tense.

"That's how we can track him. Because if he knows we have the coordinates to eight of his safe houses, hell, if he knew we even had intel on his next run--he'd vanish right under our noses."

Ghost bit his tongue.

Price put up his hands like he was stopping two bulls from butting heads.

"I understand there's a...good reason why you want to jump right on the gun, Ghost." He could've just said her name. "But there's a reason why we do these operations covertly. Because it works. And guys like Alvarez are slimy. He's making good money here, and that's why he's still here. But if he gets a whiff of us anywhere near his shit, he'll pack up. He's the kinda guy who would rather risk losing some money and build a new operation elsewhere than get caught."

Ghost wanted to scream. None of this was helping him--or helping the angry soup spaghetti in his belly.

"So what's next?" he asked. His eyes met Laswell's. "What are our orders?"

She sighed, the tendons in her neck visible ridges under her pale skin.

She looked at Price with a cautionary glance.

"What?" Ghost asked, his voice tense, brimming on the edges of a scream.

"We have one of them in custody," Price answered, tucking his chin to his chest.

Ghost's eyebrows shot up under the mask.

"You have one of Alvarez's men in custody!?" His voice all but bounced off the walls of the room. "What are our orders, Laswell!?"

"Alejandro and Price will interrogate the prisoner," Laswell said, eyeing Ghost cautiously. "I have Gaz on the dead shadows, trying to piece together their identities. They had some electronics on them, so he'll go through each and every one of them to get any information."

"What about me?" Ghost asked. "Soap?"

Laswell nodded. "This position has been compromised." She looked at him dead on. "Laura's position has been compromised. Alvarez knows she's here, with us. And right now, he thinks he has the upper hand. He thinks we have no idea where he is, where his men are. And he thinks he knows where Laura is, and that he will just come and get her."

"He'll never be able to breach these walls again," Ghost answered.

"Maybe, but that doesn't mean he won't try again. And we can't have that."

Ghost shrugged. "So what are my orders, Laswell?"

She straightened, jutted her chin. "You and Sergeant MacTavish will be put on a special, undercover operation, starting in three days. You'll be tasked to transport Laura to Pattaya City, in the Gulf, where we'll have you evacuated to Singapore. You'll be assigned new identities under the guise of employees of the LHA Armada."

A helicarrier?

"I'll be on the boat, as will the boys." Price stepped into Ghost's vision. "We'll be the decoy. Once Alvarez and his men are on our tail, you'll leave with the kid."

Ghost swallowed his worry. "Three days?" he asked.

"You'll have to be prepped and ready to leave Friday, 0700 hours," Laswell confirmed.

Ghost nodded. "Yes ma'am."

"Get your team ready as well."

"My team?"

"Sergeant MacTavish and, well, Laura."

Ghost shook his head. "Laura is a civilian. She's not part of any team."

Alejandro snorted. "She's is now, Ghost," he said, crossing his arms. "It will do you and her some good to have her trained in combat, weapons, and tactical."

"She can't possibly be expected to learn and remember all the training we took years to learn in just three days." The spaghetti soup was swirling madly in his belly again.

"Three days is better than no days, hermano," Alejandro sighed.

"And she has some hand-to-hand training, as I've been told," Price added.

"And she's smart," Alejandro continued, his voice lower. "We're lucky we got a target whose got a head on her shoulders and knows how to use it."

Ghost felt the spaghetti in his insides melt. "I'll go warn my...team," he said, and headed for the door.

Everything on base was different now. There were security checkpoints everywhere, and Ghost had to give his DoD numbers eight times before he made it back to the RV.

When he saw the lights on, he could physically feel the angry, churning mess inside him seep out of his intestines, pool down his legs, and collect in a puddle beneath his feet.

He saw her shadow in the kitchen window. She was sitting at the table, directly in front of another shadow with a mohawk.

The hinges on the RV door squealed to life when Ghost entered.

Laura perked up, her cheeks reddening when she watched him come in, closing the door behind him. Ghost wanted to drink that in, the look on her face, that innocent, round, doe-eyed look.

Her dark ponytail, the sweet roundness of her cheeks, the way her t-shirt clung to her shoulders.

But he only had three days.

"We leave in three days," he said.

Soap's face hardened. "L.T?"

"We're evacuating Laura to Pattaya. And then we're waterbound to Singapore."

Laura frowned, looking between the two men. "Wait what?"

Soap sighed. "You heard him, lass," he muttered. "We have three days to get you ready. And then we're walking all the way to Pattaya."

Laura looked up at Ghost with those big brown eyes of hers. Ghost felt his insides harden, and suddenly, overwhelmingly, the need to protect her climbed up and took residence between his ribs.

[the-thieves-gambit]

Our usual. Those words bothered her in a way she couldn't identify, maybe because there was a usual. A routine of sorts that had developed between the two. She would have to correct that, as much as she was kidding about finding him a girlfriend while he was gone, she'd have to consider doing it to make sure that would break this up. He wouldn't be able to hang out around her office all the time if she set him up with someone else to occupy his time with. Though for some reason, it made her a bit sad that he wouldn't be around as much once she did.

Sipping from her coffee, she noticed the way he bit his lip and raised a questioning eyebrow. What was so funny? but she dared not ask glad that he had changed the topic to his case. "Hmm. I'm sure with you they'll have their shit solved in no time. Just need someone that knows what they're doing. Thanks," she made a sound between a clicking of her teeth and a sigh as she thought about it. "I don't do divorce things, never have but I don't know. I felt bad when she came to me, I was her last resort. He's a cop and making her life hell," shrugging she put her mug down" Time to make his one." Thinking it over for a moment, she put the cinnamon sugar back in the cupboard and finished off the coffee as it was. "Hmm," was the respond she gave as she listened to him tell her about his allergy. Genetic. Well that sucked.

"Please don't." She held her hand up. She loved Dolly, the thought of her barking until she ate made her anxious. "I do eat," she began to say a bit faster than usual as she came up with a lie. Words spilling faster than they ever had before out of her. "I just haven't gone grocery shopping. I usually have a lot of food around, fruit too, this case just has taken a lot of my attention right now. Please, don't have her do that. I'll be eating a lot when she's here after this disposition I'm going out for groceries." Hoping that it would be enough to have him drop the matter.

"Oh, thanks." The words were said with surprise. Someone had to find comfort in it. There were times when it couldn't lull her to sleep. When it would bring the nightmares on instead of help. "You didn't have to do that but thanks. I'm glad you were able to get comfortable."

There he went again, we. That is where we're gonna go. He was so sure in including her,like it was a guarantee that it was happening and she would be a part of it. "It sounds lovely." She didn't want to add that it would be a shame that she wouldn't see it, seeing as when he got back, she'd have him occupied with a shiny new person when he returned. That was neither here nor there, no one would miss her once she got her replacement hired and the office fully up and running. She would once again be that person someone vaguely remembered once. "Wildfire," she repeated with a smile. "Now that sounds like a horse that would definitely kick me."

As much as she thought about getting rid of him from her life, when it was time for them to part now she felt the odd sensation of missing him already. Shaking it off, she nodded. "Great, I'll be waiting. And you have my word," she held up three fingers on one hand, despite never having been a scout. "I'll walk you out, gotta unlock the door for the Holden's anyway." Though he had tucked one side in, she couldn't help it, just like last night, and reached over and tucked the other side in too. "There, even. Better." Holding the door open for him, she gave him a small smile. "Have a safe trip and again thanks for letting me borrow Dolly for the week. I'll watch over her well. Promise. "

As if to give her confirmation he merely nodded his head and chuckled. "Gotta choose your words wisely around me. I find loopholes." Wally kid just enjoying his time with her in her kitchen. "Gotta admit this is quite a change from our usual. I actually like it." Shaking his head he didn't want to inconvenience her. "No, it's okay. Poptart is fine. Though the fact you know I like toast and jelly is freaking me out a bit. Not in a bad way." he added not wanting to make her feel like he was mad or anything. "It's usually me who notices things. I'm glad you didn't say peanut butter and jelly." His hand did the kaput gesture and laughed to himself.

He nodded as he kept chewing and smiled biting down on his lip to keep from laughing. She had the cutest pair of bunny teeth and that made him want to scream. But didn't he kept his composure. "Right? I can only imagine what type of chaos I'll be walking into. Though maybe it won't be that bad. Case hasn't officially closed so maybe I can offer up help after all." Cheating cases made him feel queasy. Never were truly easy so he hoped for her sake that this one would be a breeze. "I hope that it won't get dragged out into court. I know sometimes it's not so black and white but they wouldn't have come to you if they didn't have confidence you could get this case done and over with without the dragged on notions."

There she went again taking him by surprise knowing something so deeply personal that he hadn't noticed she even knew it. "Mhmm. That would be deathly allergic. But I do carry my epipen so if I happened to ingest some I'd be okay. If I didn't have it then we'd be screwed. Don't worry you can put it in your coffee." Just for good measure he scooted over a bit to be a safe distance from it and smiled going back to his poptart. "Unfortunately I got my grandfather's allergy. Skipped my mom but trickled down to us. Mine is the most severe though. My sisters just get itchy."

"You don't eat?" His shock was audible the more he thought about it and shook his head. "I'll have to tell Dolly to come bark at you at breakfast and lunch and dinner so you can have your meals." He'd do that too no lie. Dolly was easily trainable since she was a former K9 in training.

He smiled that smile that told her he was happy she slept well. "I'm glad. Weird thing. I never can sleep in a new place. Can never get comfortable but last night was different. Your bed is heaven though just saying that." Then remember he had made the bed. "Oh that reminds me I made your bed. I didn't want to leave like that and I tucked the ends underneath the mattress." Wally was neat and organized most times and that did go down to the way he made his own bed.

"They do," he laughed thinking the change in topic was peculiar. "They can never sit still. It was a passion project when we all moved to the islands. My sisters loved horses and Di also grew up riding them so Andy went and bought the land and built the ranch ground up." Normally he was the one asking the left field questions. "They have a ranch actually. That is where we're gonna go. It's in Kaneohe. Which is about 2 hours and change from Lahaina to Kaneohe. So, we don't go often only if it's one of the kids birthdays or when we want to make it a weekend thing. Sometimes I go to keep an eye on things. Their ranch hands keep it running. They stay on property. Andy built them a giant house so they didn't need to go back and forth." One thing was certain, they were paid fairly and treated like family. "You'll get to meet them when we go after I come back from LA. Finally will get to meet Wildfire's filly. She's one."

He pulled his hair behind his ear and shot her a grin. "Good luck." As she said that his phone dinged telling him he was to be headed to the air field. "Actually, perfect timing. I'm gonna head off. I got Jamie to agree to bring Dolly to you before dinner and bedtime so take care of my furry best friend. Enjoy your week and I'll see you for adventure week." His grin was bright as he hopped off the counter and landed on his feet.

[gotta-bail-my-quails]

the k in my name stands for king

[kacievvbbbb]

I know this isn’t a particularly common characterization of them (at least not what I’ve seen) but I personally think of the two;

Shanks rarely gets restless, he’s the one more content to just bask in a moment, it may not be in silence but he’s comfortable just doing nothing with his crew. As long as there’s alcohol, a hammock and the people he loves, Shanks is straight.

Contrary to that Mihawk is always itching to do something, entertain himself in some way. If he’s not dueling/training, he’s gardening if it’s not that then he’s cooking or he’s reading and if nothing else will do then he naps. but he’s always trying to occupy his time with something.

I think a lot of people don’t notice it because it’s not the jittery hyperactivity that people associate with it. But Mihawk is restless, endlessly so. He’s in a never ending fight with his boredom but it’s all internal.(except when he decides to make it someone else’s problem ala Don Krieg)

Mihawk’s the type of dude to implode instead of explode so it makes sense that things like restlessness don’t really show themselves in an outwardly physical way. Instead it’s more of an internal pressure and incessant need to stave off boredom. But because of his preference for being alone and the fact that the activities he chooses aren’t ones usually associated with restlessness. It goes unnoticed.

Except by Shanks who’s always going out of his way to make the life of a pretty little birdie a litte more interesting.

[merrysithmas]

paul "if john was gay i wouldve known he wouldve hit on me!" mccartney

🤝

john "im not GAY but i constantly hit on paul. it doesnt appear to be coming across. that must mean he's straight too" lennon

/youre bad at it and he's bad at it and that's gay love in the oppressive 1960s straight hegemony baby!

[officially-other]

Frog (For context; I am the "host" or "original." We don't really like either term, but it's easier than saying "I'm the one who identifies with the name and body we use and I was the one to start the questioning process" lol.)

So, to be clear; Our collective isn't median, but we relate a lot to some median experiences. The concept of median plurality was our first step into plurality due to the fact that, up until we heard about median experiences, we'd only seen the more disordered forms of plurality. At least- those were the only forms of plurality we'd heard about in detail. For those of you reading this who aren't OP: I promise I asked before reblogging to make sure our experiences wouldn't be unwelcome.

This is a fucking WALL of text, and I would not blame you for looking at it and going "well I'm not reading that." I just figured it was better to give you a wall of text you'd never read than to give you something small that won't be helpful because I omitted the parts you'd find useful.

What made you start questioning whether you were a system or not? And what brought you to discovering and adopting the "median" label? As I began questioning my fictionkinity, I ultimately felt... weird. I confirmed who I was, and suddenly had what I assumed was a mental shift. Except it felt like I'd been plonked into someone else's life, and "I" spent the next few days feeling weird about it and cleaning because "what the fuck do you mean I live like this?" Turns out that was actually someone else, which I learned when consulting the plurality chat in the otherconnect discord server and coming away with the information that no, switching does not always look like getting booted out of first-person POV, or blacking out. It can look like "who 'I' am changing." When it comes to the median label- while we're not median, I can say what chose us to not settle on that term. I've seen median systems described as 'facets of one person' to an extent, or somehow being anything less than completely separate individuals. That may be inaccurate, but it's our understanding of the term. We feel INCREDIBLY strongly that this isn't the case with us. We're individual people and get really pissed when not respected as such.

Was there ever one, big "Aha!" Moment for you? Or several smaller ones? What was the event(s) like, what happened? The first "Aha!" Moment was the above, with the second being Malaika's appearance. Malaika was the first of our headmates other than me to show up properly and introduce herself, and idk what to tell you other than it's really fucking hard to deny what's happening when you have a vaguely feral witch going "Buddy intrusive thoughts don't have extensive conversations with you." After that, I feel like our life has been filled with "Aha" moments. Our mom commenting that she always felt like we were really unpredictable and inconsistent with our reactions to certain things, finding certain memories that we KNOW must have been a certain person fronting, our memory as a whole makes such much more sense through the lens of plurality, hell even the kintypes I was questioning suddenly made more sense when I realized they weren't me at all. They were some of my headmates experiencing phantom shifts and strong feelings about their kintype while fronting, or said shifts/feelings bleeding into my own when they were near front.

For neurodivergent medians, how did you differentiate your systemhood from the rest of your neurodivergencies? (Ex: the difference between autistic masking and subtle/fluid switches, identity issues from personality disorder vs genuine facets, etc) I feel this question in my BONES. The answer is... it's really fucking hard. After being in public social spaces for a while, we put on the autistic mask so hard that we tend to get blurry. Our mom has learned that if she asks if it's still whoever she dropped off at an event/appt/whatever as we get in the car, the most likely response is "aaauuhhhh.... probably?" Our biggest tool was learning that I'm not the default. That just because we're masking, or not feeling a particular strong sense for who's fronting, doesn't mean it's me. 9/10 times masking doesn't even cause a switch, it just causes confusion.

Do you experience some form of frontstuckness, whether it's "nobody can ever front except one facet" or "I'm a shell and everyone fronts through me"? Ngl this one is funny, if at Venti's expense (to be fair he thinks it's funny too.) During the election we were under lots of stress and Venti got frontstuck for three goddamn days. We're pretty sure he was properly frontstuck, since he couldn't hear anyone else either, but he was also just too scared to even try to pull someone up and switch out because he was afraid it wouldn't work and then he'd feel properly trapped. So technically we aren't sure.

Semi related to above, how do you recognize switches? Especially early in your journey. Are they subtle? Can you switch intentionally or is it random? Personally, we can switch intentionally. A lot of our switches are intentional. Intentional switches are much less subtle because we actively turn our mind's eye to the innerworld and "watch" the switch happen. Person A steps out of the body and back, person B steps into the body and grounds themselves. Beyond that, I... actually don't know. Maybe we'll pay more attention and write a post on how we experience switches after a while for fun.

How do you discover the identities of your facets, whether they're another you or someone entirely unique? This may be less relevant to you due to the fact that we aren't median, but: it helps that most of our headmates are fictives. I can recognize that certain characters have had a "will of their own" to me for a while, or that I feel emotions about a certain character's story as if it were my own, or sometimes it's as simple as "Wow I associate this song with this character!" "Hi." "WHAT THE FUCK WHEN DID YOU GET HERE-" As for non-fictive headmates, it's only happened... twice. We only have two of them other than me lol. Malaika introduced herself, and she's learned much about herself as she fronts. Jasper figured himself out because he woke up fronting and realized he wasn't someone we knew about yet.

Prior to self discovery, did you ever experience talking to your brain/body/"inner self" as a separate being to yourself, whether or not you actually believed they could respond or were conscious? Literally fucking constantly. I personified my brain and we still do. "I want to do this but brain says no." etc. While I didn't consciously personify everyone else, I did have lots of "my own thoughts" that acted completely on their own. I just was used to them, and as someone who experiences intrusive thoughts on the regularly, simply thought they were another form of that. They uh. They were not.

Have you ever had the experience of "not being able to pick just one aesthetic", which you later discovered was your plurality? THIS. I cannot express my feelings on this strongly enough; yes. I was in love with so many different styles of fashion- even ones I could never see myself wearing! Those ones in particular confused me. Turns out some headmates just like styles I would never wear myself. I felt a huge relief when I realized that I didn't have to pick one and could instead just try and gather clothes to fit a few different aesthetics. That feeling settled into everything, though, so that realization ended up not helping. Not able to just pick one career path, a small enough number of hobbies to reasonably sustain, and even though it feels really obvious saying it now I felt like I couldn't pick one personality. But that was just.... not obvious to me at the time. I couldn't pick just one way to be. Now I know it's because "I" am more than just me.

Are you monoconscious, polyconscious, or something else? Are your facets "conscious/aware" in headspace/while not fronting? Is the current fronter aware of/able to interact with the other facets while fronting? I said monoconscious in the replies, but actually the term we use is split-monoconscious. It's the best we've found so far. We have no innerworld... Except we do. Uh. It's complicated. Whoever's in/near front can only access the void. Hence our current collective name: "From The Void." But recently we've gotten a very strong sense that there is an innerworld, even some vague ideas of what it might look like, we just... can't access it or memories from it consciously when near/in front. We can interact with each other in the void; and do often! We like to chat. But whoever isn't in the void is completely inaccessible. I wouldn't call them unconscious though. As far as we can tell, they're aware and doing their own thing in our innerworld. They just lose memory of it the closer to front they get, almost immediately after getting pulled into the void.

HOO BOI this post is huge and I'm too tired to edit it, so if it's a messy ramble it'll just stay a messy ramble. We've been meaning to post about our experiences more, but haven't found the time, so your post asking some systems/collectives direct questions actually helped with that writers block. I hope this helps a little even though we're not median, and even if not thank you for reading all this way if ya made it!

Hiiii, plural community! Questions for median systems, while I explore the possibility of being one myself, answer as many as you like:

What made you start questioning whether you were a system or not? And what brought you to discovering and adopting the "median" label?

Was there ever one, big "Aha!" Moment for you? Or several smaller ones? What was the event(s) like, what happened?

For neurodivergent medians, how did you differentiate your systemhood from the rest of your neurodivergencies? (Ex: the difference between autistic masking and subtle/fluid switches, identity issues from personality disorder vs genuine facets, etc)

For those of you with no headspace or very limited internal interaction, what is that like for you? How did you discover your system and how do you communicate (if at all)? Do you experience uncontrolled inner voices, like a lot of multiple systems do, or something else (internal/"ghost" emotions, visual projections, random thoughts popping up)?

Do you experience some form of frontstuckness, whether it's "nobody can ever front except one facet" or "I'm a shell and everyone fronts through me"?

Semi related to above, how do you recognize switches? Especially early in your journey. Are they subtle? Can you switch intentionally or is it random?

How do you discover the identities of your facets, whether they're another you or someone entirely unique?

Prior to self discovery, did you ever experience talking to your brain/body/"inner self" as a separate being to yourself, whether or not you actually believed they could respond or were conscious?

For those of you who are stoners, how does weed affect you and potential switches? Does it make switching/recognizing a switch easier?

Have you ever had the experience of "not being able to pick just one aesthetic", which you later discovered was your plurality?

Are you monoconscious, polyconscious, or something else? Are your facets "conscious/aware" in headspace/while not fronting? Is the current fronter aware of/able to interact with the other facets while fronting?

⚠️ NO SYSCOURSE ON THIS POST ⚠️

I do not want to engage in syscourse, do not attempt to start any with me. I simply want to hear about others experiences and hope to learn something about myself in the process. If you want drama, go elsewhere.

[reiashiftsrealities]

i watched I Saw The TV Glow and now i’m debating my gender very terribly hard rn

[pollen]

i've been diving a lot deeper into adhd symptoms and comorbidities and misdiagnoses and whenever i tell my boyfriend something i learned that sounds like me he responds with something like

[relatablephotosofmurdoc]

Maybe I’m a gay trans guy

[jorvikzelda]

today i had this Vivid memory flash through my mind of kissing my ex boyfriend (this was like 2018) and i felt so viscerally fucking revolted and I gotta say. it is truly impressive that I didn’t realise I’m a lesbian sooner than fucking half a year ago

[echojedis]

How do people do OCs, I can never get them to click properly