IMPLOSION

[skinstealer]

SCAREDY: hey everyone, long time no post.
SCAREDY: it has been a hot minute because we have been fucking exhausted and dealing with: you guessed it, life explosions.
SCAREDY: while we work on more implosion updates and question answers, i wrote a thing.
SCAREDY: journaling type deal. something about needing to see more depictions of our own style of plural bullshit, etc.
SCAREDY: enjoy, i guess? just don't be flirty or weird about it.

cw: brain damage/traumatic mind control metaphors, kink involving mental alterations/risk of identity death, computer gore + BDSM

(everyone is in the car with the AC on, water, and their favorite music, no TCPs were harmed in the journaling of this event)

lately, we've been getting some kind of internal visualization.

this isn't actually accurate to what things look like. thatd require new 3D models we haven't gotten off our asses to make, because our life spiraled so violently out of control that it's been hard  even on a relative "our life is fucked up" scale. think of it as vibe capturing.

still, me. beige and scapula have been hanging out in this little office space lately. less corpo than scap's usual deal, and more like our dad's  basement/computer room combo. kind of fucked up considering our feelings about the room itself, but it hits for the mood our brain's trying to create.

most of the time it's me and beige- me as the operator, him as the operating system. we work on the office computers, though it doesn't really matter.

it's a way to visualize ourselves in the same space, and that's intimate. scap knows that me and beige are a thing now- or always were, but separated by the fucked up time travel that is being put in a gelatinous mass and spat out with a decade of memory difference between us. 

catching up happened quick for me, but i still get sick over it. he's my grounding, the computer i grew up with that is thankfully, against all odds, still here.

when scap leaves the room (and he does on purpose, i can see it in his face), beige and i know that it's time to shift gears. drop what we're working on, and get down to file management.

while i can't really show you in 3D, sometimes i take his hands and move them like the computer mice they are, clicking his fingers and scrolling using his trackball palms. he trusts me to do this because he knows me from when we were just kids, and because he finds giving me control as a user extremely hot. i could do whatever i wanted with his files, his brain, rearranging and deleting and installing-

i do disk cleanup. i get rid of the virus files other people installed since before he came to be with us- a beige box too disease ridden to access the internet or run 90% of software capable for its hardware. perfect for a young child, somewhere between 5 to 7, to obtain as a gift and subsequently become fucking obsessed with and manifest a voice to talk to inside it. 

he trusts me because he knows i've seen how badly people have treated him, and that i won't mess with the parts that he likes. his desktop is his to arrange, and if i have to move any icons or files, i ask first. i leave him his fantasy library background and his favorite red dragon "my computer" icon, and move the latter around the former so he can sit on whatever furniture he pleases. he could do all of this himself, but not with my hands on his. 

i tell him it's kind of funny that he ended up falling for the version of me literally named "scaredy", that that's a real stupid name for a dom and yet he takes it so seriously.

he says that usernames can be all kinds of things, and i didn't even have to add any numbers or underscores. he wouldn't have minded if i did, but he is pretty impressed i got in front of the pack. 

we always finish just in time for scapula to get back. beige runs a little bit better, his head less scrambled. it doesn't always last, something about the virus reproducing itself in ways i don't know how to fix (i wouldn't know how in the external world either). he says he doesn't mind, so long as i'm there to power him on and off in the morning. 

he can do it himself, but what's an operating system without an administrator?