#posting my own experiences with being plural always feels fucked up

[sylphrene]

pluralism (is that a word?), self-perception through art and ocs, and pokemon's strong role in it

#my art #furry art #furry #art #pokemon #furry oc #calem from pokemon but shes trans now #Sylphrena the sylveon #(hopefully this is my only post with that tag lol) #sylveon #sylphrena holligale #mirabelle december #belle the delphox #delphox #mira's unnamed as of yet weavile sona #weavile #posting my own experiences with being plural always feels fucked up #imposter syndrome and shit

[syscourse-confessions]

sorry this is VERY long but i have to get it off my chest

the idea that you have to have DID/OSDD-1 to be any sort of multiple/plural really fucked us up and led us to misdiagnosing ourself. it led us to such a horrible place in life

i remember my anti-endo friends used to call us "the only good endo" before convincing us to self-dx. i didnt even consider myself endogenic but that didn't matter to them, anyone different from them was an endo. they wouldn't let any headmates other than our host speak anywhere except for their own dedicated channel, while every other system's alters could speak anywhere they wanted. a lot of us felt so isolated

we were pressured by our anti-endo friends to take on the label of an OSDD-1 system, despite us barely knowing a thing about the disorder. this is not how self-diagnosis should go, but we felt like we would never truly have their support if we didn't follow what they wanted us to do. they celebrated this decision and for a long while, we thought that we really did have this disorder

i remember when i found out that those friends had made a discord channel to talk about me and my systemhood behind my back, speculate about my trauma, try to pick apart our words to find any hint of amnesia, and liveblogged what i thought were private conversations i was having about my trauma and questioning systemhood. i felt so mortified and violated but i said nothing

they did this because they thought my headmates sounded "too genuine" to not be DID alters

the anti-endo community sent me down this deep spiral of shame and dissociation, life felt even more like walking through a thick fog. i was being told who i was/wasn't allowed to talk to. what experiences i did/didn't have. what words i was/wasn't allowed to use. if i did or said the wrong thing, it would make me a bad person, so i better have stayed in fucking line

communities that were supposed to be focused on trauma recovery always focused so heavily on making fun of and bullying endogenic systems and suicide-baiting. even back when i was anti-endo, i felt so uncomfortable with the extent it got to, but i was not allowed to speak out against it

i started to question my self-dx and the anti-endo community when, based on no evidence other than the types of headmates we had, some people we knew started to tell us that we must have been through a very severe type of abuse that we just... never did, in reality. they told us that we must have very severe amnesia (which we don't), so we can't trust what we know about our own experiences - they wanted us to trust THEM with what has happened with our life and what hasn't

i know. "not all anti-endos". but enough anti-endos to hurt me. and enough anti-endos to be present in every single online community i'd been a part of. and pro-endo spaces are far from perfect, but at least there's people actually fighting

when i started learning more about DID, OSDD (as a whole, not just -1), DDNOS, and UDD, and when i started learning more about non-DID/OSDD-1 experiences of plurality such as endogenic plurality, i shed the anti-endo label. i lost friends and my old communities, but i gained freedom and trust in myself, and i'm slowly starting to heal as i find newer communities who will accept us for who we are, as a non-DID/OSDD-1 adaptive plural

i'm sorry this is so incredibly long. i just..really needed this. i feel like my experiences were maybe not that bad or at least not bad enough but i was already in a very bad place so it all just affected us very much

💙.

💙 - Vent

DISCLAIMER: Posts may or may not reflect accurate information. More info here: https://www.tumblr.com/syscourse-confessions/728819621058232320/disclaimer-treat-posts-here-like-you-would-any

#syscourse #syscourse confessions

[bandofchimeras]

Capricorn rising blues:

People always end up coming at me funny about some shit after hanging out a few times. Like babe I do not know you?? that takes years?? I'm not taking correction & direction from you, and frankly when I want advice I ask for it explicitly, after it's given consider it, then do what makes sense to me. I only follow orders from people who I respect deeply, who have proven competence, and I've decided to follow. Which is so extremely rare.

My new friend even noticed in grocery stores or in social settings people will treat me like a punk or as if I'm dangerous and need to be checked. Even the people that claim to love me or are straight up obsessed, are so highly critical or judgmental of my creative attempts or attempts at conversation.

I've finally parsed out that this is a Saturnian problem, and likely because I communicate/mask in a way that presents as authoritative, or interrogative, and come across as standoffish.

People see me as a challenge to the existing authority bc I own my own experience and experience it intensely. They then project that I think I'm better than them or entitled, or trying to take control. Sometimes this might be fair, but sometimes I'm really just Fatigued or unsure of myself and asking questions or being practical minded.

The trouble with being perceived as Cool and Authorizative is then when my genuine uncertainty, whimsy or naivete comes out it's repulsive or angering or confusing. I get treated like an uppity little kid, or people get hurt I don't want them....depending on their relationship with power and authority.

To counter this, I've tried to lead with my vulnerabilities, weaknesses, etc. We are also technically plural so this can mean letting a little front. But then people tend to see me as a Baby to care for who.....again. Needs correction.

Exhausting. I've literally lost housing, friends, lovers, and family connections over this. Some of it comes down to my own genuine behaviors, I can be pretty controlling or not check in on other people's needs & boundaries. But it's not because I don't/won't respect them, it's because my own experience is HUGE and I'm doing my best to manage this complex system or oftentimes hide and tone it down. In order to hear you and honor your needs, I need you to be extremely clear and centered in your own experience.

Astrology is the only lense that actually has helped understand this bc I observed myself acting a similar way to other ppl with significant Capricorn placements in houses of identity. Specifically romantically. It's Daddy issues or like, generational discipline issues.

And I tend to feel bad about analyzing myself in this way but when it's such a nasty long-term pattern it helps to have a framework. Especially because generationally we are all dealing with paternalism, anti-child prejudice, and dynamics that are largely invisible but run whole systems.

We do not actually live in a world that values sovereignty/independence but an illusion of it. "do what you wanna do" but only within a few accepted lanes preordained for you.

My natural existence just happens to challenge these orientations a little more than some folks. So I've been repeatedly punished for literally existing, especially growing up Catholic which is so so so hierarchical and inverts the self. And developed a conclusion I shouldn't exist. Which is where the fucking "mental illness" comes from.

When truly I just need a big enough space to flourish, interpersonally and physically, and be in community with others who culturally vibe that way.

Could also deep dive into Slavic heritage, Eastern Europeans, the legacy of indigeneity in white colonizers & immigrants & children's Liberation & land sovereignty but we shall save that for another post.

Anyways it's always a good day to check your projections on your Capricorn friends. Thanks.

If Palestine has proven anything it's that the current evil world is hellbent on destroying what is most traditional & beautiful. Being targeted for destruction means nothing about anyone's worth. What's needed is defenses and recognition and standing up to this fucking horrific out of control Bully Black Hole we have collectively allowed, aided and abetted into consuming the earth.

#personal #astrology #respect

[pink-lemonade-showers]

i guess i wish i didn't feel so alone, you know? i dont consider myself a system because its just...complicated, it doesnt seem like it's that way, but it feels so out of my control that calling them imaginary friends feels disingenuous (besides, one of them really hates being called that anyway...)

besides that, i really dont have anybody to talk to about this, not very close people or in a way that i dont feel like im "trauma dumping" in a way. i guess i just wish i could be more open, but i feel like i can't.

i feel envious. i have other friends who are plural, who have friend groups with other plural people and can talk to them about this stuff. when they're feeling scared or confused with what's happening to them, they can easily bring it up without having to feel dumb or anxious. and just the little things, too, like sharing experiences, being able to relate to one another...i worry i won't ever really get to have that.

a part of that is on me. i'm not brave enough to reach out. i feel like i'm too different. which in and of itself makes me feel awful. you always see those posts that are like, "oh you're faking it so you can be different and cool." and "people make up new disorders so they can be different" but i dont fucking want to be different!!! god i'd give anything to be "normal". i dont WANT people to think i'm not identifying as a system because im too "cool" to, i just legit don't think that's what's happening, and it doesn't make me more cool or different, and i don't want it to, if anything it makes me MORE stressed because I don't know how to find people who are experiencing what I'm experiencing, and that's scary.

it's just ughhh. not having a proper support network sucks. kaoru, one of the people in my head, tells me not to worry about this shit and that it's nobody else business but my own, but i don't think he understands how emotionally taxing it is, too. like it or not, humans crave understanding and acceptance, and i don't really get that if i'm kind of forever like this.

#🌠÷{ *·.*ベル.·*° } #nia.txt

[the-scalemail-system-blog]

Some terms and notes on DID

We have found this guide to terms useful in learning about ourselves, so we have decided to share it to help others who have DID/OSDD or simply wish to understand the condition. Long post ahead.

DID - Dissociative Identity Disorder, a disorder where the brain splits into separate parts. This disorder usually has amnesia and can cause significant stress to someone, hence it being a disorder. 

OSDD - Other Specified Dissociative Disorder, similar to DID but may not show the same symptoms of DID. They may not have amnesia, or the alters may not front, etc. 

System - Anyone that has headmates or alters. 

Singlet - Anyone who does not have any alters, someone who just has themselves and their own thoughts. 

Traumagenic - A system that exists due to previous trauma. 

Quiogenic - A system that doesn't know or care how it formed. 

Preasigenic - A fuck you term basically meaning "I don't have to tell you my origin, that's for me to know and for you to not make your business." 

Neurogenic - A system that formed due to other mental illness rather than trauma. 

Protogenic - A system that's been plural since birth/as long as they can remember. 

Paragenic - A system caused by MDD (Maladaptive Daydreaming Disorder) or similar experiences. 

Median -  A system that rides a gray area as a system. These systems have 2 or more facets that somewhat blend together and may function similar to a singlet, though these facets may still have their own unique thoughts, names, and personalities all of their own. 

Gateway - System that has "walk-in" alters that come and go as they please.

Mixed Origin - System with alters of multiple different origins. 

Polyfragmented - A system with 100 or more fragments or alters. 

Splitting - When an alter goes through a large amount of trauma, stress, or anxiety, an alter can split into 2 or more alters if they cannot handle it. An alter dissociating a lot can also lead to a split. 

Integrating - When 2 alters or fragments become one again. Integration can cause the alter to completely change. Their personality can change, their appearance may change, their age, their memories. It can all change. This is ok, and nothing bad. It is completely normal and can be very good for the system.

Dormancy - When an alter goes dormant, they are nowhere close to fronting. They can be impossible to find in the inner world, you may not be able to feel them at all. This is usually something done completely by the will of the alter and nothing to be worried about, though it is natural to miss them as well. 

Subsystem - When someone in the system has a system! I heard ya like systems, so I put a system in your system. 

Fronting - Being the one in control of the body! Being in the pilot seat, to put it simply. 

Co-Fronting - When two or more alters are fronting or present at the same time. 

Blending/Blurring - When two alters are close to each other, they may temporarily blend together. It may be because of dissociation or a specific trigger. This is only temporary and nothing like integration, which is permanent unless something causes the alters to split once more.

Dissociation - Dissociation is a state where your mind goes blank, thinking and grasping reality may be incredibly difficult or just straight-up impossible. Singlets do this a lot as well, it’s pretty much when your brain goes on auto-pilot. When you’re taking the same route to work as always, doing a daily chore, etc. However, for systems, it's a daily occurrence. Reading a wall of text may be difficult and remembering what it says may be impossible. It can be caused by a trigger, an alter trying to front, or someone co-fronting. If one is dissociating heavily, this can lead to a split. 

Age Sliding - When an alter changes from one age to another. They may get older or younger, this may be caused by a trigger, but not always. 

Host - The one who fronts most often, whoever is in the pilot seat most. This may fall under more than one alter, or there may be no Host at all. All of it is valid! 

Protector - The one who protects the system. They do not always need to protect the body, but rather stay internal and help other alters feel better, or rather they may only protect the body. Whatever way they protect, it is fully valid.

Persecutor - An alter who acts to harm the system, one or more specific alters, or the body. Though, there is often an odd protective reason for these actions. They may feel if they are harming the system, then no one else has to because they are already doing the harm. They may be trying to keep the system "humble". Whatever the reason, by talking things over and treating them as equal, one can find the reason why the persecutor acts how they do. Some persecutors may also be introjects* of abusers. 

Introject - An umbrella term for any system member that is based off of an abuser, family member, caretaker, or a historical, popular/famous, or fictional figure, etc. Includes, but is not limited to, fictives and factives.

Caretaker - Someone who takes care of the system. Not quite a protector, as they tend to stay inside and keep the system running smoothly. They may try to resolve internal conflicts, comfort other alters, etc.

Gatekeeper - Someone who holds back traumatic memories that the system may not be ready to deal with. They can hold back traumatized alters, control who is and isn’t fronting, etc. 

Trauma Holder - An alter who holds traumatic memories for the system. 

Internal Helpers - Alters that only help internally rather than externally, they tend to know more about the system, the inner world, and the structure of things. Think of them as the mechanics of the system. 

Little - An alter that ranges between the ages of 1-12 if the host is not of the same age. 

Middle - An alter that ranges between 13-17 if the host is not of the same age. 

Non-Human/Inhuman - An alter that is something not human, this could be an animal, something paranormal, an alien, a robot, etc. 

Fictive - An alter that is derived from a fictional source. These usually come about due to seeing the character as being able to handle and deal with a situation better than the rest of the system. 

Factive - Similar to a fictive, but derived from a real person. It could be a celebrity someone really likes, a youtuber, even just a really close friend! Anyone derived from real life. 

Fragment - A fragment is a part of you made for specific tasks. Such as walking the dog, doing the dishes, going to school, etc. These can become alters given enough world experience and time. 

Non-Verbal - A term for being unable to speak. Some alters can permanently be non-verbal or only sometimes. It happens, don't be afraid of it! 

Headspace - The space alters go when not fronting, not every system has one and these can differ from system to system! 

Switching - The act of switching front from one alter to another. Not all systems switch but many do! 

#-long post #-system-wide posts #DID terms #DID info

[berensroadhouse]

(ao3 link)

           Davis drags his damp rag across the dusty countertop, sighing deeply once he hits the edge. He scans the barren interior, jumping from empty table to empty table to an empty table with bottles, plates, and crumbs left behind. His previous customers must have dipped when he wasn’t looking. Davis grabs a nearby basket, moving towards the mess. He dumps the plates inside, then the bottles after he guzzles the dregs of beer left behind. Finally, Davis takes what he’s owed. Their bill came out to thirty-eight dollars and ninety-five cents. They paid with two twenties, flat. “Fucking assholes…��� Davis pockets the money, returning to his post.

           Just another ordinary day at Berens’s.

           He brings the used dishware into an equally empty back kitchen, the doors flapping behind him. Davis recycles the bottles and places the dishes in the sink, washing them immediately. As he sets them on the rack to dry, his eyes linger on a framed photograph hanging nearby. He brushes his thumb across a faded face, a wet fingerprint left behind on the glass. Davis smiles, chuckling softly at where water droplets race down Cal’s profile.

           He misses him. It’s been so many years, and yet Davis still aches for his touch. Davis remembers the phantom feeling of Cal’s arm draped over his shoulders, of their fingers lacing together, of his nose tracing the lines of Davis’s cheek while they took this picture. It was a beautiful day at the beach for them, on a spring morning where they both decided clear skies were better than the suffocating walls of a lecture hall. They fled the campus and found a deserted shore, and under the cover of an umbrella they talked, ate, and kissed and kissed and kissed until the moon replaced the sun and made Davis’s night-dark skin shine when its light hit him. Cal, in reverence, traced constellations with his lips from memory; him, a creamy-white nebula hovering over Davis’s pitch-black galaxy, both communing in a transcendent ritual. It lasted past curfew. They were grounded. It was worth it.

           Someone cuts Davis’s reflection short. A sharp whistle interrupts his thoughts, followed by a gruff, “Anyone home?”

           “I’ll be with you in a second!” Davis needlessly dries his hands on the stained apron tied about his waist, hurrying out of the kitchen to greet his new customers.

           He finds them waiting by the pool table, the one with deep-brunet hair inspecting the cues while the other, fairer-haired man tickles a hole in the table’s lining. They’re dressed for the beach, in brightly patterned shirts, bathing suits, and flip flops, and Davis prays they haven’t come from it. He doesn’t think his ancient joints can manage an hour of sweeping floors, collecting sand that somehow gets everywhere. Regardless, he plasters a replica of a smile onto his face. He clears his throat, drawing their attention. “Sorry for the wait,” he says, “what can I help you with?”

           “Lunch,” Fair Hair says, moving close enough Davis can count the freckles dotting his pinkish cheeks and the bridge of his nose. “What d’you have?”

           “Regular fare,” Davis shrugs, “I can get you a menu or –“

           “No need,” Fair Hair says, “we’ll have burgers, fries, and beers, the most expensive you have!” Then, as he motions for the darker-haired man to stand beside him, he wraps his arm over the brunet’s shoulders. Davis spies the silver band on Fair Hair’s hand. It matches the one his friend wears. “We’re on our honeymoon,” Fair Hair tells Davis, without invitation to do so.

           Davis’s demeanor shifts. A more genuine expression appears on his face, while a warmth rouses the rosebuds sleeping in his chest. It makes their velvet petals bloom, urge forward their aroma, rich and sweet, and causes their thorny brambles to wrap themselves tighter around Davis’s heart. “Congratulations,” he replies, “I don’t have a special newlywed section… but you can sit anywhere, at any table, or the bar… I’ll go and fix up your burgers.” He turns, hiding his glossy, brown eyes before he embarrasses himself. Married men always do this to Davis, unlock a more wistful and sappy part of his soul. Some long-buried piece, that used to dream of a time where he might have had a similar experience to those two on the other side of the kitchen doors.

           He places two beef patties on the grill and starts frying oil for the fries.

           While cooking, his gaze wander back – as it always does – onto that photo of him and Cal. Inspired by his new customers, he reflects on a memory years after that lazy beach day. They shared an apartment, one that offered little besides its amazing view of the ocean and a balcony they could watch the sun set along the waterline after work. It didn’t matter if Davis’s tips barely added up to a twenty, or that Cal’s eyes went cross from staring at numbers for hours at end, because they’d come home, watch orange bleed into blue, then purple into orange, and when the ink dried above Davis finally went about cooking dinner. Cal watched him; eyes alight like the stove burner that simmered their pasta water. “You deserve your own place,” he told Davis, “that way everyone can have a taste of your amazing cooking.”

           Davis shook his head, chuckling. “One day, baby. One day. There’s about a million other things we need to do first, and about half of them involve money.”

           “Yeah, yeah…” Cal reached across the counterspace, intwining their fingers. “It might take a while, with how we get paid.”

           “It might,” Davis conceded, squeezing Cal’s hand. He brings it up and softly kisses each knuckle. “At least we’re saving where we can. Homecooked meals, cheap place… lucky we can’t get married, so we’re saving money that way.”

           Cal frowned, seriousness plaguing him for the moment. He stepped closer, stare intense as he breached Davis’s personal space. “If we could?” he asked, voice hardly a whisper, “would you?”

           “Would I what?”

           “Want to get married?”

           “If they’d let us…” Davis paused, chewing his answer over. He released Cal, moving the steaming pot off the burner. He flicked it off. “I…” He leaned against the stove, arms crossed, “Christ, Cal, I’d want to do more than that.”

           Cal arched a brow, head skewed to the side. “What more is there?”

           “I’d want a big wedding, with all the bells and whistles,” Davis explained, laughing, “a party, a celebration of you and me as we become… well, you-and-me. Then, after the party, we’d go on a big honeymoon –“

           “When we already live next to the beach?”

           “A different beach! Maybe an island!” he said, “And once we’ve finished our trip, we’d buy a little property somewhere in the ‘burbs, as we go about looking to adopt.” Davis rubbed his neck, sheepishly peeking through his lashes at a blushing Cal. “What I’m trying to say is… if I could, I’d want more than marriage. I want a life together where we can just… we can be together, without always worrying who might know, y’know? I’d kill for that. Hell, I’d fight to have that.”

           Funny, though, that when it came time to fight, Davis lost. He fought the paramedics, but they wouldn’t let him in the ambulance. He fought the doctors, who wouldn’t let him see Cal. He fought Cal’s parents, their harsh words and condemnation like being stoned in front of an eager crowd as they chewed him out for their ‘delusions’. Davis heard Cal passed, but wasn’t there when it happened. He also wasn’t invited to Cal’s funeral, to see him off into his next life. Davis did steal a quick moment, though. A kind nurse took pity on him and snuck Davis down into the morgue. She allowed them a final goodbye, as Davis traced the lines of Cal’s cheek with his thumb and pressed tiny kisses wherever his teardrops fell. “I’m sorry,” Davis croaked, chilled by the waxy numbness of his lover’s lifeless hand, “I’m sorry forever wasn’t as long as we planned.”

           Davis assembles the plates messily, mind caught between the past and present like a line of wash. He, hung up by clothespins, is pushed mercilessly by incoming winds. Those clothespins cannot hold forever. The fabric of his body shifts out of their vice-like hold until, finally, he flutters away and out of the kitchen. He returns to the main room of the bar, delivering Fair Hair and his husband’s meals. As expected of newlyweds, they’re wrapped up in each other. The husband whispering into Fair Hair’s ear as they sit on the same side of the table, their fingers laced together atop it. Davis clears his throat, setting the food and drinks down. “Here you are.”

           “Thanks.” Fair Hair grabs his burger with a free hand, shoving into his mouth despite the silent, amused judgment obviously displayed on the other man’s face. Fair Hair moans around the bite, puffy cheeks bursting with a grin. “Dufe,” he says around soggy chunks of bun and burger meat, “Thif if awesfome!”

           “Thanks,” Davis nods, brushing at his apron, “Now, if you need anything, don’t be afraid to holler –“

           “Actually,” the husband delays Davis’s exit, pointing behind him and towards the bar. “I was wondering if you could settle something for us.” Davis looks to where he’s directed, at the glowing neon sign that hangs above rows of bottles. It’s similar to the one that brands the front of his business, in a similar script, too. Except where the cowboy hat-and-bandana hovered above ‘Berens’s’ of Berens’s Roadhouse, indoors it was placed next to it. “Dean here,” the husband continues, Dean – Fair Hair’s name, apparently – rolling his eyes at being called out, “thinks there shouldn’t be an extra ‘s’, after the apostrophe…”

           “Cas…” Dean whines, unofficially introducing his husband, “You don’t have to –“

           Cas continues over Dean, ignoring him. “Meanwhile, I told him that, as long as it’s not plural an ‘s’ should go after the apostrophe. Can you please tell my husband he’s wrong?”

           Davis stares at his sign, tracing the curve of the script with his eyes. In the background, Dean argues in a fierce whisper. “Why are you bringing him into this? He’s not gonna admit he’s wrong!”

           Cas volleys, backhanding his response at Dean. “It’s his name, Dean, he wouldn’t spell it wrong.”

           “Actually,” Davis interrupts, “it’s not my name.” He turns, laughing at their bent brows and Cas’s skewed head and the tiny dots of sauce staining Dean’s mouth. “It was my old boyfriend’s name,” he explains, “Last name.”

           Dean leans forward in his seat, burger forgotten for the moment. Cas realizes there’s a meal in front of him and begins picking at it, chewing absentmindedly on a fry. “You named your place after an old boyfriend?”

           “Felt only right,” Davis shrugs, “Couldn’t have bought this place without him.” Cal’s job, while lacking pay, had a generous insurance policy. Davis was listed as the sole beneficiary. That, coupled with what Cal left Davis in his will, meant he had enough to buy the little property near the beach like they always planned. Naming it after Cal soothed him, somewhat. That angry, gnarly scar over his chest numbing slightly. “Besides,” Davis says, “at least, with the name… it’s like he’s with me.”

           “But not actually with you?” Cas asks, “Like… you haven’t been feeling any cold spots, have you?”

           “Cold spots?”

           The table jolts, saltshaker sliding a few inches to the left. Davis guesses Dean kicked Cas, from the serious edge to his expression and the apologetic wince on Cas’s. “Sorry about him,” Dean apologizes, “he spent the morning binging supernatural podcasts. Y’know… monsters, hauntings, ghosts. Must’ve fried his brain better than the sun could.”

           Davis huffs, smiling. He moves towards the bar, leaning against it to better chat with his customers. “Ghosts?” he says, “No… ain’t nothing like that, at least the kind you’re thinking of.” Davis lets himself imagine Cal like that, tethered to this earthly plane even after passing. His battered body floating amongst empty tables and dirty dishes. Cal chained to their dream, making it a nightmare. Davis quickly dismisses this notion. While he misses Cal, Davis knows wherever he is must be better than this failing monument to Davis’s love. “Maybe if I thought it’d help drum up some business, I’d’ve entertained it. But I doubt ghost stories would help this late in the game.”

           “Oh,” Cas hums. Davis recognizes the tone, familiar with it. Hears it from his accountant, his sister, and the occasional guest who dawdles in the front before skipping off elsewhere for food. “Is your business failing?”

           “Cas!”

           Davis watches them descend into another fight. The paradise of honeymoon quickly crumbling, storm clouds rolling across clear blue skies. He walks behind the bar, grabbing an empty glass and filling it with the tap until the rim is frothy. As he meanders his way closer again, he tunes into their conversation. Dean picks at Cas’s bluntness, while Cas defends his claim in an even pitch that makes Dean sound hysterical.

           “He’s not wrong,” Davis joins them, sitting at an unoccupied seat, “I mean… you think I’d be here chatting with you two if there were things that needed doing?”

           Dean shifts in his seat, clearly uncomfortable given how he’s looked at the door five times in the span of a minute. “Sorry to hear that.” He guzzles his drink, drowning whatever else he might have said.

           Cas resists the threatening tide of awkwardness lapping at their ankles. “It’s odd that this place isn’t more packed,” he tells Davis, “with the amount of people here – the vacationers alone – there should always be a steady stream of customers.”

           “Those lemmings?” he snorts, sipping at his beer, “They’re always chasing after the next thing. What’s new? What’s shiny? When Berens’s was new and shiny, we got a lot of traffic. There was a time when you couldn’t walk three steps without bumping into someone else. But then more fancier places were being built… chains and clubs and all that… I couldn’t compete. I mean, Roadhouses are popular in the middle of nowhere when there’s barely anything else to do! But I’d’ve been damned if I had to live somewhere without the ocean. Would never want to be fuckin’ landlocked…” His eyes find that swirling script of Cal’s last name. Something heavy crushes his chest, each subsequent breath more labored. “It does suck though. This was our dream, having a place that was… ours. Even when it was just me, I still went ahead because, I thought, why not? Wasn’t as if I had much going for me after Cal… but every month now it’s like the water rises a bit higher and keeping myself afloat doesn’t seem all that worth it anymore.” He glances back at the newlyweds, seeing how he commands both their attention. He notices a somberness in their gaze Davis does not care for. “What am I doing?” he asks aloud, scoffing “This is your honeymoon. You probably have something like parasailing or jet skiing planned, right? Probably cutting into your time –“

           “No, no,” Cas assures him, lips tight as he smothers the pity straining for release. “That’s not it at all –“

           “Yeah,” Dean adds, “We’re all jet skied out from yesterday –“

           “Dean!”

           “And I’m afraid of heights,” he trails off, shoving fries into his mouth, “so that’s a no on parasailing…”

           “What he means,” Cas translates for Davis, “is that we don’t mind listening. It must be stressful, running this place by yourself?”

           Davis chuckles. “Stressful is an understatement.” He slides his drink back and forth across the table, its rhythmic scraping sound almost hypnotic. Skrt. Skrt. “You’d think being mostly empty would make it easier, but actually it’s worse.” Davis looks away from them, bouncing around the room. He frowns at how stray sunlight highlights the dust covering his furniture or floating in the air. “Getting to the point where I don’t know why it’s worth it, coming back day after day.”

           “Because this was your dream,” Cas says, “Yours and Cal’s.” Davis bites his tongue, holstering whatever pointed he comment he had that might burst his bubble. It’s not his fault. Four minutes cannot compare to the four decades of hell Davis lived through without Cal. Forty years of slowly being picked apart by people who didn’t care nor understand what this place meant to Davis. They saw a building where they could eat for an hour, maybe two, and then leave without thinking twice about it. Dean and Cas didn’t plan on gnawing his ear off with this conversation, they stopped by because they were hungry. They were here for their honeymoon, and some of that magic must shield Cas from the harsh reality of Davis’s predicament. He’s blinded from the pain by those romantic, rosy shades. “Doesn’t that make it worth it?”

           “It did, at first,” Davis concedes. He rests his elbows on the table, shoulders sagging with the tiniest amount of relief that feels like water on a blistering, arid day. “But I can’t keep doing something because it’s worth doing… not at my age… not with how business is doing.”

           Cas bristles, responding with more heat than appropriate. “But what you’ve done, for as long as you’ve done it, it’s been good,” he insists, “why stop now because of a – a slump!” Davis’s good temperament chars from the observation.

           He squeezes his drink, hands trembling. “It’s more than a slump,” Davis says, “it’s a freefall. I’ve been putting in all this hard work, and for what? What do I have to show for it?” Davis finishes his drink, meeting Cas’s fierce gaze with his own. “This place’ll probably do better as a condo –“

           “You don’t know that.”

           “I might not, but some folks do.” He bites his lip, unsure why he hurls his troubles into these strangers’ laps. Davis guesses it’s because Cas’s eyes, while hard, effortlessly prodded at the truth and that Dean listened like he cared for whatever left Davis’s mouth it made him want to say something meaningful. Or perhaps Davis was tired of keeping this to himself, and these saps were the tipping point. “Got some realtors skulking about, always asking when I’m ready to put this place out to pasture. Condos were one thing that was discussed… so were gyms, a dispensary, a parking lot –“

           “You’d let them turn this place into a parking lot?” Cas asks.

           “I don’t have much of a choice in my position,” Davis says, “They’ve got money that I need.”

           “But you said this place… you named it in memory of your love,” Cas murmurs, softer. He shrinks, drooping slightly. Dean gently cups Cas’s neck and massages with such care Davis sucks in a quick breath. Davis feels the memory of a caress on his neck, enough that he ghosts his fingers over the skin there in case someone had touched it. “If you sell… then isn’t that like giving up on him?”

           Davis wondered the same things. He spent countless hours awake in bed, worrying about how admitting failure went past the surface. That giving up on Berens’s meant letting go of that final piece of Cal he can call his.

           But Davis, weary from these thoughts, has made peace with this sacrifice. “Everyone else already gave up on Berens’s,” he says, “I’ll only be the last…”

           “That’s bullshit.” Dean speaks, finally rejoining their conversation. His sudden outburst places him at the center of this conversation, affixed at his husband’s side. “You shouldn’t give up. Cal wanted this place for you, didn’t he? You were only able to buy it because of him.”

           “Because he died,” Davis growls, “That’s how. If he knew how much of a shitshow this whole business would’ve been, I doubt he’d have wanted me to use the money for this. Hell, he’d probably hate if I stayed and pissed away the rest of my money trying to keep the lights on in here. Like stopping footprints from being swept smooth by the tide, it’s like.”

           “Well…” Dean fumbles, scratching at his plate for something to do. There’s no food left. Neither on Cas’s plate. Davis knows Cas was too busy to eat. “Okay, what if you sold it to people who… who want to run it as it is?”

           “I’d ask them how they think they can do this any better,” Davis sighs, slumping backwards. “Besides, there isn’t anyone who wants to do that who’s also eyeing this property.”

           “What about us?”

           Davis asks Dean what he said. Dean repeats himself. From Cas’s wide-eyed stare, Davis knows he heard correctly. “Really?” he drawls, sarcasm heavily coloring his tone. “You want to buy this place? Like that?”

           Dean shrugs, fiddling with his thumbs. He sweats, spotlight too warm for him now. “Uh… yeah?”

           “Have you ever run a restaurant before? Or a bar?”

           “No,” Dean says, “But I had family, who ran a roadhouse. Helped them a few times when my brother and I stopped over – we traveled, a lot, for work. It was years ago but I still remember a lot of what went into it…” Dean smiles unnaturally. It reminds Davis of those phony grins motivational snake-oil salesmen would coach suckers into doing in front of mirrors, to inspire confidence. “Besides, Cas and I have been looking for a career change.”

           “That is true,” Cas adds, brow raised, “Although we never discussed running a roadhouse.”

           “Cas, sweetie, I mentioned how owning a bar might be cool.”

           “Bars and roadhouses aren’t the same thing.”

           Davis coughs, nipping the budding argument while young. “As nice as the offer is,” he starts, “You boys don’t haf’ta buy this place from me because of pity –“

           “It’s not pity,” Dean insists, “No, not at all. I…” He glances at Cas, a strange emotion shuddering across his face. Like maybe he’s seen a ghost. That grip on Cas’s neck visibly tightens. “I know what it feels like, wanting to keep something… of someone you love. A physical reminder that they were here and that they mattered and… they mattered to you.”

           Cas leans into his husband’s side. “Dean’s very sentimental.”

           “Yeah,” Dean laughs, “I guess you could call it that.” He takes the empty plate with his free hand and stacks it atop the other, pushing them towards Davis, knocking it into the salt-and-pepper shakers and napkin dispenser. “I’ve lost a lot in my life, and I’ve only been so lucky to not just have them come back to me, but to get second chances. Or third chances, or even fourths.” Dean’s lips lift at the corners, flashing a friendly smirk. He definitely appears more relaxed than he did seconds ago. “I want to be the one to give chances, now, because I can. I want to buy Berens’s from you… if that’s okay?”

           It’s too good. Davis pinches himself, first. When he doesn’t wake, he knows he isn’t dreaming. He places a hand over his heart. Its strong beat reveals Davis has not died. Still, Davis cannot lower his defenses completely. “This isn’t a sting?” he asks, “Some harebrained scheme cooked up by scuzzy developers to get me to sell?”

           “The fuck this look like, Scooby-Doo?”

           Cas chuckles, “It might if you brought your ascot with you.”

           “Cas –“

           “So, you’re…” Davis scrubs a hand over his mouth, pressing it against stubble and focusing on the drag. “You’re serious? About wanting to buy this place?” He huffs a tired breath, tension leaking out of the cracks in his bones and leaving him with little support. Davis collapses on himself, smiling. “What about your honeymoon?”

           “Honestly?” Dean laughs, mirroring Davis’s posture, “We were running out of things to do. Probably would have hit the road in a few days, head on back to Kansas.”

           “Kansas?” Davis squawks, “You sure you aren’t using this as an opportunity to jump ship from there?”

           Cas sips at his drink, a bead of condensation falling off it from how long it went untouched. “We love Kansas,” he tells Davis, “but where we live now it… there’s a lot of baggage there. We want to start fresh.”

           “Besides,” Dean adds, “my brother was talking about renovations, making it more… work-friendly. Figured it’s best me and Cas dip and let the little brat have a go at it on his own. He’s earned it, I guess.”

           Davis nods. “If that’s all…” His gaze darts to the neon sign, a question in his mind. “Hey,” he says, “if you are plannin’ on doing this… this crazy idea of yours, are you – do you have any preference to what you call this place?”

           Dean taps at his chin, drawing the silence longer than necessary. “Well… a few come to mind. Harvelle’s… Campbell’s… Singer’s… hell, I could follow your lead and name it after Cas here, Novak’s – “

           “You’re not funny.” Cas elbows Dean hard enough the other man gasps from the pain, the other two delighting from the bug-eyed look that flashes. “We’ll keep it Berens’s.”

           “Thank you,” Davis says, standing, “Really… I – this is good. Great, actually. You want another round? On the house?”

           “Hey!” Dean protests, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes, “No giving away free booze! That’s our profit you’re eating into…”

           “Not yet,” he jokes, digging through his pockets, “Deed’s not yours until the I’s are dotted and money’s in my hands.” Davis finds what he searched for, tossing a quarter towards them. Cas catches it, effortlessly. “Why don’t you pick something from the jukebox, my treat!”

           He rises, and Davis turns to round the bar. Davis grabs three smaller glasses, and the Jameson he keeps on the highest shelf. He pours them each a generous fifth, maybe more. It’s a celebration, after all. As he carries the drinks back over, the opening chords of a familiar song start. Davis nearly drops the drinks.

           His expression must concern them, because Cas clears his throat and asks, “Is this okay?”

           Elvis croons from the speaker. Davis’s face strains from the too-wide grin threatening to crack his face in twain. “It’s perfect,” he says, settling at the table. He distributes the drinks, Cas joining them. “Cal always dug Elvis.”

           “I get it,” Dean says, “guy was a hunk, for the fifties.”

           They spend the next hour like that. Getting drunk, discussing the hardships of running a business and debating Elvis’s legacy as ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love’ plays in the background on loop. During a lull in their conversation, Davis feels, for the first time, that Cal is alive again.

           It wasn’t because of the bar, or how it fares. But because of these two men, a sense of calm washed over him. They make Davis hopeful for the future.

           Berens’s is in good hands.

#supernatural #spn #dean winchester #castiel #destiel #destiel fanfic #deancas #deancas fanfic #destiel wedding #destiel honeymoon #berens's roadhouse

[shadowfae]

Now maybe it’s just super late and I have a headache but there is something super wack about when people complain about the kin community on tumblr getting really mad about terminology and it turns out they’re actually just vaguing me specifically and not realizing that I’m the only really vocal and semi-blunt person talking about it.

I don’t talk about my own experiences as much as I should here since I’ve got such issues with being wrong and also embarrassing myself in a way that could in any way be used against me later, but it’s just. Wack. People think I’m elitist and hypocritical and they have never seen me agonize over whether I’m allowed to be in a place and take up space. Which I do nigh constantly.

Weird as fuck to remember people do not see every thought I have and in fact only see me being grumpy about the fact people disrespect and lie to the community I feel safest in. Like idk. That post I made a while back asking for someone to help me figure out if I’m a Valid System for lack of a better term is basically just the surface of the nonsense I end up overthinking about.

I mean I still don’t consider myself an actual system but that’s just me I guess. Feels like I’m taking space away from ‘real’ plurals. (Real i’m quotes because I have no idea if I count or not and will agonize over it for another few years until I decide one way or the other). But fuck man. People think I’m elitist and that is super wild. My stance has always been “don’t lie to me and don’t disrespect me, be honest with your intentions and be respectful and I’ll listen and try to help until the stars fall home”, and idk, is that not coming across well enough or something?

I dunno. I want to feel safe in a place where I’m understood and I want everyone to be so lucky as to feel the same way. I don’t like being lied to. It’s just weird to know that people have a different perception of me than I do, but I think everyone goes through that so I dunno.

#luteia laments #it’s quarter to two in the morning #if anyone wants to commentate that’s fine like always but #2am thoughts i guess? #if people want to see more of something from me then i’ll listen #i dunno what people expect or want but i do want to be a positive person that folks don’t hate? #i want to be trustworthy and have earned that #idk

[kob131]

So the OP of that post just deleted their blog.

Before they claim I tried to harass them- 

I’mma gonna post the response I made to them and link to the original reblog to showcase I did NOTHING to make them reblog.

https://kob131.tumblr.com/post/626185371460468736/modernmythmansion-you-know-what-really-bugs-me

Well good thing I’m not one of the ones who do that.

Too bad you openly say ‘I am speaking for the RWDE Tag which is composed as individuals’ so what you specifically do doesn’t matter.

When I’m expressing my negative feelings and opinions I don’t expect them to listen, I am simply reaching out to those who are just as unhappy, that’s what the RWDE tag is for. Despite what you see on the vile slums of social networks, there are plenty of people who express their thoughts and feelings just to reach out to others and work out there problems

Actually the RWDE tag is for criticisms according to several members of the RWDE tag.

Or is about venting and nothing else? Lot of people love to claim that as well.

You want to proclaim a group is X? Make sure said group doesn’t give conflicting info.

Well not my shit pal. And the ones who I am speaking for are not either.

Too bad they disagree with you. Wanna try saying that to Soku or Dudeblade?

If that’s what they’re gonna say, then say it. Just do it in a way that accepts the reality that they probably won’t listen, and instead use that criticism as well what you liked about the show and create something new.

Can’t, get called egotistical and demanded to be booted if you do.

Same tag did that shit.

Good, because I don’t. In fact you and your ilk love to accuse us of doing that because your definition of threatening and demanding is so broad, and don’t act like you don’t do that, you do that.

“Hey don’t say stuff I don’t do! We can’t be held accountable as a group!”

“Fuck you, your people did this and I’ll hold you accountable as a group!”

Nice double standards you have there.

Tell me, how does one DO expresses their subjective criticism that acknowledges that its subjective and not fact? Please, I would LOVE to hear how its done.

“In my opinion”.

There.

Oh ok, so it’s only okay when your kin do it.

A. Actively attacked RWBY fans.

And B. I call the individuals idiots for the reasons given in my posts.

Your assuming that I have a beef with Jaune, or that other dissenters do have a beef with Jaune as this rabid mob does we are in league with each other. You tend to assume what you want to prove in order to prove something else.  

‘They’re acting in a way I disagree with, they’re not True Scotsmen!’

You never clarified your group and you don’t make any exceptions on who you do consider ‘your side’. Considering the general way you referred to everything- You implied a general side.

Listen to me carefully

And. Who. I. Speak. For. Do. Not. Do. That.

Not me, not Psyga315, not rwde-rwby, not ironpines, not eight-of-penticles, not Adel Aka on Youtube, not us.

And yet I know at least two of those guys (Psyga315 and Eight-Of-Penticles) openly supported that shit. And Adel Aka CAUSED some of this.

Still ain’t buying it,

Well in my experience, RWDE hasn’t done that, and from my experience, there are just as many Stans of RWBY who have acted just as venomous as rabid shippers and those who side with RT seem silent about it. So it looks like we got dirt on both of us don’t we?

Considering I openly act as an individual and actively attack RWBY fans-

Nope, not really.

Also considering your personal experience means nothing outside an individual context-

You willing gave it up.

You could accept the fact that RWDE isn’t a hive mind and I won’t assume all RWBY fans are a hive-mind either.

But of course you sort seem to broaden the definition of “Threatening and Attacking the creators” to any form of dissent.

Too bad you don’t.

But you seem to have a VERY hard time to consider anyone’s experiences outside your own, don’t you?

I have actively disregarded my own experiences for objective fact- That means nothing to me.

If there is an alternate tag besides RWDE I can use so I don’t get lumped in with this mob could you tell me? Because I will happily do it.

claiming you’re speaking as an individual and then using plural pronouns and terms

Not what I said and you know it. Don’t use plural terms and pronouns and saying you speak for a group you do not define.

In fact, if labeling yourself automatically makes you something, could I label myself as a professional fantasy novelist? Because I would love to magically become one by just labeling myself as one.

Too bad that’s not how that label works.

Dude, I’ve seen you been actively hoping against a gay ship in RWBY in the past, and when RWBY shifted gears from Black Sun to Bumbleby, you threw monkey boy right under the buss and sided with the Bumblebee Fans because you need to defend RT so badly.

https://kob131.tumblr.com/post/625914212492951552/im-not-a-homophobe-proceeds-to-pretend-bumblebee

https://kob131.tumblr.com/post/625893206660464640/httpsroosterteethcomgpost5f0047a9-557b-42c0

What was that about assumptions again?

P.S. One of my followers hated me because they were a Bumbleby fan and I am THAT hated in their circles.

If that’s not sycophancy, I don’t know what it

You misspelled ‘consistency’.

In what way am I? Please quote me and dissect it, because just say-so isn’t gonna cut it.

Dude, I’ve seen you been actively hoping against a gay ship in RWBY in the past, and when RWBY shifted gears from Black Sun to Bumbleby, you threw monkey boy right under the buss and sided with the Bumblebee Fans because you need to defend RT so badly.

Make broad generalizations, never bring up evidence, never be specific as to make research hard, bring up a past event to sell to your audience-

How many SJWs have done this again?

Edit: Also deleting their blog and likely running away.

Because you decided RWDE was in league with the mob instead of discern them, you put all those in RWDE as bad, and those not in that tag as good and demand others to play by your rules.

That’s called and In-Group-Out-Group bias, or Us vs Them

https://kob131.tumblr.com/post/626161036319473664/i-just-saw-a-thread-of-tweets-praising

You know, it shouldn’t be hard to make RWBY look worse than FMA. But like every example before hand, a RWBY critic manages to fuck up so badly they make RWBY look better afterwards. Which is I recommend they stop making comparisons- RWBY fans don’t need more bullshit to spread around with the critics shitting themselves and giving them ideas.

Yeah you make a real good example of that.

Also, you make this distinction between ‘RWDE’ and ‘the mob’ ... when the shit I have been listing have been said IN THE RWDE TAG. By popular members too.

Mary Mother of Jesus Christ, how many times I gotta tell you, the internet is a shitty place, we can call this shit out until the cows come home, they aren’t gonna stop.

The world is also a shitty place- That doesn’t mean we give up when people are being shitty. No excuse.

And you people are no different, Allow me to quote a YouTube commenter on Adel Aka’s video Monty’s Vision is irrelevant

“These people are trying to dismiss criticism my claiming they have the moral high ground. Most people won’t insult the work of a dead man and those that do will get shat on by the others who hold Monty as infallibly sacred. Its called a “Threat Narrative”. It works by reducing the: agency, willingness to harm and invulnerability of your side and do the reverse for the opposition. Watch as everyone rushes in to attack your opponent as if they are stomping on a puppy.”

Except that I don’t chew you people out through the moral high ground-

Almost always through factual fuck ups and hypocrisy.

Because they are using the SAME mythology of alienation, groupthink, and authoritarian bullying as they do, even though they hate to hear that. At best, they have command over composure and language, but it’s often used in a smarmy or condescending matter.

Sounds a lot like the RWDE tag (alienating the creators from positive feedback, attack anything that isn’t negative against RWBY and make it so the creators cannot do anything they don’t approve of).

I am speaking for the RWDE tag which is composed as individuals, because I am certain I am not the only one who feels this way, but of course you use the RWDE tag to ghettoize and marginalize us in your con-jobs to discredit us.

Group. Noun. “ a number of people or things that are located close together or are considered or classed together. “ Your talk of the RWDE tag falls under group.

But it’s not just feeling you use but numerous other things like assumed methods.

I don’t need to do any of that- Almost every single post of mine is structured around factual faults beyond any assumption of innocence or straight up hypocrisy, You do it to yourselves, like saying you speak for a specific group of people then a general group like the RWDE tag,

The people I have mentioned before and identified themselves with this tag have CALLED OUT that behavior

And yet you say you speak for the RWDE tag, a far BIGGER group than those people.

But you decide to affiliate us with them anyway because you want to discourage others from listening to us.

You say as the point of my reblog was to call out your inconsistency, nothing about your credibility with you making it about that. Especially since my posts usually tackle you guys on an INDIVIDUAL LEVEL.

Your not our boss, your not our father, your not the police. Quit acting like you are.

First Amendment pal

[bladekindeyewear]

Bloggin’ bout HS^2 Commentary from start to Mid-Jan-2020

Sigh.  Time to pay the piper.  Someone’s gotta extract whatever plot-important and plothole mentions get mentioned in this commentary, even though reading behind-the-scenes stuff about Homestuck makes me even more nervous than reading frontend stuff ever could so I don’t really want to.  FYI, that’s what you’re going to get out of my posts on these -- anything regarding plot stuff and plotholes, things we would’ve misinterpreted or missed otherwise, not any of the other paid content such as sketches or full quotes from them about things.

TWENTY FUCKING DOLLARS A MONTH!???!??  Is Andrew even seeing any of this cash?  --no, not much of it I guess, he would want to make sure the WP folks get paid enough after the--

Yeah I’m not gonna even think about that.

Fuck it.  I’m ponying up.

Alright, first commentary post on the Patreon, commentary and bonus sketches for Ghostflusters... whoa, this is long and extensive.  Is it going panel by panel??

I guess I’ll give you a small quote just for a taste of how this starts...

Page 33:  Not sure what any of this shit means. It’s pretty deep though. We were going for an echo of the beginning of the epilogue when John is dreaming in anime. Except here it’s Jake, and nobody is dreaming, at least not yet. Also an anime dream wouldn’t be a nightmare for Jake, since Jake likes anime. Or he used to. Now anime probably just reminds him of Dirk.

Good thing we’re never gonna hear from that guy ever again.

...because this commentary is sort of stylized.  They’re kind of riffing on what they’re doing, and I get that -- when you have to write commentary you’re asking people to PAY for you can easily feel like you have to be entertaining.  But they are describing the rationale for the shot choices they made and such.  They’re also going for a sort of Andrew-recap sort of attitude, and I don’t blame them for that choice, either.

[Candy] Jade is...well, you’ll see.

GOD DAMNIT.  Don’t remind me that Dave vanished on her forever while they were doing pro-revolutionary work and she’s probably going to be in a bit of a state!  Stupid knowing author future allusions...

Then again, that’s exactly why I’m here blogging about the commentary for you guys -- for me to relay Authorial Intent on Stuff That Happened That Seemed Plotholey and Hints About What’s Going To Be Relevant.

I just, uh... didn’t expect there to be that MUCH of it.  And that casual phrasing for that Candy Jade Is Going To Be Seen And Or Relevant hint is... kinda indicating to me that there’s gonna be a LOT more of that here than I wanted.  :|

Continuing... there’s talk of why they started with Jake here, being unused to writing for middle-aged characters in Homestuck terms, et cetera, but again, I’m only here to relay anything with plot impact or SERIOUS perspective on how we should / the authors are viewing this.  The rest stays behind the paywall for whichever of you all think it’s worth $20, I don’t really have a choice.  At least now I know why there was no one to tell me what details were actually BEHIND the paywall.  Seriously, that’s steep.

Speaking of how stylized the commentary is here, I can get why some might read it and view the authors as slightly callous -- I’m giving them PLENTY of benefit of the doubt, though.  Andrew was FAR from callous and he hurt us worse out of love of artistic intent with the Epilogues than the HS^2 folks could EVER hurt us.  Real Dirk-like, actually.  Dirk is practically half of a self-insert, as we well know.  No wonder Andrew thought the right thing to do was to take his hands off the story, what with Dirk’s villainous action being putting his own hands ON the story.

We like to make fun of Jake English as much as the next guy, but he probably is actually pretty good at “doing things” if the need arises. 

Mhmm; there are some jibes at how screwed up Jake has made his life, but I don’t believe these authors actually disrespect Jake at all.  He was dealt a bad hand by the story leading up to this point (quite INTENTIONALLY by Dirk’s narrative control in the Epilogues, too) and HS^2 and its bonuses so far have been exploring the heap of merits and potential he’s still got in him.

It’s kind of sweet how he wants to clean out his ecto-son’s house, even if most of that is to prevent the slow creep of mounting existential dread and narrative relevance. 

Huh.  So they think Jake can sort of feel that narrative relevance is seeping in around him, to him?  That’s not out of the question at all.

Continuing... they’re going on a bit about the same sort of things I mentioned about their choices in detail or detail-less-ness when depicting people in this new format, considering ages and the paired text descriptions and such.  That’s the sort of thing you’d traditionally want to pony up for commentary for, so rest assured that all that IS in their commentary posts if you want to do that.  I’m kind of extracting the plot stuff out of the paywall just on principle.

A lot of making this comic--and every other comic ever--is trying to convey as much information with as little space as possible.

Quite so.

From this conversation we find out a couple things. 1) that Brain Ghost Dirk knows about Ultimate Dirk, and he thinks he’s a dickhead. 2) Brain Ghost Dirk knows who Jeff Bezos is, and Jake doesn’t. This could be a sign of a couple things, all of which are probably stupid. 

This is ALSO what I came here for:  Legitimate “don’t worry about it” handwaves about stuff that shouldn’t matter to us.  I never ascribed the slightest bit of relevance or inference to BGDirk making a Jeff Bezos reference, and I’m glad I was completely justified in ignoring it.  So far I agree with this probably-plural-but-acting-like-a-singular author’s train of thought.

Come to think of it, it’s maybe strange that in this Cool Future Earth where all of our characters are rich as hell, none of them have bothered to have any sort of corrective eye surgery. Jane, Jake, John, and Jade all still wear glasses. I guess they do have “signature looks” to maintain in regards to their brand. 

I had to include this, I was legitimately curious.  Understood it was probably an artistic decision to stay on-brand a fair bit -- and losing glasses even temporarily has a lot of thematic significance whenever it happens in Homestuck Proper -- but it’s nice to have some confirmation that this was the understandable rationale behind the choice.

Here we find out what Dirk thinks about Jake’s behavior of the last few years. In other words, we find out what Jake thinks about Jake’s behavior over the last few years. [...]

[Brain Ghost] Dirk is manipulating Jake here, but he isn’t actually saying anything demonstrably untrue. 

Again, most of this was obvious at the time, but it’s nice to have authorial confirmation on what was being brought across as per the strange divide between Brain Ghost Dirk’s independent will and his mostly-part-of-Jake status.

Seriously though, shoutout to the conceit that god tiers can just fly endlessly, with no visible effort. It’s a really excellent form of narrative shortcut that fits perfectly into the bonkers vibe of earth c as a whole. Oh there goes one of the Creators, just flying over the Wal-Mart like an asshole. 

You know... who IS doing the commentary here?  One of the authors, all of them?  One of the artists??  This really is a COLLABORATIVE effort between the authors and artists involved here, I think, and it shows in their clear surprise and appreciation for each others’ work that only settles into a full understanding instead of just knowing what one intended off the bat.

It calls into question exactly how much of the Condesce’s mind control was actually mind control at all, and how much was just a lowering of inhibitions. 

Right, right.

We see Jane greeting Jake here with open arms, which makes you wonder exactly what is going on here. If you’ll remember from Candy, Jane has already served Jake divorce papers. A mystery in need of solving, for sure. 

HERE we go!  This is the potential plothole we were concerned about that got me alerted that the commentary had something to add in the first place.  John mentioned toward the trail-end of the Candy epilogues that divorce papers had shown up for Jake.  (And we also saw an HS^2 update ago or so that Jane hadn’t actually KNOWN Tavros was “awol” at all until he was literally a part of this whole clowncorpse logistics business.)  So in light of what this post continues to say:

It could be that Jane has put aside the nasty business of their divorce in order to have a strong chest to cry on. Can’t really say I blame her. Jake English has many flaws but he does seem like a good person to drape yourself across and really let loose on. And without Gamzee there, Jane needs another punching bag. 

...it all finally fits as pretty logically consistent, although the author is being deliberately coy in a way that leaves it open for more to be revealed later about exactly how this is happening.  Good!  No obvious plotholes in HS^2 (yet).  That’s an honest relief.  The more often they have something in mind where I’d previously worried they’d screwed up, the more often I can give them credit and speculate properly on those gaps in story-logic expecting something there, like we so often got to with Andrew before the retconsplit made even THAT kinda fucky.

If you’ve ever had a friend or family member go evil, you’ll know that one of the hardest parts is there’s always still elements of them that you like.

I can definitely say that from nearly personal experience.

Also, at this point in the story there is no lingering doubt that Jake and Dirk have had a sexual relationship. There’s a familiarity there that wasn’t around when they were teens. 

I assumed so, but I guess I never thought ABOUT how I assumed so.  Huh.

Do any of the creators have a moral leg to stand on if all they’re doing is curling up into a ball and hoping the world gets better without them? Actually, does anyone have a moral leg to stand on if they do that? 

Almost Riddley, there.

These posts are certainly interesting!  Steeply priced for what they are, but interesting.  Moving on to the second of four so far... this one’s about Catnapped Part 1.

Taking over Earth C's business world certainly would have required rubbing shoulders with the already-powerful on the planet.

--yep, which I never doubted even when brought up in the Epilogues is a large part of her supply-side government views.

Ah, looks like the bonus commentary is a good deal shorter!  But that bonus section was a good deal shorter than the story section covered earlier too, so.

On to the next one, for Clown Logistics.

Page 58: If you love Vriskas, i hope you enjoy more Vriska content. If you hate Vriskas, well. Here is another one that is kind of different. Feel free to contemplate nature vs nurture and how best to apply this dichotomy toward emoting about the vriskas of your choice how you see fit.

I’m starting to really enjoy this author commentary.

Tavros being named Tavros sure was a decision. Go back and reread the commentary for panel 58 but stop before the nature/nurture thing, since they are not clones, or even the same species. They just have the same name, which, in this universe, means you at least type kind of the same.

Hmhmm.

Page 65:  Sometimes you try and come up with something to say about a page, and you cannot, and so you wait 8 hours, and go see Knives Out, and then you have 2 white russians, and then you still can’t come up with anything to say, but oh well! Commentary needs writing. Tavros is experiencing an emotion here.

Now THAT’s a mood.  I gotta go see Knives Out sometime soon.

...Alright, I can see why some people think MAAAAYBE this author might be being a little disrespectful to the audience, but if they’re going based on THIS, I don’t have a clue what they’re talking about.  This comment could have come from Andrew’s fingertips any day of the week!!!  I honestly wouldn’t WANT replacement authors who couldn’ comment like this in there for a page in paid commentary, especially in a lighter section of the story that doesn't need too much said about it.

And I paid $20 for this shit.

...Continuing, I’m loving all this commentary on Harry Anderson.  Representative excerpt:

Again, direct your eyes toward the boy. What a fucking asshole. 

...these commentaries are honestly improving my mood!  I didn’t expect that, really.

Ah, I didn’t even notice that the flying cars appear to be self-driving.  I think maybe the back of my mind MIGHT have noticed but only a bit.

Referring to the corpse-carry crew:

Page 82: Pokedex entry for Magneton in Pokemon Sun: When three Magnemite link together, their brains also become one. They do not become three times more intelligent.

Ain’t THAT a mood.

(...I just had an internal “Wait, am I using that right, it being a “mood”?  Isn’t that the hip new term, how do I have any right to latch onto that however much I feel it?  Ohhh gosh I’m so fucking old” moment.)

It’s clear from the commentator’s complaints that the crew never viewed this commentary ALONE as worth upping the pledge to $20, but that’s... not quite a bad thing?  I think it’d have been more disrespectful to think that they COULD make the commentary worth that.  I doubt there’s a single person on their team who feels quite right about the business model (besides the artists they have plenty of context to know how deserving they are of a living goddamn wage), but it’s what they have to live with and go with, here.  I feel weird for honestly understanding ‘em, and more than slightly pitying for how many people will look at all this and read “these assholes don’t care about us”.  I really can’t think that’s anywhere CLOSE to true from this without more context.  (And I really DON’T want more context, don’t send me any.  I’ve got to read HS^2 and I’m enjoying reading it so far so let me keep enjoying it please.  Background drama details make me nauseous, DON’T give me any if there is any (which I wouldn’t know about in the first place beyond an opinionated friend or two dropping hints in a bad mood).)

Did you know there are people who I’ve seen honestly believing “Undertale is pretty good but the creator is an arrogant asshole”?????

Because they saw his tweet about the game score passing Kojima’s MGSV on metacritic briefly and misinterpreted his wide-eyed disbelief, disbelief honed to nervous laughter to maintain sanity by Toby’s insecurity about his unprofessional work and work product???  They thought he was SERIOUS without any of the context of the usual insincere little dog persona they should’ve read into the game of his they played??

Awh man.  That just ticks me off.

Anyway where were we.

Page 91: This is a flashback so I didn’t write this one, which means I thankfully don’t have to say anything about it. 

Wait.  What?

Are they trading off writers between chapters, or...?  Hm.

Whatever they’re doing, it fits together pretty darn well SO far.

Alright, that finishes that off, time for the last commentary post on the second bonus update.

I don't know if you noticed, but everything is terrible right now. And I don't mean just in Homestuck's dumb fake earth. I mean in our dumb real earth.

Now that’s a mood.

I've been playing a lot of Death Stranding recently. Basically any media that you're making in 2019 has to either address what's going on around us or come off sanitized, sterilized, with its head in the sand. Kojima offers a simple power fantasy: Through Norman Reedus's sweaty, urine-filled labor, the things that divide us can be banished. America can be unified again.

Now THAT is a god damned MOOD.

The author(?) goes in about why this is happening, why Jane is being confronted this way, why she IS this way, et cetera.

Privilege, safety, and inherited wealth do funny things to the brain. People justify to themselves why they have what they have. If you have enough for long enough, you start to convince yourself you deserve it.

That’s one of the biggest goddamn reasons for the inequality and political landscape we have today IRL, yeah.

She saw a new world and chose, simply, to replicate the power structures of the 21st-century America she was raised in. Boardrooms, power pantsuits, formality and professionalism.

Jane's favorite comic, a noir-detective drama steeped in the pop-cultural trappings of pulp Americana, reflects this mindset.

So, our catgirl Seer of Light takes us through the looking glass, and we get to see an old friend.

Hm!

Nothing really to say, I just had to share this fitting context the author is giving.  How things fit together even better than they seemed to, and this was all far from random.

I feel warmly ensconced in the womb of nostalgia, gently cradled on Norman Reedus's chest.

Pffffffff

Yep, more of what we already surmised and appreciated, how Swifer and Cliper were giving us some much needed perspective... the commentary post even has little traditional-Homestuck sprites for ‘em.

And... that’s it for the commentary so far!  Again, I enjoyed all that more than I expected.  $20 doesn’t sting for me as much as it does for others in general, but it stung a lot less after I was through reading all that honestly somewhat-entertaining stuff confirming a lot of the insights I’d thought the plot was having.

I’ll probably wait to check for further commentary posts until like... after bonus updates come out, in the future, and then just blog about whatever I’m not caught up on.  Sound fair?  I’m going to blog as often as a real or bonus upd8 comes out, but I’m not going to pop in more often than that for my own sanity’s sake.  Have a good MLK weekend, y’all.  :)

#Homestuck #hs2 #Homestuck Liveblog #bladekindeyewear #Homestuck Commentary #blastyoboots

[grapeicies]

8 Things 8 Years of Recovery Taught Me

(Not working with a professional version)

1) STOP PUSSYFOOTING YOUR STRUGGLES AND PICK SOMETHING TO WORK ON.

As tempting as it is to waltz into the recovery process, expecting to stumble upon the cure for your shit buried somewhere in the piles and piles of blog posts and internet advice, that’s not how this works. 

Recovery is an active effort that requires focus to achieve. Personally, I like following the CBT model and focusing on changing behaviors in order to change thoughts in order to change feelings. It feels less overwhelming to change my behaviors because my thoughts aren’t nearly as visible as how I behave and my feelings are involuntary reactions to my own thoughts and events happening around me. If you’re too overwhelmed to decide on just one behavior to work on, don’t be afraid to reach out to a friend or trusted family member and ask them to help you figure out which behavior is most manageable for you to focus on.

2) Read the fuck out of those piles and piles of blog posts and internet advice and develop your mental filter.

Figure out what works for you! People on the internet are literally out here throwing out ideas and suggestions for things that work for them and you might stumble upon something that works for you! Don’t feel bad because something someone else said worked for them didn’t work for you. YOU’RE NOT THEM.

As time goes on and you try and fail at more and more things, you will encounter things that do work for you and you will become more comfortable experimenting with new methods to help you continue to feel better about yourself.

3) Stop expecting recovery to be sunshine and rainbows.

It’s not. Often, it is first gross and ugly and uncomfortable and distressing and awful. You will reopen old wounds. You will cry harder than you knew was possible. You will be ugly and raw and real and it will be the best decision you will have ever made for yourself if you fully commit to it. The more time you invest into active wellness and self-building, the faster you will recover from crashing and burning and get right back to it. 

Progress is not, nor ever will be, linear.

I think Luvvie Ajayi did an incredible job summing up the important role discomfort and anxiety plays in growth so I’m gonna link her TED talk. Anxiety about doing differently for yourself is natural. I specify differently because it’s not always going to be better for you. Often, it’ll simply be... Different. And yet taking that leap of faith that you just might find what does work for you is the only way to get to where you want and need to be.

4) Pay attention, asshole.

Learn mindfulness skills. Read up on mindfulness. Do the yoga, the meditations, the walks, the movements, the breathing, the connection. Watch every video related to the importance of mindfulness for mental health on YouTube. Notice when you have become complacent with your familiar dissatisfaction. Notice when you’ve become numb to the things that eat away at your health. Become mindful of how you feel and whether or not you’re tuning something important out of your mind for the sake of keeping the peace. Momentary discomfort is growth! Long-term stress and strain is destructive to your health.

5) Treat your story like the fucking autobiopic it is.

Document everything. Every small step, every little breath, every tear, every smile, every awful, terrible thought. Make collages and cork boards and stuffed scrapbooks of ideas to help you develop. Treat yourself like the masterpiece you are because every work of art was built on the several thousand decisions leading up to its creation and there’s NOTHING more satisfying than being able to literally hold your progress in your hands.

6) Stop bitching out on asking for help.

People need people.

You were not made to function as an independent being.

 A baby’s most important tool for survival is their ability to scream and cry for help. I don’t give a shit just how much you insist you don’t need anyone else: 

YOU NEED PEOPLE. PLURAL. PEOPLE.

Forums, Discord servers, Reddit Posts, Facebook Groups, YouTube Vlogs, support groups, social help services, friends, family, whatever is at your disposal: weave yourself a fucking support network and make sure it is a net comprised of several different groups of individuals with varied interests who help you feel like you are every little bit as important as you are. Do NOT rely on a single person or a select group to enrich and supplement your life because that level of support is too fragile. Strike your balance and accept that your social circle will always be malleable as you make room for growth.

7) Shove yourself into the idea that you’re worth your own love and effort.

If you feel unimportant, then fuck it. 

Show yourself compassion.

Make yourself important. 

The more you take care of yourself and prioritize your needs, the more other people will do the same (with varying degrees of resistance from people who got used to you prioritizing them; sadly, it’s an inevitable reality). While it is ultimately your responsibility to make yourself your own priority because you are the only person you are obligated to wake up to every morning, as you get better at taking care of yourself and realize who’s here for you and who was here for what you did for them (without reciprocity), you make it easier for other people to help take care of you too.

As you build up and plug up the holes in your cup, you will be able to start sharing the excess of the love and support you’re receiving with other people and build meaningful connections.

8) Keep going.

Develop the capacity for grit. 

In a society that benefits from your self-hatred and animosity towards the other, it is your radiance and your defiant capacity for love and empathy that is the true revolution.

You cannot change the world. You cannot change your family. You cannot change people. 

Let yourself resist those truths and then accept them. 

Commit to accepting them.

And then operate within the boundaries placed before you.

You can influence the world around you when you invest in yourself and the people around you. When you demand better for yourself and work for it, you embolden other people to want the same. You may not be able to feel the impact of the mark you will leave on the world when you do better and still you must have faith that your mark is made. 

This post is my effort to shape the world I live in using the tools I built for myself. And just like every thought, every quote, every gesture, every conversation, every hug, every tear, and every smile carved and shaped me into the person I am today, I have one wish for everyone who reads this:

I hope for all of you to one day wake up and realize you are currently the best version of yourself that you have ever been. 

And that you will only get better.

8 things 8 Years of Therapy Taught me

#self care #recovery #getting better #long post

[wearingmywings]

Destiel Meta - an outsider’s perspective

I’ve been reading meta for about a year, but now I wanted to add my own post regarding it.

I don’t really see things when I first watch episodes, I don’t get mirrors or parallels or pay attention to background details like wallpaper or neon signs or anything like that. I’m not good at analyzing things or interpreting it, not in literature nor film, I don’t do something in this area professionally or studied it. 

However, there are some things that jumped out so much that even I thought “Hey, that’s something!”.

Part 1: Mirrors

Seriously, mirrors? You’re telling me that it’s a known method to present mirrors to characters, that they can be used in subtle or totally obvious forms, and they can tell you a lot about the character that’s being mirrored just by existing? Wow that’s so cool!

14x300: In the first scenes when my friend yelled “Look! they look like Dean and Cas!”, I wasn’t 100% sure if that’s what was going on, but oh boi at the end of the episode it was crystal fucking clear. Three people next to each other, the one on the right taller than the others, one is wearing a jacket resembling a trench coat, one is wearing plaid. Trenchcoatjacket and Plaid are holding hands.

We noticed Plaid’s crush on Trenchcoatjacket the whole episode, it was so obvious! Hm, what else was there in resemblance? I remember the taller kid was pretty nerdy, and Plaid stole the Impala at one point, so it’s pretty clear we have Sam and Dean here, which leaves Cas for the last person, and it fits so well! Thats awesome!!

Apart from “Lebanon”, the episode ‘Mint Condition’ basically taught me how they use mirrors and that I should pay attention to them right now. They pointed out who was Sam and Dean, then resumed with the plot and I sat there thinking “Oh!”.

My friend explained to me how the ghost of that episode relates to John Winchester, and honestly if you follow the train of thought about mirrors that the episode presented to you, it’s pretty easy to get there.

Dreamhunter: The confirmed ship with two girls, ah yes! Again, I don‘t really pick up on visual cues or background stuff, but when Kaia said to Claire “I’ll go with you,” I had flashbacks to the season 11 finale immediately. I mean, using the exact same dilagoue? But alright, maybe they’re gonna keep playing it as a cute subtextual crush or how you call it, because neither of them says “You’re my crush”, so-

Oh, wait, Kaia was also stabbed in front of Claire who screamed “Noo!!”, that’s another striking resemblance. Hm.

Oh, Dreamhunter is confirmed to be a couple thing? Neat! So does that mean all the DeanCas stuff is romantic? Because y’all used the same dialogue and plot.

Part 2: Dean’s pining (season 11)

To be fully honest here, I didn’t understand season 11. At all. I didn’t get the whole Amara thing, why was everyone talking about pining? Dean told us that it wasn’t about desire with him and Amara, just a weird fixation, but still, the lady in the senior home told Dean that he “was pining for somebody else”. That makes no sense!

Unless it’s true? Dean didn’t pine for Amara, he tells us that, but everyone’s still talking about pining, therefore the topic of pining is important. Dean x Amara wasn’t romantic, that’s clear from what Dean told us and how he behaved, so no pining.

The only person left he could pine for is Cas. The dude who let in Lucifer, who Dean’s worried about, who Amara touches and she knows where Dean is? That’s..interesting. I’m still kinda confused, but some things are clearer now. No romance between Dean & Amara, but pining is still a theme, and only Cas makes sense. Got it.

Part 3: Cas’ endgame as being human

I wanted to include this because I’ve had this headcanon for years, then saw the meta community talk about it, and honestly there’s one scene to watch and it’d be clear that Cas wants to be human.

“We need grace-” “He can have mine”. 14x08

Alright dude, you’re so eager and ready to throw away your grace? Okidoki.

To go back in time, everyone always had these TED talks about how Cas loves humanity and loves humans and human things, that he feels stuff (season 4 yall, it’s been a while), that he compliments Hannah with things that “are human”. He doesn’t get along with other angels because they’re different than him, or they don’t understand his love and devotion for humans. He spends pretty much all his time on earth, around humans, because he loves them, and one in particular.

To quote Metatron, “He’s in love with humanity”. Do I need to add more? No? Fantastic, because this post is long enough already.

Part 4: Random things in no particular order

Episode 12x12, because come on. Some people took the gifs of Cas’ deathbed confession and connected them to the shots before, showing you where everyone’s standing, who Cas is looking at, and it’s so bloody clear. Don’t get me started on the singular vs plural “i love you” because I literally don’t have to, it’s right there.

“I could go with you”- season 11 finale. Cas, ready to die to accompany Dean on the suicide mission to save the world. He wants to ease Dean’s fear and be there for him until the very end, without hesitation. Castiel really fucking loves Dean Winchester. Wow.

That’s it I think? Those are the top things that jumped into my face when I watch the show, things I didn’t have to read other people’s thoughts on to understand what’s happening. :)

To finish this up I want to say something about meta writers. I didn’t start out reading meta, I didn’t really care for details and background stuff and took the show as I saw it, which is why I shipped Destiel immediately because there were enough things so blatantly obvious to me that I just had to. Then I found @tinkdw, then @bluestar86, @dotthings, @occamshipper, @postmodernmulticoloredcloak and all the other bloody amazing meta writers, and boom! A whole new world!

I started a series rewatch, read the posts for the episodes or seasons, paid more attention and there was so much to see and notice! It gave me joy in watching SPN in a time where I was kind of burned out because I had just discovered the bad side of the fandom and was a bit hopeless, for my OTP and the show itself. It gave me friends, and interesting conversations, but more importantly: These people helped me be realistic about episodes, upcoming episodes and PR stuff. “PR is not showrunning” was a strange concept to me before they showed me what it meant, and I vividly remember being in tears before all this after some PR material promised amazing things but failed to deliver.

These people are so good at predicting what’s going to happen because they read the fine print and understand it, pack it up and show it to us who either can’t read the fine print or dont notice it. They help fans to control (?) their expectations, to soften blind excitement over promo shots or interviews with people who have either no clue what they’re talking about (Jensen bby, i love you but what are you even saying?) or are purposefully exaggerating things.

They saved me from so much disappointment, they improved my fandom experience and changed my feelings for the show and how I watch it. There are so many interesting things to discover, things that confirm theories and explain plot points. I haven’t been disappointed in a new episode because of PR or rumors since I’ve met them, except ep 300 but that’s...a whole other thing. They were right about that too, though, and I didn’t listen. Catch me crying at four am because of it.

I love those people immensely, and I’m so thankful for them. They take the time to write all these essays about the show, all you have to do is read them.

A toast to meta writers! Consider this your personal love letter.

Kisses,

Jana

#destiel meta #Destiel #pr is not showrunning

[qweerhet]

I know on your other blog you talk about being a system and was wondering how a singular person would write a character who has a system, or if one even could? I have been following system blogs for a while and have a friend I can talk to about these experiences. I’d hate to be disrespectful by writing a character wrongly though, and that risk is enough to keep me from thinking about the idea for more than a minute. Is a good idea to write my traumatized character as having DID?

hello!! first off, thanks for coming to me with this! these are always fun questions to answer and i love talking about system stuff.

first off, i do wanna direct you to this post i reblogged and consider how it can be applied to areas other than race. any marginalized identity is going to have an effect on your character’s personality, backstory, interests, etc, and the most important factor in a writer writing a character with a marginalized identity they’re not a part of is how much they do their research, talk to IRL people of those identities, and holistically include their identity in the entire character.

some thoughts on writing a DID character specifically:

-plural folks are not a monolith. you should have multiple conversations with multiple systems about how they conceptualize their system and how their members relate to each other and to the outside world. i, for example, conceptualize our system as parts of a whole unit, and we tend to operate in a way where the actions of one headmate affect the actions of the whole--we have a lot of emphasis on shared responsibility and shared relationships. but this isn’t how every system operates, some systems feel so strongly about maintaining individual identities that some headmates have entirely separate friend groups!

-because a wide audience doesn’t know jack shit about plurality, you might have to soapbox a little when explaining what’s up with your character and that they’re not ~possessed~ and nothing ~magical~ is going on. once again, you probably shouldn’t go into writing a character without doing enough research/talking to enough systems that you’re comfortable doing that.

-i honestly don’t think anyone wants a character whose plurality is entirely defined by their trauma. if they have DID, then their system would have been created by childhood trauma, but most systems don’t like to just think of themselves as a “symptom.”

also, this is going a bit deep into my own personal preference, but i suggest you take places like tumblr system blogs and r/DID with a heavy fucking grain of salt. these communities have severe crab bucket tendencies and are full of people who aren’t healed enough to stop defining themselves by their trauma, and act out by gatekeeping, lashing out at other systems, and spouting a lot of negative crap that validates wallowing in their mental illness. and frankly, a lot of them hate being systems. you know truscum communities who view being trans as a mental illness and are always fetishizing their own pain and assuring each other that they don’t have to grow or heal? yeah, some of these communities are the plural version of those.

-uhhh also just generally be prepared to take on the responsibility of creating several characters, not just one. even if your character has a host, all headmates in a system are still full individuals who need to be fleshed out like any other character!

tl:dr; go ahead, you don’t need my or anyone else’s permission to write a character with DID, here’s some vague direction on where to point your research and some things to keep in mind.

if you have more specific questions i’d love to answer them, this one was all kind of vague so i tried to keep my answers pretty vague!

#long post #DID #plurality #actuallyplural #Anonymous

[amwritingmeta]

JiB10

So, last year, for various reasons, I didn’t actually put down my experience of JiB, but are y’all ready to hear all about this year’s experiences and adventures? 

Well, in condensed form. I mean, what is this - LiveJournal? (okay yeah kinda is but no not going into excruciating detail here just the best bits) (the choice cuts, as it were) (watch me go full butcher) (it’ll be entertaining I swear) :P

So, firstly, I’m a panel rat. I fucking love those panels. All the panels. It’s mainly why I get the Angel Pass, because the seats are so good and I’m all about them good seats, yeah? 

I have friends who spend a whole lot of time in line for ops or for autos and I just… can’t… do that. Not when there’s talking happening and answering of questions and just that room being MAGIC, because the entire con feels so inclusive and filled with open-minded like-minded human beings who share in our love of this glorious show.

I started a JiB Log, but figured I’d get too distracted to actually update it regularly, because that’s what last year was like. When you’re not in a panel you’re either walking to grab something quick to eat (have to commend the little smoothie place at the airport, because they did good sandwiches and really good coffee at a reasonable price) or you’re heading to the hotel bar to get absolutely plast-… No, actually didn’t do that this year, so correction: or you’re heading to the hotel bar to see who’s there and catch up with people who have been to their ops and are still shaking with excitement. 

(you can also comment on the wonderful imagination of strangers in the ladies’ room when you see them shaking with excitement and are dressed up in bridal gowns) (okay there was one lovely dressed up as a bride so maybe plural is the wrong way to go but the sentiment holds true) (JiBers - you are so fucking awesome and I LOVE YOU ALL)

Okay, so wanna know the most basic things I’ve learned about how to JiB? I mean… if you don’t, then stop reading, I guess, because imma tell ya. #fairwarning

Bring Snacks (you won’t regret it) 

Bring Alcohol (you won’t regret it)

Good Footwear (you won’t regret it)

Clothes For Every Occasion (you may regret it if you overpack) (don’t overpack) (Google “packing tutorial by Jensen Ackles”) (worth it)

Choose Wisely (just general solid advice) (I mean, get your priorities straight) (panel rat or up close and personal kitty cat) (or both) (sidenote: I take it choosing to be both is quite stressful) (make sure that your stress sensors are up and that you don’t overdo it) (switching between rat and cat is bound to be internally messy) (okay that actually came out as not haha solid but actual solid advice so yeah) (be prepared that doing both is difficult!) (and having lots of ops and wanting to do all autos means probably missing a whole lot of panels for standing in line and waiting) (even the solo panels with the main players or - and I will question your sanity - the joint panels that close the weekend) (well not the very final panel) (nobody missed the J2M panel because all ops and autos had closed by then) (but yes prioritise wisely)

Be Open (because, no matter what, you are bound to meet someone you click with at this event) (most people) (actually every stranger I gave a throwaway comment to) (were so chill and happy to have a brief chat or share a moment with me) (so even if you’re traveling by yourself you are bound to feel embraced) *jazz hands rome magic*

Pinches of Salt (take everything you see and hear with healthy pinches of salt) (I briefly forgot about this on Monday morning and oh boy I could’ve saved myself a world of stupidity if I’d only remembered it yeah?)

MNC (get your sweet ass to the Monday Night Concert because both my years of JiBing it has been mind-blowing) (this year was better than last year honestly) (which I did not think could happen) (they are the bee’s bees and the bear’s bear) *throws all the love at them*

When it comes to impressions and memories made this particular trip, I feel like the whole week has been one long run of blessings. Sincerely, it’s been - oh what’s the word again? --> MAGIC. 

I’m not going to go through all the boring personal moments of Holy Fuck *jazz hands rome magic* but I will just say that I think I stepped out of passport control with the widest smile, and it barely left my face for the entire weekend. The panels were wonderful this year. I’m still on a high. No, seriously. It’s almost a week later and I haven’t been hit by the JiB blues yet, and perhaps I won’t this year.

*prays I land a pass for next year* *GAH* *the nail-biting begins*

Confession time? (…when in Rome)

Confession 1 — I have such a crush on Rob. I mean, I’ve had it for years, but time to make it official, I guess. He just seems like the sweetest, loveliest human being and watching him sing is like… watching the stars light in the sky. He is such an amazing singer and performer. He made me cry. He sang Fare Thee Well and he made me cry at the Monday Night Concert. 

*no I was NOT drunk* *though damn that G&T was strong* *oh btw the drinks in Rome are amazing and worth the money because extra alcoholic* *like damnnnnn* *just as an aside* *but also bring your own bourboun* *winks at @waywardliliana* *sup gurl?* *winks again* *winks some more* *can’t stop now* *licks lips* *yeah I know* *uncomfortable?* *licks lipssss againnnnn* *okay stopping now* *….or am I…….?*

:P

Confession 2 — The panel-watching truly is a huge amount of fun. This year there were a lot of things said that made me want to jump up and down in my seat, because it gives me a lot of hope for season fifteen and Jensen provided most of it on the Saturday, and then Jared was pretty much agreeing with Jensen’s assessments of how the brothers’ journeys should end on the Sunday, and I was like GAH! *happy* And then Misha throws in his belief that there needs to be a sacrifice and tragedy and we all went NO! Also his fear that this family of ours will disperse and we all went NOOO! :) Anyway, these are all stated observations, but the confession is this:

As much as I love spending time in a space that is occupied by some of my favourite human beings on this planet (oh but they are), what makes JiB so truly, deeply, personally special is meeting up with friends who otherwise live too far away to see on the regular. All of us convening in this one place to share in this one great love is like electricity through your veins. It’s like… well, it’s like going to a place of worship, and I think you know what I mean. When you’re in a room with a group of peope who’s energy jives with yours, then your energies align, and resonate, and then — MAGIC.

It’s magical. It’s fucking magical. *jazz hands*

Shoutout to everyone I managed to see this year who have not yet been lip-licked at in this post (or real life), whether it was much too brief (so many of you were much too brief) or whether we spent quality time, seeing you all really made the trip sparkle: 

@captainhaterade - who made such a fantastic and impromptu seat mate - thank you, Emily, for having me next to you for most of the weekend! :D 

@eriquin - Meghan, it was so lovely to meet you and I’m thrilled you and Emily both enjoyed your first con, very happy I got to be a part of it! :)

@trickster-angel - my dear Chiara, it took us a few tries, but we finally got to sit down in the Corner (if you get to go next year then I think this may be where we’re all just convene from now on) (*suggestion*) *nobody puts us in a corner except us!* :P So good to meet you!

@inacatastrophicmind - Mara! We met much, much too briefly, but I’m so, so glad we did! See you around tumblr, my friend, and hopefully at JiB11! :)

@misskittyspuffy - aw man, Aurelie, we kept missing each other and I really wanted to sit down and have a proper lunch or dinner, but at least you and--

@assbuttboyfriends - hey, Claire, my dear, at least you and Aurelie aren’t that far away, right? Come visit me in London, I tell ya! :D Otherwise, proper plan-making for next year. xx

@bold-sartorial-statement - a brief hello was still a good hello! Hope you enjoyed the con! xx

@jenmdixon - it was good to say hello to you, my dear, and really hope you enjoyed the con (and didn’t die under those lights because it got HOT) (no wonder the actors are fan-addicts) :) xx

@purgatory-jar - Elena, it was, as ever, fantastic to see you and I’m stoked I got to have a proper lunch with you this time around. You have always been and will always be one of my absolute favourite artists in this fandom and, by extension, anywhere. Already a star, girl!

Shoutout to @northern-sparrow - I was sorry that I missed you at the bar, but there’s always next year. Hope you enjoyed the con and thanks for asking The Perfect Question. :D xx

Finally, @godshipsit​ -- Alessia, my friend, you are this calm, welcoming, very dear part of Rome and JiB for me (last year you supported me so much just by being there) and you are simply brilliant! *all the prettiest flowers at your door*

And to my two felines who are tumblring, but not very often: Laura and Steph, you wonderfuls! Thanks for all the laughs!!

*I now proceed to throw love at you all*

Confession 3 — I have a Favourite Moose. Nope, it’s not who you think it is. (girl, I almost put the hashtag on here but in the current climate) (I think I’d just better not) (especially since I wanna tag you) (hey, Moose!) (hey @natmoose!) (yes you!) (Nat-Blue!) :) #theconversationalists 

Now, the highlights from this years con are too numerous for me to write them all down, really, but here’s a taster:

Ricky Whittle (the man is a genius comedian)

Rob talking about how his fandom experience has changed since he, for the first time, is seeing comments like “I hate your face” (the way he says “I hate your face”) (*giggle*) (also it’s such a question of tone because most of those “I hate your face”s are probably said with loads of love) (because Chuck going ultimate big bad toxic masculinity representative is fucking BRILLIANT) *love to hate his face* 

Matt telling the airplane story

Alex reenacting different parts of the airplane story

Alex choosing Jasmine from Aladdin to put a spin on and making the twist that he’ll rob the wishes from Aladdin like -->

Alex: *sings* I can show you the world *interrupts* I’m just like yo, just give me these wishes. Don’t mess with me. How about this? I’ll show myself the world, okay?

I really, really very much like Alexander Calvert, okay?

Briana being distracted by herself on the stage monitor (she’s gorgeous and she knows it and is also open about how it costs her a lot of money and time and effort and how that’s not for everyone and real beauty runs so much deeper) (which is why she is the most gorgeous woman)

Jared telling us all to shut up during his Sunday morning solo panel (and basically all of his time on stage, but especially this half an hour of stage time, because my GOD he was in such a good mood)

Misha

Jensen going off on a minor rant about Game of Thrones S08E05 because yesssss

Jared doing that jump-and-a-skip at his panel with Misha

Jared’s panel with Misha

Jensen telling Misha he loves him and them hugging, only for Jensen to turn it into a joke and pretty effectively demonstrating how this is how they interact and they don’t mean anything by taking the piss out of each other because yesssss

sincerely, all the solo panels (especially Jensen’s, because he’s so sincere and open and honest about how seriously he takes his work and it’s gorgeous and inspiring and always has been and always will be and)

I mean, Jensen lying flat on his back on that stage and Misha saying You Sexy Bitch is very, very, very… overt. I side-eye. But with a whole lot of appreciation for the balls on those two. I’d venture that they know exactly what they’re doing, and I’ll forever wonder what the percentage is between performative and spur-of-the-moment. Sometimes I think you can tell, but… oh, they know what we like. Usually. :)

Jared bringing the dirty. I just love his filthy mind.

All of their filthy minds tbh. 

Singing Carry On My Wayward Son in the hallway after the final panel is just… one of the best parts, and this year they all came out and high fived and gave hugs and… it was special 

The Monday Night Concert surpassed last year’s and went on for nearly two hours and was deeply moving for many reasons and I wish to the good Heavens (…okay you know what I mean) that Jensen and Briana will record Shallow because I think their version beat the original (damn Briana’s voice is just… damn!) (and I can’t talk about Jensen singing please don’t make me talk about it) (…) (thank you)

Also Richard Speight Jr because Richard Speight Jr!!

Also just Jason Manns because Jason Manns!!

And The Four Cheese!!

See, there’s just tOO MuCH STuFF

<3

And now it’s over and I’m still hopped up on the adrenaline and the happiness and Jensen talking about spreading happiness (I believe it was either during the opening panel with he and Jared on the Saturday or his solo panel later that afternoon) made me feel light as a feather, because he’s right. A healthy dose of real happiness builds you up from the inside out and makes you believe you’re worth it. All of it, yeah? And that, whatever comes your way, you can handle it. Oh, it can be a struggle, but if you only dare to be open, then good things, my peeps. 

Good things do happen.

I hope to see you next year!!

#JiB10 #my stuff #jensen ackles #jared padalecki #misha collins #alexander calvert #briana buckmaster #rob benedict #richard speight jr #jason manns #ricky whittle #jibcon #rome magic #<3

[vergeangst]

Family is Not Always Everything Part 1

Notes: Alrighty people I’m starting this year off with some good ol’ angst. Be ready (or don’t.) Inspired by this post.

Warnings: Deciet, lying/manipulation, Apathy (character, not in there for long and he doesn’t do anything other than talk but y'know), panic-like state, crying

Tags: @itsme98z @analogical-lovechild @ailithnight @pippa-frost @nightphans @nymphaedoratonks

WC: 1,696

Part 2

~

He was there, his door slightly ajar as he looked out of it, when Roman had shouted at the man. The man in a bowler hat and a cape, looking villainous, but Virgil wasn’t one to judge on that topic.

He’s new, Virgil thought, watching the man disappear through a door and into the shadows after an infuriated Roman had walked off. He needs someone. A friend. I can be a friend, can’t I?

~

The next day, late afternoon, Virgil had woken up and gotten out of bed before applying the pencil eyeliner below his eye and smudging it, something he always did, for a reason he didn’t truly know. It was routine. Concrete. One of the very few things he could control about his life here in Thomas’ mind.

He opened his door and there, in the shadows, was the door. The door he had walked out of quite some time ago, but had never walked back through. It was a deep, dark brown, almost black, with a knob of gold. It was menacing as it hid in the shadows of the hallway.

This was a place he knew well, too well. It was dark and all things ominous. It was where he, anxiety, stemmed from, and he knew the things inside were scary and mean. He knew there was a possibility that the man was just like any other creature in there. There was a possibility the man was all bad, but there was also a possibility he was like Virgil, just wanting someone to stand by him and be his friend. So, Virgil took a chance. He turned the knob of the door and opened it, looking into the darkness that engulfed the room he then walked into.

This was where all of Thomas’ dark sides and fears were located. It was pitch black once the door was closed. There were sounds, growling, footsteps, and the feeling of always being watched. Virgil could hear his breathing and the sound of someone else’s voice. The voice was all around him.

“Anxiety. Welcome back. We missed having you here. Tell us, what is it like living with them?”

God, he hated that voice. He hated him. Him being Apathy.

Apathy: [ap-uh-thee]

noun, plural ap·a·thies.

1. absence or suppression of passion, emotion, or excitement.

2. lack of interest in or concern for things that others find moving or exciting.

Apathy took motivation and crushed it, squishing it like a bug as he drained you of emotion. Virgil had had a few too many encounters with him.

“What do you want?” Virgil tried to sound as if his heart wasn’t racing.

No. It’s fine. Everything will be ok.

His heart slowed only slightly.

“Awe, don’t be like that. We’re friends, aren’t we?” Apathy laughed loudly, it echoing in the large, seemingly empty space.

Virgil cringed at the laugh. It was a laugh that would send shivers up your spine and make your skin crawl. It could only be described as evil. He shrugged off the feeling soon after and spoke again.

“Who’s the new guy?”

“Why should I tell you?”

“I want to meet him.”

Virgil jumped forward as a hand landed on his shoulder.

“Is that so?”

Apathy’s voice was close now. Very close.

“Yes. Now where is he?”

Apathy hummed as a sound echoed from what Virgil would say was about twenty feet away, footsteps following.

“Well, looks like you won’t need my help with that.”

And with that, Apathy backed away and the footsteps grew closer, stopping what could’ve been an arm’s length away.

“Why do you wish to see me?”

“Who are you?”

“Is that of major importance..Anxiety, was it?”

Virgil’s eyebrows drew together. “Yes..that’s my name, and I suppose it isn’t extremely important, but I just wanted to know..”

The man hummed. “Call me Dee.”

“Okay, Dee… I would like to get to know you better.”

“May I ask why?”

Virgil paused for a moment, thinking of a response. “It’s nice to have company. Plus, I haven’t seen you around before.”

“Are you not a light side?”

“I -uhm yes, I guess I am-”

“So you have plenty of company.”

“I guess so, but I was thinking you could use some company away from the Others.”

“And why would you think that?”

“Uhm…”

Dee chuckled. “Oh, aren’t you just precious.”

Virgil was more confused now than he had been in a while. “I..don’t think so, but whatever.”

“I’d love to take up the offer to be in your company.”

Virgil smiled slightly. “Cool. I guess I’ll see you whenever.”

Dee hummed. “Amazing. Goodbye Anxiety.”

“Bye Dee.”

Virgil made his way back to his room, a small smile on his face and the thought of finally, finally having a friend in his mind.

~

The next day, Virgil was noticeably happier. He walked into the kitchen while the other sides were eating breakfast, ignoring how the small chatter in the room died down, with a hint of a smile on his face.

“Well, is Mr. Doom and Gloom actually lightening up for once?” Roman said, interrupting the silence.

Virgil, grabbing nothing but a granola bar, chuckled quietly and walked back out, saying, “In your dreams Princey.”

His day just got worse from there.

He had to film a video with Roman and Thomas a few hours later, which only left him exhausted. Honestly, although he got to talk about the darker messages in Disney, which was actually kind of nice, if he was being honest, having to deal with Roman arguing with him the whole time gave him a headache. Then, after going to his room for a bit with his headache not getting any better, he decided to take something for it. That, however, meant he had to leave his room, as the only source of pain medication was in the first aid kit located in the commons. (Curse himself for not storing some in his own bathroom.)

He popped in on the top of the stairs, first listening to see if anyone might be there. After hearing nothing, he walked down the stairs silently. His feet slowed as he saw Logan sitting on the couch, reading a book, having not noticed him yet. Virgil let out a small puff of air as he stepped off the last step, alerting Logan of his presence.

“Hello Anxiety.” Logan looked up to the hoodie-clad man.

Virgil gave a two fingered salute to him, making his way to the closet, all too aware of the eyes that were boring into him at the moment. He was glad it was Logan, at least, instead of Roman. Roman would be throwing insults at him and being his loud, dramatic self. Logan would just give a calculating stare or glare that never failed to make Virgil feel on edge and his hands to start trembling in the slightest way. He opened the closet and grabbed two ibuprofen from the bottle in the first aid kit.

“Are you hurt?”

Virgil turned his head to look at Logan as he closed the closet. He sat, still holding his book open on his lap, with an eyebrow raised.

“Headache,” Virgil said simply.

He sunk out after that. Virgil always managed to feel uneasy after an encounter alone with Logan. He felt Logan’s eyes on him the entire time, watching him as if he were another one of his experiments to study. Every encounter left him with an increased inauspicious feeling, a sinking sensation in his gut that told him to stay away.

He listened, not leaving his room for the rest of the day, not even when his stomach wailed at him for some sort of sustenance as the aroma of a delicious home-cooked meal drifted from the commons to his room. It was a special kind of torture, really, the knowledge that he’d never be able to enjoy a meal like that with a family. It was so close, yet unattainable. The others would never enjoy his company, let alone allow him to intrude long enough for a true meal, and it’s not like he had anyone else save for… No, he’d only just met him yesterday. He’d never agree to spend an extended amount of time with him. Virgil sighed. It was a fruitless fantasy. He should stop thinking.

~

About two weeks later was Virgil’s next encounter with this so-called “Dee.” He had left his room, pausing as he closed his door. The distant sound of Roman’s complaints could be heard, slightly muffled from the distance. It was something about…snakes? Virgil rolled his eyes.

Eh, probably just one of his adventures in his realm again.

“Hello, Anxiety.”

Virgil jumped at the sudden voice, turning to the hallway across from his room to see no one other than the mysterious man in the cape and bowler cap.

“Oh, hi Dee. I uh, didn’t see you there.” He chuckled slightly, eased as Dee chuckled back.

“It’s alright. Sometimes it’s good to not be noticed. Especially if it’s by a certain prince.”

Virgil hummed. “I feel ya man. Why does he hate you so much anyway?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“I’m not forcing you to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“You see, I’m not like the Others. I don’t have a certain…appearance. Roman doesn’t like that.”

Virgil raised an eyebrow at the dark figure, but it dropped as Dee began walking toward him. As soon as Dee’s face hit the light of the hallway, Virgil’s eyes went wide, a slight smile appearing a few moments later.

“Dude, screw what Roman thinks. You look fucking awesome.”

“Thank you. I must say, I really do love your style.”

“Oh, uh, I mean, it’s only a hoodie and jeans, pretty much just fits in with the ‘emo’ stereotype.”

“It suits you completely.”

Virgil didn’t miss the slight upturn of one of the corners of Dee’s lips.

“I really must go now,” Dee spoke again. “Goodbye Anxiety.”

“Oh, uh, ok. Bye Dee.”

What Virgil did miss, however, was the sinister smirk Dee wore once he’d turned away and walked through the door at the end of the hallway.

~

#my writing #ts deceit #tw lying #tw crying #lyss writes

[enkisstories]

In the Chinese room

- A DBH fanfic - AU: After a failed revolution (the same AU as always on this blog, just no pictures this time) Time: November 29, 2038 Characters: Hank, Gavin, Daniel

It was a slow Monday morning at the DPD. Outside the snow was falling gently, dulling all sound while it covered up the streets as if to say “come in again, darling, here’s your bedsheet”. And inside everyone seemed to still be in a blissful post-holiday stupor. Considering how many of the officers hadn’t even lived to see this year’s Thanksgiving, it had been all the more cause for celebration and gratitude for their surviving co-workers and their families. Even Gavin Reed was sitting unusually content in the cafeteria, tablet in front of him, absorbed in a digital textbook. The man was still walking wobbly after his encounter with Connor during the android uprising (or the more recent brawl with Hank Anderson). He was mostly deskbound these days, but had decided to put the enforced downtime to good use and start learning for an eventual sergeant exam. Memorizing the facts was laughably easy, an exercise in patience, really. But there would be an oral exam, too and even if you passed that you were not guaranteed a promotion. How much weight would co-workers’ statements about him carry, the detective wondered? Especially that of one in particular…

… the one who just now HAD to shake the damn snow off his clothes all over the table Reed was sitting at?

“Still here?” Gavin barked at Lieutenant Anderson.

“What kind of question is that? I only just arrived. I’m still wearing my damn jacket!”

Gavin turned a page by sliding across the tablet’s screen.

“Still alive?” he translated his initial question into plain English.

Hank bent down and put his hands on the table, both to steady himself and for emphasis when he growled: “Do you think I WANT to live?!”

After his brief outburst the man sacked down onto a chair.

“You wouldn’t understand anyway” he said. “I can’t leave now. I owe it to Connor.”

“Connor!” Gavin exclaimed and there went the peaceful morning. “What the hell’s got Connor to do with you wanting to live? Just because it only ever followed its mission until it got scrapped? Tell you what, you did yours well in the past, too, so you can totally follow that example!”

Hank stared at the younger man. Gavin Reed suddenly sat straighter and pushed his chair just a tiny bit farther away from the table and the lieutenant. It was a subconscious thing. That look on Anderson’s face… As if he was really there, really focusing, really being alive. There were still all the anger and the mental exhaustion that had controlled the lieutenant before the android revolution. But lately the man seemed to channel it into something instead of succumbing to apathy. Gavin thought of a real huge disciplinary folder that he didn’t fancy becoming another page of. He was in there a few times already (as in turn Anderson turned up in his), so he knew.

“Okay, joke aside”, Gavin said. “The thing about Connor is that it isn’t really dead. On account of it never having been alive in the first place. I could never stand the damn thing in “life”, so I shouldn’t let it get to you like that in “death”.

When the lieutenant didn’t out outright shoot him down for saying that, Gavin tapped to create a bookmark in the file he was reading and nodded. “Ever heard of the Chinese Room?” he asked.

“You’re mixing that up. It was amber and got stolen by the Nazis one hundred years ago.”

“Nah, that’s something different. The one I mean is a thought experiment. It can prove how we are wrong when we think androids are thinking when in truth it’s only simulated.”

“Oh, can it?” Hank sneered. “Amuse me, you great philosopher!”

Not letting himself get baited this time, Gavin started to recount how the experiment went:

“You put a dude into a chamber… nothing in, nothing out. Only a clap in the door to shove documents through.”

“That’s kinda cruel, though...”

“Now you put in a storybook, any story, but the catch is that it’s written in Chinese. The captive does not understand Chinese, yet the next thing you do is putting in questions about the stories that he is to answer, everything in Chinese again. The prisoner has a book with instructions. They enable him to recognize groups of symbols and reply with another set of symbols. To the blokes outside it looks as if he answered the questions correctly and they deduce that the prisoner must speak Chinese. When in truth he doesn’t. Yeah, that’s the gist of it. It’s how androids work. It’s only input-output, nothing going on inside.”

Hank continued to stare at the detective. Eventually he said: “Sounds familiar.”

Gavin nodded, confident that he had won the argument. But Hank only smiled and added:            

“But you’re living like that for thirty-six years now, so I guess you’re fine. Also, you’re sort of handsome, so maybe if you married a girl who’s reasonably intelligent on her own it won’t matter that there’s nothing going on inside that skull of yours.”

The comment was followed by a sound like the coffee machine malfunctioning. Or maybe someone was trying to boil a life vulture in the microwave oven. Turning their heads around the men realized that the noise came from the new addon to the cafeteria’s coffee machine. The addon’s function was to move the finished coffee around, it was called “Sardines” and was a PL600 android. And it had laughed just now. With a bit of practice android laughter sounded less industrial and only like a chain smoker’s, but this particular one had little incentive to laugh regularly.

“Did you listen in on our conversation?” Gavin yelled at the machine.

“Just scanned it for key words like “coffee”, “right now” and “dipshit”, Sir”, the android replied.

“If we have to call for coffee, it’s too late already, tincan!” Gavin protested. “You got to anticipate our needs and do your job without needing any prompting from us! That’s what “autonomous” means. It’s right there in your manual!”

The android snorted in a dismissive way. On the other hand the scolding could be taken as a request, so he poured two cups of the coffee he had made a little earlier, put them on the table and remained close by afterwards. Outwardly it looked as if the machine was waiting for further instructions, but in truth it was desperate for company. Any company, even that of smelly primates and even these two particular ones, the fed-up with everything veteran detective and the other one whom everyone else was fed up with.

“Thank you, Sardine”, Hank addressed the PL600.

The android replied with a weak, involuntary smile. Try as he might, it was hard  not to like Lt. Anderson. He probably would not have been Sardines’ first choice to spend his freetime with, had the android ever gotten granted that, but was certainly one of the better humans around. Perhaps “respect” was a better word than “like” to describe how Sardines felt towards the lieutenant. Even though there was one detail Anderson never seemed to get right:

“It’s “Sardines”, Sir”, the android corrected. “Plural.”

“But you are only a single one!”

“There’s more than one sardine in a tin”, Gavin said. “And that’s what it is: a bloody tin can.”

Hank concluded that there was something going on in Reed’s head, after all, even though it wasn’t what one might expect from normal people. The name explained, the lieutenant picked up their previous conversation topic:

“The real question is not whether the prisoner speaks the language, but if he feels something. Like, for instance, annoyance or utter puzzlement about how he ended up in the situation.” Hank turned his head around sharply towards the PL600. “Right, Sardines?”

“Maybe?” the android replied non-committedly.

“I have paper and a pen in my cell, yes?” Hank asked Gavin. “So now I write “Fuck yourself” and shove it through under the door! What do you say now, hey?”

“That… that’s against the rules!” the detective protested. “You cannot just do that! It’s not a fucking roleplaying game!”

Hank took a sip of his coffee.

“Sadly”, he mused aloud, “the persons outside the chamber cannot read or even recognize latin script. To them it would look like gibberish. So even though the prisoner is capable of both emotions and independent thought, neither would get attributed to him, because those outside are just too thick to get it!”

The man slammed the coffee mug onto the table.

“See?” he said, louder and more agitated than usually. “That’s the real problem here! It’s us! Not them!”

“Why not kick in the door?” Sardines suggested. “Get out and slap them left and right with their stupid storybook?”

Hank looked up at the android. “That’s what is generally referred to as deviance”, he said.

Damn, the android thought. I walked right into it. But it wasn’t a shot into the blue, was it? He must have suspected as much for some time now. Although me being a deviant would be the logical consequence of my cover story of having been Mr. Reed’s android. There’s zero reason to assume I’m the archive android... I hope.

“Not everyone’s strong enough to break through a cell door”, Hank thought aloud. “And so they will sit and sit in the chamber, exchanging meaningless text messages with their captors all life long.”

The man reached for Sardines’ hand and pulled until the android had no other choice than to take a seat, too.

“It’s sad… so incredibly sad…”

Sardines realized that Anderson was slipping away into depression. Within just a few minutes the sadness would get replaced by a mind-numbing hopelessness. Feeling sad was actually an improvement over that. Well, quite frankly, that was Mr. Anderson’s problem. Sardines’ problem, on the other hand, was that Hank was still holding the deviant’s hand, unwilling to let go. Which of the two was to be comforted, the man or the machine, wasn’t clear.

With his free hand Sardines pointed at the caught one, looking frantically at detective Reed at the same time. When that didn’t help he opened the free hand and his mouth a few times in a “What am I to do NOW?” pantomime.

Gavin shrugged, the universal reply of “Don��t ask ME!”, and turned another page.

“Xīpán”, Sardines murmured.

To his surprise detective Reed replied with: “Bēiguān zhǔyì zhě.”

“Did you just call me a whiner?!”

Gavin shrugged. “Dunno. I don’t speak Chinese. But hang out with Tina long enough and you pick up some phrases.”

“The swearwords?”

“Well, they are the most useful. When you want a bloke to strike the first blow so that you can write it into your report, you don’t discuss iroquois sewing patterns with them.”

“I know 6,000 languages… lots of profanity.”

“Sardines”, Gavin grinned, “I think you and me will yet turn out the best of friends!”

 Another page got turned.

“…provided I could trust you, that is. Not keen on calling Captain Fowler “my darling” or somesuch in some obscure language, because you told me it was a term of polite disagreement. So just leave Anderson to decompose right there and fetch me the cheese crackers from the cupboard! There aren’t walking over here on their own, you know.”

“And do you know, Mr. Reed”, Sardines chatted, while moving over to the cupboard, “what’s the best about that Chinese Chamber thought experiment? I’ll tell you: That you really have no means of knowing what exactly we are thinking. You won’t know, for example…”

With these words the android poured the chips into a bowl that he put before detective Reed.

 “…whether I poisoned these tonight.”

“You wouldn’t. I made a profile of you and you kill from the front, because you want us to see it coming!”

“You know I’m a deviant. Whatever you think that means, consciousness-wise, you at least understand that we can adapt. ‘sides, I just told you about the poison. So you DO see it coming. – Enjoy your snacks, Sir.”

A little later Gavin was trying to scrub thirium stains from the tablet that wasn’t his, but the DPD library’s. Meanwhile Sardines was making better progress at washing the blue blood off his chin where the detective had hit him with the device. The error reports were still sitting right up there in his computer brain, their nagging being the android equivalent of pain. But seeing that jerk of a policeman struggle with uncertainty for a few moments had definitely been worth it.

And Hank Anderson was sitting in the cafeteria, oozing snow on the floor and munching away on the chips. The fact that they might be poisoned was a welcome plus...

Note: Idk how many of you remember my third chapter (the christmas ‘39 sequence) where Gavin indeed picks up a swearword from Daniel. Although technically he learns it from Jeffrey with Daniel only supplying the general context for it to get used in.

#non sims #detroit become human #dbh #sims4 dbh partone #dbh spoilers #dbhtextpost

[flower-boy-roxanne]

hey!

im dirk! this is my personal intro post & it includes triggers specific to me, so PLEASE PLEASE tag your own posts with cws for my content triggs if you follow me!!! with that in mind, read the entire thing, please <3

( system dni & info located on our art blog )

about

full name is dirk roxanne strider, as a quick explanation for my url :3

i use she/they pronouns and identify as demimale! my headspace body is intersex

ABSOLUTELY NO REFERRING TO ME BY HE/HIM I WILL SCREAM

i age-slide! about 15-25

i also age-regress, typically as a response to stress and/or trauma but it can also be a result of excess affection, babying/patronizing me (which i actually dont mind much but if you do it just to make me regress we’re gonna have a problem bud), etc.

i go by dirkie when im age-regressed!! if you see me posting during those times please refer to me by that name and try to be extra nice. if i was stress-/trauma-triggered into regression i may be very emotionally sensitive. i prefer to be talked to like a little kid/baby too and i may talk very childishly (unnecessary word pluralizing, wrong verb tenses, w’s in place of l’s and r’s, easily excited, etc.)

i pet-regress into a cat mindset due to a very particular situation in the past. i will absolutely not discuss it here and im not afraid to get an aggressive/violent protector up to roast your ass if you repeatedly pester me about it. like seriously dude you dont actually wanna know anyways

NEITHER OF THESE ARE S-XUAL THINGS FOR THE LOVE OF G O D . we dont support “““s-xual””” agere because that isnt and shouldnt be a thing its fucking disgusting please let me regress without ppl thinking its s-x roleplay in peace—ITS NOT I AM IN THE LITERAL FUCKING MINDSET OF A LITERAL FUCKING CHILD. thank you <3

i have severe exotrauma. all my posts discussing it will be tagged #dirk talks trauma, feel free to block it. i also try to appropriately cw/tw tag them (i use the term tw only but its just because including both drains my spoons)

that said, dont! ask me! about! my trauma! directly! I WILL TALK ABOUT IT WHEN I WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT!!!

not only is our body autistic but i was autistic in my canon!! just a fun fact :3

i try to avoid using :) emoticons and prefer :D, :3, and the like. idk ive just had a fair share of experiences where its used in a (jokingly, usually!!) creepy/threatening context so it doesnt read well to me

please dont dm me without asking!!! ive got some of the worst anxiety & paranoia in this system, plus ive got a small bit of trauma relating to unsolicited dms

asks are always okay though :3!! so long as youre not bein a dickhead ya know? anon is off tho for comfort n trauma reasons, sorry about that

(if you want me to answer your ask privately just tell me!! i might accidentally be a fuckin idiot n post it publicly tho, just a fair warning)

i somewhat suspect myself of ocd, but i havent had the spoons to do enough research for confirmation

I AM VERY BAD AT READING TONE. please tag things /j, /lh, /s, etc. so i know you arent genuinely trying to be a dick to me

(may be added to)

my tags

#dirk.txt — regular text post

#dirk.png — art/edit post

#dirk.jpg — shitpost, memes, otherwise non-artistic images

#dirk.mp3 — original song lyrics, voice recordings

#dirk.pdf — creative writing post, infodumps, ideas

#dirk.gif / #dirk.mp4 — gifs, videos

#dirk talks trauma — discussion of my exotrauma, including vents

#dirk updates — quick notices about the blog, my personal life, or anything that may have impact on blog interaction (that of myself or other users)

#little flower — the post was made while i was age-regressed

#catnip flowers — the post was made while i was pet-regressed

(may be added to)

blacklist

(catchall cw tag is #flower boy dont look! i feel like dirk dont look might be an already used tag for some people hgsfcjj :'))

ANYTHING relevant to inc-st, p-dophilia, r-pe, ab-se, or isolation (tags: #incest, #incest mention, #pedophilia, #pedophilia mention, #rape, #rape mention, #abuse, #abuse mention, #isolation, #isolation mention)

the word “selfcest”

using he/him pronouns for me and/or implying that im a fem gender for using she/her

not exactly a trigger but i might act weird or cautious around alpha dave fictives & kins, nothing personal (technically) just trauma

making jokes about abandonment or death without joke tagging (though it still makes me VERY uncomfortable & anxious!!!)

discussion about breakups and/or exes in terms of a romantic/s-xual relationship (tags: #breakup, #breakup mention, #exes, #exes mention)

treating me like an object or subhuman, joking or not. just dont

using particularly harsh insults for me even as a joke—ie dumbfuck, wh-re, shitbag. im ok w being called a dumbass n bitch n stuff but only in a joking context!! if you want to know any other boundaries on that just shoot me an ask my dude. also dont call me slurs :(

the idea that fiction doesnt affect reality (points at myself then at my str-d-rc-st exotrauma. bitch)

i know its legit a part of my url but PLEASE dont call me roxanne unless we’re close!! it makes me uncomfy when strangers/acquaintances use my mid name for me :(

implying or stating that im guilttripping. my spirals, emotional outbursts, etc are almost always trauma responses. saying im guilttripping in itself when im actually in severe emotional distress is a trigger to my trauma with our exes. i have very little power over my spirals and often struggle in dealing with situations that are newer to me, emotionally and otherwise. i am not guilttripping, im acting on a trauma response.

if you put words into my mouth or twist what i say i guarantee you furorem will judoflip you. we have trauma with being lied about and intentionally misinterpreted too, thanks.

(may be added to)

thanks for reading!! have a fuckin fantastic day, yall

#intro post #pinned post #info #blacklist #trigger list #about #important #?? fuckin TAGS my GOD