#Shadows In The Petunia Garden

[positivitycombopack]

Shout out to systems who help themselves.

Systems who work on grounding. Systems who research their disorder and try their best to understand. Systems who leave conversations when triggered to take a break, and who work on those triggers without just giving up.

Shout out to systems who cannot get help from a therapist, for whatever reasons they have, and chose instead to change themselves for the better. Your actions show that change, and it’s so wonderful to see those who have grown and changed. I’m so proud of everyone who has looked into therapeutic techniques and implemented them.

Good luck with your healing my friends!

[circular-bircular]

Sup! I’m not a part of the whole be nice to persecutors squad, but I do rehabilitate persecutors sometimes as an ex-persecutor myself and I would like to hear your thoughts on my opinions (genuinely I am open to change. Ik I'm harsh). This is going to be a long one and I’m sorry if I sound dismissive of other feelings it’s more of a how it all feels to me.

This is all persecutor discussion that may be upsetting. Please read with caution or delete from your inbox as you see fit.

So yes of course persecutors should not be treated like monsters they are a part of a system. They are people (or whatever word refers best to one’s conscious collective) and they deserve love and respect like anyone else. So are the people they hurt though. I feel that’s really forgotten in this positivity around the guy that hurts people.

So in my villain era I just chose to be an asshole. I was pissed at the system and wanted to make their lives hell. Letting me front was a mistake I was purposefully off putting around our friends (no they didn’t bloody deserve it I knew what I was doing. I also wasn’t mean I was off putting, to be clear). I wasn’t a confused protector. I wasn’t protecting us. I made the conscious decision and effort to hurt or disturb anything I came into contact with because I was mad. Not all persecutors are like this but my annoyance is at the whole persecutor positivity that includes people like me.

I didn’t change because the system was nice to me. I wouldn’t have changed because someone got me an ice cream or sympathised with me (and they tried) I changed because I happened to be fronting one night and someone was vulnerable in front of us. I’d been nothing but an asshole up until them but I was trusted because in that moment I wanted to change and trusting that I would try I was allowed to. I masked and helped the guy.

That’s not advice btw that’s just, what happened. No one being nice to me or trying to get me to change made me change it was having room for the decision to change that changed me. Getting mad at me for being an ass, making me say sorry for being an ass and treating me like someone who was an ass didn’t stop me from recovery. I whole heartedly believe that you don’t owe all persecutors kindness.

I was reforming a dipshit and I’ve been nothing but kind to her and she was still a dipshit. She understood she was being a dipshit but was fulfilling a role she thought had to be fulfilled and while I slowly undid that the person she was “tasked” with being a dipshit toward was allowed to be angry and upset and hurl insults back. You should be allowed to feel like you’re protecting yourself.

And finally my most controversial statement. System jail is fine. Locking up parts of your system for being assholes isn’t good for them but when you can no longer take the constant abuse or you have too many other problems that’s fine. I don’t understand the weird obsession with being nice to the bully. In my experience that wont stop em and sometimes there is no space to give them room to change all you can do is protect yourself until there is space.

I’m not a persecutor hater. I’m just an internet guy that says the online advice f being nice ignores the people that get hurt. It’s a nuanced and individual situation. Internet advice does not fix that. I am nice when there’s room to be nice and I believe that prosecutors will heal but the shit they fucking did should not be overlooked.

& If any recovering persecutors are reading this. I see you. You’re on a difficult path. You deserve love and respect and to live life.

This wasn't one of the eaten asks, but I've honestly been trying to work out how to respond to this for a long time. I'm gonna try and break this down for myself. And by that I mean, here's Debbie with the weather.

So yes of course persecutors should not be treated like monsters they are a part of a system. They are people (or whatever word refers best to one’s conscious collective) and they deserve love and respect like anyone else. So are the people they hurt though. I feel that’s really forgotten in this positivity around the guy that hurts people.

Absolutely, anon. The people we've hurt need to be rewarded for the shit they've survived from us. I was a complete and absolute bitch, and I apologize for how much of a bitch I was -- but not for the reasons why I was a bitch. I'm not going to apologize for my trauma. For any persecutors reading this, nobody here is asking you to apologize for who you are. We're just saying, acknowledging that you hurt someone is a good place to start.

So in my villain era I just chose to be an asshole. I was pissed at the system and wanted to make their lives hell. Letting me front was a mistake I was purposefully off putting around our friends (no they didn’t bloody deserve it I knew what I was doing. I also wasn’t mean I was off putting, to be clear). I wasn’t a confused protector. I wasn’t protecting us. I made the conscious decision and effort to hurt or disturb anything I came into contact with because I was mad. Not all persecutors are like this but my annoyance is at the whole persecutor positivity that includes people like me.

Anon, take this whatever way you want, but that to me sounds like protecting your system. I purposefully made myself unpleasant to be around. I fucked with my friends and purposefully pissed them off, not "to protect us UwU" but because they were fucking stupid to be friends with these idiots. The other fuckers in my head were weak, pathetic, and pointless. I pretended to be other parts, just to pull the rug out from under my friends, because god was it easy to, and it was absolutely hilarious to see their reactions. I tortured my other parts innerworld, because god was it fun to make them realize just how pathetic they were, just how much better I was than them. My goal was to get the other parts to kill themselves (what I understood as dormancy after some time) and let me just take charge, because I wanted to live.

And yeah. That's me protecting my system.

Because the more I bashed us, the more I said, "let me take over because I'm better than you," the more I pushed away all my friends... It was the more I "kept us safe" from getting hurt from the outside. Rice won't be hurt if she doesn't exist. Rice won't break down from trauma memories if fill her brain with trauma memories 24/7. Rice won't lose her friends and break down if she has no friends to begin with.

I didn't do that on purpose, of course. I didn't look to help these assholes. I wanted them GONE. But now that I'm reformed, now that I can look back at what a mess I actually was, instead of the perfect being I thought I was, I can understand that all of that was my misguided way of protecting us. Even if I didn't understand that at the time.

I made that conscious decision to hurt, and it was influenced by the unconscious decision to protect.

Now, maybe you really were just a pissy lil bitch who wanted to hurt people, whatever, I really couldn't care less about you. But at the end of the day, alters in DID systems split for a reason -- to cope with trauma and make it bearable to survive through. So regardless of what edgy pre-teen bullshit you're spouting, if you're an alter, you're a form of protector in some way. At least in my eyes.

I didn’t change because the system was nice to me. I wouldn’t have changed because someone got me an ice cream or sympathised with me (and they tried) I changed because I happened to be fronting one night and someone was vulnerable in front of us. I’d been nothing but an asshole up until them but I was trusted because in that moment I wanted to change and trusting that I would try I was allowed to. I masked and helped the guy.

Cool! Glad you worked your shit out. I started getting better because someone was really fucking mean to me. I mean, I had food poisoning, was running out of the room to vomit, and my friend still sat me down for like a 2 hour or so lecture about how I was a fucking awful person and she wouldn't stop lecturing me until I shaped the fuck up and understood why she thought I was bad. That fucking BROKE me.

Being nice to your persecutor is one way. Torturing them after fucking cafeteria mozzarella stick induced food poisoning is another. To each their own, y'know? (Side note, I know you don't follow me here bby but I love you, thank you for slapping the shit out of past me with your words and anger <3)

That’s not advice btw that’s just, what happened. No one being nice to me or trying to get me to change made me change it was having room for the decision to change that changed me. Getting mad at me for being an ass, making me say sorry for being an ass and treating me like someone who was an ass didn’t stop me from recovery. I whole heartedly believe that you don’t owe all persecutors kindness.

I wholeheartedly believe nobody is owed kindness. Kindness is a choice I make -- one that can easily be decided against if it is no longer beneficial to be kind. I owe no loyalty to kindness. I choose to be kind, because why the fuck wouldn't I be, you fucking idiot?

I was reforming a dipshit and I’ve been nothing but kind to her and she was still a dipshit. She understood she was being a dipshit but was fulfilling a role she thought had to be fulfilled and while I slowly undid that the person she was “tasked” with being a dipshit toward was allowed to be angry and upset and hurl insults back. You should be allowed to feel like you’re protecting yourself.

Ok but that was a kind thing to do. Like. That's what I mean when I say to be kind to your persecutors. Letting them BE ANGRY IS A GOOD THING???? So confused why this isn't seen as being kind. You took the time out of your fucking schedule to help give that person a space to be upset and angry. That's kindness. That was a choice.

And finally my most controversial statement. System jail is fine. Locking up parts of your system for being assholes isn’t good for them but when you can no longer take the constant abuse or you have too many other problems that’s fine. I don’t understand the weird obsession with being nice to the bully. In my experience that wont stop em and sometimes there is no space to give them room to change all you can do is protect yourself until there is space.

God you're so fucking hilarious tbh.

Yeah, sure, whatever, system jail is fine, esp in cases like. Where you're still in an abusive situation. That's because you're allowed to make mistakes, and system jail is a mistake. It's perfectly valid and fine while also being really fucking awful and stupid.

The "weird obsession" with being nice to the bully isn't "it will stop them." It's "that's an entire ass part of yourself, stop fucking airing your self-hatred out in public for everyone to see, it's nauseating."

TL;DR: Being kind to your persecutors is a choice. Obviously, it's not one you HAVE to make, but it's highly suggested. The issue is, "kindness" looks different for everyone. For me, it was "kind" to have someone do the equivalent of a guttural scream for 2 hours. For others, it's fru-fru shit that makes them feel all warm and fuzzy. For you, it was just giving someone the time and space to be angry. Making mistakes is okay. Do what you want forever and who even gives a shit? And FFS, OBVIOUSLY, LET'S NOT IGNORE THE VICTIMS OF OUR ABUSE. (But yknow, let's not ignore the fact that persecutors are also victims of abuse and they get blamed for literally every fucking thing jfc).

[circulars-reasoning]

In anon because I don't want my blog to be associated with syscourse at all.

I'm not even a tulpa or tulpamancer but I just have to say - isn't just renaming the term just like painting over it or being a mask on it?

It's going to be the exact same thing. People are still going to know what they are doing is tulpamancy and still going to be referring to old guides. Also I'm no expert but isn't there also like... Subsections of Tulpamancey? Like deamons and servitors? Are those words not also from the same origins?

(Preface; I am white as hell. If I say something wrong, please let me know).

As far as I’ve been able to parse, as someone who is attempting to get more involved in the various endogenjc communities, Daemons and Servitors are different altogether.

From everything I’ve seen, Tulpamancy is no different from created parts / thoughtforms / willogenics / parogenics / etc.. There are no actual practices taken from Tibetan Buddhism that make Tulpamancy different from other practices, according to tulpamancers I’ve spoken to — in fact, this was an arguing point from many vocal pro-tulpas for a long time. “The word is fine because the practice isn’t at all the same as Tibetan Buddhism.”

Since it’s the word that reflects the racist views of a white bitch who wanted to profit off of Buddhism — not the practice — then changing the term away from that would help cut down on racism within the thoughtform community.

However…

You’re right in that this isn’t “solving racism” or doing anything but changing a single word. There will be racist people in the thoughtform community, or the willogenic community, or— you get the picture. Just like there are plenty of racist anti-endos and CDD systems. It’s disgusting, and horrific, but it exists and needs to be addressed.

The issue is, we can’t stop racism by screaming “don’t be racist�� at the top of our lungs. I’m of the belief we can’t stop it at all. But we can do our parts to uplift actual POC voices, and do our best to change what we can control — such as not using racist terms like “tulpa” and encouraging others to change as well. It’s about harm reduction in any way we can manage; those little steps are vital, not only to improve the culture of system (and potentially more) spaces, but to ensure that POC systems feel more welcomed in these communities (where racism is a major problem that goes frequently unaddressed).

[thecircularsystem]

Ask Game! 9. Is confidence cute? 69. Have you ever taken dance lessons? [adding: and would you want to? what kinds of dance?] 74. What is your favorite book? [adding: and what was your *previous* favorite book before this one?]

Hey there, Indigo <3

9. Is confidence cute?

Yes, obviously. Confidence is very cute and when my partner is confident, I want to kiss them more than ever. (They are, in fact, reading over my shoulder as I write this.)

69. Have you ever taken dance lessons?

First,

(Obligatory from the rest of the system)

But no, I've never taken dance lessons, unless you count those awful days in gym where they made us square dance. Still don't understand those. If I could take dance lessons, I'd love to learn swing dancing with my partner. I love swing dance -- I think it's impressive. If I were alone, I'd look into tap dancing.

74. Favorite Book?

My current favorite book would have to count the entire series; Super Poweres by Drew Hayes. It is remarkably well written and plotted, with new things to discover each time I reread it. I really need to do my yearly reread, but I've been slacking on reading recently.

If we're talking previous favorites... Well, my favorite book series growing up was Avalon: Web of Magic by Rachel Roberts. I was obsessed with that series. I think that was one of the first things I daydreamed a self-insert for, though it wasn't concrete like my other writing is nowadays.

[circular-jerkular]

I think for my first (actual) post on this blog, I really want to discuss just the concept of how my trauma impacts how I view sex. Most of this is going to go under a cut, just in case folks aren’t in a place right now to scroll through a huge long thing. I will put a TL;DR here though:

Basically, sexual trauma isn’t the only type of trauma that affects sexual relationships. All trauma can — and that’s not a bad thing. It’s just something you need to work through.

(Also if anyone has any notes what to tag this as, feel free to suggest)

The thing is, I’m a system with CSA trauma and COCSA. I have a difficult relationship with sex things because of that — but genuinely… I think there’s this idea that in order to have issues regarding sex as a traumatized person, that trauma has to come from sexual abuse.

This is absolutely not the case. The majority of my issues with sex aren’t relevant to my CSA experiences.

My trauma was caused very much by an environment where I felt I couldn’t speak up. I couldn’t voice my own feelings or desires; I had to solely focus on the feelings of those around me, and regulate them. I had to make certain that every single action of mine was to either appease others, or lessen the blow of something I couldn’t change. Every single moment of my life was dedicated to other people’s happiness.

So, when it came to my sex life, once I finally dived in, I had no idea how to consent. I had no idea how to voice my desires or wants. I had no idea how to set boundaries or say no.

Oh, I certainly knew the CONCEPT — I’d been reading BDSM fics since I was 14, and I had researched consent extensively. I knew that consent is something that comes and goes and can be retracted at any time, and that setting boundaries is part of a healthy relationship. The issue was… I couldn’t seem to bring myself to do it. When my partner asked me if something was okay, my default answer was “I don’t care, just fuck me” — because why would it matter if it was okay? I’m with them, and if they’re asking, it would make them happy, which would make me happy. Right? That’s how it’s supposed to work!

It took a very, very, VERY long time to get to where I am now. I still struggle some with consent, but we’ve worked out our own methods of communication before, during, and after that help work for us, and extensive conversations about trauma and consent. Obviously, my CSA/COCSA impact things (how could they not?) but I feel like everything else impacts it too.

The biggest thing to remember is… that’s okay? That’s absolutely okay. It makes things harder sometimes, sure, but everything about this disorder does. There’s no shame in needing to work through boundaries and consent, though. There’s no shame in having to learn. There’s no shame in being traumatized. You’ll find some, I’m sure, but… it’s a neutral thing. Not a bad thing.

And, if you find the right partner? It’ll actually be hotter that way, cause fun fact, safe consensual sex is a lot hotter than unsafe unconsensual sex. Just saying!

[thecircularsystem]

Stunning reads, everyone. Would love to chime in.

Context: DID system of 14.

Does my plurality feel inherently disordered?

Define “inherent.”

I think, if I weren’t a CDD system, I likely would’ve ended up seeing myself as an endogenic plural, had I found myself in those circles to begin with (which I highly doubt I would’ve). In this situation, my plurality — my own view of myself — would’ve been inherent to who I am.

But that’s not the world that exists; this one is. And in this current world, my CDD impacts my life to a degree that I cannot view those inherent parts of myself as plural, because they are so viscerally different from the dissociated parts of self I have. My characters aren’t the same as my parts.

So… my plurality isn’t inherently disordered, because what is inherent to me is something that can be defined as nondisordered plurality — but due to the disorder that is a part of me, my plurality is disordered, and it’s such a difference that I cannot view that other lens of myself as plural.

Don’t know if I’ve really talked about that much before!

I think my answer would fall closer to “yes.” I am a disordered individual, in more ways than one. Because I am a system, who is disordered, my system is inherently disordered, because it is me. (I feel like I’m echoing hiiragi’s point a bit!)

How do I think about personhood and identity?

Carefully.

Genuinely, it’s a hard topic to think about, with a lot of variation! The only thing I’ve managed to determine is that everyone has their own, completely valid ways of viewing those concepts.

For us, we’re all fairly in agreement with how we view personhood versus identity. Personhood is the act of being a Person. This would indicate a Body (singular) moving through a space and doing things. To have personhood is to be a body, perceived by others.

From there, identity is what influences their perception.

To that point; none of us are fully people, but we are all various identities in our own right, and each of us make up a separate identity. We have personhood through our body, and we are perceived in that personhood most regularly as the identity “Circ.” When at work, we don a different identity, which impacts how people view our personhood there — “[Bio Name]”. And online, in select spaces, we don the identity of whomever is fronting — “Debra” at the moment.

We cannot have personhood individually between us because we all share a body; I am not a complete person in my own right. Beyond that, I sometimes don’t feel like a full “identity” either, as I am one part of this collective identity “Circ” that also feels Correct. Without Wade, or Numb, or even Curtis (ew), I would not be Circ. Without them, my identity as Debra would be irrevocably changed.

So… yeah!

From @rayssyscourse (this post), two questions for general conversation: 1- Does your experience of plurality feel inherently disordered to you or not, independent of whether or not you have a CDD? 2- How do you think about personhood and identity, collectively and individually? (our answers under the cut)

Plurality and Disorderedness: We actually sort of have two different answers to this! The distinction between the two of us (e.g. me/L vs S), to us, doesn't feel inherently disordered at all. Sure, it's complicated, and there are aspects of the situation we'd change if we could (it would really be nice if S could have his own body back, for example), but the mere fact of us-being-two-of-us, of having two senses of self in one head instead of just one, feels no more or less disordered than being a singlet. It doesn't feel like the only reason we're separate is lingering trauma/emotional baggage pushing us apart, and there's no sense of wrongness in the feeling of each other being different--we're just different, and that's actually really neat in a lot of ways. However, for S's median facet subsystem thing, the answer is a little different. (Trying to paraphrase his emotions/wording for it secondhand here) To some extent, some of the ways in which his facets can get pushed apart/lose "collective cohesion" does feel inherently disordered to him. It's less that "having facets" feels inherently disordered, exactly, and more that the degree of estrangement and conflict between his facets (which fluctuates!) feels directly related to his mental health at the time, and whatever issues he's wrestling with. Being able to go in and single out and work with a facet that's having a hard time feels like a useful processing strategy, but needing to do it a lot, or having a facet get stuck 'out in the cold for too long' feels bad, and reflective of something Wrong. Personhood and Identity: Again, two different answers for our two different 'versions' of plurality! S and I feel like two different, closely connected people. Either of us could be a singlet alone, without the other--and in fact I was a singlet for a long time, at least as far as we know--although we do like each other a lot (<3) and like being able to be a team together. Calling either of us just "a part of the other" feels reductive and even a little demeaning--not to mention just...incorrect, at the base of it? One of the metaphors we like to use is "it's not that he has half the box of crayons and I have the other half; we each get to use the whole box of crayons, we just draw different things with them". With S's median facets, though, he/(they) very persistently and vehemently feel like they're all...part of the same overarching identity? They're all him even when they disagree or have differences (there's a line from a song he likes that he often points to for it: "We are the warriors who learned to love the pain/We come from different places but have the same name"), there's a core, unifying sense of self they all share even when their 'cohesion' gets disrupted by something difficult to process that he can't quite seamlessly internally reconcile. We have some internal nicknames for some facets/'themes' that show up a lot (because the number and nature of his facets isn't static, too), and internal headspace appearances can vary, but they don't have different names because, in his words, "I'm still me, there's just....sometimes a lot of me, who don't all agree".

(Several of our friends have joked that we're the actual IRL version of the system joke "I don't have DID, but my headmate does!", and honestly that's not a bad way to describe it X'D)

[sepulchralblues]

@jilymicrofics A My Lady Jane AU for Jily in august - elegant, bride, knight, royalty, soulmate

“I didn’t ask to be his bride, Petunia.” Lily wanted to tear her hair out its elegant crown-braid, half out of frustration, half to piss her sister off further. “Just because I’m going through with this doesn’t mean I want to be stuck in a loveless marriage with some doddering old fool I’ve never even met before.”

She stood before a large mirror, edges gilded a brown that once used to be gold, in a floor length wedding dress. If she held any care for the day itself, she’d notice the gown was rather stunning, a similar fashion to the royal wedding gown from last season. Instead, she was spending the morning of her wedding like any other day growing up with her darling dear sister – arguing.

“You could at least try to appreciate the effort Vernon’s parents put into securing this match for you,” Petunia returned with venom. “You’re nearly five and twenty summers old, Lily. You’re practically a spinster. After Mother died last year, you weren’t able to secure any prospects for yourself. Without Vernon stepping in, who knows what state you'd be in a year’s time from now.”

Anywhere but here sounded absolutely lovely to Lily at the moment, but she refrained from antagonizing Petunia anymore.

Lily sighed and turned away from the mirror. She waved off the handmaiden who stepped out of the shadows to help her down from the platform the tailor had her stand on for the final fitting of the gown. 

Stepping closer to her sister, Lily said softly, “Understand that I am only doing this for the sake of my inheritance. If this stupid clause had not been in the will, I would have taken the money and left for Paris the minute I could get my hands on it.”

Petunia smirked. “Would you have waited for a knight in shining armor to come along before you got married then? Someone who was, perhaps, your soulmate?”

Some childish part of Lily was stung, hearing the dreams she’d once whispered to Petunia under the covers of darkness in their childhood bedroom thrown back in her face so mockingly.

But her sister was not wrong. As stupid as it sounded, Lily had spent her entire life dreaming of a love that felt like an adventure, rather than one built and bred in the stuffy castles and manors they had grown up in. It was the dream that Paris had held, and the hope that had shattered the day their parents will was announced in full.

Neither child would gain access to their portion of the (significantly large) inheritance until after they were married. And they had to be married before the age of twenty-five.

Hence the stalemate the Lily found herself locked in – a marriage to one James Potter in return for her inheritance. She’d wait the minimum period out, call for a divorce, and finally – finally – leave this place for good.

The double doors at the far end of the room burst open before she could reply. It was the Butler.

“My ladies,” he bowed deep, “it is time. The ceremony will begin shortly, and your presence in required in the garden.”

“Well then,” Petunia said. “Off we go, before you change your mind and embarrass our family again.”

Clenching her jaw, Lily followed Petunia out of the room.

–

James ran a finger along his collar in an attempt to find respite from the sweltering heat of the garden. He failed remarkably, but it was yet to be seen whether it was really the summer heat or the prospect of what was to come that was making him sweat.

Sirius Black, his best man and best mate, heard his annoyed huff and chuckled. “Heat of the moment getting to you, Prongsie?”

James ignored the taunt and focused on straightening his cuff links.

While he’d always known the day was coming, he hadn’t quite let himself wonder what it would be like. He’s never been one for stage fright, but they don’t really prepare you to stand in front of a crowd of two hundred-odd nobles and minor royalty to say the most damning two words of your life.

And damning they were, because whoever this Lily Evans was, he doubted she was any match for the girl he’d been eyeing up at the pub last night when out celebrating the last of his bachelorhood with his mates. Or the girl from the week before, her raven hair spread like ink on his bedspread, her moans like ecstasy in his ears. Or even–

The band began its tune, and the guests shuffled to their feet. He shared a final glance with Sirius. It was time.

First came the sister (he thought it was the sister at least), in a gown of deep scarlet with her arm looped around Vernon’s.

Sirius coughed something that sounded like that slug beside him, and James could only agree.

It was when he saw the white gown brushing the navy carpet that James looked at his parents. His mother met his gaze, a grave look on her face.

They couldn’t screw this up, she was trying to say. This was the last chance they had to fix things, their last attempt to root the problem out before it came back to destroy his entire family.

Sirius inhaled sharply, causing James to finally look at his bride for the first time.

Except he’d seen her before. Nine hours before, to be precise, in a badly lit pub, with a glass of ale in his hands and the golden daze of drink highlighting the arch of her eyebrows, her delicate collarbones.

Lily Evans was, in fact, the very girl he’d been flirting with last night.

Judging by the shock that stole across her face and the slightest pause in her steps, his identity was news to her too.

Suddenly everything that had seemed too daunting and painful about this marriage didn’t seem as bleak.

–

Oh, thought Lily. Oh, fuck.

[sybill-the-seer]

Young ~3-y/o Harry following Petunia around the house while she does chores. Young Harry holding onto Petunia’s skirt and sucking his thumb while she does the dishes. Young Harry playing quietly in the grass near Petunia while she weeds the garden. Young Harry just wanting to be WITH someone at all times. Young Harry trotting along after Petunia all day being her little shadow until her patience wears thin and she sends him to his cupboard. Young Harry being a clingy child who desperately needs affection but never gets it.

[roznnreads]

Chosen not Fated Chapter 5

Eris x Fem!Reader

Tags: marriage of convenience, rhysand slander, depression, suicidal ideation, slow burn, fake dating

Summary: Tired of a life in the shadow among the inner circle, Rhysand’s younger sister decides to take her life into her own hands and makes a desperate grab for power.

Chapter Summary: Autumn Court courting traditions, and the Eris's hounds

a/n: I am running out of steam with this fic, I'm getting tired from it so I might take a break from writing for a while

last part, next part

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

2 days later

I am sitting in my chambers, on the balcony drinking my tea, the night was light enough for me to know it was day everywhere else. The stars in the sky sparkled in the night, dazzling stars waiting to be noticed by someone, to be pointed out by a little child or a couple saying look, look how pretty that star is. Stars remind me that I am not alone, there is always someone looking down at me, I hope he is looking down on me. I hope he understands what I am doing, that I am not betraying him. I am not disloyal, not untrustworthy. 

In my heart I know he understands, He knew me, he knew that I didn’t belong in the Night Court, I wanted him to run away with me, to escape the palace life, not many people would miss the sister of the High Lord, one who had a Bride and heir, I am not needed here. 

A soft blow of air whips at my hair, I look up from my tea to see Eris winnowing in. 

“Dear” he started

“What are you doing here? If my brother sees you” I interrupted, I was panicking, he was in my chambers and if anyone was to walk in they would he Eris in there close to me, Eris would be killed, and I’d have to start all over again. 

“Oh don’t worry about that, I’m here to take you to Autumn” he said easily

“Are you crazy that will start a war” I said, this man is going to give me a heart attack

“Only for a moment, I am not kidnapping you, it is simply a date, this is what you wanted, a proper courting” he said puffing his chest out

“Make it quick” I say

“Oh I do nothing quick, but don’t you worry you’ll be back before anyone notices” he said

“Then let's get going,” I reach out my hand, touching his waist, looking in his eyes as the world shifts around me.

~

I haven’t often left Velaris, the last time was when I was under the mountain. Even before that I left sparingly, for the High Lord Summet in Summer, or some ball to show a united front. But I had never been to Autumn. I’ve heard stories from the Inner Circle, it is meant to smell of death, a rotting court of the near dead, a transitional court that is full of tricksters and deceit. I’ve found that every court is full of deceit, no one is only truthful, anyone can lie.

When we finished winnowing, the warmth warms my skin, it perforated it spreading through my body in a way I never could have known. It isn’t the sticky blistering of heat from Summer, but like a warm day with a blistering wind keeping you cool, but never cold. Looking around from where I just arrived, We are in a garden, surrounded by Azaleas, Sunflowers, Roses and Petunias, the growth of trees surrounds the garden, they grow high like giants, looking down upon me and Eris, watching us, judging us like a grandmother might a child.

“Lost in thought?” He said startling me

“It’s beautiful,” I pondered

“Yes, it is,” he said. I look back at him but he is looking at me already. 

“What have you brought me here for,” I said

“A proper courting in Autumn court fashion requires this” he said, pulling out a necklace, it is beautiful, it is shaped like a burst of fire moving around the necklace, the gems simmer in the light, it look like it’s moving. Eris moves behind me leaning in close.

“May I?” he said. I move my hair out of his way, he moves the necklace around my neck, using heat from his hands to melt and reform the necklace to connect permanently to me.

“Is there some hidden significance?” I ask

“Every courting necklace is purely individual to the pair, it is meant to be worn until the wedding ceremony is complete, or the courting is broken off, which rarely ever happens. It shows the longevity and how committed we are to be together” I turn to face him, our bodies close together I can feel the warmth radiating from his body, his hands moved to running comforting circles on my arms. 

“Your serious about this, aren’t you” I joke “It’s only been two days”

“Let’s say I was prepared,” Eris said with a smile. I smile back at him. I hear a bark from in the distance, I look for the the source and see a pack of four foxhounds, bounding towards Eris, 

“Hey girls”, he said, falling to his knees being pounced by the dogs, accepting the kisses the dogs give him

“So these are yours” I say laughing at the sight of my future husband, kneeling on the ground getting bound upon 

“They’ll be your once we get married officially” he said looking up at me 

I kneel next to him, not worrying about the dress I am wearing reaching my hand out carefully at the closest hound, he sniffs my hand carefully before giving it a lick and nudging my hand getting closer before he jumps at me causing my balance to tip and I am in a heap on the floor the dogs licking my face.

“Ok, Ok, girls, off you go” he said, whistling with his fingers near his mouth, the dogs run off bounding together barking and playing together

“I think it is best that I head back now” I say, composing myself, standing uneasily.

“Are you ready for that?” he said his fingers ghosting the necklace welded to my neck

“I have to be, I’ll be fine” I say “there is nothing they can do about it now” I say reassuringly, bringing my hand to hold his near my neck. Letting go I give one last smile before winnowing back to the Night Court

~

“Your Compromised” was the first thing that Rhys said to me as I winnowed in from the Autumn Court Gardens, His eyes garling at my neck. 

“Is that so” I retort

“Do you know what that means, who are you married to now” He said 

“I am not married, yet, and the who is Eris, he loves me” I say with determination in my voice “Don’t be naive, Eris doesn’t love you he is attached at the most. And that necklace is a promise of marriage, In autumn women don’t just reject a courting once they are entered in one, the man has to, and if Eris gave you this he intends to marry you” He said dripping with malice. 

“And what if I want to marry him” I say “Why would you want that” He exacerbate

“He will treat me well, I can make my own choice of who to marry, I would have thought that marrying the Heir to a Court would have made you proud”. I say close to tears, I really don’t want to cry, to be emotional right now, It's not like I am really in love with him, and Rhysand can’t stop the engagement if Autumn wants a bride.

“He’s using you,” he said

“Like your not, or anyone who I align myself with is going to use for political power, I’ve accepted that” I say

“And what of your mate” He yelled

“He is dead, there is nothing to do about it, He would want me to move on, I know I will never love someone like I loved him, but I can’t be wallowing in self imposed sadness, I believe that a life with Eris will make me happy, why can’t you be happy for me” I yell back.

“I’m trying to protect you” he said desperately 

“Then let me do this” I plea, I reach out to him, taking his hands and bringing it close to my chest, I don’t like begging, but he needs to know I am willing in this arrangement, that I want this, I know what he is thinking, that I will regret this engagement, that it won’t be suited for me, just like Feyre was with her wedding, it isn’t much different in his head, a woman who is being wed to a Lord that is not her mate feeling forced to be married out of obligation not love. I need him to see it is not an obligation, I need him to see that I am in love, I am not but he needs to believe that, for his own peace of mind. 

[spinningwebsandtales]

Imagine Dancing In The Moonlight With Walter

Walter DeVille X FemReader

Rating: T+

Warnings: Blood, scary images

Word Count: 822

(A/N:) This was an idea I had last year for Halloween but ran out of time. So I thought I would keep it for this year. And I’m glad I did. I enjoyed The Invitation movie and I can’t turn away a good vampire movies as they’re my favorite monsters. So I hope my fellow Walter fangirls will enjoy this little thing I wrote. Happy Halloween everyone and until next time happy reading! ~Countess

Sleep seemed to slip from your grasp as you laid in the extravagant bed that you were borrowing. Moonlight peeking through the slits in the heavy curtains, teasing you with the idea of a calming walk through the gardens. Frustration won over as you shoved the warm blankets off. Tightening the robe around your middle and slipping into your shoes, you quietly made your way outside. No servants moved through the darkened house as you made it to the front door. On silent hinges it opened, letting you escape from your stifling prison into the garden of twinkling lights. A party was going to be held soon so Walter had the lawn crew working diligently at making sure the garden was a spectacle to behold. And they were succeeding as the illuminated garden took your breath away. Stepping under the ivy arch, your fingertips touched the lush leaves as flowers swayed in the crisp autumn breeze. You shivered involuntary, not at just the cold cutting through the thin robe you wore, but at the unshakable feeling of being watched. You were the only one awake as no one tried to stop you from leaving the house, or asked where you were going. You shook your head, plucking a smaller flower from a bush, chalking it up to some nighttime critter watching. 

Further into the garden, it became more evident it was going to be a glorious  wonderland as soon as the garden crew were done. With a gorgeous fountain in the middle, singing it’s song as the water trickled into the base. Surrounded by angel statues and various healthy plants of all colors and sizes. Ivies, Roses, Petunias, Lilys of every color. You couldn’t count all the kinds as the various different flowers would take all night and most of the next day just to see them all. The floral fragrances tickling your nose.

You walked around a little bit further into the garden before your feet started to grow tired. You spotted a gazebo covered in Morning Glories and white sparkling lights woven through the wooden slats. You stepped while taking a look at your surroundings as the intensity of being watched stiffened your shoulders and sent your heart racing. You sat down uneasily, looking at your surroundings as the beauty of the garden was quickly replaced by a haunting atmosphere. The statues quickly becoming distorted in the shadows, the roses beginning to look like they were bleeding. and you swore you saw something dart between the bushes. Rubbing at your shivering shoulders, your gaze darted back and forth landing on a pair of blood red eyes glowing from the ivy. You yelped leaping from the wooden seat you had sat upon, bringing yourself in the middle of the gazebo turning around and around trying to spy the thing that was hunting you now. Walter had warned you to stay inside at night, but the garden’s temptation lured you out despite his warnings. Now you were regretting it. You bit back a whimper, praying Walter would rescue you from your mistake.

“Walter,” you whispered.

“(Y/n),” his voice spoke behind you.

You jumped at his icy touch, making him chuckle.

“What are you doing outside,” he asked while turning you towards him.

You sheepishly played with the laces of your robe, “I couldn’t sleep and the garden looked so pretty outside my window. I really wanted to look at all the lights and flowers.”

“I told you it’s dangerous, my dear.”

“I know,” you blurted. “I couldn’t help it.”

Walter only grinned, his hand trailing down your arm until he came to your hand. Sliding his fingers across your palm, you shivered at the touch while he brought your digits to his warm lips. He kissed them diligently before nipping at your thumb. You yelped at the sudden sharp pain as he shushed you lovingly, licking at the little bubble of blood.

“Sorry I play a little rough with my toys,” he purred.

You didn’t have a moment to reply when he started humming out loud, drawing you nearer to his sturdy body and forcing your other hand on his shoulder before wrapping his other arm around your waist. He waltzed you delicately underneath the gazebo’s roof, still humming loud enough to echo off the wood. You laughed enjoying yourself, looking at the lights whirling around while you two danced. You looked back down your gaze landing on Walter as he continued you both through the dance. His once warm eyes turned a deep red that could make blood jealous. He noticed your terror and grinned viciously, revealing sharp elongated fangs.

He leaned in close his mouth coming to your ear holding you to where you couldn’t run in terror, “I told you the garden was dangerous at night, my dear lovely bride.”

You fought him trying to get away from the man you no longer recognized before you fainted in terror.

[jackdaw-and-hattrick]

Teetering

Tw/Swearing.

Ao3

Previous-Next

There was no sun here, but the day was bright as Damien ran through the garden. The plants chased after him, vines and roots snaking and snapping around his feet. Above him, Phantom floated, weaving in and out of branches. Suddenly, a willow branch snapped forward, and Damien had to duck out of the way: a front roll and a flip as he dodged the greenery. Then a petunia, teeth bared, lunged, and he jumped backward, not seeing the island's edge until he was rocking back. His foot slipped, and for a sickening moment, Damien was falling down into the endless void of the Infinite Realms. Then Phantom catches him and holds him in his arms as they fly to the great tree at the garden's center, where they land on the highest branches. From here, Damien can see the whole island. It is beautiful, lush, and wild, so different from the training grounds back home. He goes to pick one of the odd black fruits, which hang heavy and ripe, but he's stopped.

“Don’t,” Phantom says, “The fruit isn't safe.”

“But I've seen you eat them.”

“Yeah, but I live here.

You have a home to get back to.”

.......................................................................................

Pennyworth was the first to recover. Stepping past the floor-bound form of Todd balled up and wheezing from laughing, though Damian couldn't think what was so funny, he swept what family he could towards the living room. Damien was unsure just how much of the family was planning on joining them for dinner, but for the time being, it seemed to be just the five of them. Phantom, for his part, gathered his board-line hysterical boyfriend up into his arms and followed after. It was odd to see such a thin person carrying a man at least two hundred pounds heavier as if it were nothing. Strange, Damian faintly noticed he was smiling. When did he ever?... No matter.

The sitting room was, like all of the manor, spacious and decadent, with paneled wine-red walls stretching up so high they seemed to curve to the chandelier, not as large or beautiful as the one in the main hall or even the one in the dining room but still magnificent in its own right. If there was one thing Damien appreciated about living in the Manor quite as much as the freedom it afforded him, it was the sheer beauty and care given to each room. As much as he'd hate to admit it, he didn't know how Pennyworth maintained such a large space on his own. There simply where not the hours in the day. Even attempts to shadow the man had proven fruitless in explaining how he managed.

Finally, Todd seemed to have calmed himself to the point where it was no longer a struggle to speak over him. Father, standing stiffly in the corner where the light was weakest and glaring daggers through Phantom, was the first to speak.

"Who are You."

Damien opened his mouth to speak, only to be cut off with a sharp glance.

"I mean..." Phantom hesitated, seemingly unsure about how to continue. " I'm Phantom. I used to babysit Dami when he was little."

"You were part of the League of Shadows?"

"No!" Phantom seems somewhat over-emphatic in Damien's opinion, not that anyone had asked.

"No, I'm..." He glanced over to Damien, "I'm the king of the Infinite Realms, Dami just used to visit sometimes when he wanted to get away for a bit and I would keep an eye on him."

"What are the Infinite Realms? How did he get there?"

"Oh you know," he floundered, "League of Shadows... Forbidden magic... all that Fun Stuff."

"Elaborate"

Surprisingly, it was Todd who spoke next.

“Look, the League had a natural portal to the Realms they kept squirreled away ok? It was a whole big secret; only the top members were supposed to even know about it.”

“Like the Lazarus Pit.”

“Yeah,”

“Is it dangerous?”

“It's a giant hole in reality leading to another dimension,” Todd said, irritation evident, “ not a fucking Chucky Cheese. Of course it's dangerous; that's why we closed it.”

“We?” Phantom snorted

“Yeah, yeah Mister I-close-holes-in-reality-for-shits-and-giggles. Not all of us can be fucking One Punch Men. ‘Sides, I helped. Hell knows when you were gonna get around to it if I didn't threaten to leave you sleeping on the couch.”

“Hel doesn't know anything about scheduling and you know it.”

Father cut in, interrupting their fond bickering. Silently, Damien wondered how long Todd and Phantom had been dating.

“So the portal has been taken care of.”

“Yep!” Phantom said, “I closed that dumb thing right up!”

“Are there any others?”

“Yeah, but most natural portals don't stay open long enough to be a problem. A stable portal is a little like a fairy; real, but rare enough that you can keep the salt at home.”

Father blinked, unsure how to react to that answer. Damien remembered this; the strange explanations that brought up more questions than answers. As a child, Damien had always found this extremely irritating. It was reassuring to see that this had not changed.

“What is the Infinite Realm?”

Again, Todd answered.

“Exactly what it says on the tin; it's a realm, and it's infinite. Basically, it's a space between universes connecting them all together, and ‘cause there’s infinite other universes, there’s infinite space between them. It's like driving through Kansas. Most folks don't think about the people who take care of those endless corn fields.”

Father glared at Todd, clearly frustrated with his butting in. He very purposefully turned to Phantom.

“Damien said you were king?”

“Yep! Won the title after I beat the last guy into the ground when he tried to flatten the midwest!”

“What does that mean?” Father gritted his teeth, not used to all of this talking. “What duties come with being King of the Infinite Realms?”

Again, Phantom hesitated, glancing over to Damien as if trying to decipher some great mystery, and again, Todd stepped in. Interesting. Irritating.

“Same shit that comes with being King anywhere. He sits through boring ass meetings and makes sure no dumbasses try and kill each other.”

“Hn”

“So,” Greyson said, stepping purposefully between Father and Todd, “How’d you two meet?”

He flashed his signature “socialite” smile. Phantom met it in a wide parody of a grin, eyes impossibly wide and hair glowing ever brighter. Before he could speak, Pennyworth, who Damien was sure had been by the door leading to the front hall, stepped in from the dining room.

“Excuse me, sirs,” he said, voice as level and unreadable as ever, “but it seems dinner is ready.”

Tag Cultists

@mur-ururu @krzys2000 @soren1830 @fisticuffsatapplebees @emergentpanda-blog @heirxofxtime @plotwholls @phoenixdemonqueen @avalnfear @historyboiiiiii @rangerhorsetug @zgirlxy @mistrfuzzles @thegreawizards @aroranorth-west @emeraldcorpral @the-archer-goddess @gin2212 @undead-essence @eleiteranger

[circular-bircular]

hello, sorry if this question is weird, I've been thinking about it for a while. why do a lot of anti endos seem to think that endos appropriate a disorder, if systemhood is not the main part of CDDs anyway? I feel like it's diluting dissociative symptoms to focus only on "alter disorder"

I'm more disabled as a DID system by PTSD symptoms, amnesia, DP/DR, and maladaptive personality features than I am by the alters themselves, so... I really don't get why is that? as long as endos don't claim to have an endogenic CDD (which most of them aren't anymore?) I think it's fine to say that plurality/multiplicity by itself is not the disabling part of a CDD

Mm, hey there. Sorry for the wait hon.

Not a weird question at all -- it's definitely confusing. Genuinely, I think a lot of anti-endos think that endogenic systems are "appropriating a disorder" (which I already think is weird language to use, but we use what we got I suppose) because of the language being shared between communities.

Like, let's look:

Alters (which in DID is a symptom of trauma) VS Alters (which can vary between walk-ins, created alters, there-since-birth, IFS parts, a-voice-i-heard-once, imaginary friends, etc)

DP/DR (the feeling that you don't exist, or that the reality around you doesn't exist) VS "immersion in innerworld" and delineating between Innerworld and "Meatspace"

Amnesia (not recalling events in some way, shape, or form) VS... okay, yeah, no a LOT of people in endogenic spaces I've been in talk about the amnesia they experience. Emotional amnesia exists, y'all.

That's just a few.

At the end of the day, though, I think it's fucking stupid to say that endogenic systems are "appropriating a disorder" because no, the fuck, they are not. I understand where the comparison comes from, I really do, but it's fucking dumb as shit. One, endogenic systems, by and large, have already ruled out DID. Like with how much syscourse there is, it's not like they HAVEN'T looked at DID. They kinda are pretty set on shit by the time you reach them, anti-endos. Second, even if they're in Major DID Denial (which does happen), that's not appropriation. That's just being wrong.

And lastly...

Yeah. What you said. Every single fucker talking about endogenic systems appropriating DID focuses on the alter part, which just boils down the disorder to the alter part. FFS anti-endos, at least use the clarity of language, "they're appropriating the language used to discuss my disorder" or "they're appropriating a symptom of my disorder."

That's still wrong but at least it makes someone more sense.

[circulars-reasoning]

Not a fully thought out post here, but I wanted to engage in a conversation about this.

About the term sysmed: It is used so regularly, so constantly, that I can argue just about anyone in syscourse is one, regardless of if they fit the label. The definition is so wide and broad (I think in an effort to leave it up to the person using it if they want it to be an insult or not) that so many pro-endo systems fall under the label.

This was one thing I found contributed to my fear in endogenic spaces when I was first joining system spaces on tumblr. I felt I could never step a single toe out of line without my entire community attacking me. And I feel the word sysmed is a good indicator of that.

"Sysmed" as a term is used to fearmonger and insult in the same breath. I've been told repeatedly, for instance, that discussing how DID forms from trauma is a "sysmed dog whistle." Let's look at the effects of that:

The term sysmed is used to insult any DID system who posits that trauma is the cause of DID, regardless of if this is actually them medicalizing the concept of systemhood.

DID systems within the pro-endogenic community jump on the bandwagon of insulting other DID systems using this term, splitting the community into syscourse lines, rather than supporting recovery collectively

When sysmed is called into question by anti-endos and pro-endos alike, it's defended by those who would rather not acknowledge they've hurt others deeply, and instead, they double down by comparing those who are hurt by the term sysmed to transmeds, further triggering individuals who are frequently transgender themselves and have been traumatized by transmeds.

DID systems within the pro-endogenic community who do believe that DID is caused by trauma either are ostracized, often becoming firmly anti-endo due to harassment, insults, and fear, or are silently suffering while pretending to be okay with people who believe the same as them being constantly harassed.

So... for my question: Is being able to "compare sysmed ideology to transmed ideology" really worth this? Or are you just using a word you know will hurt someone without giving a shit about the consequences?

[circular-jerkular]

Not a lot of energy for a full blown post, and I’ll expand on this one day, but!!

Alters can have innerworld sex for sure. It’s like. Incredibly easy for us, though we’ve always had a very VERY vivid innerworld life. The thing is, if you can visualize it, it can happen innerworld. 🤷‍♀️ Sorry to those who dislike the fact that people can imagine sex in their heads.

[lunar-serpentinite]

wouldnt it be really fucking funny if harry became like the favourite mortal of the local fae court for literally no reason other than vibes and the fact that he has very very green eyes and wild, untamed hair that seem to absorb light like it's no ones business ?

like they dont even see him as anywhere near their equal but they see this kid who seems to belong more to the Wild (capital W, as in their place) than the soulless concrete mortals seem to love these days, and they see how his caretakers barely even acknowledge him so theyre like "welp, ours now :3"

and little harry starts seeing the weirdest fucking things in the garden and in the shadows and logically he should be scared but they want to play w him apparently ? and one time they literally made him invisible from dudley and his croonies, and the other time they rearranged the entire house (the entire house, like the layout itself and all) all bc aunt petunia screamed at him bc he missed a spot while he was cleaning

and imagine if this was a generational thing like lily evans ? with the fiery red hair and greenest of green eyes ? peak mortal beauty for fae . i bet the local fae court over at cokesworth loved her too .

just imagine harry gets this mysterious grp of beings who are endlessly delighted w him just existing, who give him what he asks (provided that he ask very carefully) in exchange for a few minutes of his time (and by now he knows a few minutes could last days or months, depending on their fancy) and he rlly doesnt care bc one way or another they take care of him, keep him safe, and they dont make him feel bad for existing . the relationship feels safe for him bc there's clear terms of transaction (love and protection for him, his time and presence for them) and hes not punished if he does something wrong (they just pat him on the head like hes a clueless dog but hey, at least it doesnt hurt)

imagine hes like pretty famous among the other courts around the islands too but in a "pet that has an instagram w 1mil followers" way so nature just bends to his will as long as he also gives them some of his attention (his time is exclusively for his home court, as per the terms and conditions)

[thecircularsystem]

The Circular System

Not to be confused with the circulatory system...

Hello there! Welcome to the system blog of the Circular System. You may know me from my ridiculous amounts of blogs in the past (checks) 12 years on Tumblr. If not, here's the rundown!

Whomst The Fuck Is Us:

DID system in therapy

Adult

Collectively queer

Collective they/them pronouns

Soon-to-be married to @circulars-singlet

We use sign offs on our posts to help us keep track of who's fronting. We won't share whose tag is whose, but we're happy to provide this list of tags in case people want to see specific posts! (Mostly) sorted by most often used to least often.

Armageddon Comes While I'm Sleeping

Diamonds Are A Boy's Best Friend

Kitty Caught The Rabbit

Vessel On A Calming Sea

I Think The World Is So Wonderful

Keeping Up With Nerd Shit

Lilac Bound Hauntings

Pop Pop Bubblegum Bop

Shadows In The Petunia Garden

Butterfly Kisses And Sunbeam Dreams

Beauty and Poison Go Hand In Hand

This Is Your Captain Speaking

Ruby Red, Sterling Blue

UwU The Cutest [REDACTED] School-Girl

Adoration For The Modest

And here's a current collage of all of us together, because we love seeing us all in one spot.

Blogs:

This isn't my main blog, but I do have a few others.

@misssugarpinkshome -- Writing

@fandomwritingraveyard -- Fandom stuff

@thismakesushappy -- Happy reblogs

@circulars-userboxes -- Userboxes that relate to us

@positivitycombopack -- CDD positivity

@thecirculararchive -- An archive blog of a bunch of my previous blogs

That's not all of them, obviously, but that's just some of the ones I'm down to share here.

Boundaries:

None. If I specifically do not want you to interact, I’ll block you. Anyone can interact with any post I make, unless it specifically requests people to not interact. Go nuts.

Thanks for joining me!

[Edited 10/16/2024]