#be more chill fictive

[8bitgarden-sys]

a not insignificant amount of our fictives have trouble looking at source stuff bc we were the antagonist or just didn't get a good ending or it's complicated, whatever, it really fucking sucks. i was gonna scroll through some be more chill stuff but you know? that's a dangerous game

[the-flora-family]

Hello everyone! Welcome to our Tumblr page. We are an OSDD-1B system that is made almost entirely out of fictives, aside from Venus who is the host, and Pain, one of our persecutors. There are way too many of us to write down and describe in one entire post, so we will simply list the sources we have. Sources marked red have alters that are either always up front or otherwise very active in our system. Only sources marked red will have the alters listed out, but as always you’re free to ask for an individual list of alters if we happen to share sources. We’re always open to making new friends.

Brain-Made

Venus - 26 || Shey/shem || Host || engaged to Mickey & Ian || 🪴

Pain - Age Unknown || it/its || Main Persecutor || 🩸

Shameless

Mickey Milkovich - 26 || he/him || Main protector/traumaholder/cohost || Married to Ian, engaged to Venus || 🚬

Ian Gallagher - 26 || he/him || Caretaker || Married to Mickey, engaged to Venus || 🍅

Fiona Gallagher - 32 || she/her || Caretaker || 💚

Lip Gallagher - 27 || he/him || persecutor to Ian only || 🧠

Debbie Gallagher - 21 || she/her || Caretaker || 💛

Carl Gallagher - 20 || he/him || we honestly don’t know what he does apart from cause chaos regularly || 🌿

Liam Gallagher - 12 || he/him || Middle/protector to Franny || ⚽️

Franny Gallagher - 5 || she/her || Little || 🧸

Frank Gallagher - 63 || he/him || persecutor to all the Gallaghers || 🍺

Monica Gallagher - 67 || she/her || Unknown. We don’t know where she lives in here, only that she’s ‘around.’ || 💊

Mandy Milkovich - 25 || she/her || Protector || 💄

Harry Potter

Harry Potter - 17 || he/him || Unknown || Dating Draco || ⚡️

Draco Malfoy - 17 || he/him || Unknown || Dating Harry || 🐍

Sirius Black - 35 || he/him || Unknown || Dating Remus || 🐕

Remus Lupin - 35 || he/him || Unknown || Dating Sirius || 🐺

James Potter - 21 || he/him || Unknown || Married to Lily || 🦌

Lily Potter - 21 || she/her || Unknown || Married to James || 🌸

Severus Snape - 37 || he/him || Unknown || 🦇

Aberforth Dumbledore - 48 || he/him || Unknown || 🐐

Aurelius Dumbledore - 20 || he/him || Traumaholder || 🌪️

Newt Scamander - 35 || he/him || Unknown || 🦎

Shadowhunters

Alec Lightwood - 33 || he/him || Gatekeeper || Married to Magnus || 🏹

Magnus Bane - Unknown because he keeps saying a different one every time || he/him || Caretaker || Married to Alec || ✨

Jace Herondale - 31 || he/him || Protector || 🗡️

Isabelle Lightwood - 31 || she/her || Protector || 👠

Max Lightwood-Bane - 14 || he/him || Middle || 🫐

Rafael Lightwood-Bane - 16 || he/him || Middle || 💧

Chairman Meow - Age Unknown || he/him || Does he even have a role? He’s literally just a cat, so who knows? || 🐈‍⬛

Sense8

The Fosters

Love Victor

Wednesday

Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Carmilla

Death Note

Teen Titans

Dear Evan Hansen

Hamilton

Be More Chill

Foster’s Home For Imaginary Friends

Powerpuff Girls

Ed Edd N Eddy

Encanto

DNI

People who subscribe to any of the following ideas should not interact with us under any circumstances.

Racist

Sexist

Ableist

Xenophobic

Fascist

Republican

Anti-MOGAI/Anti LGBTQIA+

Truscum/Transmed

TERF/SWERF

Pro-J.K. Rowling

Anti-Ace/Anti-Aro

Anti-Pan/Bi/Omni/Polysex

Anti-Polyam

Anti-Kink

Anti-Agere

Anti-Mspec Lesbian/Gay

Anti-Men/Enbies using Femme or Butch

Anti-Neo Pronouns

Anyone Under 18

MAP/NOMAP

Anti-Pro Ship/Anyone who can’t separate Fiction from Reality

Gendercrit

Nonbinary Skeptic

Anti-Queer

Anti-Endogenic Systems/Sysmeds

Anti-Self Dx

Autism Speaks Supporter

Anti-BLM/All or Blue Lives Matter Supporter

Pro-Trump

Fatphobic

Anti-HAES

Pro-Sui/Pro-SH

Pro-Ana/Pro Mia

Using us for ‘Thinspo’

[findthebae]

Jeremy Heere from Be More Chill (the musical)! I'm looking for anyone! Like seriously I don't mind what you did I made my choices. I'm a fictive and 19 so please be 16+

Just interact with this post and I'll send you a message!

! ! !

[insertsystemnamehere]

Welcome to ♫ MUSICAL SILLIES♩

- Who we are

╰┈➤ A BRAND NEW fictive oriented server for 13+ traumagenic systems (+ we’re system only)!

- What we offer

╰┈➤ A safe space for fictives from musicals/plays/theatre in general (and factives!) to talk, meet sourcemates, and share their interests!! We have a verification system and a lovely staff of moderators to keep the server nice and friendly.

Consider joining today! :]

[fictives-in-the-bathroom]

Intro

Hello, welcome to our blog. We currently have 3 fictives from Be More Chill. We will be running this blog, our main is @8bitgarden-sys

Taking some words from my headmate @7-11-parking-lot :

A fictive is an alter who formed from a fictional source. We are our own people and have differences from our source. We are all the age of the body (currently 23, born in June 2001) Minors do not interact at all please.

Michael

Hello!!!! My name is Michael! I’m a fictive of Michael Mell and I use he/him pronouns!!! I’m in a relationship with Saturn and Jeremiah! My favorite song is Aliens Exist by Blink-182! And 2 Player Game!

Saturn

Hello hello, I am a fictive of the SQUIP. I go back and forth from loving that to suffering a lot of source trauma and guilt. I use he/it pronouns. I’m in a relationship with Michael. My favorite songs are dumb dumb by mazie, Do What I Gotta by Naethan Apollo, & The Pitiful Children.

Jeremiah

Writing this for him as he doesn’t front often! Feel free to redo this when you front! Jeremiah is a fictive of Jeremy! He uses he/him and is my (Michael’s) boyfriend! He’ll tell you more when he fronts!

Thats all!! Feel free to please chat and send in asks! Tag us in fanart but be careful if its angst or if it shows Saturn being particularly evil!

[angelbaby-denks]

guys i’m literally michael in the bathroom. except i’m not at a party, i’m at my house. and i’m not in a homoerotic state of existence with my best friend/s (unfortunately)

[carnage-cathedral]

fucking fuck fuck fucking kill me

[pacvampirez]

homestuck be more chill au where hal is the squip but he just makes everyone super awkward

[the-0dd-0nes]

Intro ᯓ★

Hiya!! I'm the host Kayden/Kayz (He/they/it/xem) and I end my texts with -‼️🎶

So fair we have counted 3 people in total!

Michael Mell (He/Him/His) is a fictive from BMC, he is a caretaker & protector, [QUICK NOTE! He gets triggered by the song 'Michael In The Bathroom' so please do not send us anything related to that] his text ends with -🎧👾

Evan Hansen (He/They but prefers He/Him) Is a DEH fictive, He is a Memory holder [QUICK NOTE! Please do NOT refer/use the name Mark 4 Evan! He gets very upset when he’s reminded about his dad, and he in general just prefers Evan more] his texts end in -🩵🦴

Jared Kleinman (Any pronouns but prefers She/They) Is a DEH fictive, She is a Sexual Protector, Their texts end in -🫦👓

Chew (They/It/Xe/Acid) is a new head-mate so we don't really know what Its role is, acids age is unknown at the moment as-well, Its text end in -☢️☣️

Leo (They/It) is also a new head-mate, they do not have an age but they seem like a little, so that's what we are gonna call them :3, Its text end in -🦎🧩

We suspect there is more than us three but they haven’t introduced themselves or spoken to us! (Or at least me.. tho it’s okay!) but these are just the people I know of! I will edit this if I get to meet the rest of ‘em!

IF YOU DO NOT RESPECT ANY OF US THEN YOU WILL BE BLOCKED!!

feel free to ask us questions and just random asks! :D

[mcwhytubers]

hm. what songs fit impulse’s vibes?

[cartoon-gushes]

Love being a system

Love having Peppino Spaghetti in my head periodically staring at me disapprovingly without uttering a single word over the course of several days like this:

[renstin]

I think we should all come back to the fandom (I want more fanart)

Not to bmc post in 2023 but I’m re-obsessed with so

Jeremy’s fucking “you came to see me in the play!?” is just so !!!

Like mans is going through it and he was begging for Micheal to help him but instead of being like please help me he just goes in pure happiness and like surprise “you came to see me in the play?!” And like we as an audience know that he didn’t come to see him but Jeremy thinks that and that seems to be what matters most to him in that moment and idk that just makes me feel so many things like all the times while Jeremy was squiped the second he sees Micheal he says something about how he’s happy to see him and ahhhh

[fictives-in-the-bathroom]

Augh, fronting again, once again because of anxiety. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

[od4saku]

Gojo Satoru wakes with a start.

His skin is hot with emotion but the air in the bedroom is cold. Wind whistles high and sharp outside the window: a song of storm. It's wintertime in Tokyo. He thinks it may snow soon.

He's sitting up in bed, at some odd hour of the morning. And it's not unusual for him to be unable to sleep, or even to be plagued by nightmares like the one that'd just awoken him, not in the slightest— but it's different kind of restlessness that plagues him tonight. A kind that he fears not even your company can cure.

You lay so peacefully in bed, occupying the space beside him. One hand is slid beneath your pillow, and the other is reached out. Like you're trying to touch him. Hold him. His heaving chest and harsh, hollow breathing have not roused you. The blanket is not over you, rather it rests at your hips; Satoru wonders if you are cold. With gentle, quiet hands, he slides it up from your waist to cover more of you.

Satoru has mastered the art of silence. It's something that comes hand in hand with solitude, and he is all-too-familiar with solitude. Raised to be his own god, he has never not been alone. A shrine is a lonely place at night. He sits for a moment. Stares. Your chest rises and falls like ripples on a lake. The clock on the bedside table next to you reads 2:23 AM; he will not be sleeping again tonight, Satoru decides. He's quiet as he stands, shifting to the door of the bedroom— he's about to open the door when your voice cuts through the cool stillness of the air.

"S'toru?" A yawn. "Why are you up?"

He freezes. He's usually more careful. You usually don't wake up.

He has a quiet tendency of sorts, to pull away into himself. To hold it all back. There are people who love him; there are people he loves. But on nights, these lonesome nights, it all fades into the back recesses of his mind. This same tendency tells him to ignore you, or dismiss you back to your own dreaming. He wants to push you away. He wants to tell you to go back to sleep. His eyes squeeze shut, and his fingertips ghost the cold metal of the doorknob. His nightmare comes back to him in pieces. A faceless girl; the bullet that pierces her skull. Her white headband turning red. His best friend— the hole where his heart used to be. Your body gutted, like a dead animal on the side of the road, and the powerless man who'd done it coming for him next. This dream isn't so much fictive as it is macabre pieces of his past, stuck together like tracks burned into a CD that plays on loop in his mind whenever he shuts his eyes.

It's a subtle ache. It's an emptiness that lingers, persists. It's one he knows. Satoru is familiar with his own pain. He's never been able to shake it. It's a piece of him, the other half of his heart. He is stained blue. If he turns around to face you, he will not be able to leave. He will not be able to spare you of his own pain. He'll burden you with all that he feels, all that he is, more than he already has. If he walks out the bedroom door now, he knows he'll be okay— he always is. That's what he's always done. He's always walked out. He's always faced it all alone.

"Satoru?" You call for him again, voice raspy with sleep, and his resolve crumbles.

He's always faced it alone— but he doesn't have to. He believes it when he looks at you, head propped up with a hand, sleepy gaze fixed on him. Your eyes widen when you catch the look in his eyes. He's sure they betray how he feels. He always had a hard time lying to you.

You've known Satoru since high school. Everything he's been through, you've been through with him. You'd nearly died by his side, at Toji's hands, all those years ago. You'd stood by him when Suguru left. You'd given him space when he needed it, and gifted him with your company when he'd wanted it again. His love for you is something soft like fresh snow. Renewing, beautiful, and chilling, right down to the bone. He knows you love him, too. He sees it in you constantly. He recalls a memory from only a few months back; you'd gone out on a 'girl's night' with your friends and returned wasted, hardly able to stand, heels in Shoko's hands as she dropped you off to his apartment with an amused smile.

"Where are we, Ieiri? T's not my apartment," he had heard you slur as he opened the door. It was late. He'd predicted this outcome, and he smiled when he saw you clinging to Shoko's arm. Your nails were sure to leave indents.

"You need your babysitter tonight," she replied, gesturing to where Satoru stood in the doorframe. With a slight delay, your eyes widened when you saw him and you let go of Shoko, surging forward into your boyfriend's arms.

"'Toru! I didn't know you'd be here!" You were hardly intelligible, as you began to press scores of kisses to his face. They were open-mouthed and heavy, leaving lipstick stains on his cheek, jaw, chin, nose. Every time he would try to get a word in, you'd plant a clumsy kiss to his lips, silencing him and sending him into bouts of laughter. Shoko waved him off, and he'd helped you inside, where you promptly passed out in your dress. But not before telling him about how much you'd missed him. He'd slipped your dress off with gentle hands and helped you into warmer, more comfortable clothes, and carried you to bed.

That blatant show of affection, the way your love spilt through the cracks of your porcelain mask— he knows you care for him, too. He thinks about that night now and feels it again. The ghost of your lips and hands and warm, soft kisses. The bubbling laughter that escapes your throat, the slew of “I love you’s” that you don’t even try to contain. He believes in your love for him. He believes in it more than anything. So when you tilt your head with worry and ask him, "is everything okay?" Satoru lets himself shatter, then fall apart in front of you without thinking twice. He's always faced his pain alone— he doesn't have to. You love him. You are willing to hold it all for him.

He chokes in a harsh, strangled breath, and you’re up on your feet before he can inhale again.

“Hey,” you whisper as you place a hand on his shoulder, and your voice is so soft, so sweet, so real, he can’t help how he slumps into your body. You welcome the added weight, rearranging your hands so that one falls to his neck and hair and the other is draped around his waist. “It’s okay. What’s wrong? It’s okay. I’m here.”

He can’t speak. Doesn’t trust himself to. Satoru settles for letting breathing into the crook of your neck as you rub his shoulders comfortingly, whispering sweet words he can’t quite understand into his scalp. He feels the ache dripping off his bones with every circle your fingers trace across the small of his back. He feels the rot dissolve. He tightens his hold on you. He loves you. He will let you hold him.

A sudden fear grips him. The insecurities of his dream come rushing back at full tilt. His hands squeeze the skin you’ve offered, so tight that it might bruise, and he looks into your eyes. They shine with something unsaid. He refuses to listen his grip, to let you go— if he does he fears that you won’t come back.

It’s a common theme in his life, for those he loves to banish, just like that. The minute he allows himself to care, they’re gone. And what of this love, like no other he’s felt? If he releases you, if he leaves, you’ll be gone, too. He can’t have that. Can’t handle it. The thought of your absence is more than he can bare, so he lets his head fall to your shoulder again, maximizing the contact between you and him. If you feel him on you, if you feel his touch, his love, you can’t leave. You won’t. He won’t let you.

Satoru’s truth is that he is selfish, disgustingly so. His hands hold and don’t let go— they grip, grasping onto whatever they can— loose fabric, fingers, trailing up to the nail, roots of hair, a forearm— he can’t let go. He won’t. Like a little boy holding onto a toy, tightly, so tight. White-knuckles and glossy eyes, he holds on. Oh, he’s selfish. He’s selfish with the way he clings to a memory long past, meant to be forgotten. But Satoru holds all the same, like a lifeline, like a priest holds a bible. A religious devotion, a saint’s zeal.

He holds onto you for what feels like ages but must only have been the better half of an hour before you ease him back onto the bed, so he’s lying curled into your lap. He won’t let you move, let you stop touching him. He fears you might disappear. But you don’t move, either.

You remain still beneath him, present with your touch. You’re still murmuring things too quiet for him to hear over the sound of his heartbeat in his throat, but your tone is soft and soothing. Like cool water being poured over a hot open wound. Like a salve. You don’t leave, not when his heavy breathing turns to shallow gasps, not when his shallow gasps turn to the quiet sounds of sleep. When he wakes, Satoru will find you asleep in the safe position he’d remembered you in when he’d drifted off.

His love is selfish. His mind is a mess, mayhem. He is greedy and cruel and tortured, and you will stay through it all, he realizes that morning, as he watches your chest rise and fall from your lap. For all of Satoru’s burdens, and all his doubts, for all the pain that weighs him down and sinks him like an anchor to the bottom of his own brain, you will stay. You will stay, you will stay, you have stayed. The familiarity of you is chilling in the most comforting way. It’s nostalgia. The emptiness still lingers, but it lessens. The dull ache still makes its home in his chest, but there’s something new, now. Something he thinks may have always been there, but he’s been too blinded to realize it until now. There’s you, too.

(Outside the window, snow falls silently. Satoru will have no bad dreams when night falls.)

“There were all my secrets, spread out on the table. Like someone had taken my insides and scooped them out for everyone to see. Look, here are her stupid hopes! Look, here’s her dumb soft heart!”

Carol Rifka Brunt / Tell the Wolves I’m Home

[shipaxe]

My experience being wrong about plurality

Hi. For a year and a few months more, I believed I was a system. Why did I believe this, and what are some reasons I did, as well as how I realized I was wrong? Why I thought I was a system Around September of 2021, I labeled myself as an endogenic median system. Upon finding the system label, I did nowhere near enough research before labeling myself as one. It felt like the non-traumagenic community didn't care; if you thought you were a system, you were one! If you didn't, you weren't. It felt black and white. Eventually, I realised I had trauma I was unaware of, and switched to the label traumagenic. I was no longer median, either. In less than a year, I had 100+ alters. While this can happen, I don't believe I was nearly as stressed as I would have needed to be, and it just.. didn't feel right. Other factors that lead me into the belief I have multiple other disorders. Specifically, I suspect I have BPD, and the dissociation, mood swings, sense of emptiness, and identity issues impacted me a lot. I mistook these symptoms for OSDD-1. I subconsciously started sectioning off parts of my identity, and felt more and more separate- hence the switch from median to multiple. I am also fictionkin and otherkin. Some of my fictives (which my system consisted almost completely of) ended up being kintypes. I am also, to put it simply, lonely. I never feel like I fit in. In the system community, sometimes I DID feel like I fit in. When I didn't, someone else was "chilling in cofront". A lot of them were like imaginary friends to make me feel less alone. Those ones don't even feel like a part of me, but they're not separate people, either. They're just.. figments of my own imagination. To be honest, I've felt much lonelier upon learning I am a singlet. How I realized I was wrong Honestly, it was somewhat obvious. Many of my "headmates" felt like they were a part of me, and if we had different bodies, it wouldn't be the same- because they were me. I also subconsciously started to copy symptoms I didn't have, I switched as I wanted, I was fictive heavy- which can happen, but it's rarer than people realise. My trauma was not severe or repetitive. I could go on. A big problem in the system community is the "everyone is valid" mentality; I believe MUCH more research should be done before labeling as a system, and not enough people talk about it. Another issue is that not a lot of people talk about being wrong, and personally, I was terrified to tell people I was wrong. It's fucking difficult. There's too much "you're valid! you're valid! you're valid!" and not enough "hey, it's okay if you're wrong!". When I panicked around the time I realized I was wrong (and denied it for weeks), I never received an "it's okay if you're wrong". All I got was "hey, calm down, you ARE a system". I think the community has a lot to fix. This has fucked up my dissociation issues and identity problems worse than they were before. I wish I had realized I was a singlet sooner or never jumped into this label. Not all of these mean you're a singlet, but if you relate to this, please be open to the idea of being wrong. Thanks for reading this. Please share this- my goal with it is to help others. Have a good day/night, drink some water, and know that it's okay to be wrong. ☆

[alternativehuman]

Kin genuinely can't help it, though. That's the definition of the word. If you can control whether you have a kintype or not, it isn't a kintype.

The current system discourse is extremely concerning, not due to “omg let people kin” or “omg singlets are stupid”.

How singlets who try to shove themselves into system only spaces and uses the terms can be very dangerous. How you might ask is fictives, and people are questioning systems or new systems. It’s okay to kin. But trying to claim you cant help it, or act like it’s the same thing will make systems second guess things when new ones and even current ones struggle to accept they are systems or second guess themselves due to the discourse already about fictive alters with sadly already in this community can get people falsely accused of faking.

To kins who are reading this who think systems terms are okay to freely use. You do not know how discouraging it is for systems. Systems have to fight for validation because we live in a time where we simply cannot exist normally despite it being normal to be a system in this day and age! Systems still get witch-hunted. We are not in the 2010s tumblr space anymore where mental illnesses or disorders are “quirky”.

- Signed a very annoyed HSR protector. 👻☕️Singlets in the kinning space. You may kin , but do better and understand where people are coming from.

x