#or do you consider yourself a normal person unlike myself?

[downtherabbitholewithlucy]

Poor Quality Gifs. High Quality Bassist.

[simplyholl]

Frozen Stiff

Summary: Captured by the Frost Giants, your time on Jotunheim gets interesting.

Pairing: Jotun Loki x F. Reader

Warnings: Smut. 18+ ONLY. Minors DNI. Loss of virginity. Size kink. Somnophilia.

See my Masterlist here

You really did it this time. Your father instructed everyone stay in their homes this night. Loki, king of the Frost Giants had warned your father, King Erik, king of the elves that he would be coming through Alfheim. If anyone was caught outside, they would be considered an enemy, and taken prisoner.

Your father’s royal decree had went in one ear and out the other. You were considered a trouble maker. Not because of anything you had done consciously. Trouble seemed to follow wherever you went. You were so unlike your sister, the future queen of Alfheim, and no one let you forget that.

She was tucked away safely in her chambers with the door locked. Here you were, hiding in the bushes outside the palace. You wanted to get a good look at the Frost Giants. You had never seen one in person, and you didn’t think the view from your chambers would do them any justice.

Loud footsteps echoed throughout the forest as they stomped through. The trees were shaking with each step they took, the force of their large bodies leaving holes in the ground where they walked. They were approaching quickly. You really should run back in the palace, but you were frozen. The first few Jotuns walk by and you’re stunned.

They are even bigger than you imagined. Then you see him, King Loki. He struts through and a wild thought comes to you. He’s beautiful. You had always been taught that the Frost Giants were ugly beasts that would take misbehaving children in the night. They seemed nice enough. King Loki had even given your father warning before passing through. He and the last three giants walk passed you and you count the seconds before you can run back inside.

Woof

You look beside you terrified. Your sister’s dog, Arnie, pants beside you, tail wagging.

Woof

He barks again. You grab him, trying your best to shush him. But it’s too late. He’s gained their attention. They turn back around, looking toward the bushes you are hiding in. You sink lower to the ground, trying to shove your body under the bush. You close your eyes, hoping if you can’t see them, they can’t see you.

But their footsteps shake the ground as they come closer. “What have we here?” One of them growls, picking you up with one hand. “We found a spy, your highness.”

“Bring him to me.” King Loki demands. You squeak as you are dropped from one huge hand into another. You shiver, the temperature of his skin is colder than you could have imagined. “Not a he, but a she.” He says amused, as he looks closely at you.

“What are you doing out here, little mouse? I warned your king that we would take anyone we found outside prisoner.” You swallow, trying to seem braver than you felt. “My father, King Erik, he did command the whole village to stay inside, your highness. I was simply curious and I wanted to see you for myself.”

Loki looks at you in the palm of his hand, amusement dancing on his features. “Your father, the king? So that makes you a princess? Are you the heir to the throne?” You shake your head. “No, your highness, that would be my sister.” You introduce yourself hoping it will get you out of this situation.

“A princess for a prisoner. What an interesting day it’s turning out to be.” He sneers. “No, wait!” You protest. He closes his hand around you, silencing you. When you arrive in Jotunheim, you are brought to a room with a giant bed, huge fluffy pillows, and a roaring fireplace. King Loki places you on the bed.

“This isn’t normally how I treat my prisoners, but you are still a princess. As long as you obey me, you may stay in this room and avoid the dungeon. You are free to walk around, and I will let everyone know that no harm is to come to you. Am I understood?”

“Yyyyesss” You stutter, you had been freezing the entire trip. You run to the fireplace, rubbing your hands together in an effort to get warm. Loki studies you, his red eyes lingering on your sheer nightgown. You really didn’t plan on getting captured when you went out, so you didn’t bother with putting on a proper dress.

You regret that decision now as his gaze lands on your breasts, heaving on your shaking form. He could see everything through the nightgown, and he was already looking, so you didn’t bother with attempting to cover yourself. “I’ll have someone make you proper clothing. In the meantime, there are extra blankets in the closet.” He walks out, leaving you with your thoughts.

Months had passed and you were settling into your new home. No one treated you like a prisoner, and you decided for once in your life to stay out of trouble. You had been given a job in the palace kitchen and you were making new friends. You were actually starting to like it here.

You giggle as your closest friend Marta, asks about your sex life. As a princess, you had to save yourself for whoever your father chose for you. You knew very little about the act itself. But Marta filled you in. She answered every question you had without judging you, and she even gave you some tips. The most shocking part was learning that a male might want to kiss you between your thighs. Marta told you there was nothing like it, so you couldn’t help fantasizing about it the rest of the day. When you laid your head down to rest, your tried to think of more questions for Marta.

The door to your room squeaked open. King Loki walked in, shutting it behind him. He gently removed the blankets from your sleeping form. You were wearing the nightgown from the first night you met him. He reaches out, his long finger grazing your nipple. The chill from his skin causing it to harden under his touch. You sigh from his attention, but don’t wake up. He carefully spreads your legs, laying down between them. His cold tongue meets your center, and you buck your hips toward him. He takes this as an invitation, long tongue lapping between your thighs.

You jump up, searching your room for him, but he’s not there. It was all a dream. You confide in Marta about it and she says it must be your conversation. It made its way into your subconscious. But you didn’t talk to Marta about it the next night when you had it or the next night. Weeks had passed and still, you had the same dream every night. It made it awkward for you when you had to serve King Loki his meals.

“King Loki has requested you serve his dessert in his chambers.” Marta told you, handing you the tray piled high with pastries, cakes, and fruit. You knock on his door, waiting for his instruction to enter. When he calls for you to come in, you bow to him. “My king, I’ve brought your dessert.” He’s propped up on his bed, gesturing for you to place it on a table by the window.

He’s so big, he nearly takes up all the room on the large bed. His muscled blue form has been the object of your fantasies for a while now. “Remove your dress, and get on the bed.” He demands. You drop the metal tray on the table. “Excuse me, your highness. I must have misheard you.”

He pats the bed, “You heard correctly, little mouse. I know you desire me. You dream of me every night. I’m only rewarding your good behavior.” You fight the urge to pinch yourself. You must be dreaming. “How did you know about that?” You manage to mumble. “I know all, little one. You can hide nothing from me.”

He beckons you with his thick finger. You do as he instructed, removing your dress and getting on the bed with him. He lifts you with one hand, hovering you above his face. “Wha- what are you doing?” You stammer. “I’m having my dessert.” He quips placing you on his mouth. His long, cold tongue covers your center. You shiver from the chill. His velvety muscle curls beneath your clit, flicking it.

He treats you like a porcelain doll, holding you as if you might break. He could easily crush you without trying. You really were like his own personal doll. He enters your untouched flesh with his tongue, rocking you back and forth on it. Your small hands wrap around his fingers, trying to ground yourself. He drinks you like it’s water, the icy muscle tipping you over the edge, making your toes curl.

He suddenly tosses you on your back, his bulky form trapping you beneath him. He settles between your thighs. They start aching as he spreads them as wide as he can. It’s still not wide enough to accommodate him. So he pushes your knees to your chest, his gigantic cock nudging your center.

The thought of ruining such a small, delicate woman driving him mad with lust. “I’ll split you in half, little mouse. You would like that wouldn’t you?” Your still dazed from your orgasm, so you only hum in response. “My sweet princess is cock drunk and she hasn’t had any cock yet.” You nod, reaching for him. “I am the first to touch you, correct?” Another hum to confirm.

You gasp when he dips a large finger inside you, curling it upwards. “I have to get you ready.” He explains. As he works his skilled finger inside you, you rock your hips, hungry for more. You whine as he removes his digit from you, but you’re not left wanting for long. He thrusts into you, and you scream. He stretches you, and you try to adjust to his size. You feel him bottom out and you wiggle to get more comfortable.

Tears fall down your cheeks, the stinging not subsiding. “My poor princess. I’m too much for her. It’s only the tip, my sweet girl.” He gently traces the outline of his cock bulging in your stomach. Loki presses on it. “I can see myself protruding out of your stomach, little one. Do you know how feral that makes me? Such a small creature struggling to take the head of my cock.”

He tilts his hips, hitting that spot that makes you see stars. Goosebumps line your arms when you feel his breath on your ear. “You’re doing so good for me, my little princess. You feel incredible. I’ll keep you forever, my little plaything.” You whimper at his words, a gush of arousal soaking him. He moans, looking at your fucked out expression. He wraps his enormous hand around your waist, thrusting you down on him, faster.

Loki roars as he releases inside you. He pulls out, spreading your now limp legs. “I want to see me dripping out of you.” He lowers his head, black tresses covering your stomach as his icy tongue laps at you once more. “What a delicious mess you made.” He coos.

Tags

@fictive-sl0th @lokisgoodgirl @lokidbadguy @ozymdias @cindylynn @cakesandtom @eleniblue @marygoddessofmischief @coldnique @mochie85 @goblingirlsarah @lokisninerealms @wheredafandomat @peaches1958 @freegardenbanananeck @chantsdemarins @lokidokieokie @l0ki3000 @anukulee @multifandom-worlds @alexakeyloveloki @ladymischief11 @kats72 @mischief2sarawr @lamentis-10 @loz-3 @litaloni @lulubelle814 @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @avengersfan25 @silver-tongue-taken-to-bed @xorpsbane @mybugabomlb @bunny24sstuff @luthien-elvenia-asher @gruftiela @itsybitchylittlewitchy @asgards-princess-of-mischief @weirdothatwritess

[tinfoil-jones]

Jerk Ford AU: Eloquent as F***

At the end of the day Jerk Ford is still a Stanford Pines, and while he isn’t a theatre kid like his twin brother, he still has a flair for the dramatics just like his canon self.

A little known fact (little known until it’s too late), Jerk Ford is really good with words and wordplay! It's something a lot of his variants don’t usually pick up at first because he speaks to people with casual, common, and crude language.

Here’s an example of how he normally talks to other Fords (and most people):

Another AU Ford: You’re a blight upon the name 'Dr. Stanford Pines'.  Jerk Ford: And you’re a bitch whore, anything else obvious you want to say? Big ego having ass.

It takes a lot to get a rise out of Jerk Ford, because as previously stated you can’t be mean to Jerk Ford, he sees it as a contest of who can be a bigger jerk and he’s always the biggest jerk. In an unforgiving multiverse full of monsters, demons, and aliens, where he’s pretty low in terms of physical abilities just compared to other versions of himself, his wit and biting words were his only real offense and defense. So if really wanted to verbally tear somebody apart, he could.

Here’s an example of a situation where Jerk Ford would flex his real, actual oratory skills:

Not a lot of Fords have asked Jerk Ford about his brother, but a fair portion of the one who actually did questioned why he was so lenient towards his twin brother who ruined his life twice (the college rejection, the portal incident). And usually Jerk Ford would just roll his eyes and say something along the lines of "Why are you worrying about someone else's brother?" Because he knows his alternates don't actually want to see his point of view, they just want to argue against it, because it goes against their own idea about their relationship (or lack thereof) with their Stan.

But, let's say there's a Ford out there who either manages to get a rise out of Jerk Ford, or who is willing to seriously consider an alternate viewpoint (both unlikely).

(The following is specifically if the motion machine is used as an argument)

"I was mad. Of course I was mad! From my perspective, the person I trusted most in the whole world had sabotaged and betrayed me! And I had to take his word for it that it was an accident and not on purpose! We are the same person, of course I know how you felt because I felt the same. Where we differed is that I asked myself a question; do I want to be angry and have my brother, or do I want to be angry and be alone? I chose my brother, and I was angry for a while, and believe me I gave him s**t about it for years, but I got over it. If you asked yourself the same question... you made the wrong f***ing choice, because you chose being right over being happy. That's why you're a genius, with near limitless potential, yet you're still a miserable fool who never got over it. No wonder you don't care about going home. There's only one person who would still be waiting for you all of this time later, and you're still putting your pride first."

---

Reminder that The Artist has a playlist for Jerk Ford. Although this is a playlist about him and not necessarily what he would listen to.

While he likes Kendrick Lamar's music, it's not genre that catches his fancy; he likes artists who are good at wordplay and use inventive lyrics, just happens to fall under rap and hip hop because wordplay is a big part of rap.

[rosecorcoranwrites]

Re your post about needing straight awareness bc someone headcanoned ricky from shadow house as a trans girl…

Have you literally never participated in a fandom before it’s just a headcanon this is fandom 101 bro… another thing is when posting hate of any level abt smth like that, out of tact, you don’t put it in the main tag… I’m going to just infer that this is your first fandom experience cuz anyone with half a brain and has participated in fandom knows these things and doesn’t pitch hissy fits about it and tag it with all the main tags… people are going to headcanon characters as things other than what they are in canon, that’s actually the point of it.

Either that or you’re just anti lgbt and feel personally attacked for people headcanoning a character as something other than cishet. I recommend taking a few steps outside for a little bit and getting some fresh air and sunlight and maybe you’ll realize getting butthurt about someone’s headcanon isn’t healthy or normal behavior. It literally doesn’t effect you so my main word of advice, if you seem something you don’t like… block the OP and move on… and if you must rant about it… don’t put it in the main tags… I know that for you seeing someone headcanon a fictional character as being trans must cause a lot of fear and confusion when you’re transphobic and new to fandom, so I hope this advice teaches you something. Good luck in your endeavors baby fandom goer, hope you learned something new today.

Anon, I have been a part of fandom since I was in highschool. I am 35.

My point, with Ricky and Patrick specifically, is that it's not even gay. I'm honestly shocked at how few people ship the two of them together, especially considering the whole "soulmates" thing.

My point is that, in the context of them being cisgenderedly heterosexual -- in Ricky crushing on Lou, in Patrick crushing on Emilico -- fans accept the canon ship itself, but refuse to accept that it is cishet. To paraphrase yourself, it's almost like seeing a fictional character who is cishet "must cause a lot of fear and confusion".

Being generous, we could assume this is because some people have never realized that one can like and identify with a character unlike oneself. Thus, if one is trans and identifies with Ricky, Rick must be trans. If one is a lesbian and likes Patrick, he must be a lesbian. If aromantic, Patrick must be aromantic. If one did not want to be generous, we might assume that, for whatever reason, some people find the very idea of cisheterosexuality icky and will do any amount of mental gymnastics to ignore it.

As for using the main tag, I briefly considered removing it, as i didn't want to hurt anyone's feeling. But then I thought, to paraphrase you yet again, that getting angry about my thoughts on people's head canons of fictional characters isn’t healthy or normal behavior. It doesn’t actually effect them. If they see something they don’t like, block the OP and move on.

(I myself, not actually being as infantile as Anon would make me out to be, did not block any of the OPs I mentioned, because I like the majority of their content and don't believe that I'll get cooties from someone who has a difference of opinion from me. I also didn't send anonymous rants to their inbox, but I digress.)

To you, my dear Anon, "I recommend taking a few steps outside for a little bit and getting some fresh air and sunlight." You might encounter someone straight out there, but I promise, it will be okay. You might even find that you and them have a lot in common.

[lieutenant-teach]

Watching a Russian comedy show ‘Female Stand-up’. I should’ve known it wouldn’t be feministic!

‘All women prefer to be called beautiful, not smart’ – am I the only one woman in the world who doesn’t believe cheap compliments to my appearance, esp when I know I’m not beautiful? I believe lots of women want to be seen as personalities, not ‘pretty’ which is poised as the greatest and the most important achievement for a female. In fucking 2020s!

‘We’re not feminists’ – says one of the comedians, probably to cater for male audience. ‘We’re normal women’ – implied. Honeybun, thanks to feminists you have an opportunity to perform at all, nevermind wear jeans and talk freely about your sexual life. Vaguely paraphrasing Don Corleone, ‘You use feminists’ achievements, but you use them without respect’.

‘We wear make-up, beautiful clothes and lose weight only for men’ – speak for yourself, sweetie. I consider myself beautiful wearing a Star Wars T-shirt with a Jedi Order pendant. And pray tell me, how many women lose weight when they get rid of a man?

A transvestite also made an appearance, claiming to be more feminine than women. You know, these absolutely non-feminine women, born women, with XX-chromosomes and vaginas. Unlike a man, who in the end of the day takes off his wig and fake boobs and goes to his wife and kids. Apparently, femininity is reduced to wearing heels, short tight dresses and bright exaggerated make-up.

Female misogyny is blooming! Slutshaming is thriving. Calling women (esp friends) ‘whores’ – every one of these comedians does it. Am I the only woman who never calls her friends ‘whores’, even as a joke?

The show happily reinforces stereotypes that women are dominated by hormones. As if men are not. Again, 2020s! And of course, if a woman is angry/aggressive, she is just not fucked enough.

A specific moment grossed me out in one more way. The comedian talked about the ‘Viva la vulva’ commercial and said: ‘Women should love their sex organs like men love theirs. The video is very useful and good. But I can’t eat all these fruit anymore’. And immediately after this – a short sketch of this comedian walking along the shop aisle, cringing at cut in half avocados, peaches, etc, and then choosing a bunch of bananas. Mmm, so much about ‘women should love their sex organs’… I suppose it was – again – playing to male audience. And it’s gross from ‘Female Stand-up’, whose target audience is supposed to be women.

‘Who dislikes men more than patriarchal women?’ – a good and very true rhetoric question from feminists. All the men from comedians’ stories drink a lot, drunkenly piss into lamps, and when sober, discuss how they shat, comparing the turds. Either I don’t know men, or this is a very particular type of men the show’s comedians are talking about. I’m repulsed by this image of men this show paints – baboons, no more. Probably even less than baboons. Where do you find such men??? The show makes it seem all men are like this. And then ‘feminists don’t like men’. Seriously? :/

Can anyone suggest any feminist comedy shows?

[skinnytuna]

I really really like that long post you did about making art. especially: 'i have somehow convinced myself that, if i maybe try a little bit, not exceptionally hard, but only a little bit, maybe i will somehow magically be good enough and worthy of critical praise.'

I spend all my time thinking about the beautiful or ""groundbreaking"" things I would make but no time actually doing it. and then when I attempt to create something the actual discomfort of physically drawing, writing or even coding is so unlike the idealised version in my brain that I have to stop because it is so frustrating. I wish I could be the sort of person who decides to spend hours upon hours perfecting a craft. but I just cant. weirdly I've come to terms with it. theres a whole world of art that exists just for me in my head. maybe one day ill be able to translate it into reality. but for now, im just going to be happy with the dual presence of my shitty real art and my lovely art thats just for me.

(also: I dont think your posts are lacking. the way you use language is unexpected and hilarious. I like it a lot.)

we should have a word for the terminal need for validation but lack of any and all discipline ... seems like a relatively new phenomena. i'm considering the strong possibility that it's a widespread result as the death of the "hobby"... however many years ago i imagine it was normal to just do something for yourself, because you love doing it. in fact i see a lot of my friends parents still doing stuff such as this.

i have a lot of friends whose dads make eps and albums for fun. for them only. no wishing on a star for it to blow up overnight. none of that. security in the quality of it. security in how far it probably won't reach. now that security, of course, could just come with age. but i suspect there's a generational parasite.

we were all raised with Numbers. the follower count, the like count, these are burned into our psyche. a neurosis coiled tightly around an objective metric of validation. a handful of years ago such a neurosis couldn't even exist! and it especially couldn't exist in a matter of seconds or minutes. your value as a person is a pair of dice that you roll and you snatch them back the moment you see snake eyes. almost all of the amateur art, music, writing we are exposed to has a number right under it. you don't get to evaluate it yourself. there is immediately a pavlovian connection, i like this thing, this thing has this number attached to it, if i can get a number like that i'm worthy of coexisting with this thing.

there's an almost instant dissociation between the craft, the skill, the time, and the FRUIT. what you get back. we are almost trained to care more about how popular something is than how good it is. not like, hollywood productions, or Columbia Records' chart topping album by a thirty something with A&R parents, but how popular someone just like you is on the internet. a plausible professional with a twitter account who draws whatever they want. someone you could relate to. someone you could be.

but because you want the numbers you skip the learning... you make something and put it out. and you keep doing this. your learning is public, your honing of the craft is documented before an audience of hopefully thousands. and you see what they respond to. and their responses steer the direction of your learning. you never have an opportunity to make something shitty. make something no one likes. experiment. you just keep feeding the computer. and it works until the point where you want to do something else, or something real, or something better, or something serious, and realize you don't know how. and you're like Fuck Shit why did I hustle instead of learning in peace.

but of course this is all by design. the numbers can't teach themselves more numbers if you doodle in your sketchbook and don't show anyone. i'm not sure if it was ever a specific person's idea to make everyone's entire life a performance, but whoever engineered it did a damn fine job. takes a sledgehammer to break out of. oh well ! in a few generations i'm sure all of our skin will have glare dampeners evolved specifically to vlog better with. and everyone will have forgotten what it's like to do something in your room, by yourself, because you like to do it

[purrincess-chat]

2, 8, 22, 24

2. A character whose pov you're currently exploring

I've mentioned before, but I've recently branched into writing for the Legend of Zelda fandom. I've been writing a fic that takes place post-breath of the wild, but pre-tears of the kingdom kind of bridging the gap there. It's mostly from Zelda's pov, so I've been having fun exploring that because the setting is so vastly different to ML and Zelda herself is unlike any character I've written before. It's been fun. As for ML, I'm working on a few fics from Adrien's pov lately and dissecting him like a bug. (pun intended)

8. If you had to write a sequel to a fic, you'd write one for...

I'm doing that too! I'm literally writing a sequel fic to Marinette Dupain-Cheng's Spite Playlist right now! It follows the aftermath of Adrien finding out his father was Hawkmoth when they defeated him and how Adrien recuperates and works through his childhood trauma and establishes his own identity in the world.

22. Do you ever worry about public reaction to what you're writing? How do you get past that?

Considering I was once an avid salt-fic writer in peak salt time, I don't know that I ever have worried about public reaction XD But I think that just boils down to personality and personal philosophy. I fundamentally understand that not everyone is for me, and I'm not for everyone. If someone doesn't like something I've written (and there have been people who definitely haven't jived with what I've written), then they don't have to read it. But ultimately I just write what I want to see and read, so idc if no one else likes it bc I do. I also don't tend to write things that are too controversial or dealing with anything too egregiously heavy. I suppose Adrien's Playlist may tote the line just dealing with his mental health issues and trauma, but even that isn't too dark I would say. So, on that front, I can't really help if that's your dilemma. But I'd say fandom is pretty robust with the idea of don't like, don't read, and anyone seriously bullying someone for writing completely normal fanfic tends to get backlash more than the writer they're bullying. Bc it's just rude.

So, idk if that really helps you any. I've just always kind of not given a fuck, so I just do what I want...

24. How do you recharge when you're not feeling creative?

Oooo so this question really depends on the reason. But in general I'd say give yourself some space from what you're working on. Go for a walk, take a few days off, see your friends and family. Walk completely away from it for a brief period of time. When you come back, read back over what you had and try to find the spot that is tripping you up or holding you back and identify why. Is it because you've written yourself into a corner? Do you not know what happens next? Do you just not like the current direction of the story? The reason behind it will determine how you move forward. If you've written yourself into a corner or just don't like what you have, cut a chunk from what you've recently written back to a point where you can take it a new direction. You don't have to delete it, just paste that somewhere else and try something else. Maybe take time to plan out what happens next, even minimally. Skip ahead to the next thing you can picture and fill in the gap later.

If, on the other hand, your issue isn't so much writer's block, but just a lack of drive to create at all, take a break. Maybe you're stressed and need to decompress for a while. When I find myself in dry patches for ideas, I find it helpful to consume other forms of media or literature that are completely unrelated to what I'm working on. Sometimes we get stuck in a rut when we are surrounded by the same things all the time and our brains just need a little something different to spark new ideas. I find that flipping between LoZ and ML is a good thing for me because the two are so different from one another.

My issues as of late is not so much lack of creativity as it is lack of time to be creative, which sometimes you just have to power through. I chose to go to grad school, so this is really on me.

[rin-and-jade]

I think I may be a system and it’s making me feel scared bc I feel like I’m not real and my labels (like being lgbt) aren’t real enough as other people and I do not want to talk about myself like “my body is an 18 year old system” like talk about my body instead of me .. not be able to say online and irl “hi I’m (name) I’m (lgbt labels) and ex etc etc” but have to go “my body is 18 I’m a system here are their Intros and THEIR different labels” I know I am one person split into parts I am one whole person it just doesn’t feel like it bc that’s how the disorder is. I don’t have to use we/system/us I don’t have to call myself multiple or plural. I’m not separate people. I have a host maybe two of them. others rarely or don’t front. just pass influence and co con or whatever. I don’t ever want to be treated like multiple people because I’m not. I like my “hi im (name) I’m (lgbt labels) here are my interests and I happen to have this disorder so I feel like different people but all are me”

I want to say I’m (lgbt label) and that’s true for all of me. I have no reason to beleove otherwise. All parts of me are the real me and are one person it just doesn’t feel that way. how do I stop feeling scared and confused and bad about it all?? Is it possible to just do like I said and indeed be one person. do I have to do functional multiplicity or whatever do I have to indulge in labeling all of these parts I’m just a person who happens to have a disorder ? these are not people inside me it’s a symptom of a disorder . these are symptoms.

The clearer ask on top

Heres my thoughts: to address as a system or as a whole person is everyone's own preference. If you feel uncomfy saying being plural then there's no reason you can't address regularly like a normal person (just name, pronoun, and biological age). We also have parts who chose one from either two (introduce as plural or just the regular way) and i respected the choice,, especially when you prefer to address with "I happen to have this disorder so I feel like different people but all are me” and continuing along those lines.

Considering about symptoms.. i doubt the dissociated parts of ourselves is. Everyone has a multifaceted personality, singlets, who also have other sides of themselves are integrated unlike the situation in CDD. The real symptoms for having it are actually amnesia, usual basis of dissociation, identity confusion and alteration, as well as the disconnection with said facets, this also includes you also being a part/facet. Roles and applications (or pk bot) are just to better understand these different parts of yourself and thats ok for not wanting to use any, like how we don't use simplyplural.

Wether you need to achieve a fusion, or just go for functional multiplicity,, that needs to be discussed properly with the rest of your parts as i couldn't tell you whats the right thing to do (there is no right, just different preferences)

Before i end it right here, it's normal to not like being plural, and i know being plural can sometimes feel like life is being taken away from yourself as it is not just you that seems to be living here, there will also be lots of confusion, denial, and etc along the way. I wanted to say coming to terms and with acceptance too of what happened will help you a lot, this disorder is mainly developed to protect a child who went through debilitating trauma because i doubt it was bare-able to remember those bad emotions plus memories and have to function normally like nothing happened. I recommend you coming back to me if needed one day, hope this clears up anything you had asked.

- j

[loftylockjaw]

TIMING: Recent LOCATION: Xóchitl’s house PARTIES: Wyatt & Xóchitl SUMMARY: Wyatt finally gets around to surprising his friend from Boston with his appearance in her hometown, and the two reconnect in a few different ways. CONTENT WARNINGS: Wrspice (implied)

—

They’d met in Boston some years ago, but Xó hadn’t lived around those parts since she was a kid, so there was always significant time in between their chances to reconnect. Still, she was a fun person to be around and someone that Wyatt would consider a friend, so when he realized that his hunt for steadier fighting ring work was taking him right into the town she’d told him she was living in, of course he had to see her. He’d waited a few weeks, giving himself time enough to settle in, find a normal job, secure the other job, and generally make sure he was well put together before surprising her with a visit. 

‘Heeey, guess who’s in your neck of the woods?!’ he’d texted her a few days back. She was shocked, naturally, but the two had quickly made plans to meet at her place for drinks, snacks, and catching up. Currently, the Cajun was stood outside her door, a bag in one hand that he’d filled with a couple bottles and some homemade appetizers, and an autumn-themed bouquet in the other. When she eventually pulled it open, a smile bloomed on his face that was perhaps even larger than the sunflower that sat front and center in the flower arrangement. 

“Xó!” he exclaimed affectionately, laughing as he set down the insulated bag for a moment to reach in and hug her with one arm. “Been too long, young lady!”

—

Wyatt was an old friend (so old, she’d joked more than once, when they’d first met), and he was somehow in the same town that she’d grown up in, now. Been born in, at least. Xóchitl wasn’t sure if she could fully say that she’d grown up in a town that she’d left when she was eight years old.

But when he’d texted her and mentioned that he was here, she hadn’t had to think twice about agreeing to hang out. At her place. Which yes, maybe she’d made sure was extra clean (though it usually was – in case she needed to put it on the market suddenly, in case this town made her need to leave again), and maybe she’d also dressed herself up nicer than usual, with a shirt that was one of her less work-appropriate ones, but Wyatt was cute, and she was almost thirty (though she’d certainly tried to flirt with him even back home, back when she was just nineteen or twenty).

She’d heard him at the door and darted over, smile bright on her face. “Far too long, though you still look good, not that I’m surprised, but…” Xóchitl let her voice trail off. “Come on in. What do you think of the place? Decorated it all myself, though manman is an art curator still, so I think some of her talent rubbed off on me.” Even if the place looked more pristine than most homes, she had made every effort to choose decor that felt like her, felt good, and looked good, too.

—

“Ohh, flatterer,” Wyatt teased, sauntering into the home as his gaze raked it over a few times, smile still fixed firmly in place as his head started to bob in a nod. “Hell yeah, ma chérie, it looks great.” His gaze fell back on Xó and he extended the bouquet out to her, adding a cheeky, “Not unlike yourself,” that he paired with a quick wink. 

Once she’d taken the flowers from him, he trailed after her toward the kitchen where she could procure a vase for them, and he could unpack their vittles for the evening. Carefully setting the plated and professional-looking dishes out along the counter, he explained what each one was as he went, then ended with the two bottles of wine he’d brought. He asked after the bottle opener and glasses so he could get them started, and it was as he was pouring the dark red liquor that he gave the woman a smirk and a soft scoff. “Girl, how are you?” he asked playfully, passing her one of the glasses. “Don’t hold back, now, I wanna know the hot goss.”

—

“You know it.” Xóchitl grinned back at him. “Oh, glad you think that my decorating skills are decent, and that you think I look great. Means a lot.” She quickly accepted the bouquet and offered Wyatt the slightest of curtseys in response – tongue-in-cheek and all, but something that worked very well between the two of them, she figured. 

“Damn, I’m impressed.” She spun around on the balls of her feet, pressing a kiss on top of the flowers before setting them down. “I’m well, you know, just looking great and having a brilliant job. Not that I’d brag, ever. Or,” Xóchitl’s eyes crinkled in the beginnings of laughter, “well, not without reason. Hot goss? There’s this sexy guy that’s back in town? Curly brown hair, wickedly charming smile? You might have seen him around.” She winked. “But for real, I don’t know – this town is still weird, but not all of it feels bad. Most of it, yes, but not everything. Do you have any hot gossip for me, babe?” Maybe the babe was a bit too much, but she appreciated just how easy things felt with Wyatt, how at home they felt.

—

"Ohh, no kiddin'? Hmm, you might have to introduce me…" Wyatt teased in return, taking a sip of his wine. Bless her heart–weird didn't even begin to cover it. He wondered, briefly, exactly how much of that weirdness she was aware of… but figured that would come up naturally if at all, and let the comment slide on by with a commiserate nod and shrug. "Little ol’ me? Well… It was gettin' too expensive to stay in Boston, couldn't ah… send as much back home." He'd made the brave decision to tell Xóchitl about his family in Louisiana once, and while he'd left out a lot of details, she at least knew that a portion of his income was mailed to his mother. "Heard through the grapevine that the cost of livin' was better here, n' since I knew you came from these parts, well… figured there had to be some good about it." He grinned, circling an arm around her waist and pulling her in close, pressing an affectionate kiss to her temple. "Believe it or not, you ain't the first person from Boston I've run into up here. Seems the past has a way of catchin' up, eh? Anyway… it's been good. Woulda been smarter to move somewhere warmer, probably. But I never claimed to be smart," the lamia laughed. 

After a beat, he let her go and set his glass on the counter, clapping his hands together. "Right then! Food, before the warm stuff cools off too much. All made special for you, dove." 

—

“I’ll be sure to, I have a feeling the two of you’ll get along almost like you’re the same person.” Xóchitl offered him a conspiratorial grin. She listened carefully to what he was saying – Wyatt was absolutely someone she trusted very much, and cared for all on top of that, and since they hadn’t been in tons of contact recently, she was hungry for whatever pieces of information he shared. “Boston’s way too expensive, I agree – and that makes sense, you’re good for looking out for your mom, I mean, I know it’s just nice to do, but too many people wouldn’t even try…” He’d come here in part because she was from here, and for all that she loathed what the town had done to her, she couldn’t help but smile at that particular remark, body relaxing against his arms. Sighing against the kiss against her temple, entirely at ease with him, just as always. “No way. That’s neat, though it’s kind of wild to see a lot of us just suddenly move up here. Though three’s not so many, I suppose. Well, I think you’re plenty smart,” she pressed a kiss to her fingers and pressed her fingers against his nose, “and selfishly, I’m glad you’re here, because I missed you.”

Xóchitl frowned for a moment when he let her go, though the promise of food was enticing. “I feel very very lucky, because your food is some of the best ever.”

—

It was kind of her to tell him she thought he was smart, even if he didn’t believe it for a second. Not to say he thought she was lying, she’d just probably never been around him long enough for the true, dumbass bayou hillbilly to come through. He’d worked very hard on the walls he’d built up around himself to protect that aspect of his personality from view, and subsequently, ridicule, and there were not many people he’d been that vulnerable with. It was nothing against Xóchitl, either—she was just actually smart, so the walls stayed up. Perception was everything, and if Wyatt was being truly honest with himself, he cared deeply about what others thought of him. Best to keep on her good side. 

They’d eaten the food and made it through the first bottle of wine after little more than an hour, chatting about their time apart as if it had never really occurred—talking to Xó had always been easy. Maybe that’s why she was a therapist (duh). Wyatt, for all his charm, was barely able to follow along as she spoke about her field of work, finding that he relied much more on wit and being able to convince someone that what he wanted was what they wanted than he actually understood other people. Or himself, for that matter. 

“That’s fascinatin’. You must be real good at readin’ people then, yeah? Does that ever get exhaustin’, or is it somethin’ you can like… turn off?” He let a brief pause pass between them before adding, “I hope you can, ‘cause I’m bettin’ tryin’ to read me would give you a right headache.” He was sitting beside her on the couch, arm slung across her shoulders, legs sticking out beneath the coffee table as he settled in comfortably. 

—

Wine and food and good conversation made time pass quickly. Time with Wyatt always did, but in the best sort of way. The best sort of way, minus the fact that it meant that time with him came to an end sooner than she would’ve liked. Which Xóchitl was keen to avoid today, at least. She wasn’t sure how successful she’d wind up being, but trying something mattered, didn’t it?

She wanted time with her friend, and besides, it was nice to look at Wyatt’s smile and know just how warm he was, and how easily he made her smile. Not that smiling was always hard, but Wyatt was undoubtedly on the list of people who always (always) understood just how to get Xóchitl to smile, even when she really wasn’t feeling up to it.

“I guess I am real good at that, huh?” She smirked at her friend. “I don’t try to read my friends, Wyatt, and I don’t try to do it all the time anyhow.” Xóchitl leaned against Wyatt’s chest, fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on the fabric of his shirt. “Don’t worry, this is all just us two. We can talk about, or do, whatever it is that you’d be up for. The food was, unsurprisingly, exceptional.”

—

“Mm, fair… probably best not to, eh? You’d get real sick of us.” Wyatt suspected that if she was ever upset with someone she might try to figure out what the hell was going on with them, but he’d never been on the opposite end of that particular emotion. No, he and Xó only had good memories together, and he aimed to keep it that way. 

The feel of her nails against his skin, even through the barrier of his shirt, had him straightening his spine a little bit. He smiled down at her, brushing her hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear as she spoke, assuring him that it was just them. Just them, and whatever they wanted to say… or do. Hm. 

He lifted a brow, craning his neck down to speak against the top of her head. “Well… I ain’t much of a linguistic genius, we both know that, but there’s loads of things we can do that I’m pretty good at,” he hummed suggestively. “Exceptional, even. Not to toot my own horn, but, ah…” The smirk remained as she predictably turned her head to look up at him, and his bright blue gaze fell to her lips.

—

“Well, I don’t think I’ll ever get sick of you, so…” Xóchitl shrugged. Not that she was going to think too much about that, because Wyatt had only just wound up back in her life again, and as much as she was one to catastrophize, she’d try to put it off at least for a little while, with him. Especially seeing as she’d only just gotten him back, and that was partially her fault, but still. It was good, and she could be selfish and take everything good that was offered to her.

(Not that there always was a lot of that, and Xóchitl didn’t even mean that in a way of self-pity, but more scientific fact).

His hand on her hair felt nice, and so did him tucking it behind her ear, and he smelled just like how she remembered, back, all those years ago. Even if it wasn’t the identical scent, it was the feeling, more than anything else, about it all, and Xóchitl felt her whole body relax against his, the comforting feeling of being curled into him one that she wasn’t going to stop relishing any time soon.

His words carried a more suggestive tone, then, and that much she could work with. “Being a linguistic genius is overrated anyways, and I’d love to see some of those things you’re good at.” Xóchitl looked up at him. “I think you deserve to praise yourself, and I’ll tell you that there are some things I’m also rather excellent at.” She brushed a finger against his jawline. “Besides, I’m flexible in more ways than one, and as bad of a line that is, let me tell you that I’m truly down for most anything. I think I’d like to see some of what you’re exceptional at, if you’d be so kind as to show me?”

—

Wyatt Barlow was many things, but overly cautious was not one of them. He rarely thought things through before acting, which is probably why he'd been pit fighting for more than half his life, and why he had no real relationships to speak of. He was, in every sense of the word, ephemeral. Flighty. Whim-prone, and right now his whim was curled against his side, touching his face, and telling him how flexible she was. There was no clearer sign in the universe, and the blinking neon might've blinded him had it been anything more than metaphorical. 

“And what sort of friend would I be if I didn't oblige when you've asked me so nicely?” he teased, leaning down to catch her lips in a kiss. It was gentle at first, or at least as gentle as was possible for Wyatt, but quickly devolved into something much more needy and ravenous.

Funnily enough, this hadn't been the intention behind tonight's visit, but it wasn't a detour he was looking to complain about, not by a long shot.

—

His kiss felt good, and it felt even better when Wyatt’s kisses turned more frantic, more hungry, and she’d wanted this for years, since they’d met and Wyatt had decided to be something of a gentleman, or whatever, but now he very much wasn’t being that, and Xóchitl was more than okay with that, as she pulled him against her body. “You wouldn’t be a very good friend, especially since I have asked so nicely.” She pouted for a moment before her grin turned into something far more mischievous – and, for that matter, sensual.

She pulled away from Wyatt for a moment, only to rid herself of her shirt before her mouth found his again. “Since you’re being such a good friend, I think we should take this to my room. Only the best for you, of course,” her kisses were frenetic this time, as she walked backwards, towards her room, pulling him along, until they were on her bed, and something about all of this felt so good and Xóchitl was also more than just a little pleased with herself.

After, she looked over to him, and couldn’t help but remark that, “well, it’s about time, Wyatt. See, though, told you I can use my mouth for much more than just talking. Been telling you that for years, too.” She turned more fully to face him, placing a kiss on his jaw. “Hope that was worth it. Happy to do a repeat any time you’d like.”

—

“And you sure weren’t lyin’, sweetheart,” Wyatt remarked in turn, grinning at her when she moved to better face him. “‘N hey, I was tryin’ to be polite!” It was more that he enjoyed the chase, enjoyed every moment of tension that led up to nights like this, finding the whole experience far more satisfying if there was something at stake. Stakes were the kind of thing that kept him interested, after all. 

Humming softly as she kissed him again, the lamia raised his brows. “Oh yeah? Well, how ‘bout I take you out first next time, treat you to a proper night on the town, hm?” He wasn’t the sort to just show up looking for a bedfellow, no… there had to be some kind of preamble. Maybe it was all the lessons from his mother about treating people right, but it was a habit that was hard to kick. Hell, even Owen was always wined or dined first, or whatever sort of act of service Wyatt could manifest in however little time the slayer had given him. 

Running a hand through her hair, he let it fall piece by piece back to her bare shoulder, smirking to himself. “Kick me out when you get tired of me,” he offered, not wanting to overstay his welcome. “But I can stay tonight if you’d prefer, dove.”

—

“I try not to lie – at least as far as about things like this.” Xóchitl shrugged. “Well, I hope the wait was worth it, though for the record, I wouldn’t have thought you were rude if you’d been quote-unquote rude before now. Just so we’re clear.” But it was also nice, how he hadn’t just wanted to jump into bed with her, even despite all her attempts.

The feeling of his skin under her lips felt nice. “Not sure how much of a proper night on the town this town can give, but I won’t say no, obviously.” She never would, to attention specifically designed for her, for her to be treated specially. From someone like Wyatt, someone she’d actually known for quite a while, there was something about all of that that felt even more worth it, more fulfilling in its own sort of way. “We could always go somewhere more exciting, but I do trust you to make any town something fun.” Which she did. Wyatt was fun, hanging out with him was fun, so even if her hometown wasn’t nearly as exciting as Boston or New York City, Xóchitl figured the two of them could make it a whole lot of fun on their own.

Xóchitl also was in no way opposed to the way he brushed his hand through her hair. “I mean, all of this has been fantastic, and you’re my friend, so I don’t think you could really overstay your welcome.” Her smile, though still smirk-adjacent, was also real, and she hoped he could tell that. “I wouldn’t say no to that. In fact, I’d say a very enthused yes. Especially because I’m not so sure I’m totally ready to be alone in bed…” She shifted closer to him, pressing another kiss on his lips.

[flickerstim]

Howdy! I hope it’s ok to ask, but could you tell me a bit about what “link” means? /gen q

Hello! It's no worries, I'd love to answer your question, thusly I will :] Do note that I will be mostly talking about my own personal experience with Linking. Everyone's definitions and experiences will vary, so don't be afraid to ask around!

Now then: I've seen the term "Link" have quite a few definitions. When I was introduced to it, I saw it referred to as: "A character you identify with for coping/fun purposes"

Which for some folks, comes off as KFF (Kin For Fun), although it's more complex than that- at least for me.

In my personal experience, I would define "Link" as: "A character you identify with for generally any reason; A character you consider to be yourself, in some manner"

In my personal experience, I tend to fall in and out of Link stages. Many days, I am just my normal self: Cody.

However, on other days, I feel my sense of self shift. While I am still me- I have not blacked out, nor do I feel revolted by the idea of my Cody-self- I don't feel like Cody. I find myself wanting to talk through a character. Usually, as I talk on Discord a lot, I make myself a Tupperbox Bot. I find an image that fits how I feel. I assign it the name I feel, and the pronouns I feel. Here are some of my bots as examples!

(The "[Link {☕}]" on my bots is for moderation purposes in servers, nothing more :]) (Quick image ID just in case, I'm bad at these but I hope I did it right) [ID: Seven Discord screenshots, all featuring messages made using Tupperbox bots. Each bot has the word "Link" and a coffee cup emoji in brackets at the end of their name, denoting that they're bots intended for Link-Shifts. Each bot represents six characters- all Homestuck characters, one character being doubled-up - and each has their own name and pronouns.. The first bot reads "Dualscar / Delfin (Avoid, Namself, Sea-Related). The second bot reads "Jake English!! (Any, Get Funky!). The third bot reads "The Orphaner Dualscar (He/Fin)". The fourth bot reads "Mituna", however his name is spelt using a typing quirk- making the "i" in his name be a "1" instead, doubling up the 1-I, and the "a" at the end being replaced with a "4". In plaintext, his pronouns read "(Any but she/her tbh)". The fifth bot reads "Rufioh Nitram!!", however the "i"s are replaced with "1"s. His pronouns read "(HE/RUF)". The sixth bot reads "CALIBORN", with fancy symbols around the name, his pronouns reading "(ANY/ALL)". The seventh bot reads "twinArgmageddons"- a mispelling of "twinArmageddons"- with his pronouns reading "[HE/IT, ANY]". Each bot has their own message, some with typing quirks and others without. End ID.] As is visible in my screenshots, sometimes I take up typing quirks- as they feel like the proper way for me to talk. Sometimes, I don't. My links can happen for multiple reasons. Sometimes I link due to stress. Sometimes I link because I'm jealous. Other times, my brain simply decides that it's time to link. Also as is visible in my screenshots, I tend to link male/masc characters- it's something due to me not wanting to be viewed in a feminine way online :]

Linking could be mistaken for roleplay, however it's more than that! You feel connected with the character- like you are them in some manner (at least in my experience). Unlike Kinning (at least from my understanding of Kinning), you don't feel completely like the character- you don't feel like a reincarnated version of them, or like the entirety of you is them. You still feel somewhat like yourself during a Link-Shift. Your concept of self just changes, in some manner (Again, at least in MY experience).

I guess as a TL;DR, a good explanation of "linking" is: "Feeling an identity-related connection to a character for reasons that vary from linker to linker."

Hope this helped!! :]

[little-miss-understood]

Dame Violette, Part One

This may look familiar! The old versions of this story will be taken down soon. I feel comfortable enough now to restart it, especially in light of that Season 5 finale.

-

Hi, my name is Marinette! I'm just a normal girl who lives with her two baker parents in Paris. There's nothing special about me, nope, nosiree.

...Unless you count the weird psychic visions I get. I mean that has to be normal, right?

They're like “mental shocks”. To be honest I'm not really sure why they happen or how they come to me, or even if I'm the only one who gets them. Maybe others do as well and no one wants to share it with the world? But that seems unlikely. The shocks seem to be steering me in life, hopefully away from bad things though I never know for sure. Like a shock I got when considering fashion as a career choice, which led to some weird visions of a blonde-haired woman yelling about how something wasn't exceptional and about a man who looked old and stern, how the world of fashion seemed very competitive and not easy to get to the top of, at least not without losing parts of yourself along the way. Because of that I figured maybe engineering would be better for me, I seem to have a knack for designing neat things, like diaries with unique locks. I still make clothes occasionally! But they're more for myself or my close friends.

Another shock came when the first class representative elections came up. I thought about running, but memories of a girl who seemed to be overrun with responsibilities for her classmates filled my mind, along with a figure who took advantage who looked very, very similar to Madame Bustier, my homeroom teacher. Because of that it led me to always sit at the back of the class rather than anywhere near the front, not wanting to be noticed. Someone else can take that particular burden. There are only two other people who knows about me having such thoughts...having met them both through shocks, I figured they'd understand it if I explained the whole thing outright. Considering how well read one of them is I had hoped maybe she could have had a rational explanation but she just laughed and said it was probably some kind of “gut magic”. The other simply said it was “Awesome”. I might have been offended but they both wholeheartedly believed me. I don't know why a person believing in me feels so...important, but it does. Like I know my parents do but having someone else besides them is great. I have just this small group of two best friends, and that's more than enough for me. Having too many would be spreading myself thin and my downtime is important; I hate being run off my feet. Plus quality is better over quantity, and both of these girls are quality without a doubt. We might as well be sisters now for how entangled our lives have become.

- In a schoolyard, a five-year old Marinette looks around anxiously. It's a brand-new school to her, what with the move her mama and papa had done to a new and larger bakery, and she had to leave behind the friends she made in the previous year. Her papa however had done what he always did, and set her up with a box of macarons for her first day. “Just be yourself, offer one to a classmate. You're going to be fine, my sweet.” But there was a sinking feeling in her stomach. Marinette was expecting something to come her way, something horrible. Something brash. But little did she know, that on the other side of Paris, a decision was made to send a blonde girl of similar age to a private school, along with a boy of a prominent fashion mogul. It was over the objections of her father, a councilman who was hoping to rise to the position of mayor. “It's out of the question, Andre!”, shouted the mother. “She needs to learn what it takes with the right kind of teachers! Besides, this might seal the deal between ourselves and the Agrestes for marriage!” So, one fate was avoided. It was at this point Marinette felt the mental shock. A view into another universe, one were the blonde terror came to the school and immediately started to berate her as low-class, that her macarons were tasteless, and screaming for a young bespectacled red-haired girl to follow her during recess. It was said girl that Marinette saw near the entrance of the school, looking just as lost. The vision of the other universe fresh in her head, she walked over and opened up the box her father had provided. “Hi, my name is Marinette! Would you like a macaron?” The girl seemed to hesitate for a moment, almost as if she was questioning Marinette's motives and if this was, in fact, real. But then she looked down into the box, back towards her, and smiled. “I'm...Sabrina. It's nice to meet you! Um, do you have any strawberry ones?”

- We were inseparable from that day forward, best friends forevermore. Where would I be without Sabrina? Probably some stuttering mess. We each seemed to calm different parts of ourselves; her stopping my anxious “spirals” before they even start, and me encouraging her to stand up for herself. There's a strong mutual respect and understanding between us both; she's smart in the areas I'm not, and in turn I make up where she may falter. While I'm thankful for a lot of the “shocks” and their guidance, that one in particular has a special place in my heart as it gave two souls support and friendship. And two we were, until five years later a shock gave us our “missing” sister. -

Friendship Day. An annual scavenger hunt across all of Paris. Usually Sabrina and I don't participate, but a shock a few days ago convinced me to have us both take part this year. The celebrity we were supposed to try and find was Jagged Stone, and that's kind of cool, but at the same time we couldn't work together to try and do it. The rules of the day meant that a new “friend” would be assigned to us at random.

Which is a shame, because Sabrina and I probably could have made short work this whole thing.

My phone buzzed with the first clue, “With one turn of a handle, I can raise the level.” That was easy enough, the Canal Saint-Martin. That wasn't even very far away, maybe a few blocks. I thought back to what was shown to me in the shock while walking towards the canal lock. It was of a girl with black and purple hair and a boy with teal hair. Both of them had their backs turned, so I had no idea what they looked like, but...

...it seemed I was going to meet one of them today. The girl on the bridge looked almost the same as the one in my vision, though shorter somehow? But the hair was a dead giveaway, along with the fact that her clothing also seemed similar.

And that she had her back to me. I guess the best approach would be direct?

“Um, hello!”

That seemed to startle her more than anything, though she slowly turned around. Her face was covered by her hair, and her expression was one of fear. But we briefly locked eyes, and something in her seemed to calm right away. Enough for her to haltingly mumble something out. I barely caught it.

“Hello. I'm Juleka.”

-

In the end, it turned out she was more scared about searching for Jagged Stone than meeting me; apparently her mother had something against him and she didn't really want Juleka to take part, but was free to do so anyways. Though we kept following the clues, we both eventually gave up the hunt and started to talk more about our lives. It turned out we had a few similar interests, and by the end of the day when we met up with Sabrina I had grown used to Juleka's unique way of speaking French.

It took Sabrina more time to get there, though.

-

“I couldn't believe it Nettie, all she kept going on about was how “utterly ridiculous” I was! Everything from what I was wearing to if I couldn't get one of the clues right on the first try! I guess I drew the short straw on this whole thing.”

“It's alright Brina, you don't ever have to see her again at least.” I said, putting a supportive arm around her at the same time.

“I hope not. You know how I feel about bullies. But...” She turned her attention to the raven-haired girl sitting on the other side of me. “At least it looks like things were brighter on your end?”

“They were for sure! Juleka, this is Sabrina!”

Juleka's eyes darted up and down Sabrina, as if looking for some kind of hidden intention. After a moment, she breathed a small sigh of relief before letting out a mumble that was similar to what I had heard earlier in the day. Judging from the look on Sabrina's face, she hadn't quite caught what the other girl had said, so I served as a translator.

“She said it's nice to meet you.”

-

From then on, we were a trio. Three Musketeers, all for one and one for all. I wasn't sure how Juleka would influence us at first, it was only later I realized that her tastes ended up seeping into Sabrina and I unnoticed, enough that all of us were wearing darker clothing by the time we hit our teens, not to mention a nose piercing (for Sabrina) and hair dye (for myself, which more than surprised my parents the day I showed up at home from a sleepover with pink highlights in my black hair). But none of that was a bad thing, if anything we embraced it all. We understood Juleka when very few would bother trying; her accented French could come out sounding low or in mumbles to others, but we knew what she saying. Juleka could be as chaotic as her mother around the right people, and it seemed as though we were her people.

The three of us were together enough that a language was taking form among ourselves; an unholy mix of French, Scottish Gaelic, English, and some Mandarin. Every weekend a sleepover, either at my place, Juleka's houseboat or Sabrina's apartment. Sabrina had in fact been over more times than I could count, largely because her father, Roger, trusted my parents and knew she was in good hands. He worked long hours as a police officer but took a step back from front-line duties as Sabrina got older, not wanting to be in danger and leave Sabrina without a parent. It took Roger...longer to get used to both Juleka and Anarka, her mother, but in the end was won over by a weird shared taste in rock music. Sabrina had told me when he was younger that Roger upheld the law to the letter but had significantly mellowed out over the years, which was good as Anarka didn't exactly park her boat in entirely legal areas. Our first combined sleepover on the Liberty also caused him concern as the boat had ended up in another place entirely overnight, but seeing his daughter happy must have helped warm things over.

Not to mention my own parents helping in that respect, too. I dearly love my papa and my maman; both of them work so hard to keep the bakery running, which means long days and nights, but they always also find ways to make time for me. Occasionally I pitch in, there have even been periods when Sabrina has as well, and they get along with Roger and Anarka. They've even taken on Juleka's brother, Luka, as a delivery driver! Anarka had come back to Paris so that Luka could attend a prestigious music school. Juleka was offered the same but she wasn't quite sure what she wanted to do yet, so of course Sabrina and I jumped at the chance to have her in our class, though it did mean she had to go down a grade because of odd timing.

We were now getting ready to enter our third year of school together. It seemed as though we wouldn't be switching classes, even with the addition of some new people into the school; I didn't pay attention to any of that but Sabrina had found out that not only was the daughter of the Mayor going to be in our school this year, but also the son of some famous fashion designer. Ag...something. Agreste maybe? That name had sounded familiar.

It didn't matter; nothing would change my year too much. Nothing exciting would happen, nothing out of the ordinary. I'm happy being normal, I'm happy in my life, with my friends.

But as I travelled to school, before meeting up with Sabrina and Juleka, little did I know my life would change in a big way. All because I picked up a small butterfly brooch that was lying in a puddle of water. I didn't even notice it at first but a purple jewel caught my sight. Bending down to pick it up, a terrible shock came to me, one of the worst I've ever experienced.

A vision of a girl in a ladybug outfit, a boy in leather made to look like a cat. Some figure calling himself “Hawkmoth”. A box that seemed to be filled with random jewellery. A bunch of mysterious figures that were guarding over said box, but it was stolen from a Temple-

“Nettie!”

I looked down the street and saw Sabrina calling out to me, with Juleka standing next to her. I couldn't just leave the broach, it seemed far too precious for that. Besides, if it gave off such a strong mental vision, maybe that meant that I was supposed to have it? I could always give it up later, and maybe someone was out looking for a piece of lost jewellery. Stuffing it into my pocket, I ran down to meet my friends. After school was over, maybe then I could figure out what to do with it.

For now, my last year at Collège Françoise Dupont was about to begin.

[superheroclock]

Episode 2 Part 2 Screenshots! Thoughts About Pokemon GO And Making A Video About It

-Posted on the original website on: September 10, 2016

August was the Olympics. September is the Mid-Autumn Festival. Which means.... MOONCAKES!!!

But anyway, I expected that I could finish part 2 in August (in a month) but I spent time watching the Olympics and at the end of August, I ran into a problem with the background. It's all fixed now and below are some screenshots! There are still a few more backgrounds to work on and after that I'll proceed with shading and stuff.

Since July this year, there has been a crazy fad about Pokemon GO. I heard that people all over the world, young or old, are playing it all around the clock, almost every single day. Ever since then, Youtube has been loaded with tons and tons of gameplay/let's play/fanimation etc... videos about Pokemon GO. Because of that some people, and even my brother, suggested that I did a Pokemon GO video for my Youtube channel. Well, to me Pokemon is great, especially the 1st and 2nd generation. I remember being a huge Pokefan back in the years between 1999-2001 where I played Pokemon Gold/Silver and Pokemon Pinball on the Gameboy Color emulator. Over the years after that, Pokemon got less and less popular. And then fast forward until this year, there is Pokemon GO. Although I consider myself an adult and Pokemon games are meant for kids, my brother and I thought we would wanna try it out a bit when we were free - since we were both Pokemon fans. My first impression was the game looked really beautiful. Each pokemon was rendered in 3D which made every single one of them come to life and I bet that was every pokefan's wish. However, the gameplay was a lot different from other Pokemon games. Unlike the original RPGs which have its own map, Pokemon GO uses real-life locations as its map, and you move your character in the game around the map to catch Pokemon by moving yourself in real life.

Everyone's thought of it at first would definitely be like "Wow cool.." but to me, I think it is smart of Niantic but completely foolish of players/users from a practical point of view. People are willing to drive a car to a far location at 3am in the morning, or stay under the rain waiting at a spot just to what? Catch a Charmander? Or maybe to level up/power up pokemon to beat a Gym. But after you beat a Gym or have caught your pokemon then... what? If it's for nothing but that then all that time and effort it just for... that?

Well I'm not trying to be utterly negative about Pokemon GO but it's just not a practical thing in life (and probably not fun to play after you can't seem to catch your favorite rare pokemon or reach level 20 when leveling up seems almost impossible). If you are someone who has ample free time, don't really have a home and don't need to sleep, then it could be practical for you. But for normal average people it could be a detriment to life. I've heard people quitting their jobs just to play, people trespassing just to catch a type of pokemon, people playing and driving (very common) and deaths due to playing this game.

Personally, I don't feel like playing that game anymore. My brother and I have caught a bunch of pokemon but have gotten frustrated and are fed up over the process of playing it. I could go on talking about Pokemon GO because I've realized so much about this game but this is a Super Hero Clock blog. The idea of making a Pokemon GO-related video is a good one because it's a fad but part of me is still reluctant to do that. SHC Episode 2 part 2 is coming out really well and I want to finish it and move on to the next part. Maybe I'll just stall the Pokemon GO video while I work on SHC.

Feel free to leave your thoughts in the comments below!

[fleshmechsystem]

Patch: Sometimes a small inconvenience can set off thoughts. One of these thoughts is the feeling I get, jealously.

I feel jealous of other girls. Feel jealous that they're already ahead of me in their journey while I'm still walking mine. It's normal to feel this way but not to the point it's unhealthy. Right now I just. Feel jealous. I feel angry but I don't like taking it out on others or even repeating the behavior someone used to do as an instinctual response.

How do I deal with this? Realistically I can't come out, both because I personally think my biological parents wouldn't agree on it with me. Considering for the past couple of days I've been misgendered multiple times even though Cal has stated MANY times that they're Nonbinary, even I feel angry on their behalf! And they're assimilated to form as me!

It's messed up. I'm not the type to be cynical but for the past weeks... Months I'd say, I started to lose that ignorance I once had. Now I have to deal with these emotions.

Unlike Cal the recovery for this is simple, not to compare my own journey to others, transition once I'm stable, boom, simple plans. Of course it'll take awhile and it's annoying.

I hold onto that hope. I don't wanna kill myself just because I'm miserable. It's tempting wanting to disappear but death is horrible. Especially becoming a victim to it.

I've been tired clearly. Both from recovering from a horrible person I once dated and befriended and obviously my own stress from school and my own issues.

I'm tone deaf to a lot of things, especially empathy. I do actions that would otherwise hurt people. I'm going to be honest, I have trouble with empathy. Not that I can't feel any of it but the fact that... I'm kind of indifferent to it.

I'm not saying this to be a quirky uwu sociopath bunny gf, I'm genuinely having issues with my behavior because of it. Having low empathy is hard, especially if you want to be less lonely.

It means you'd have an ego, the need to do things for yourself even though in a more, healthy way, could talk things out with people but due to my hubris, I just... Tell myself I can do it myself.

That I can fix my own problems. I feel the need that I have to do it myself. I've done it before I became myself now. I've lived alone running away from Saddie because of a stupid argument we've had.

And I wasn't happy. I was lonely. I looked for love. I looked for people to fight the loneliness. Yet I still do the actions I did.

Old habits die hard after all. And I do the worst aspects I've had from both of my lives. I'm not saying this to remotely make myself look guilty or anything... I just needed an outlet.

I'm... Uncomfortable with talking things out. Considering I'm not even human both literally and emotionally...

I'm not monster. I'm still a person. Someone with their own thoughts, dreams and fears. But still.

I'm bad at this stuff. I'm not emotionally smart dude. I'm knowledgeable sure, can read people well sure but... I lack a lot of empathy.

Does it make me feel bad? Yes in a different way, it makes me feel like I can't belong in a group. Like I had to isolate myself because of it, antisocial behaviors that causes people to go away.

The person that anchors me or even just the thought of them is just Riley. Of course they can be too nice. They're like the sun with its warmth... It makes me feel less cold.

I hate the cold. I hate what I am. Cold.

I wanted to talk to this about people but I just don't know how. It feels embarrassing due to my own ego. It's dumb, so I'm doing this instead. Then I'll do it when it's appropriate. There's a time and a place.

I don't want to ruin people's moods further. And I don't want to let Riley down considering they've took care of me since I "moved" in the fleshmech.

[dumbpoemjuice]

To my love

The light that fills my life, yet that I do or can or will not, ever truly see. Even to believe is not enough though surely it must be. It cannot be not. For if it were, or ostensibly were not, how could it be so? To cry paradox is as the fool, for surely even that which cannot be seen can be known. For so bright as our sun, even when we see not so little as the moon, is felt, inconsequential as it may be. But truly not, though we believe it to be. Perhaps in this way as many it is our familiarity which blinds us, as the sun, but not the moon which proves the sun, but even in the darkness the light. This blindness irreconcilable only as we make it, and yet we. With what purpose, for what cause? For this blindness causes none but pain, as we cannot see. But how can we see this? Or feel, as more earnestly we cannot see. Or can we not earnestly see? Not, that earnestly we can see, but that we cannot see earnestly. | As I dedicate this work of illiterature not to my lover, but to my love. For if my lover were to be, as surely they may, this for they should be not. As perhaps it is all, for naught, but of course it cannot be for naught, for not less than being is already unaccomplished.

Is it selfish? This meaningless tribute to a nonexistent figment of my own longing, an image of myself made with none of my own characteristics? An antihero so to speak, though certainly that is egocentric as it considers myself to be the hero. Is it too far-fetched to think that I might be the villain? Or, minimally, the anti-hero? Not opposing what is right, but certainly in opposition with the right. Or, if I am the hero, certainly a tragic one. But, is it not selfish to consider myself either the hero or the villain? "It's hard to be someone, and it hurts to be nobody." Would it not be rational to consider that in all likelihood I am irrelevant? A mere side-character, if represented at all. Or is it all a matter of perspective? Maybe we are all the main character within our own story. How can we be so bold as to claim a universal perspective? Or perhaps there is an objective truth. Does the sun orbit the earth? It is rather difficult to refuse to acknowledge the truth when the truth is known to all. But how can we claim that there is an objective truth? This question, one to which we beg to receive an answer, yet fundamentally unanswerable by its very nature. Must we even receive an answer? We are certainly not entitled to an answer by some cosmic entity, should such a being even exist.

Is it normal to wish that you were not yourself? Certainly it feels normal, but perhaps it is that very sense of normalcy which is abnormal. Who is to say? In fact, how can such a question be answered? The very nature of language's vagueness prohibits an answer. What is meant by normal? There is undoubtedly a specific connotation around the word, but words are situational. More, words are personal- formed by the very experiences of our lives and the emotions we attach to them. Certainly there is a sort of blunt utility to words, a means to an end for the purpose of simply getting a point across, however they can be and in fact are so much more. Many people liken music to an expression of art, an intimate telling of a personal tale, different upon each performance and holding a new significance to each performer. Is it too unreasonable to see language as much the same? A performance of words, intricate and beholden to the personal whims of the speaker. Certainly speech is akin to music, possessing not only the vigor and intimacy of music, but also its more observable properties, such as rhythm and meter, pitch, intonation, and variability. Further though, even without these qualities speech holds an unimaginable quantity of character and intimacy, being as established so fundamentally rooted in personal experience. This form of language as detached from speech need not even be imagined, as unlike our ancestors for a long portion of history, and much unlike the other species of animals with whom we share this finite earth, humans have established a means of presenting thought far beyond the scope and ability of our meek flesh. The written word: language detached from the body, yet perhaps carrying on wings of paper or binary the soul. Is it unfounded to claim that the expressions of self we find written rather than spoken carry nonetheless the same weight and gravitas? Yet many would claim a word spoken possesses more character, conveying in observably the same unit of language more information to the recipient. Yet is that not the inherent beauty of the unspoken word? It leaves its intentions shrouded in a sense of mistique, allowing the imagination to take flight. Even in cases of bland and informational communication, language is filtered, both by the source and the destination, as all language must be interpreted. It is undeniable that every individual has their own perception of the world, built through an inherently irreplicable amalgamation of unique genetic factors and world experiences. Yet, in spite of insurmountable odds, still doggedly I ask...

[aquila-non-capit-muscus]

Some Guys Have All the Luck!

Out of this cascading landslide of mysteries, there is one mystery, that has been stuck in my craw for some time now. (No… not there. Go look up craw.) This unknown that has apparently been cast to public understanding a long time back, way before then… maybe 7 years or so.

I cannot understand at what point did I become so low in your eyes? Here I am referring to those who knew me for some time… for any who did not - just count yourself blessed and be content in whatever understanding makes you happy?

I am not trying to call-out anyone, I am in no way trying to cast blame or disparage. I am in fact baffled at how easy it was to be condemned? My own fault, no one else’s. If one wishes to maintain a level of respect in the eyes of others (be they family, friends, community), it is the responsibility of that person to act and present accordingly of a fashion that should earn that level of respect.

Now here I shall filter down a touch more… if you had no knowledge of the events in that time leading up to present; i admit, things would certainly look suspect and I would have the same thought as I’m sure many of you did. This then was one of my blunders (of so many). I had been relying on reputation and knowledge of past history to carry more burden, and due to the private nature (I thought at the time) of my health issues as well as a desire to protect some of the characters actively involved with the events leading up to and still unfolding… I was not open about my intentions nor did I provide reason for decisions made: I suppose I simply hoped that anything questionable would be resolved and explained before anyone ever had cause to question. My bad.

This is my quandary though… it has stymied all resolution of chronic and as-of-yet-undiagnosed medical issues, long before broadly disseminating… and certainly long before I fragmented myself to where time-to-time myself considered the sentiment, “Why was it so much easier to believe I was crazy and wrong, then to consider I may be sane and right?”

Perhaps I should clarify my stance here… I am not quibbling over whether or not I hold any relevant knowledge or skill set relevant to lend credence. My question is better phrased perhaps looking within a context as, “These are altogether very bizarre and unusually unfortunate events - rather implausible individually but highly unlikely especially to have occurred all together in time… {here, I would have assumed the next thought to be…} …but as long as I’ve known him, if things ever COULD happen like that to someone - he would be the one!

Stupid Lemony-Snicket-flavored Newtons serially following Murphy’s Laws while perpetually staying mobile in a two-leaf clover orbit of bad luck around me… 😖

I guess, if you did not arrive at the same conclusion… I hope one day I may have a chance to explain in more detail. For now, if you are open to the idea - please consider that throughout, as I understood the events transpiring, I was making the decisions based only with good intent and reason. If you do not see things that way then or now, I have been operating for so long in ‘crisis-management’ mode that questionable choices had to be made out of need for survival. Things were not, nor are now currently in any way ideal - they haven’t even been within sight of the baseline of “normalcy”, so if anything I do does not present as a logical solution… I wholeheartedly agree! But, they were arrived at through logic, intuition, and trial-and-error (…and trust me, there were so many trials and so much error along this path of scientifically sound methodology). If I ever reach the point to where I have a “normal life” I will make normal choices (I hope?), but until then… I am doing the best I can playing the hand I was dealt. I am not a saint by any measure, but I am no sinner either. If you have better options; I would gladly hear them and could use the help. Until then, I stand by my decisions and will continue doing things as best I can within the knowledge I have.

“…Just do what you think is best!”

[afacetedgem]

Found this old median ask meme from a few years ago while looking through random older blogs for info on median systems. Decided to fill it out more like a questionnaire to try to... work things out. Reminder that not all questions may apply to (all or some of) you, so answering N/A is super valid! Headmates/aspects/personalities/facets/etc. will be referred to as “parts” here.  1. Is anyone fronting right now? If so who?

Mila/Quartz hybrid

2. How many parts do you have?

Uhhh no idea. Not sure if it's a lot (like hundreds+) or if it's just a few that are constantly shifting and changing

3. What is/are your name(s)?

Mila, Quartz, and Mia have names. Quartz is like the "default" self. Mila is the teen. Mia is the little. That's moreso how I can easily translate it to the external world then how it actually is internally. We're kind of just sorting it by age right now.

4. What is/are your age(s)?

Quartz is 29, our chronological age, but sometimes feels more early 20s. Mila is around 13-18 but usually 15. Mia is like... anywhere from 2-12.

5. What is/are your gender(s)?

Mia and Mila mostly use she/her and Quartz is more they/them but is okay with she/her. But we do not actually care what pronouns are used. Gender itself... tend to say genderqueer woman but it's confusing.

6. What is/are your sexuality(ies)?

Quartz - queer. Mila - queer or bi. Mia - n/a.

7. What is the relationship between your parts?

Don't know how to describe

8. Do you ever find all/none parts fronting at the same time/feel “whole”/can’t tell who is fronting?

I wouldn't say all front at once. Can never tell for sure what's going on.

9. Would your parts share partners?

Mia doesn't want a partner. Mila would only date another facet in a median system the same age as her who is bodily over 25. It's a very specific unlikely situation and not a priority. Quartz wants a partner and all parts within Quartz would date together.

10. What triggers (happy or otherwise) bring out your parts?

Fatigue, stress, bad stuff happening can bring out Mila or Mia. Or if something they like is around.

11. Do you feel like your parts adhere to typical roles?

Not really I don't think.

12. Do you consider yourself an endo system, a trauma system, both, or neither?

Traumagenic. We understood ourselves as faceted due to trauma specifically long before having the language for it.

13. Have you been diagnosed with/think you have some sort of mental illness that relates?

CPTSD would be the main one. I'm autistic but idk how it'd relate here, other then being abused for it. ADHD can cause memory issues and interests that change a lot and I think dissociation and ADHD are both causing those things to happen at the same time, making it worse.

I haven't been diagnosed with but experience DPDR constantly. I have considered ADHD, DPDR, and BPD as possible explanations for my experiences. However multiple professionals have said I definetely do not have BPD (as I only have identity issues and dissociation, not the other symptoms) and neither ADHD or DPDR together or in combination seems to be a complete explanation.

I suspect I may have OSDD-1a, but I guess it could be DID and I'm not aware of the more distinct alters. I feel like I would have noticed them by now? IDK. I forget things a LOT but I've never been sure what the normal amount to forget stuff is so IDK if I have enough amnesia for OSDD-1a, but definetely not distinct enough for OSDD-1b. IDK what people who are not distinct enough for 1b but don't have enough amnesia for 1a but who obviously have issues related to dissociation get diagnosed with. UDD?

14. Do you consider yourself/yourselves “a system” or as “having multiplicity/being multiple” or do you feel closer to a singlet?

IDK. I use different terms to describe myself at different times. I usually use singular pronouns out of habit even though it doesn't feel right.

15. How much control do you feel like you have over your parts?

I can't tell. Sometimes I feel like my body does stuff without me but idk if it's regular losing control due to emotions or someone else doing things.

16. Are your parts you?

Yes they are all parts of me, dissociated to a greater or lesser extent.

17. What’s the funniest switch you’ve ever had?

I don't know.

18. What’s the worst switch you’ve ever had?

I don't know.

19. Can you control switching/who is fronting?

A little. I can bring out Mila or Mia more if an activity they enjoy is available.

20. Do you have a “host” or “core” part?

Quartz is like a default state and I can always access "adultness" if needed

21. If you’re comfortable sharing, why do you think you are median/a median system?

It's the closest term I've found to how my mind works. Understanding myself as median feels better then forcing myself into a singlet identity, as the cognitive dissonance becomes really distressing.

22. What’s been the hardest thing for your parts to agree on?

lol everything I guess

23. Have you ever had to change what you’re doing or wearing or eating or listening to because you’ve switched?

Had to? no. I just wanted to.

24. Describe your parts.

Might have to come back to this one

25. Do you consider yourself m-spec or multigender on a whole if any of your parts have different sexualities/genders? Or do you prefer to treat each part as it’s own separate and not use umbrella labels for you all?

I don't really know. We all have the same gender just understand it in different ways I think.

26. What is each part’s favorite _____?

This one is broad might come back to it.

27. Do you feel welcome in system spaces?

As a whole, not really no. Especially because of my age. Everyone is so much younger. I'm sure there are a lot of 25+ systems out there but the spaces for them I've come across tend to be more DID-focused. I'm in a discord server dedicated to CDDs that I feel welcome in, and another more dedicated to mental health as a whole with a multiplicity channel that I like.

28. Were you ever a singlet/do you think you will ever be a singlet again?

I don't know. I first felt faceted at 15, but I think I was prior to that. I don't really want to be a singlet but I would feel more comfortable if I could have less but more distinct facets so I know who I am.

29. What’s the biggest misconception people have about (all of) you?

That we're singlet I guess. I've told very few people.

30. Free question, but please be respectful!

N/A since I'm not doing it as an ask meme.

People who clown on this post will be blocked.