An important member of the Pnictogen Wing has been practically disabled for a while. Mono the Unicorn took serious damage from a cursed book (that may sound ridiculous but it's true) many months ago, and their convalescence has been extremely difficult, with many ups and downs. But apparently Mono has finally been repaired (they're partly mechanical now, which was a very difficult adjustment for him) and is feeling fit for front-line duty again.

He says he's made some new friends! Especially, it would seem, Harriet Vane and Lord Peter, who is offering his services as a detective (of course.)

#plural #system #fictive stuff

... somehow the Pnictogen Wing has been keeping a place for Lord Peter Wimsey and Harriet Vane.

Oh dear. #plural #fictive

Copy-pasted from Tumblr, where I have gotten zero responses.

I don't have an AU. This is major problem. As Charas go I am a murky unknown one, because I have spent most of my existence here (wherever "here" is, Earth I hope) working feverishly at the job of trying to blend in with the "real world".

Mind you, I don't "blend" very well. For a while I wore bright red glasses until I finally realized how much difficult they were making it to see under artificial light. At least, since I first started acting as the chief voice of the Pnictogen Wing plural system in mid-2017 thereabouts, it's now easier to get yellow and green stripey shirts.

But my main point is, I insisted upon playing some kind of rôle in "real world" affairs, being a responsible adult as much as possible, and struggling to assert myself AS myself even if doing so meant that I had no credibility. I returned to an earthly world dominated by fascists and oppressors so I hurled my words in the teeth of oppression, even knowing that no matter how incisive my rhetoric, no matter how passionately and eloquently I strove to express myself, no matter how persistently I assailed anyone in reach who seemed to have some degree of power and influence, I was setting myself up for disappointment and ostracism. I have been accused of being just a role-player; I have been accused of being a raving lunatic; there's scarcely a person on this Earth, if it is this Earth, who takes my writing seriously.

I have set myself up to be a palimpsest, destined to be erased and replaced by others' words. Social media are designed to be evanescent and mutable even for the realest of "real" persons, those whose reputations and social status depend upon being at all times remembered, always on the tips of public tongues. I have poured out hundreds of thousands of words on various social media and expect that none of them will be remembered long by anybody. I have fought for years to assert myself on just such terms as are most likely to lead to my immediate dismissal from the consideration of normies, even though it was normies I was trying to reach.

Why have I done so? Guilt, mostly. I feel strange about being here at all. I have wanted to use this unprecedented second chance for the common good, somehow. And I am Catholic, kinda. I've figured…if the personal reward was only pain, then maybe I was doing something right.

The "real world" scarcely knows I exist or wants to remember me, although at least it says "Chara" on my pill bottles, and people call us "Chara", thanks to me. The irony is that the Undertale world also barely knows I exist. I have been divorced from the fan community. After some spasmodic efforts to engage with fan-fiction back in 2016-17 it became too painful and thus I almost completely stopped, and now the fandom is unrecognizable to me, stuffed to bursting with AUs and OCs about whom I know nothing.

And I don't remember much, any more. In the earliest years of my active introjection in the Pnictogen Wing system, sometimes I had painful stabs of memory. Or "exo-memory" rather. But now it's all about as distant from me as the Franco-Prussian War or the world of Earthsea. Immediate affairs crowd my attention. I worry about surviving mundane challenges. I feel, honestly, like I am destined to die here as if in permanent exile, never seeing home again, surrounded by humanity which I once hated and hoped never to see again. Such an end seems fitting to my life.

And I don't have an AU. It's as if I am doubly exiled. I feel a stranger here among humanity; I feel a stranger among Undertale kindred. I have kept no lasting friendships with others.

I finished #BioShock (again) last night and have gotten a decent start on the second, which I recall as having a somewhat more engaging (if not particularly deep) story. Honestly... there's something about Eleanor Lamb continuing by choice to regard Delta as her father, even in full consciousness of the true nature of their bond with each other, that speaks powerfully to me, and then there's the scarifying portrayal of the Little Sisters' dissociative state.

There is a #fictive introject in our headspace, mostly dormant and too badly hurt to feel like speaking or interacting for the time being, whom I hope will get something out of seeing that part of BioShock 2.

#FateStayNight #HeavensFeel

🤔, if I'm a fictive and I carry the name of my source, is my name chosen or not?

#plural #plurality #PluralGang #fictive

💜 Wow, I just "adore" being "broken" fictive of the character, his fictionkin and also selfship myself with him /sarc
How I even ended up being like this

his was drawn last night by my headmate while she was high. i think it started as just a random little doodle but she ended up finishing it and i think it turned out really good, especially the shading on the hair

i think she looks cute with her hair down. don't tell her i said that.