#wallacepost

Overview: Hi Tumblr, it's Wallace. (Scott is co-fronting, but we won't address him yet /lh) Since we decided to branch out from just using Instagram, Scott and I had the idea that... You know... Tumblr had always seemed like a good place for the things we enjoy sharing online. Artwork, writing, rambling about our personal lives, interacting with other plural folk and artists... The works.

We mainly just screw around and post things relating to our own experiences, memories and identities as introjects, including our art and writing mainly being inspired by or direct interpretations of innerworld happenings. Not exclusively... But primarily. We use our social media to express ourselves in ways we typically don't get the chance to in the outerworld any other way.

Knowing this, understand that we dont want comments on our posts about "headcanons", "theories", etc. These are based around our real innerworld experiences, past and present, as introjects. Respect that.

Disclaimer/Brief Fictive Education: (Mainly for those unfamiliar with systems, introjects, etc) All current non-dormant ("active") members of our system are introjects from Scott Pilgrim. This is how it's likely gonna be for the foreseeable future, as none of us currently active folks are going anywhere.

None of us identify with the body, at all, and every one of us is an entirely unique, separate individual. We all understand that we can't expect folks in the outerworld- especially singlets who don't know us personally- to view each of us as "the real, actual [name]", but please avoid any comments that could have dysphoria-inducing implications, and when speaking to us, we ask that you use our real names (ask who's fronting if you're unsure), and don't refer to us as "characters" or "fictional".

Fictives are just as real as any other system member, and further, all kinds of system members are just as real as singlets. Our innerworld identities, memories, experiences, and appearances are just as legitimate, impactful and important as anything singlets experience in the outerworld.

Current Active Members:

Wallace (💙) - He/Him - Common Fronter (post author, hello 👋🏻)

Scott (⭐) - He/Him - Common Fronter

Young Neil (🍦) - He/She - Common Fronter

Todd/Olivia (🌱) - He/Him (while male), She/Her (while female)

Stephen (🐻) - He/Him

Nes (⭕) ("Nega Scott") - He/Him

Null (🥀) ("Nega Wallace") - He/Him

Other Scott (🏳️‍🌈) ("Scott C") - He/Him

Ramona (🌷) - She/Her

Matthew (🏴‍☠️) - He/It

Lucas (🎬) - He/Him

Boundaries:

Refrain from

Following as a minor (18+ only, please. Body is 22.)

Using names that don't belong to us (nicknames okay)

Unsolicited NSFW DMs, replies, reblogs, etc. (Save that for our NSFW accounts)

Reposting (without permission and credit)

Dysphoria-inducing wording and discussion. Includes referring to us as "characters", separating us from our source depictions in your wording (example: "I love this picture of him" instead of "I love this picture of you" when discussing a photo of me to my face), referring to the body we use as "us", etc.

Medicalized speak about our plurality

Requests or attempts to roleplay (we're real people, this is highly disrespectful to do to fictives unless they state otherwise)

Any level of syscourse, exclusionism, gatekeeping, fakeclaiming, cringe culture, etc. Towards us, or towards others within earshot of us. Just keep all of that far away from here. Love and respect for diverse experiences and identities around these parts.

Nice to meet everybody! We're always open to talk, answer questions, whatever. Singlets and plurals alike are welcome to interact however they want, just stay friendly and respectful.

I've met a lot of men like me, who exist inside a body that doesn't belong to them. And many of them describe the others who share that unfamiliar body with them in such affectionate detail.

The common consensus of missing their lover's touch and embrace when fronting is one that I can understand. I've been there many an evening. I know the suffocating weight that presses down on your chest when your partner isn't conscious. It's not that the experience of being away from my lovers is alien to me.

I've felt it well.

At the risk of sounding insensitive, I sometimes find it funny, from my perspective, when I hear men tell me that they "miss" a lover who lies right beside them as they speak. The one who hears their voice, and sees the tears welling in their eyes, as he laments the significant other who is closer to him than any two singlets could ever be to one another, in the physical or mental sense.

I wonder how he couldn't see it. I wonder why he couldn't feel it.

Two different people, of different identity, different experience, of different name and memory... As unique as any two men could be. These men are not one in the same. They hail from entirely different walks of life.

And yet, here they are.

Brought together in the tightest form possible. A shared vessel that lets the two lovers hide away from the world outside the body, with nothing to hold them back. Nobody can touch them here. They are safe. They are alone. They could not be judged.

The vessel would make sure of that.

I feel my hands move on their own, disobedient to my own thought or command, sliding up my chest... Caressing my face... I'm powerless to stop it. For while I lie in a singular body in the darkness of my second home, I know that the touch is not mine.

I smile.

I laugh.

Tears begin to blur my vision in the dimly lit space. Though they're different from the ones shed by the friends I've spoken with.

I can feel his breath against my neck. The body's nerves tingle. It knows what I'm experiencing. The vessel knows the reality of our love. It ensures I won't be able to escape the playful embrace of my lover. It doesn't matter if I'm fronting. For here we are, together. Sharing in this moment of exploration and sweet care.

That's undeniable.

A hand runs through my hair. I hesitate to say that it was mine.

If a limb can move on it's own accord, and caress me in such a way that feels unexpected, unpredictable... If it's gentle, tender contact with my face leaves me with shaky gasps and a bubbling excitement in my stomach, surely, this is no longer mine.

Nobody could understand.

Nobody need understand.

In this moment, all we need is the two of us.

We understand.

My lover and I sometimes share a body. It isn't as scary or uncomfortable as I had always pictured it.

Nobody is lost. Nobody is distant. Quite the opposite.

I've never felt as close to my lovers as I have when we both occupy this vessel together. I reach for our phone as I sit at our desk, and he pulls the body's arm back with a mischievous gleam in his eye.

"Not yet."

He'll plead.

"We have so much time. Let me have this time with you."

I hold his hand. They're clasped tightly. We have so much time.

I could never understand what it's truly like to be away from him.

We're stuck together. It's out of our control. Call it destiny, call it the way of the world, call it coincidental circumstances. If you're unwilling to broaden your understanding of what it means to be alive, and to exist, call it delusional.

Myself,

I call it love.