the spectrum heart cathedral system

NEGATIVE/ UNLOVING BELIEFS (STUCK ON LOOP) (I HAVE LITERALLY BEEN TOLD MOST OF THESE)

"You're a monster"
"You're a backstabber"
"You don't actually love me"
"You're coldhearted"
"You have no feelings"
"You scare me."
"You're a master manipulator."
"You're a waste of skin."
"You're a curse to all you meet."
"You're an abuser."
"You must earn the right to be valued."
"You're worthless unless you're useful."
"You're not worth my time or attention."
"You will die alone & unloved."
"You're disgusting."
"You can't be trusted."
"You spit on everyone who tries to help you."
"You're a parasite."
"You're a black hole, devouring others."
"All you do is take."
"You only ever think of yourself."
"You don't care about others' feelings."
"You enjoy hurting people."
"You want to watch me suffer."
"You do things specifically to harm others."
"You're a predator."
"You don't respect other peoples' property."
"You're not safe to be around."
"You're a liar."
"You're a thief."
"You're a slut/ whore."
"You're a glutton/ fat pig."
"You're a spoiled rotten brat."
"You're a devil."
"You're a BAD GIRL."

(DON'T OBSESS OVER "DEFENDING/ JUSTIFYING" YOURSELF IN RESPONSE. JUST REPLACE VICE WITH VIRTUE.)

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POSITIVE/ LOVING BELIEFS (COMBAT & REPLACE THE DARK)

"When is a monster not a monster? Oh, when you LOVE IT." 🪐
"I AM A CHILD OF GOD = I AM LOVED" ↑

(THESE SHOULD ALL BE THE "BLUEPRINT" OF WHO YOU TRULY WANT TO BE, & MUST BELIEVE YOU CAN BECOME)
(preface ALL with "BY GOD'S GRACE...")

"I am insightful."
"I am hopeful."
"I am determined to change for the better."
"I am forgiving."
"I am intelligent."
"I am creative."
"I am talented."
"I am inspiring."
"I am a good listener."
"I am a good example."
"I am always willing to help."
"I always look for the good in others."
"I cherish the beauty of life."
"I care deeply about others."
"I am adventurous."
"I am strong."
"I am resilient."
"I am reliable."
"I am joyful."
"I am grateful."
"I meet challenges with courage."
"I am enthusiastic."
"I love to care for others."
"I want to protect others."
"I always want to do the right thing."
"I am honest."
"I am courageous."
"I exist for a good reason."
"I am always willing to learn & grow."
"I refuse to give up."
"I act honorably."
"I am trustworthy."
"I am a GOOD PERSON."

God I am so in love.

...Around 6am this morning, I “half-awoke” as I was having a dream where I was in the old family house, at night, in the winter, and grandma was still alive. I was talking to her briefly in her room about something I was doing-- I felt vaguely hurried, like I had a deadline to meet, or was expecting something or had to be somewhere-- but it was not stressed, just urgent. I left the room to look out the bathroom window over the hill as the feeling remained, that anticipant waiting, like on Christmas Eve. Suddenly I heard someone at the kitchen door, and immediately turned to rush out into the hallway… and there he was, standing in the entranceway, eyes wide and slightly disoriented at the odd environment but there, like he was supposed to be. Chaos 0. He saw me and raised a hand in greeting, but it was obvious he didn’t want to enter the house to avoid anyone seeing him and causing a fuss. Luckily I was already rushing to meet him at the door. I apologized for the “mess” that chronically plagued the kitchen but he said it was okay, he knew it wasn’t my fault, and besides we weren’t going to be staying there anyway. I glanced backwards to see if anyone had heard us but the coast was clear; I then turned back to him and smiled with heart-melted affection, telling him that I never expected to see him in that old doorway but God knew how I had dreamed of it for years. He smiled with the same feeling and said he knew, and he felt the same-- it was “about time he did,” basically.

Now, when I say I “half-awoke” here, I mean I moved up a level in the dream-- I was now consciously there, notsomuch only lucid as actually present in something more concrete than imagination. This was heartspace, a place I don’t think I’ve been in years. But there he was, and now, so was I.

My memory is blurry but I know we did talk a little, before we left. There was definitely some of our pointed “flirting” that we tend to be famous for in the innerworld-- comments and puns and little remarks that make you laugh solely because it HITS like well WOW, so THAT’S what you’re feeling, and there was no way such a gutpunch of an emotion could be “casually confessed” in polite conversation without hiding it in plain sight. Nevertheless, we had nothing to hide from each other. We were just steeling ourselves for that impending impact, really. All in all thought it was such a warm but charged conversation; we were both so happy to see each other but goodness knows we can’t do anything in the house. The air felt like the stars were about to come out. Everything felt like it was waiting, on the precipice of some long-expected hope, that tiny and huge instant before a firework goes off. On that note I CLEARLY remember flat-out saying, out of nowhere, that I wanted to “kiss him until he was drunk with love” to which I swear he replied something like “well, we can’t exactly do that in here, so… should we get going?”
So the next thing I remember, we were outside and getting into my grandma’s car (the Trax my mom has now), and driving up Mile Hill to the top, to see the view. It was the most beautiful place I could think of nearby. I parked the car at the side of the road and popped the trunk, and we just sat there, looking out over the rows of mountains and clouds and valleys, the city lights sparkling below, and the stars just as brilliant above.

God I wish I could remember exact words.

I do remember roundabout mentions of marriage, and “waiting until then” and all that sort of dreamtalk; for some reason whenever I’m in sleep states that sort of wedding talk always comes up. Always the etymology-- the unity, the covenant, the promise. That’s what we want and always end up referring to, when we’re alone like this, when we’re so close the whole world stands still and watches us. Meanwhile we were watching the night fall gently over the vista of earth. I remember how he looked out over it all, his expression full of immense wonder and some sort of ache, that bittersweet edge that such grand and beautiful things tend to elicit. He looked like he was about to cry. He said he had never seen such a view before, and then he just… looked at me. He thanked me for that, for sharing this moment with him. I said of course; reiterating that I wanted to take him somewhere beautiful, and this was the first place I could think of. Then I added something, a gem to the end of the string. “This place means a lot to me, so I absolutely wanted to share it with you. ...I want to share my whole life with you.”
I did not expect his response. There was an immediate moment of absolute reciprocity-- the doors had just been flung wide open for us-- and then suddenly his eyes lit up, like he was thinking of something, and he said, “how does our song go again?” And he started humming it. My heart melted into starlight the moment he began but then he quietly sang those few words… “you know things, yeah you know things… say you know me, say you know me, say you know me.”
God his voice. I haven’t heard him sing in YEARS. It was so blue, just like it felt when he co-fronted with me in NC, all ocean-heavy depths and softness and strength. How do I even describe it. When he actually speaks-- not just his beloved “thought-parcel” waves-- it rolls in my chest like the tide and everything turns the color of seawater and I loved him so much in that moment. It just slammed into me, remembering this part of him, remembering that I did know him, I knew him, and that meant the world, forever.
I said so. Trying not to break completely in half I told him that, my own voice a quiet flame, embers and glass. “I do know you.” And I was so thankful that I did.
The feeling in the air was incredible. It felt as if we had just met and I had never kissed him before but God knew I wanted to so badly it was killing me. I have never seen him so clearly in dreams before. I can still see the starlight and city reflecting like diamonds on his body, his eyes that gorgeous green, vaguely luminous in the dark.
He said he knew me, too, and that did it. All those ancient fears I have of him forgetting somehow were erased in that moment.
Lord I cannot remember the sequence of events. It’s all such feeling. I took his face in my hands and we said a few more quiet honest words before I swear he asked me “would it be alright if I kissed you.” I almost laughed from the sheer weight and waiting of it all and said “please do”.
And that was it. The floodgates were thrown open. Everything up to that point had felt so painfully hopeful, please say you feel the same, please tell me you want this too, please say you know me. But now the firework finally burst into light. Now it was us, blessed us, as we hadn’t been in far too long. Alone together.
I pulled him close to my heart and was surprised when after a few moments he pulled back, markedly flustered, and practically spluttered “I can feel your heartbeat.” I was on fire by now and flat-out confessed “I want to get so close to you that I can't tell if it's mine or yours.” The LOOK he gave me was unforgettable-- wide-eyed, “blushing” such a dark blue it was actually adorable. He paused, then replied with just as much blunt honesty, “so do I.”

...It has been a very long time since we’ve done anything like a heart connection. Like literal years. But as we upped the ante the dream environment shifted to my actual apartment bedroom, me still half-awake, the sun not up yet, the room a quiet warm red in the November chill.
We talked a lot. That’s why I keep saying I wish I remembered the literal words. My heartgift is really language-- and when I’M truly present and conscious in myself, I talk. I don’t “lose myself” in emotions or thoughts or programming. I speak and I’m THERE and everything I say is from the HEART. And I was pouring it out this morning, like molten glass.
It’s always so tragically difficult to write about mornings like this one. It cannot be put into words. It’s all sense memory, of the heart and the hands, of closeness and presence and the taste of river water, of the way he always wraps himself around me.
Oh I DO remember at one point I was trying to move either myself or him but I instinctively put my hands on his waist to do so and IMMEDIATELY jumped back, my heart racing, completely thrown for a loop. Shocked and worried, he asked me if I was okay? Was something wrong? I laughed like I was about to sob and said I had just felt him. Like I reached out and touched him and I FELT him there, an ACTUAL physical weight and presence there, his shape and that slight coolness and the indescribable lake-glass surface of him. I felt like the world had just skipped a beat. I immediately reached out and put my hands right back on him, incredulous and overwhelmed, and just kept moving-- holding his huge claws, touching his face the way I used to, like I was “painting” him, hovering my fingers against his chest like I didn’t have the nerve to dive in that deep. God knows I wanted to. God also knows that HE DID. He’s braver than I am in that regard and when I hesitated, trembling, he touched his fingertips to my chest with such decisively fragile gravity that I just about died. Oh don’t worry, I got him back later. We’re very good at completely unraveling each other but it’s always this gorgeous dance of sorts, fire and sea, red and blue, me then you, both of us entirely immersed yet always testing deeper waters.

Every time I said I loved him it felt like my entire heart was aflame. He said it back. I cannot put into words what THAT feels like, especially coming from him.
...It feels like the fulfillment of my life, somehow. Like… hearing that he loves me too, when I feel SO MUCH for him, and always have, is like a completion, like a final puzzle piece being placed, like a key opening a long-closed room. It’s like, thank God, thank God you are in this with me. It’s not just ‘me,’ it’s ‘WE.’ It’s me and you, in love, really IN it, like we live there. You have a home in my heart forever and I want to hold you there, closer than blood, like the air I breathe. We’re in love together and that is the most beautiful thing in the universe, in any universe, and when you say those words to me it’s like everything in existence turns into song. How do I put it into words. I love you. I want to give you everything.

...On that note. My body honestly broke at one point. It woke me entirely up and threw me completely off, and for a while I just held him and he talked me down while I verbally tried to reconcile the wanting with the terror, the honest desire to love all tangled up in instinctive learned reactions. But he understood. He’s seen the worst of it; he’s been with me before; he saves me from every trauma nightmare. He knows the difference, just like he knows me. This wasn’t new to him and it certainly didn’t hurt him. But he made me promise that I wouldn’t hate myself for it-- that I wouldn’t forget what I actually wanted, that I would remember the pure intentions of my heart, not the horrors of the past.
...But that’s the irony of it. Deep down, honestly I don’t regret it. In a heartbeat I’d probably do it again, just not in that way. The point is that I love him that much and when you want to give everything of yourself to someone that kinda means NO EXCEPTIONS. So. I really can’t beat myself up over it even if it’s still bizarre and weird to me, and of course trauma reminiscent in the back of my head. But forget about the trauma. This is the polar opposite of that. This is what it’s MEANT for.
...Also I couldn't help thinking of the old "blue fairy" injoke back during the Eros-core days, because as he accurately noted we do end up saying the Name of God when in the most intense emotional states. I used to be mortified by that, until I seriously stopped to think about it and be honest with myself as to why it happened. I brought this up to Chaos. It's a prayer. It honestly is. I CANNOT say the Name WITHOUT it being part of a prayer. The very thought of speaking it vainly is horrifying-- but ironically, I don't have to worry about that in a hyperemotional state because my heart is speaking it, not my head. I don't carelessly throw it out there. It's the same exact feeling I get when I'm in religious ecstasy, either in joy or in agony, all different colors but all pulling on every one of my heartstrings at once. Like God just reached in there, grabbed an entire harp in his Hand, and yanked-- then let go. EVERY note plays at once, like a church bell hitting hard in my ribcage, resonant and deep and heavy as gold, and paradoxically just as soft. Even when the sound is different, and involves the most intense sorrow, there's still love in it. It's ALWAYS about love, somehow, the most powerful thing in the universe. Nothing else could make a soul react that way. I need to remind myself of that. Like I said, I KNOW when it's NOT that. I've experienced that enough, too many times, and it's sickening. This never is. With him, it never is.


Speaking of. Xenophon showed up ghosting.
God I love her. She was peeking over the edge of the bed at first and asking if I was okay, then she crawled up on top of the blankets where we were to do the same.
...I’m going to commission someone for a custom plushie of her. Hopefully the same person who made the Chaos 0 plush I have, if they’re still doing well-- they live in the Ukraine and God bless and protect all those folks-- because I have a small amount of cash saved from before my bank account shut down and by golly I am GONNA SPEND IT ON MY DAUGHTER.

 

(continue)



...When I got out of bed and went into the kitchen, I put eggs on to boil while I went to wash my hair in the sink. Suddenly it hit me that I was unintentionally referencing something and I laughed, then immediately started singing “You’ll never know just how much I love you...” before changing the lyrics to “I hope you know,” before laughing again and adding “after this morning, you’d better!”
Chaos 0, who was of course listening from where he was still in my bed-- gorgeous crystal blue amidst all the soft red-- reassured me amusedly not to worry, he absolutely did.

We talked a lot. I… really love just doing “domestic stuff” with him, and Genesis of course, and now Infi and Laurie and Xennie too because yes they ALL LIKE TO GHOST and pilfer Popcorners and Chessmen and other CS exchanges whenever I have them. I’ve had to add a special “custom item” to my health-tracker app that says “EVERYONE WANTED SNACKS AND I HAD TO SHARE.” It’s great though, I really love it. Xenophon STILL loves “carrot tails” and she has taken to calling Bengal Spice “tiger tea” and gets super excited whenever I make it, Lord knows why but she’s the cutest thing.

God I’m still so in love.

 

...But the phone rang. After the tea and eggs were on and the bed was made I was about to get dressed and the bloody phone rang. It was Partial. They asked why I had skipped Monday, and I explained I had been out late with my mom and had been doing legal paperwork for my rent all day so I not only slept in but I was booked. Regardless, the dude immediately switched the topic to food and the old eating disorder. I don’t remember the conversation other than my insisting I honestly did NOT feel comfortable doing the program-- yes I was brave and asserted myself-- mentioning the “camera trauma,” the overstimulation, the literal binges they expected me to perform on camera, the uncomfortable table topics, etc. He said I still had to do it, basically. He drafted a breakfast plan for tomorrow and I kid you not it is 1000 CALORIES. I ran it through SEVERAL calculators. I wanted to cry. I hung up the cell phone an HOUR LATER, and basically just said “screw it, I’m not going to think about it, that’s the devil’s work and I am NOT going to let it ruin my day after heaven this morning.” Oh it was ABSOLUTELY spiritual warfare. Here I was, three hours of absolute ardor making me feel ALIVE AND REAL again, and then this dude who just sees me as another anorexic coward insisting I choke down insane amounts of food on command goes and dehumanizes me without even realizing it.

I ate breakfast, my OWN breakfast, an apple and cinnamon tea and half an avocado on wheat bread and a fortune cookie, and two of those eggs. 550K, low volume, and healthy. But I was still so miserable, and I couldn’t focus, and I was getting so nauseous I wanted to cry and throw up and NOPE, THAT IS NOT GONNA HAPPEN, so I did the only thing I could to get my heart and head back in working order.

 

I went back to bed.

 

I legit just walked over, pulled the top cover back (the fluffy plaid one) and crawled back in next to the blue guy, hugging him as tightly as I could. He gave me the most concerned look and asked what was wrong? Was I okay? I explained the phone call. He looked genuinely apologetic; he had actually insisted I answer it for integrity’s sake, not just ignoring the guy, but now he obviously felt bad that it had turned out like it did. I reassured him now, saying he didn’t know that, and that I genuinely appreciated his support and encouragement to be a good and decent person even in those little ways. But I was still shaken up and miserable and felt like a trapped animal. I didn’t want to think about food or hospitals or “recovery.” THIS was my recovery, right here, in his arms. I told him I just needed to hold him for a while and forget all that, which he gladly obliged. So for a few minutes that’s all we did, but I could not get my brain to stop crying and I felt myself dissociating. I gave up. Time to break out the big guns.
“Chaos, I need you to love me.”
“Wh-- what?”
“I’m forgetting who I am with all this Partial nonsense and I need to remember what’s real about me, about everything. I want you to love me until I forget everything else but that truth.”
...One day I need to draw the way he looks at me when I say things like that. I only see it in myself when I’ve been moved so sharply I’m about to sob, incredulous with the wonder of it all. He looks at me like I’m a revelation and the world has just been put into his heavy hands. And then it melts, and he reaches out to me, and all my fire just turns to light.
...I thought I flustered him earlier, well I forgot that fasting and then eating kind of does stuff to one’s personal BPM. He was practically stuttering, having to stop for a moment to ask if I was okay, why is your heart pounding so hard, is that me or is something wrong? I said no it’s fine, yes it’s you but also just my body doing what it does, nothing to worry. But hey, that’s a good thing to remember, I half-joked, if he reacts like this.
...He said nothing for one absolutely momentous second and then he just blurted out “I need to feel that inside me.”
It was the same ardent sentiment I couldn't help confessing an hour ago, but MUCH more direct. If anything was going to bring me back to life, that was it. I'm sure he knew.

And that was it. Everything else forgotten. I pulled him so close to my heart I could’ve drowned and I kissed him hard as diamonds. There was one absolutely mindbreaking second when I felt emerald sharkteeth graze my lips. I could have drank the entire ocean.

 

Heart connections. God it’s been years, hasn’t it? They always feel like you’re dying in the best possible way. Absolutely shattering. I missed this, this ardor so intense it paints reality in gold and fills your veins with light. Lines blur. My ribcage floods blue and the rivers set on fire. It’s been almost nineteen years next month and every time, every single time I see those green eyes it’s like the first time all over again. I cannot even tell you how incredibly clear he has been lately. I can see him, in all but physical sight. I feel him there. In heart and mind he is photographically vivid, to the point where honest to God I can literally see that glow of his eyes, especially in the dark. There have been moments where I cannot tell if I exist more in my bones or with my beloved because the awareness is so sharp.

...Speaking of sharp. I forgot how my brain basically shuts down when his Ruby hits my Heart Jewel, because apparently I DO manifest one in connective states (no surprise, that universe is where I have my deepest heart-roots) and good LORD it is the equivalent of an explosion in my psyche. Everything turns to kaleidoscopic flare and I can’t breathe but God knows I’m already underwater so I push back at a facet angle and now we’re BOTH completely unraveled and I miss this, honestly I miss just losing myself in pouring out every last spark of love into this creature in my arms, my heart open like the sky, so close to him that it becomes both of ours. That’s… that’s the most incredible thing about loving someone who is literally fluid, because lines don’t just blur, they intersect, and suddenly the surface tension is gone and there is this absolutely sacred space where things turn violet. Red meets blue so completely that they both merge for a moment. That’s heart connections. That’s also where Xenophon comes from, apparently, God bless that little gem, she’s a living miracle and I love her more every day, too.

...

I know we both ended up in floatspace and ended up with soulwings. Mine have apparently changed again. They’re unstable yet-- so is my color; I think the Core Hue is once again refining itself in the wake of past trauma-- but they felt weirdly pink and soft, like cupid wings or blooming roses. Maybe it’s because I was just feeling Pink, all that absolute pure-hearted compassionate love that the color is defined by. But I got them. He did too, but really what I noticed was the halo. He still gets that Angel Chao halo whenever he hits a Soul Form just like he did nineteen years ago. I… I love that. It reminds me of just how deep this is, how much of my life it has illuminated, how much I do know him.

...

An hour later-- yes, another hour, we booked FOUR of them this morning and Laurie is talking about buying postcards in bulk-- I did get back into daily life and I did eat and I did get into computer work and did some kettlebell exercises and watched the SNOW, because YES, GOD GAVE ME DOUBLE HEAVEN TODAY, there was literally no better day it COULD have snowed and I am in tears from the joy of that.

“If God made you, He’s in love with me.” I think about that phrase a lot, especially lately. I really ONLY understand what love is because of Chaos 0. I firmly believe that Jesus loves me through him, and vice versa. God is Love, after all. He orchestrated this entire song; we’re just the instruments. But I still want to sing it with him forever.

...

I’m listening to Chaos 0’s playlist on shuffle, but he told me pointedly to turn shuffle off and just… play Alina Baraz. And my heart is just aching all over again.

Earlier I was getting my clothes ready for bed and I was thinking about the scent of the ocean fog in the mornings and how I vibe with cinnamon Christmas candles and I just asked Chaos, is that legit? Like, you know me, what’s it like when you kiss me? And once again (God bless him he gets so flummoxed) he sputters that, well, I’m like fire. Laurie just side-eyes him and deadpans “how the heck do you know what fire tastes like” and CZ retorts “i-it’s like sunlight, or a candle flame, how there’s that warmth? that’s what s/he’s like.” Then he gives HER a pointed look and remarks, “YOU would know too, right? isn’t that true?” Laurie just flatly replies “Man it has been a long time since I’ve kissed him, I couldn’t tell you.” I then offhandedly remark, “well we’ll just have to fix that, then.” Dead silence for two seconds, BOTH of them looking at me wide-eyed, then Laurie says “Chaos what did you just do” and he replies “I think I worked a small miracle” and I’m blushing even harder than both of them, believe me, but that’s when Jewel randomly showed up ghosting to chat with me about our mealplan and bedtime responsibilities so she and I ended up in the kitchen with her randomly commenting that she likes raisins, “they’re cool,” and that she was glad I was eating healthy because she’d “probably just eat chips and apples and tunafish-- do we even have tunafish?” I said no, but now in retrospect I’m wondering if I should get some to try it again, for Lady Sneasler’s sake; she still needs a new “System” name anyway, and I do miss seeing her around. I cannot deny that I have FEELINGS for that cat (why do I always end up attracted to Pokemon, dear heavens) and I was missing Ventrium so hard earlier today, I need to reach out to everyone else soon too.

Still. No one compares to my beloved blue guy. Yes, I love a lot of people, but when it comes down to the heart of things, he’s the only one I feel this much for, in this way, unfailingly so.

...


Lord knows this entry is way unfinished but it is almost 2am and i do need to sleep. ...Oh hold up, Jesus is trolling me again, one of Chaos 0's newest songs just came up on shuffle. "Say It" by Papik. I remember him singing this to me when I was hanging clothes on the porch at night for grandma, and... it just meant so much. It's a callout and a love letter all one. Don't be alone. Don't be proud. Call out my name... tell me that you will be mine, and love will change our fate, don't be so blind... God knows I was, for months if not YEARS, and THAT is why this morning has me absolutely punchdrunk on love and I feel alive for the first time in forever.

I'll add more to this later, as much as I can. For now I'm just being completely unabashedly honest about everything. I need to be. I owe it to us both.
I need to get some sleep right now, but... I won't forget this. There are going to be sparks whenever I so much as brush my fingers against him now, light glancing off the water. My heart's gonna remember, now. Just like the old days, when we were young, when we were both struggling to heal from trauma and learning how to love all at once, fragile terrible aching things, "emotional wrecks" who brought out the best and worst in each other but God knows there was never a dissonant note in the whole piece. We're still in perfect harmony somehow, pun intended, even after the years where we'd practically fight and argue over our wounds and I'd turn to burning ice and he'd walk out and somehow we'd still end up back in each others arms, every single time, sometimes within minutes, never having let go of love for a moment. We are not our trauma. It's these mornings that remind me of that, because that's when I can feel that, in both of us. He's not Perfect, I'm not Plague. He's Chaos 0. I'm Jewel Lightraye. He's peace, I'm joy. He's strength and I'm heart and we're both love, absolutely and always.

I'm also exhausted. But it's been a good day. There is glitter in the dark. There are roses in the winter. There is love in my heart, as red as a ruby, and I believe that life is worth living and no matter what tomorrow brings I know I have this, I have him. We have us. I have you, my beloved blue angel, I adore you and I'm yours, too. Je t'aime, je t'aime, je t'aime, forever.


 

010718.
sunday.

We finally realized why Tobiko hasn't been the one purging anymore.

Food does not register as food.
We've been using food as a stim.

We've been using a LOT of things as stims, actually.
This explains the bathroom rituals.
We brush our teeth, floss, brush again, floss some more, use mouthwash, brush our teeth again, wash our face, wash our body, wash our hands, wash our face again… over and over and over and over. We do this for an hour, sometimes, just scrubbing at our gums and our flesh, scrubbing until we are red and raw sometimes. We do this in the shower, too-- we obsessively wash over and over and over, not even thinking that much about "being" clean as we are thinking about feeling clean. It's why we cut our nails down to the nubs and shave every hair off that we can reach. It's never about the end result, not literally. It's about how it feels. It's about purging everything that hurts in the most literal way we can think of.

We eat when we don't want to because it NEVER registers as eating. It registers as stimming.
This is why preparing food used to take, what, six hours back in PA? Because it was never about food. It was, again, a matter of stimming. Of sensory soothing.

Remember that one night in SLC where we sat on the floor of our bedroom, rocking violently back and forth and flapping our hands so hard our wrists ached, blasting Serph at high volume on our headphones and stretching our legs against that rubber band until they, too, were sore from exertion? Pure stimming. Pure mindless stimming. THAT'S the key here.

We've lost all our old methods. We can no longer walk in circles in the living room, or the kitchen, or the driveway. We can no longer go hide downstairs by the furnace, or lock ourselves in the bathroom-- although the latter was always a horrific trauma trigger, as was the attic, even moreso (which is why we didn't even bother to list it here.)
We can't even self-abuse in the "traditional" way anymore. We don't have razors. We don't have knives. We don't have blades. (and oh, how our heart aches at those words-- no, those names, beloved and tender as a wound) We can't bite our arms anymore, can't slap our face, can't yank at our hair, can't claw at our skin or punch our legs or stomp our feet. All our old stimming methods, as violent as we need them, are gone, are forbidden. And our brain is boiling over.

It's been shutting down a lot lately and that terrifies us, to be honest. OV has it easy. He can stim with an adorable little squishy macaron or peach or donut, can play with fidget spinners or kaleidoscopes or even just a piece of jewelry. That's enough for him, it seems, and that makes us super happy. We love him, we love allof them, and the fact that they can use such mild methods to soothe their addled brain is deeply soothing to ours-- in a different sense. We would never inflict this aggressive need of ours on them, not for the world. And yet, here we are, needing it, and terrified because we can't explain it to him, terrified because he thinks we're doing it out of hatred, out of rage, out of suicidal ideation. It's exactly the opposite. When we don't do it, the stress and pressure gets so intense that we wantto die, and we stop caring whether or not we do. That is what's lethal. Not the stims.

The problem is, though, that the stims are dangerous in and of themselves. All of Cannon and Gamboge's old methods drew blood, marked bruises, left scars. All of them beautiful and beloved, true, but still risky to our health… and yet what we wouldn't give to be able to flay this flesh wide open again, even though I can feel Scalpel shaking his head at that thought even now. Why so?
"It's dangerous," he says. "You're right. Even though it is effective, and beautiful, it's also just as addictive. You know just as well as I do that once we start that, we can't stop. We want to bleed and scar forever. And that will kill us."
So will this "eating disorder." But I suppose that's the point of this whole entry.

Food is the simplest, easiest, most "socially acceptible" form of stimming and self-abuse that we have left at our disposal. It's all we have left on days like this.
Except, now, we can't, not without risk of condemnation and distrust, not without hurting someone else more than we ever could before or would ever want to. OV knows we have a problem, but he doesn't know why-- heck, even we didn't know that until this afternoon!
But it's why we go absolutely bonkers in the kitchen once he goes to work and MC goes to sleep. We racked our brains over that for weeks, for months even. We don't want to abuse ourselves, we don't want to suffer or humiliate ourselves anymore, so why this? Why can't we stop this? Why do all of the nousfoni tied to this have such shockingly, irresistibly powerful anchors? Why can't even Laurie stop them? Why does NO ONE, deep down, even want to? Why does it feel like we're being "betrayed" by the System itself in these nousfoni being given free reign and full power over our body and actions in the middle of the night?
We know why, now. It's because they're trying to save our life.
They're STIMMING. They're desperately attempting to soothe our hurting brain, to ease our aching heart, to comfort the poor screaming ones inside. The ONLY way we've EVER known how is to somehow "burn it off" outside. Even now, right now, although we're enjoying typing, our brain is too high-strung and our body is immediately defaulting to the urge of "eating." We aren't hungry. We never are. But that's the point. This isn't about physical hunger. This is about spiritual hunger-- psychological starvation. This is about us needing something we still can't seem to get and scrabbling at the scraps of it wherever we can find it.
Truthfully, we just want to isolate ourselves completely, close our eyes, rock back and forth like a lunatic punching bag and just let our brain turn off as completely as possible. But the key, again, is isolation-- that terribly dear thing we have NEVER been allowed to truly get, not since childhood, and which we have been aching for for longer than we can remember lately. There are no locked doors here. There's no cellar, no attic, no closet to sit in. God how we miss it now, how we miss being a child, ignored and alone in that dearly forsaken house, feeling like we were the only soul(s) existing in the entire world. Just us, and the quiet, and the sunlight, and our heart. We need that like the air we breathe, and we don't know how to get it anymore, because we never realized until we moved out here how we need love like the blood in our veins, pun entirely intended.
That's the killer. That's the real awful thing here.
God I want to cry. Our body is desperate right now, we want to just… scream and punch things and stomp the floor until our knees hurt and throw things and bite things and just let ALL the steam out. There's no malice in it, ever. But it scares people. It terrifies them. We're a monster, and we love what we are, but… we're still a monster. We're a scary, terrible, incomprehensible thing sometimes, and it hurts when our sharp edges cut even the people who try to love us regardless.

Our body wants to food-stim because that's the only thing it can think of to do right now, and yet it KNOWS that it doesn't want to. The very thought of "eating" is making Overload want to scream and throw the plate across the room, is making The Destroyer want to set the entire freaking refrigerator on fire. We HATE food; we hate it for being the only accessible way we were able to dissociate and heal for years, without being hacked.

Yeah. Isn't that the bloody cincher.
Hacks. Why the heck do you think they kept happening for so long?? Why the heck do you think people stopped fighting after so many hellish years??
It's because they hurt, they ate hours of our time, and they isolated us from the world. Yeah, they were absolute hell, that's the indisputable truth-- but the other awful truth is that we didn't want to live in the first place.
God. Those poor, poor damaged kids, sacrificing their souls and selves just because the world at large outside was somehow even scarier than blacking out for three hours and waking up in blood and excruciating pain and mental terror. At least then they could shut down. At least then they could hard-reset their memory, splinter a little more, break a little further, forget most of their entire life and pretend nothing was happening. They just wanted to run, God forgive them, they just wanted to hide and sleep and rest and the ONLY way they could was by shutting everything off. God forgive all of us.

Hacks don't happen anymore. They can't. Not since 2016. Not since Infinitii's presence truly registered, not since we realized what we were actually looking for and what was actually happening in contrast. The truth of it, the harsh horrific reality of the situation, was too terrifying to ever allow ever again. And so hacks stopped completely.
And the eating disorder exploded.

We knew that was going to happen, really. Stop one addiction, but leave the reason why it developed in the first place, and a new addiction will return or appear to replace it. The body is just hopelessly wrecked, man, it doesn't know what else to do.
Why do you think we started flirting with EVERYTHING that would detach us from the reality our poor brain couldn't cope with anymore? We started drinking. We started smoking. We started abusing prescription meds. We experimented with asphyxiation and anesthesia and everything we could think of that would detach us from the awful soul-crushing loop of that toxic household, of that dead-end environment, of the unending mental stress.
And somehow, some days, some nights, that still hasn't changed.
Like right now.

We have nothing. No paint, no sewing kit, no exercise bike, no weights, no internet, no Xbox. No isolation, which is the TRUE need behind ALL of those things. We can't do anything if we aren't COMPLETELY alone, and it feels like a kick in the face to the Broken Arrows, but God forgive us it's true.

We want to run. But we can't. Where the heck would we go? Everywhere out there, there are people watching us, there are social contexts "to obey" and our poor terror-hardwired brain keeps kowtowing to ALL of them. Even just now, when OV laughed or sighed or whatever that little dear breath was, we looked up, wondering-- are we needed? Was that a call for attention? What is the proper way to respond?
And then we wonder why people like Quicksilver exist, why that girl who fronts in the early morning exists. The nousfoni that will even flip off the people they love and say "shove off, leave me alone." The ones that seem coldhearted and callous and brutal, when really all they are trying to do is get us alone. They're trying to PROTECT us, bless their monstrous hearts, and we know it.
We're terrified of coming across as a horrible person, like we did to the kids in SLC. This is probably why. But we had no idea this was even happening back then-- we didn’t even know we were multiple, for God's sakes. Now, though, not only do we know, we understand, more and more each day.
So when OV sighs and someone immediately fronts with a middle finger and stony expression, they aren't saying they don't care. They're saying, "we can’t care right now because we are too burnt out TO do so without utterly sacrificing our health and your respect in the process."
So we sit here, miserable and overloaded, yearning for the opportunity to just… be alone.

God we both love and hate the nights when OV works. We love him, we love all of the Broken Arrows, but… it's just like when we started doing too much for church. We adore our faith, we adore its practices, but when you're expected to attend every daily mass, every weekly funeral, every weekend mass, every choir practice, every group meeting, every picnic, every bible study, et cetera… well, something in you starts to hate it, in utter paradoxical spite, in total impossible parallel to the love you still feel, solely because it KNOWS that if you don't stop you are going to burn to the ground.
So it stops it in the most complete, sudden, brutal, total way it knows how.
It scares the bloody wits out of anyone standing in its way.
People don't like monsters. People leave monsters alone.
So we learned to be a monster.

…God. What do we do.
We're thirsty. We want to cry. More than that, we want to scream and punch things, but that'll frighten OV, and we can't… we can't risk that. That's the horrible, horribly irony of this. We have to sacrifice our terrible needs for the sake of terrible love. What do we do?

People stay up all night because we need to be alone because that's the ONLY TIME we can brutally soothe our psyche. It's always violent love with us, did you notice? Always compassion and cruelty, or at least, what others would see as cruel. For us, it's just the rawest, most selflessly pure form of love. Love that doesn't deny you your needs just because they're strange or "socially unacceptable."

We want to run outside and go hide in that stupid McDonald's bathroom because it's the only place in town that feels like an airport-- totally insulated from the outside world, cold metal and echoing tile, quiet as a grave, no time existing in there at all. It always feels like 3 in the morning there, when you're by yourself. But that's the problem. It's a freaking bathroom in a fast food joint. It's not EVER going to be a failsafe place to be safe-- heck, the sheer simple fact that it's a bathroom has ALREADY condemned the poor thing beyond hope, thanks trauma. (God, there's that awful thought process again. Poor hurting kids. I wonder how many of them we've never seen, how many of them are still contributing to this in our sub(terranean)conscious.) But the one time we were in there, we felt-- God have mercy, what a dearly desired feeling-- like we were the only people on earth. Just us, just this body, just this tiny bubblespace of a bathroom, no time or space beyond. Just that single isolated moment. THAT'S what we need. YES, it's a literal NEED. It's why we risk our mental health going out literally EVERYWHERE when we walk in the mornings, exposing ourselves to too many soul-draining social contexts, desperately seeking a place where that won't be the case, desperately seeking some secret quiet corner somewhere that we can privately own, like the study nooks at Marywood, like the tiny pockets of woods.
…I wish there was a church with unlocked doors around here. God, we wish. We're nearly in tears just thinking of that. The ultimate met need. Isolation, but in a soaring wide-open emptiness. The feeling of our dreams. Rolling hills and labyrinthine halls and massive abandoned buildings and no one, NO one but us in them. Not even a gnat for outside company. Nothing. Just us, and the air, and the sun, and the clock ticking second after second, counting down to nothing, looping without an hour hand. That's what we want. Just… infinity. Eternity. God help us, no wonder hacks were a thing, I want to cry so hard we vomit out our entire respiratory system. This is wrenching and it makes so much sense. How did we never NOTICE this before???

…
What do we do.

Where do we go. It's 7pm, it's a Sunday night, we can't stand this social context right now, we KNOW OV is worried about us and that simple passive attention is keeping our brain in overloaded status and we want to weep because we care about them, too-- so much our heart aches from it, but what do we do? We love them, but… what do we do? We'll never stop loving them. We'll love them forever. But… sometimes, we dream of running away, of just sleeping in a field somewhere, of packing a knapsack and walking the railroad tracks for days, of catching a bus and just riding it until the end of the line and wherever we are, we are. We want no roots, and yet we want a home to go home to when the solitude starts to bite. There's nothing wrong with being alone. Just… souls need souls. God split hirself because ze needed to love more. We are made to connect with those other pieces, with every other bit of reality. And humans, sure we don't identify as one but this body is one, and we adore people, we do, we just… need to do this in moderation, I suppose.

Do we have a list? Do we even have options when this happens? When our spoons are so low the entire silverware drawer is missing, what the heck do we do, where do we go? When we're so weak we can't get undressed, is there anywhere we can be that will feel like the world has ceased to exist outside? I don't know.
Maybe we can empty out the bottom of the closet, sit in there.
No, no no no, I can feel the children shrieking at that idea even now.
Idola seems piqued. Maybe we should try. See what happens. I doubt hacks will happen--
They won't, but they'll be threatened--
In isolation hacks are always a threat because we black out,

What do we do.

It's too cold outside to go hide in the woods, or to even go find spots where we can hide. But Jewel is so excited at the thought. She has ideas.
Maybe we should try anyway? Get a blanket or sleeping bag or something, bundle up good, find somewhere in the woods where it's just us and just… keep that in our heart if nothing else, if we can't go there. Find at least one place in this new local world where we can be ironically cut off from it for a while, without risk of sudden jarring intrusion. Walking distance. Where can we go?
Buses.
Buses aren't cheap, kid, we need somewhere we can go on a dime without spending a dime, that's the problem.
I'm sure there's somewhere. Let's check Google Maps, find something out. I'm sure we can. Right? Are we done writing?
For now, maybe. I… the other topics we want to write about are huge. The hacks, for one, and the eating disorder in light of this.
But we have been writing about it. Both of them. Haven't we?
Not in as brutal excruciating detail and honesty as we need to, no.
Should we start, then?
Maybe. Hold on a minute.


Food stimming.
Back in PA, we had a soup pot, huge and solid metal, and every day, we'd start the morning by blacking out over a cutting board.
I don't know what we did. All I know is that the smell of wilted lettuce is one of the biggest triggers in the world, and we still can't put spices on our food without shivering in dread. Indian food makes us dissociate immediately, as do potato chips, and ice cream, especially Klondike bars… avocados are still terrifying, so are carrots, so is mayonnaise.
All of those foods were used for blatantly self-abusive purposes in the past and you know what? I'm going to say EXACTLY why.
There was a phase, in 2016, where all we ate for about a week was namkeen. Indian snack food. Just bags of (name). It made us horrifically sick but hey, snack food is an easy time-consuming stim, right? Even if it makes you vomit nonstop for hours-- even especially because it does! Because purging makes you even more dissociative, makes you able to sleep for hours because your body is so wrecked from the past several hours to even consider staying conscious for another second. The last day we bought Indian food, someone filled at least six entire cereal bins with the stuff, separating them methodically by ingredient, then going outside (thanks Destroyer) and flinging them all into the woods… and then hours later, even days later, someone else went outside in a scavenger-desperate mess and picked the pieces off the ground and ate them. We still cannot look at that memory without feeling instantly, unbearably sick. I assume it was all purged seconds after, but memory is black, punctuated only by tiny shattered snapshots of fingers wrestling bits of chickpea flour away from bugs and brambles and rain-muddled dirt.
Remember why P&R became the devil's household?? Remember how many actual HUNDREDS of dollars were spent there over several months, because the food there was dirt cheap AND typically already was garbage? Remember the granola bags with mouse holes chewed through them? Remember the instant noodles with mold growing inside? Remember the hummus that landed us in the hospital due to food poisoning? I know you do. We ALL do.
Oh, but THAT'S the most important thing, something we've probably mentioned in the past before but NEED to reiterate today-- the MAIN reason food was our main stim for YEARS was because, if no one is watching, you don't have to eat it.
We would buy starchy, heavy, crunchy foods, time-consuming foods, chips and cookies and cereals and granola and things, and we'd chew them up, ingredient by ingredient, piece by single piece, and we'd spit them out. Organize, chew, spit. Over and voer and over. And then, when the bag or box was done, we'd chew up the chewed stuff, over and over, until it was too saliva-riddled to chew anymore, and then we'd eat that and purge it immediately, too racked by family-instilled guilt at the thought of "wasting it" by throwing it away (no matter how moldy or rotten or inedible it was) to do so, even at the risk of our own health. That went on for years.
Then we couldn't isolate anymore, then we started losing too much weight, then our body forced us to start bingeing instead in a desperate gamble to get some calories out of it.
The worst chew-spit binges were in that one autumn that we re-read A Wrinkle In Time, with whoever decided that raw oatmeal mixed with molasses was the best texture for doing so-- probably because it took ages to mix up, causing our arms to scream with exertion from doing so, eliciting the same response from our jaws once it reached those. Pain, once sharps were forbidden. A horrific rerouting. And we did that for weeks, if not longer, until the passive sugar-exposure made us SO sick we ended up bedridden with a trashed immune system and too much nausea and chronic pain and hideous gastric distress to leave the bed. But to this day, anxiety-eaten nousfoni in this system, poor desperate kids, always look to the oatmeal boxes in the grocery stores even if the sight of them triggers immediate massive panic. Part of them also remembers a time when that food was the only way they could numb themselves to the world. So they hesitate. They're afraid, but they don't know what other options they even have. And every once in a while, we'll find a box stashed in a drawer or a closet, inevitably doomed to be in the garbage within hours, either thanks to the Destroyer or some poor purgative kid who just wanted to feel like they were throwing up the pain along with the carbs.

God. No wonder so many of our Daemons are tied to food. I wonder what Rupture knows, if anything. She's mainly the fear of dying in the process, of blood in our nose and throat, of our stomach screaming at us to stop. I don't know who holds this, this stimming nightmare… no one except Chocoloco, at least, and he only catches the frayed-end dregs of it, nothing serious, nothing traumatic. He's just that initial desperate programmed seeking of comfort in places where everyone who claimed they loved you claimed it would always be, and yet never was. Chocolate and coffee. Our family's "soothing staples," both of them doing nothing but putting us through hell since childhood. Still, desperate, we never gave up trying. Choco is pretty pissed as that, although nowhere near as much as he is heartbroken. His heart-host is angry almost all the time but it's for the same exact reason that any of us are angry right now-- because we're burning up inside, ripped apart and overwhelmed and sad, and we just want to hole ourselves up in the corner of a coffeeshop somewhere, in the evening when it's dark and softly raining outside and no one knows we're here and we have nowhere else to be, just us and this warm quiet soft place, and we can weep and cry and ache inside and this tiny childlike part of us remembers the days when a muffin and a latte made us feel real, made us feel like we could exist as ourselves apart from society and our family and anyone, like this little rite of passage was proof that we could survive alone, and were, in that moment. THAT'S what our hurt ones keep seeking, in that sort of archetypal memory, but Chocoloco knows it's ultimately heartbreakingly empty, that it's not food or drink or chocolate or coffee or caffeine or sugar or anything edible that we're seeking-- we're seeking his heart, we're seeking love, we're seeking the love that only we can give each other-- we're seeking ourselves.
We can't find each other if we're suffocating in the outside world.

So. Trigger foods.
Someone once wrote about this, too-- probably Iscah-- the science of "combined" and "fused" foods (she says yes, it's in her journal in detail). Well I won't steal her thunder, but the principle of it was this: if you want to make a food inedible but still ingestible, in other words, if you're trying to make a "stim food" instead of a meal, you need to make it as easily palatable as possible in the most blatant way possible. Which means, usually, you liquefy it. You blend things. You cut things into miniscule pieces. You take things like spices, and condiments, and sauces, and drinks, and you soak every stupid thing you have with them until your stomach heaves at the very sight of it, and when it's a slurry from hell you eat that as quickly as possible so your body rejects it just as quickly. Ideally, the whole prep process will take hours, as will the purging process afterwards, in a desperate blacked-out state, trying to get every last crumb out of our system. This is how we spent our days for years, inbetween church activities and family demands.
And isn't that the irony?
We were left alone. We were ignored. And yet, we were never isolated. The grandparents were ALWAYS there, always a few feet or a room away, watching, waiting, vigilant. If we disappeared from their radar for a few minutes, they freaked out. The only time we could "get away with it" was by being in the bathroom, behind a locked door, pretending we were taking a bath, when in reality we were slumped over a toilet wishing we were dead already, sobbing because we really just wanted to be alive already.
But we were never alone. We wanted to be alone, God knew. We wanted a place where nothing could touch us but ourselves.
That's how hacks happened.
I can't talk about that right now.

Potato chips. Cookies. Trail mix. Things like that. Our grandfather would hoard them in his closet, and when we weren't allowed to prepare or eat food in the kitchen anymore without being perpetually critiqued by our grandmother or psychologically terrorized by our brother, we would sneak into his room and sneak into the closet and gorge down a whole bag, not even wanting to, just desperate to stim away the constant fear and pain by crunching something sharp and salty until our mouth bled. But potatoes and flour don't purge easy. They stick like glue in your stomach, and they WILL make the next few hours feel like the central circle of hell. We know. We made that mistake one too many times. We thought we were dead, a few times. But somehow we survived. 85 pounds and throwing up junk food for 8.5 hours a night and we still somehow survived.
There was a time when we first discovered P&R and someone bought cheese curls and chips by the cartful, but they were bean-based, and when our body loudly let us know that it did NOT like beans, we threw them ALL out on the crudpile.
It rained that night. It was cold that night. The next morning, the food was somehow soggy but preserved by the temperature, and whoever the heck was fronting was starving and "couldn’t stand the thought of wasting that poor food" (why the pity on the FOOD being unloved and rejected?? why NEVER pity on ourself being the same???) and snuck out to that horrid garbage heap and ate them right off the dirt, brushing bits of soot and soil and ants off them in the process. Good God. How did we even survive.
They/we threw everything up in a panic shortly after. That was Tobiko's doing. She remembers that more clearly than anyone.
It wasn't the last time that happened. Someone grew fond of the process at one point, of the act of scavenging, of "finding food in the wild" and the time-consuming, stimming process of that fused with a broken sense of accomplishment and achievement. It never lasted long, but God knows they tried, over and over and over, until that last day with the Indian food. Thank God that hell is over forever.

The bloody Klondike bars and avocados. That was the WORST of it, shortly before UPMC. We realized that our body hated dairy, hated fat, hated chocolate, but we ALSO realized that the consistency of those foods was ideal for bingeing and purging, plus our body was seeking sweets out of childhood comfort desperation AND everyone we knew was INSISTING we "eat as much fat as possible."
So guess who binged on like eighteen entire avocados and ten packs of Klondike bars one night.
It was forced. It was forced so hard we thought we were possessed. We thought we were going to die. There's no memory of anything outside one hysterical moment when someone was shoving more chocolate into our mouth and thinking, why?? I don't want this, NOBODY wants this, I'm scared and sick and I just want to sleep, why can't I stop???
I don't know how that ended. All we know is that the family KNEW and they WATCHED IT HAPPEN and then afterwards they asked if we had "learned our lesson."
SHUT UP. YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT THE HECK WAS GOING ON, DON'T ASK IF WE "LEARNED OUR LESSON" BECAUSE THERE WASN'T EVEN A LESSON IN IT WE WERE JUST SO DESPERATE TO NOT BE IN PAIN ANYMORE YOU IGNORANT TROLLOP
Triple, watch your language. Be angry, but don't be so brusquely inconsiderate about it, please.
IT'S WHAT VOCAB WE HAVE FOR THIS KIND OF INTENSE PAIN. i'm sorry. i have no other words besides screaming.

Let's continue.

Coconut oil. the NIGHTMARE that is coconut oil. HOW much money was blown on that??
It was the best stim food and it was the SCARIEST one BY FAR, and that is SAYING something.
Our body does NOT like oil, and when you're literally buying PACKS of it because this kind FREEZES and becomes not only biteable and sharp, but chewy if you mix it with protein powder, and your poor malnourished body is craving both those things so it's a recipe for disaster already. We… I don't even remember. Literally NO ONE we can find even remembers, nothing beyond one snapshot of lying on the bathroom floor with that unmistakable special nauseating agony that comes from eating too much oil, literally begging God to not let them die, screaming in rage and determination that they'd NEVER do this again, someone (a Protector, Wreckage maybe, the Destroyer maybe, Laurie maybe) going outside in the 10pm dark and rain and throwing all of that garbage into the woods where it couldn't be salvaged (although we all knew someone would try).


…OV just came over and kissed us and someone actually wanted to give him a double flipoff in response. Not out of hatred, just out of "what the heck do you want us to do. We're tired and angry and can't do a SINGLE THING without your permission because we DON'T KNOW what we actually want and don't trust ourselves TO know right now. But we're overstimulated and overwhelmed and heartbroken and furiously distraught and you're kissing us like we're supposed to ignore all this agony and kiss you back. And God knows we WANT to. That's the problem. We WANT to, but then you'll call it self-sacrifice, and what the heck do we do??? We love you, we WANT to be with you, but our body wants something else and until we figure out what the heck it is, we CAN'T be with you because we won't be able to pay attention To you past this screaming discomfort and unsoothed pain. We don't know what the heck to do, and we hate that we have to snub and ignore you in the process of finding out simply because our brain cannot handle the stress of having to factor in another human being's presence and needs into our decisions and thoughts right now. We can't freaking multitask. Please don't force us to context shift so shockingly suddenly or we Will hit you, or bite you, like the monster and rabid dog we are at the moment. But we won't mean it, and we hope you know it, but we still can't take that risk of hurting you, so we completely shut down. We do nothing, we say nothing, we boil over like a kettle fit to explode, and we just want to get this problem figured out so we can safely let this scalding steam out so you can touch us without getting burned. That's all."

…

Do we eat? Do we drink?
This body has to use the bathroom. These clothes are too warm and soft and do you know what that's overstimulating? Because they make us WANT to sit and rest and relax and we CAN'T.
Iscah LOVES these clothes because that's ALL SHE DID. She rested, and relaxed, and took care of our body. When we wear these clothes, the body remembers that, and wants it just as badly. But in this context, no. No, here we're too afraid of ignoring people, of rejecting them, of the fact that OV just went and lay down on the freaking bed because he probably thinks we hate him when really WE JUST WANT TO DO THAT SAME BLOODY THING BUT WE WON'T BECAUSE WE LOVE YOU TOO MUCH TO LEAVE YOU.

what do we do. god. I don't know.

Is our body hungry?
It's thirsty. We haven't drank in over 3 hours and someone purged most of breakfast out of sheer dissociative panicked guilt, so that's even worse. Go use the bathroom, get a drink, then figure out what to do.
We can't eat without OV anyway, and he's hiding away from us. Did we hurt him?
…I don't know. I don't even know. I just hope he's okay. If he didn't, and he wanted to be alone, but was happy, would that be okay with you?
Of course it would be, but he's obviously not happy right now and that's the problem.
…Oh. Should we go talk to him, or…?
Maybe. I don't know. Maybe.
I think we should. Apologize for not being able to respond earlier, apologize for snubbing him on purpose because we were unable to respond in honesty to him.
All or nothing, huh.
Yeah. A curse and a blessing.
Are we done with this file for now, for the record?
Maybe? I think so. The big unanswered question is still: how do we eat food without turning it into a dissociatively abusive stim?
Eat it like we do in the mornings with him. Paying attention, letting everyone share it, not being stressed the heck out in the process. Stimming beforehand, even. Really, that's probably the smartest thing to do. Gotta find what works on short notice that won't hurt us or magnify negative emotions and do that.
Sounds good.
Body does need some self-care, though, so let's call it quits for now. Everyone good? Anyone got any last thing to say before we stop?
Just that Wegmans was a living hell, too, and we never want to go back there.
Then get over that place and every other place in our memory, kid. Forget them. Live here and now, and please, learn from that experience and stop thinking about it. Okay?
…Okay.
Just… let it go. Walk into memory and burn it to the ground if you have to. Whatever works. Just don't let it suck the joy out of our present life anymore. All right? We'll help you. We're safe now, all things considered. Just confused and hurting is all. But we're safe.
I know.
Then let's go talk to OV. He's the reason we can say that, after all.
We love him, even now. Does he know that?
That's what we're going to go make sure of, kid. Give me a minute.



Oh, wait!! One last vitally important thing.
The key to a successful stim is that it HAS to let our BRAIN shut down. Low-impact, low-speed, "mindless" activity so that we can DEEPLY relax, INSIDE. Books don't work, nor does TV, because they're too mentally stimulating. Food prep is too, actually-- that's why we keep hurting ourselves when we try! Same with the garage job. We try to dissociate with repetitive motion and forget that those motions have an end, both in result and process. That doesn't work for stimming!! However, THIS DOES. Weirdly, this typing REALLY helps, at least, in a different way-- it helps us untangle what hurts, and really See it. It doesn't alleviate the stress, just lets us know what we're looking at. What DOES help in a pinch is TUMBLR, on the phone, IF we do it safely. Yes, it Does work!! Because it's "mindless browsing" and you can link-hop FOREVER and find poetry and pretty pictures and just let our mind wander for HOURS if you have to. Spotify is almost this kind of stim but not really, because music demands Attention, but we can use that to a BETTER advantage because it draws us into our mind ENTIRELY. THAT'S an ideal stim, hence the old beloved walks in circles for hours, just imagining and thinking. My thing!! We've gotta find a way to do that again if we can. Maybe in the playroom, who knows. But we will. Anyway, yeah. When in doubt, grab Nelumbo, our beloved Samsung Galaxy S8 who we saved up for a year for and now had better use to show respect and gratitude for that!! Okay? We've got this. Now go tell the Arrows that we love them because they need us just as much as we need them even if they need space too!! Bye guys!!

-J.W.L. and the Lightraye aka Lotus Cathedral System ♥

FLOATING VOICES AND OUTSIDE SOCIALS ARE NOT CONSIDERED PART OF THE SPECTRUM.
THEY ARE, HOWEVER, PART OF THE SYSTEM, AS THEY ARE STILL ALTERS.
CONVERSELY, OUTSPACERS ARE PART OF THE SPECTRUM, BUT NOT OF THE SYSTEM.

 

SYSTEM CORES ("Hosts")

Individuals who function as the internal "anchorpoint" for the entire System. They are virtually always male-presenting.
Their existence preserves the foundations of the System. They may also be able to do data work for the LeagueWorlds.
They rarely front, being built for internal work, but all can still front whenever they wish.
They have no native level, but they work with Central, and move freely throughout all of headspace.
The current Core is always part of Central. Surviving past Cores may reside on any level they choose.
+jay iridos (CURRENT)

+ CANNON (2008-9)

+ Pinstripe (DIED?) (2010)
+ "MALE JEWEL" [adakias[ (2011)

+ cupid (2012?)

+ DEON? (dIED) (2012-3)



JEWEL CORES
Individuals who are tied to the "Jewel Bloodline" of the System's origin. They are virtually always female-presenting.
They work almost exclusively with the Leagueworlds, being able to actively exist in them, & managing all our outside creative work.
They have overriding fronting rights and typically are out for extended periods of time.
They do not properly exist in headspace and so have no native level, but they work with Central when needed.
A Jewel Core is rarely, if ever, in headspace. This is what differentiates them from System Cores.

+ JEWEL LIGHTRAYE (2000-1) (CURRENT)
+ HOSEKI (2002-3)
+ "third jewel" (dissolved) (2004-6?)
+ SPINNingcannon (2006-7?)
+ Spinzor (2009) (SUMMER ONLY?)

DRIVERS ("Main Fronters")
Individuals who act as Socials but who function as the "main" INSIDE-ROOTED fronter for a certain time period.
They ideally work to balance the daily existence with internal existence.
They typically have overriding fronting rights, and are almost always out during their respective time periods.
They typically have a vague internal existence, if any, and some do not take their own face or name at first.
They may not gain individuality until after they have "faded" out of main fronting for a significant time period.

Not many Drivers are Cores, but in the past it was typical for several Drivers to share that job to a fair extent.
THEY ARE ALWAYS AWARE OF THE SYSTEM, HOWEVER VAGUELY.
+ OVERLOAD
+ "MANIC SPIN" (dissolved)
+ GLISSANDO? (SUMMER NIGHT ONLY?)

+ JEMMA

 

 

DÆMONS
Tentative category; this phenomenon is being researched.
Individuals who are spiritually bound to "human-base" members of the System (the Cores, some Outspacers), and/or the System subconscious at large.
They act as "shadow complements" to their hosts, being made of the same soulstuff, but holding more dangerous and/or buried characteristics that their host has not accepted or integrated properly.
They are not allowed to front unless given explicit permission to do so both by and along with their host.
They reside in floating space, which has no level. Their movement in structured headspace seems highly limited.
+ INFINITII ETERNOS (Jay)

+ LETHE STYX (RYMAN)

+ MEDALLION GUILLOTINE (MARKUS)
+ DENDRITE (HOSEKI)
+ CHOCOLOCO VANILOCO (JEmma?)

+ axis (jessica)

+nexus (laurie)

+ cake (???)
+ SELIPH? (GENESIS)
+ PERFECT? (CHAOS)



CENTRAL MEMBERS ("Central")
The original "headvoices," and overseers of the entire System.
They deal with inner maintenance, protecting the Cores and actively resisting the Tar/Plague.
They can front whenever they wish, typically for management purposes, but are not triggered.
They reside in Central, but can freely move between levels.

+ JAVIER ANASTASI
+ SPINE HYPOMONE

+ LYNNE STABELLE
+ JOSEPHINA BELLAMEIRE

+ CEL
+ NATHANIEL VICTOIRE

+ CHAOS ZERO

+ KYANOS KATHEDRIKOS
+ WALDORF KALLIOPE
+ LEON KIASI
+ LAURIE UBERICH
+ JULIE ENANTIOS
+ EROS

+ jay iridos

+ SHERLOCK

+ INFINITII ETERNOS

MIDSPACE MEMBERS ("Midspacers")

Individuals who reside in the buildings/streets of Central City, or in the areas outside the City.
They have benevolent "helper" roles, and are not tied to any trauma or triggers.
They are not triggered, and can only front if they are asked to.
They stay in Central City, and only rarely visit Central or the Underground.

+ AIMEE

+ HYAKINTH

+ SERGEI

+ AMARA

 

 

ARCHIVISTS ("Data Voices")
Individuals who tend to 'float' in non-space, without entering the City.
They deal exclusively with data management.
They only front when asked to; otherwise, they guide all other fronters.
They have no native level, but their locations are analogous to Midspace.
+ KALISHA

+ GARRISON

+ ISADORA

+ SHERLOCK

LOWSPACE MEMBERS ("Lowers")
Individuals who reside in the lower streets/ early underground level of Central City.
They deal with holding and healing emotional trauma and triggers.
They front when triggered. Some can front if they wish to.
They reside in both Central City and the Underground, and work with the latter.
+ SPICE

+ MARIGOLD

+ EMMETT

+ DAVID

+ JEREMIAH

 

 

UNDERGROUND MEMBERS ("Undergrounders")
Individuals who reside below Central City, in the catacombs and tunnels.
They deal with inner maintenance, physical atonement, and/or preventing further trauma.
They can front whenever they wish, but may also be triggered, although this is rare.
They reside in the Underground and rarely leave it unless direly needed. They work with Central.

+ RAZOR

+ BRAXTON

+ ALGORITH

+ MINTY
+ CHRISTINA MARIE
+ SUGAR

+ KNIFE

+ MULBERRY DELTA BRANDY

CHTHONIC MEMBERS ("Chthonics")
Individuals who reside below the Underground, in the caverns and pits.
They deal with trauma management, and hold the most pain and fear of anyone else in the System.
They only front when triggered, although most can front whenever they wish as well.
They reside in the bowels of headspace and rarely leave it unless direly needed. They work mainly as rogues.
+ DREAD
+ WRECKAGE
+ TOBIKO
+ ASHEN
+ "JABBERWOCK"

 

 

DOWNSTAIRS MEMBERS ("Socials")
Individuals who exist almost exclusively "in the body," as opposed to in headspace.
They deal with direct aspects of physical life, as opposed to inner life. This does NOT mean they necessarily socialize.
They front when triggered, and/or when their anchors are sufficiently focused upon.
They have no native inner level as they do not typically reside there, but by default they first appear in Lowspace.
They are different from Drivers in that they are never the "main people" out, and do not speak for the System as such.

+ JAYCE
+ "THE DESTROYER"
+ HATCHET
+ "VICTINI?"

+ ZWEI
+ "EXERCISE GUY"
+ MAVERICK
+ LEENA?
+ QUEEN

+ EINSATZ
+ gent

+ NIENNA
+ "AIRPORT"



OUTSIDE SOCIALS
Individuals who function as OUTSIDE-ROOTED fronters for a certain time period or context.
They exist to "follow a safe script" in the outside world, appearing "normal" and therefore hiding our existence.
They are typically "forced" out to front in social situations, for good or ill, and it is often very hard to get them out.
They do not have any internal existence, nor do they have their own names (as far as we know).
THYE ARE NORMALLY UNAWARE OF THE SYSTEM. THEY ARE THEREFORE NOT PART OF THE SPECTRUM.
THEY EXIST ONLY TO SOCIALIZE.
OUTSIDE SOCIALS CAN BE EITHER NEGATIVE OR POSITIVE.
+ JESSE?
+ JENNIFER



WRITER "SOCIALS"
Tentative category.
Individuals who only evidence through handwriting or written entries.
They usually have deep insight or knowledge into relevant topics, or may hold exclusive memories that need to be shared.
They do not front unless writing by hand. Otherwise they only channel.
They do not reside on any detectable level that we know of yet.
+ SIMEON



UNASSIGNED/UNSURE
Individuals whose role, functions, levels, etc. are currently unclear to us.
They can be interacted with internally, and therefore are NOT faceless.
Some may ultimately fragment out of existence without gaining solid anchors.
+ RAZWELL

+ GAMBOGE
+ Karissa
+ lEANNE?
+ "VEIL"




FACELESS VOICES
Voices that are internally-based and therefore potential Spectrum holders, who are not clearly perceivable yet.
They may have colors or tentative names, but they never have faces at this stage.
Faceless voices exist in "floatspace" and CANNOT be interacted with internally. They CAN be dragged out to front, however.
Faceless voices often fade out of existence without gaining solid anchors.
Faceless voices all deal with the outside world, BUT not all count as "Socials."

FACELESS VOICES CAN BE EITHER NEGATIVE OR POSITIVE.
+ SUMMER BOY?

+ EPHREM
+ MOXIE
+ "BAT EARS"
+ aconitum
+ "THE ANDROGYNE"
+ "LITTLE GIRL"
+ "LOST BOY"




OUTSPACERS ("Walk-ins")
Individuals from media sources or Leagueworlds whose dreamselves have "moved into" our System.
They have no specific System function, but offer their support when able.
They are incapable of fronting. Many of them prefer to "ghost" in physical reality, to help current fronters.
They work with Central when needed.
THEY ARE TECHNICALLY NOT PART OF THE SYSTEM. THEY MAY NOT BE OFFICIAL PARTS OF THE SPECCTRUM.
+ "GALA"?

+ GENESIS APOLYMIS

+ CHAOS ZERO
+ "DAVY"?

+ RYMAN SAIKARAS

+ MARKUS BARASHIR

+ XENOPHON LEPHISE

 

HONORARY MEMBERS
Individuals from the Leagueworlds who interact with our System regularly/ have interacted with us notably on a benevolent basis.
Most of them know the Jewel Core(s) personally.
Some of them have strong ghosting abilities and will accompany the cores if needed.
THEY DO NOT COUNT AS PART OF THE SYSTEM OR SPECTRUM.
+ HOSEA
+ NEBISAI
+ PSYCHE
+ JUSTICE
+ PRELUDOVE

+ MISTER SANDMAN
+ VEZERAI
+ DEVONAL

CORRUPTED/MALICIOUS

Individuals that have been corrupted by the Tar/Plague, or who work for it/ its mutual goals of their own free will.
They are actively malevolent towards the rest of the System.
They can only front by "hacking."
They have no native level, but seem to stay hidden in the Underground, Chthonic, or "basement" levels.
+ "CLEAVER"?
+ "THE STRIPPER"

+ "MANIC RED"
+ BRAZEN "BAD JESS"
+ ANNA
+ "THE PEDOPHILE???"

+ "THE LESBIAN"

+ BRIDGET
+ JASMINE "THE PAGAN"

+ MISSY
+ "BAD EROs"
+ SHARONA
+ TAR (JEZEBEL)
+ "THE SCIENTIST"
+ "FOGBANK"
+ PLAGUE
+ "LACE BRAIDS"



THERE ARE MANY OTHER UNIDENTIFIED ALTERS IN OUR SYSTEM.
MANY OF THEM DO NOT HAVE INTERNAL ROOTS AND THEREFORE ARE DIFFICULT TO DETECT.
WE ARE SLOWLY FINDING THEM AND LEARNING THEIR FUNCTIONS/ LEVELS/ ETC.
WE WILL UPDATE THIS POST AS ACCURATELY AS POSSIBLE TO REFLECT THIS NEW KNOWLEDGE.

 

So I've pinpointed our biggest vice.

It's shame.






My biggest question is still "who were we before we became ashamed to exist"



I keep talking to Chaos.
He needs to fix his fractures. This split between "Serenity" and "Aquamarine" is not good at all and it's just causing everyone more confusion and pain.

God he feels so real when he's acting like he was. Like he IS.
The hyper-soft version of himself that he is at night is too limited. Like a nousfoni with a singular function. He doesn't leave my room. Did I ever mention how that breaks my heart, however quietly? Laurie noticed it first, how he'd start sleeping in, then he just... stopped leaving. Up here, he narrowed his function down to just being there for me at night, a comfort at the end of the day, however profound. But the problem was, in doing that, he forbade himself from existing outside of that context-- he forbade himself from being enthusiastic, and curious, and as intoxicatingly fascinated with life as he always was when we were young.
Don't get me wrong, he never lost that, but... now, lately at least, that side has been so deep under the water...


I love him so much. And my problem is that I need to love him this totally, this without shame, outside of MY time-locked, depersonalized state.

He's so much more HONEST like this. He doesn't forget things. He's snarky and sentimental and sincere and everything I remember him as. Hurricanes and ocean fog and rainstorms and splashing through puddles in the summer. Tides and floods and mist. ALL of it.

...
Is that my problem? Is that why I'm never sure who I am anymore? Because I'm fractured into so many tiny pieces that even right now, I have no clue who I'll be outside of this context? I don't even know what year it is. This isn't healthy.

I think that's the problem, too. Me, I'm the one who knew this Chaos, the entire him.
Jay... he's the one who knows the serene side of him, the one who keeps fracturing upstairs because he's been the target of so much bad stuff and he can't cope yet, the Jay bloodline can't cope yet, they're the ones being eaten alive by shame because of the things the lost alters did.
They're crushed by it, all the good intentions gone wrong, all the mimicry, all the misunderstood ideas and things. They can't deal with the fact that those things happened, even if it didn't happen to them personally. The reality of that past is terrifying and nauseating enough for them and they can't forgive themselves for iteven if they would NEVER personally do that. They're too conscious of the fact that, in such a fallen state, those awful things did become possibilities, and through that fallen state, happened.
They can't forgive themselves. They're too appalled. They're guilt-ridden.
How do we help them?


How far back do we have to go to heal? ...Do I have to stay? Is that even possible?
Too much has happened since I was last out... like several years have gone by, mainly. At least five. And that just... blows my mind. How in the world do I stay out when the entire atmosphere of our physical life has changed? Should I try anyway? But no... that wouldn't be fair to Jay, or any of the others, doing all of this hard work. And Chaos knows that too.

...I wonder about the other boys. Are they okay?
I know they're partly time-locked too, but... God, I don't know. This needs more time to think and feel about than I have tonight. This is going to take weeks, probably, if not longer, to fully sift through and heal and mange correctly. It's so heavy in terms of significance and weight both. There's so much.



I'm looking up pictures of him on deviantART like I used to and he's grinning and commenting over my shoulder like he used to. He doesn't do this for Jay. Their relationship dynamic is totally different. But he's the same person, he is, we both know it...
Why is there so much splitting up here, how do we reconcile this? This is totally out of my league, I have no personal knowledge to go on with this... this is too new.
If we brought this into heartspace, maybe I could do something, but... I can't leave him out. Jay needs to be a part of this too, as completely as Chaos needs to be. Me... who knows at this point. I don't. I'm not sure if I can leave the "when" I'm in now. Do I even want to? Is that why Chaos is split, because I'm anchoring that split in? By not being able to move past this "safe point" that apparently the System desperately needs to exist as-is too?



Apparently we talked about him for a while in therapy today. Mostly for clarification on this very splitting issue, Laurie says.
We... I'm the only person who used to do that. Has anyone done that since me? That alone is a milestone...




Jay is sobbing. "I don't know you like this,” he's saying, to Chaos, as I knew him.
Chaos was talking to Laurie about this and saying effectively the same thing. "I can't be both versions of me at once."
Both of them want this to work but there's so much time between what was and what is, and....

Xenophon's the big variable in all this. Chaos and Jay both love her dearly, but... she existed after the split, for both of them. The Jay with us now is not the one who existed when she was created... and the Chaos I know, doesn't know her. Yeah the thought of "having a kid" is still this bright thing in his mind, but I use that initial phrase loosely. His species does not "reproduce" in the way Jay's bloodline was always so bloody terrified of.

This is so hard to talk about. Is there that much fear tied to it?

God help us work through this.

The body is still quite sick. Is that part of this?
Sicknesses for us are very rare apparently, and always seem to coincide with massive shifts in our personal life experience.

Jay knows Genesis far better than I ever did, I noticed. That's a big difference. I knew him as more of a child, still scared of thunderstorms, still learning from Chaos how to be more confident, how to not be scared of himself anymore. He was obsessed with butterscotch ice cream and snowflakes, and he was always talking about his elusive father... still very much tied to the shaky world-roots he jumped to us from.
Now, his name is different, he's so much more golden... I'm... I don't know him. And I'm sure he doesn't know me.

Is this... what do you call this? It's not a tragedy, heavens no, but it still feels like a weird sort of loss,


...Somewhere down the line, after me but before Jay, the lines got tangled. That's where this massive break happened for Chaos, where our bloodline shattered, where everyone got confused and disjoined.
Who fronted for that time? What poor soul took the brunt of that hit to the heart?

I don't know.
Like I said, the body is sick. We really do need to get right to sleep.


I guess that simple fact isn't so simple tonight. But I'll keep tabs on it the best I can, ask Laurie to do so as well.

See you in the morning.


- Jewel L.

 

 

THE PRISMBLOOD CATHEDRAL SYSTEM

~2000-2015+



GENERAL INFORMATION

According to our therapists, we have what is known as Dissociative Identity Disorder. In our terms, this simply means that we are a multitude of individuals all residing within one physical body.
We are an unusual case however, as our System was created specifically to function internally, as this was not only our original core's "default" state of existence, but also because we experienced significant inner trauma more often than we experienced outer trauma. Because of this, most of our members rarely "front" in the body as they have no need to (their roles concern our inner life).
Due to a lack of social interaction, a rather dysfunctional family, and an all-consuming imagination, the original child grew up with a very unusual view of reality, colored by magical thinking and an ignorance of how other, non-troubled individuals functioned. As this way of life did not alter until the body was about 17, our inner world reflects this weird and wonderful perspective.
Our System runs on a set of complex but fantastic rules, which some have compared to an RPG or a video game, but which is honestly how our core individuals see the world. There is a great deal of symbolism here, as well as a great emphasis on the power of thought, and the importance of love. Despite the terrors we have  all experienced, our lives together make a strangely inspiring tapestry of growth and wisdom, a long and arduous tale that ultimately reaches a happiness we once thought unattainable. The often "fantastic" operations of our inner world only serve to compliment that, helping us all believe that nothing is impossible, and that we can all rise above and beyond the painful dregs of fear we were born from.

 

VOCABULARY
We have a large and varied vocabulary of System-related terms that are often confusing or vague to those outside of headspace, or unaware of our structure. Following is an alphabetical list of those terms, with definitions.

active: A term meaning "actively accessible or functioning." Refers to both alters and locations.

alter: Interchangeable with "headvoice."

anchor: The "purpose" of a headvoice, and a requirement for manifestation. Anchors occur when sufficient mental energy is focused on a certain quality or concept that is detached from other System members. This collected energy then coalesces into a headvoice, who then acts as both a protector and manifestation of that concept or quality, which in turn becomes their "function." Anchors can be benevolent or malevolent, and they can change, although this is a difficult process. Anchors will bond to fitting Spectrum colors if and when they become strong or important enough within the System. Also see "function."
anchor, level: The level of headspace that a headvoice typically (or exclusively) lives and works within. This level is determined by function, but is unaffected by color. Level anchors can only change if an alter's function changes accordingly (a rare and difficult process), or if they are promoted to Central.
anchoring: The process of finding, solidifying, or gaining an anchor. Often interchangeable with "manifestation" when the individual anchoring has not had a solid form prior to doing so, and gains one afterward.

archivists: Alters whose function it is to manage and distribute stored memory information to other alters. Originally called "data voices."

atonement: The process of physically scarring the body in order to "bleed out" internal corruption, as is the mandatory post-hack procedure. Atonement began in 2010 when the true motive of hacks was discovered.

atoners: Old name for Retributors.

beetles: Insects first seen in the Chthonic levels, color unknown. They appear to be benevolent, and helped save Infinitii's life.

blackspace: One of the two realms of "raw" headspace; Blackspace deals with organics and the subconscious. It is an unending realm of raw Black energy, effectively the "cosmic womb" that every alter manifests from in both body and mind. Blackspace is "below" the bodymap and so it does not exist in any fixed location, but it can be visited, resembling an endless, liquid black ocean with no surface or walls. It is spherical in form. It cannot be consciously manipulated. Infinitii, and possibly all daemons, are intrinsically linked to this space.

body map: Also "bodymap." The visual correlation between Headspace's vertical level structure and the physical body. Roughly, Central corresponds to the brain while the Chthonic levels correspond to the lower abdomen/ base of spine.

Blood Lotus Cathedral: A massive, lotus-shaped cathedral, originally discovered and formed as the "soulspace" of the 2012 Core. Although originally located in floatspace, it has since become the "heart" of Central City. It is a highly enigmatic location in recent times. May also be used as a collective "story" term for our System's past experiences.

bubblespace: The specific floatspace pocket that Infinitii resides in.

cathartic block: The situation in which an individual is unable to express and fully comprehend emotions. This is common with Plague infestation, or when Fogbank is fronting.
Central: A specific area of upper headspace within Central City, the first area to manifest in our entire inner world. It resembles a penthouse suite, located at the top of a skyscraper, overlooking the City. It has been stabilized into a sort of "safe space" for the Spectrum Cores in our System, who typically reside and work there. "Central" may also be used as a collective term to refer to those alters.

Central City: The main area of headspace: a small NYC-like city bordering an ocean and two large forests. Its geography resembles Rio de Janeiro.

Centralite: Any single member of Central.

channel: An "open path" in the mind/body that a headvoice uses in order to front, speak, or write.

chthonics: Alters that natively reside in the Chthonic level.

co-fronting: When two or more alters are driving the body at the same time.

color core: See "Spectrum core."

color realms: See "Realms."

core color: See "Spectrum core."
core: See "System core."
connection: In the proper context, this is a term for an act of intimate spiritual "bonding" between two or more individuals in headspace. This is a term borrowed from the Dream World Leagueworld, as it is essentially the same process. Connections can also vary in "color."

daemon: A heartspace creature born from the hidden shadows/vices of an individual: essentially, a manifestation of "what you are afraid of within yourself." A daemon is meant to promote total self-love and acceptance, while not sugarcoating or ignoring those darker sides. The daemon phenomenon has currently only been observed in humans within the System.

daemon realms: Isolated floatspace pockets that daemons typically reside in for the sake of safety and secrecy.

data voices: Original term for the Archivist alters.
destabilization: Existential "decay" that occurs when a headvoice loses their anchor, due to function collapse or corruption. It is often lethal.

downstairs: A term used to refer to the physical world/life outside of headspace: essentially what our body must participate in to survive.
driving: a term for the process of a headvoice directly and consciously controlling the physical body. Adopted because this often feels like driving a car or similar machine, something separate from the actual self. Interchangeable with "fronting."

ego:

a mindless conglomeration of expectations, not an actual personification or true consciousness
faceless: Literally, "without a manifested form." Most socials, splinters, and voices are faceless, and therefore very hard to identify.

faceless voices: Any headspace-originated "voice" that does not have a manifested form. Not interchangeable with 'floating voices.'

floating voices: A non-alter "voice" heard outside the head. These voices can be either helpful or actively harmful, usually the latter, yet it is often difficult to tell the difference. They may claim to be angels, demons, aliens, guides, etc. Floating voices predate the System's formation by several years. They also appear to be frightened or intimidated by System members, especially Laurie and Infinitii, and will "disappear" if such individuals make themselves known.

floatspace: Any visitable place in headspace/heartspace that has no fixed location, or which exists specifically in a non-physical place. These locations are frequently "self-contained" and very small.

fragment: …

See "splinter."

neutrality splinter. conscious in trauma or meltdowns. goal is to simply exist of the world
unhinged, emotionless, deep inspiration drive, possible alternate creation ability, silent, fragile, strange, detached, connected. despite unsettling demeanor, feels universally, completely open
fronter: A headspace individual who regularly fronts in the body, or if used in the active sense, the current individual doing so.
fronting: When a headvoice directly controls the body as its presenting consciousness. Interchangeable with "driving."

function: The role which a headvoice is sworn to fulfilling. Headvoices with unstable or unclear functions can die from the lack of stabilization, while those with "function overload" may corrupt to an equally lethal extreme. Also see "anchor."

function, inborn: A function that was inherent in an alter upon their manifestation.

function, inflicted: A function that was bestowed upon an alter after their manifestation. This is rare, and most frequently occurs when destabilization and/or anchor slippage occurs.

function overload: Occurs when an alter takes their function to a destructive and/or malevolent extreme, resulting in slippage and possibly destabilization.

Fusion:

ghosting: When an outspacer "half-appears" in the physical realm, as an intuitively perceptible being, in order to accompany the current fronter (typically a Core). Headvoices can also do this, but it must be learned, and it is difficult for them to remain ghosting for long.

graves: The series of 42 linear scars up and down the body's forearms. They were the first retributive actions taken, when it was discovered that hacks were destroying the creativity tied to the Leagueworlds, effectively "aborting" potential worlds and individuals before they had a chance to manifest. Laurie mandated that every hack from then on must be followed by a scar-- a "grave" for those lost as a result.
hack: A malevolent and typically traumatic attack from inside the System. Hacks can be either physical (forced fronting and abuse of the body) or non-physical (psychological warfare, induced nightmares). The term itself refers to both the brutal, sudden pain and terror of such incidents (i.e. "to deal cutting blows"), and the technological slang of "breaking into (a server) from a remote location to steal or damage data." Hacks are always perpetrated by corrupted individuals, most notably Julie (in the old timelines) and Sharona.

hack, dream: A hack that occurs while asleep, during a nightmare. Typically bleeds over into the body, but this can be prevented if a benevolent force intervenes in-dream.
headspace: The huge inner world we all reside in. It is a catchall term for all locations within, as long as they are related to the System. As of 2014 the term "heartspace" is now used to refer to Central's active living location, while "headspace" refers to the inner world at large, and Central prior to 2014.
headvoice: A non-corporeal individual born from headspace, within headspace. This term is interchangeable with the common DID term "alter."

heartspace: A replacement term for "headspace," used after the reset attempt in Dec 2013. It is meant to more properly indicate our function and purpose, as opposed to the hackers and floating voices.

heartvoice: A replacement term for "headvoice," used after the reset attempt in Dec 2013. It is meant to more properly distinguish between alters and the floating voices. It is usually used to refer to Centralites.
holder: Also "slot holder." Used to refer to any headvoice that is anchored to a color slot.

insects: Also "bugs." The myriad of insects that have been observed within our System, on multiple levels. Their purpose is unknown. They can be either benevolent or malevolent.
inspacer: An individual residing in headspace whose native world is a Leagueworld. See "outspacer."

invisible audience: A humorous term referring to the theoretical "readers" of our online posts.

Jewel: A prestigious title given to the Cores in our System that have connections to Dream World.
Jewel bloodline: A collective referral to the many artist fronters that have held the "Jewel" title in some way. This "bloodline" of function began in 2002, and has continued through at least four other individuals since then. The phenomenon itself is tied to the Leagueworlds and as such we know little about it.
johnny-nighter: A term referring to a night when we do not sleep, and instead stay awake typing nonstop until 5 or 6 AM. Sleep after that point is optional. Coined in 2009, a reference to the JTHM comic quote: "I don’t sleep; I have better things to do."

kything: A term reverently adopted from Madeleine L'Engle's books, this refers to a non-verbal, almost "spiritual" manner of communication between headspace individuals. It allows emotions, perceptions, and similar inner feelings to be shared instantly, on a level of intuitive understanding, and without the struggle of vocabulary translation. It is only possible if one is open to it.
Leagueworld: An inner world outside of headspace, which is intrinsically separate from it, and which the Jewel bloodline functions to learn and write about. There are approximately 15 of these Worlds to our current knowledge, including Dream World and Rosewindow. It is not impossible for individuals from Leagueworlds to interact with the System (e.g. Mister Sandman), but such individuals are usually reality-jumpers, and/or are similarly unhindered by their native universe limits.
Lightraye: The formal collective subtitle for both our System and the Leagueworlds (e.g. "Lightraye League," "Lightraye System"). It is also used as a surname for those in key positions there.

lilies: Flowers associated with Infinitii. Their current purpose is unknown.

limbo: "The grayish void between realms upstairs." Possibly actual Grayspace. Rarely used term, but refers to a legitimate location.

Links: Mental/spiritual connections formed between two or more individuals in two or more different worlds, "linking" them across space and time.
"When Jewel was younger, his consciousness would 'branch out' rather uncontrollably. Because of this he'd often 'catch' the vibrations of same-level individuals outside our system (i.e. media sources), effectively creating a sort of energetic bridge for them to enter headspace if they so wished. Few individuals were able to enter, though, and even fewer were able to stay. Those who did exhibited a peculiar sort of "resonance" with our inner energy field that effectively made them just as much a part of this system as we are, and may even be mandatory for such a scenario."

Lotus Cathedral: The "Leagueworld" title for our System; essentially, what we call the "story" of our lives. Originally synonymous with "Blood Lotus Cathedral."

Lower headspace: The level of headspace immediately below Midspace, but above the Underground. It holds "triggered" alters who are not destructive.
manics:

manifestation: The process of forming or solidifying a body within headspace.

massacre: A term referring to one specific reset event on December 28th 2013, in which Cannon and Jessica attempted to kill every existing headvoice and therefore destroy the System. It was nearly successful-- active headspace was nearly razed, and both active Cores were presumed dead. The System did survive but regeneration has been an arduous process, as we are effectively starting from base zero this time.

metainomen:

metainomenai: Plural form of “metainomen.”

Midspace: "Middle headspace." The level of headspace at 'street level.' It is effectively neutral, and holds alters who are passively benevolent. Social alters of such function may also appear here.
midspacer: An alter who natively resides in Middle Headspace, or "midspace." During the early days of the Spectrum this term instead referred to all outspacers/inspacers.

mindspill: A term for an archival entry written mostly via the A.P., enabling for rapid cycling of "authors" without the stress of having to front or enter the body to do so. Mindspill entries are rarely capitalized, may not contain grammar, and typically jump between several topics without necessarily concluding any.

Mirror Oasis (Room):

mistranslation: A term referring to circumstances upon which a certain experience and/or expression cannot find a fitting outlet and is forced into another, often harmful context. Typical in hacks.

old girls: Any of the destructive and/or malevolent alters that existed prior to Jewel becoming the core. Typically refers to Jessica or Jezebel, but also includes several faceless voices.

original child: The unidentified, possibly unsalvageable individual that assumedly lived in this body prior to headspace's inception. S/he may exist only in broken pieces of alters by this point.

overlay: Occurs whenever a headvoice fronts in the body. It is an intuitive "mask" of the headvoice's actual appearance, superimposed upon the physical form to decrease dysphoria and increase coherent functioning. Considered a sort of "personal identification" as fronters can often be retroactively identified by looking ath their overlay records. Only faceless voices do not emit overlays.
outspace: Physical, body-experienced reality, i.e. anything outside of headspace. Also called "the waking world."
outspacer: An individual residing in headspace whose native world exists outside of headspace, typically from a media source. Also called "walk-ins," along with inspacers. These individuals are similar to "soulbonds" in multiple systems, although we do not often use that term. They differ from headvoices in both role and behavior, and are not inherently tied to the System, although it imposes strict requirements on any eligible individuals. It is not uncommon for outspacers to be suddenly blocked from entering headspace in disaster situations.

Plague: A self-aware mass of corrupted White energy, that has taken up residence within headspace. Its true age is unknown, as it did not begin evidencing until after the Tar gained its own physical form. The Plague's main vices are pride and apathy, and it appears to seek only the passive annihilation of the System-- a reset which would be unrecoverable from.

plague rooms:

(attempted hack of whitespace)

programming: Internalized subconscious behavior and/or thought processes that are typically harmful and devoid of self-awareness and personal truth.

raw headspace: The ethereal material that our entire inner world is built from. See "whitespace" and "blackspace."

realms: Also "color realms." Refers to a specific area of heartspace that is dedicated to alters of a specific Spectrum color. This is a post-massacre phenomenon and as such, not much is yet known about it.
reset attempt: An attempt to annihilate the System, with or without hope of regeneration.

reset: A "successful" reset attempt. None have been permanently successful, but all have had serious and often traumatic lasting consequences.

resurrection: The phenomenon in which a 'dead' alter is suddenly brought back to life. This can only occur at the will of the System itself.

Retributor: An alter whose main role is to deliver atonement. Collectively "Retributors."

roses:
Scratch: A term which refers to one specific hard-reset event that occurred on February 24th 2013, in which our current fronter attempted to annihilate the entirety of headspace, and return to a pre-trauma mindset. Although ultimately unsuccessful, the Scratch attempt had such severe and permanent consequences that we now refer to our current time as "post-Scratch," and the time before the 24th as "pre-Scratch."

slippage: Also "slipping." Markedly out-of-character or corrupted behavior, which occurs when an alter begins to lose their anchor or corrupt their function. This is a "warning" phenomenon and it is not lethal unless allowed to continue unchecked.
slots: Also "color slots." A term for any color in the Spectrum held by a headvoice. For example, Laurie Uberich holds the VIOLET slot. This means that her energy resonance is VIOLET, and no other headvoice can hold that exact color while she does.
socials: A casual term for a group of mostly-unidentified voices who front the most frequently, due to not having body anchors. Also called "social fronters."

soulbond: An adopted term, referring to Outspacers.
Spectrum, The: A collective term for either 1. the sixteen energetic "color slots" that define the function of our System, or 2. the headvoices in our System that are anchored to these color slots (as such it does NOT include faceless voices).

Spectrum core: The main hue of each Spectrum color slot. There are sixteen: Red, Brown, Orange, Yellow, Lime, Green, Aqua, Sky, Blue, Indigo, Violet, Pink, Cerise, Gray, White, and Black. Each color has approximately six main subslots. Also "color core" or "core color."

spiders: Insects of the Yellow realms. They are typically malevolent.
splinter: A zombie-like alter that has "broken off" of another, typically a Core. They are not truly conscious, having no true anchor or sense of self, and may instead become puppets for the Tar/Plague. This phenomenon was recognized in 2011, although it existed for some time prior. See "fragment."

splintering: The negative process in which a core "breaks" into two or more separate individuals, due to trauma or forced compartmentalization.
"We thought she was born from my 'lost' energy, optimism, childhood innocence, and kindness, but that had never really been lost. I had splintered. The real me HAS all of that, the me talking right now IS all of that! I never lost it. Thanatos and Fragment are a median system. It scares me, I won't deny that, but now I understand why I splintered like that. Laurie's motivation is to keep me safe and bright, above all else. And in my past, I didn't know what that entailed. So I broke myself into pieces without realizing it, because I didn't think those pieces could safely be part of me."

stabilization: The adjustment period immediately following an alter's manifestation, during which they become less "impulse" and more of an individual.

sub-hue: See subslot.

subslot: A Spectrum hue of a certain color that is not the Core color. For example, Gold is a subslot of Yellow. Also "sub-hue."

System Core: An alter who acts as the "main consciousness" for the System, ideally fronting whenever possible and acting as a focal point for the System's well-being. Central is dedicated to the aid and assistance of the current Core. Cores tend to change every 2-3 years, or after a sufficiently traumatic event.

System, The:

It may also be used as a general collective term for all the alters in headspace/heartspace.
Tar: a self-aware mass of corrupted Black energy, that has taken up residence below active headspace. It is assumed to be the second true member of our System, having been created simultaneously with Julie, and eventually overtaking her, due to the highly negative circumstances of their joint manifestation. The Tar ceaselessly perpetuates pain and trauma within headspace, as it needs these things in order to survive. Although it rarely acts directly, it frequently uses others for its own ends, either through forced control or psychological warfare. Even so, it has created a splinter named Jezebel for the sake of direct interaction. The Tar almost exclusively targets Jay and Infinitii, our Cores, since they directly threaten its existence, and any damage to them harms the entire System.

tar rooms:

(originally hacked into blackspace!)

thanatos drive: The "death drive" experienced by damaged Cores. (Cannon era only??)

exists solely to destroy the self. highly abusive. unable to interact. goal is to end personal existence

death drive. conscious in high stress. almost always conscious after hacks
entirely destructive, disconnected, purposeless, positive incomprehension, violent, driven, retributive, hopeless, angry

 

timeline: …

timeline, dead: …

trigger: …

Underground:

A specific level of lower headspace that contains very dangerous individuals, and so is not easily/ typically accessible.
upstairs: A casual term for "everything non-physical/ inside (our head)," for when more specific jargon would be baffling.
voices: A term for the faceless "voices" heard by fronters in the body, which may or may not ever anchor into actual headvoices. Voices are frequently manipulative and/or malevolent. Interchangeable with "floating voices."

walk-in: The original term for "outspacer." Taken from the fact that they all "walked in" to headspace from the physical world.

whitespace: One of the two realms of "raw" headspace; Whitespace deals with inorganics and the conscious mind. It is an unending realm of raw White energy, effectively the "blueprint" that all of headspace manifested from. Whitespace is "above" the bodymap and so it does not exist in any fixed location, but it can be visited, resembling an endless, luminous white space with a floor but no walls or ceiling. It is cubic in form. It can be limitlessly manipulated, but will only take on fixed shapes or forms, otherwise it will appear inert. In the early days of headspace, this is all that existed of our inner world, until Central manifested around 2009.

Xanga session: Slang for a stream-of-consciousness conversation held by two or more alters within headspace and written to a computer in realtime. Named after the website on which we originally hosted these conversations. These sessions typically last several hours.
…: …

…: …

…: …

 

LEVELS OF HEADSPACE
We have identified several distinct "levels" of headspace.
It's easiest to think of the first five in a vertical fashion, but space doesn't quite work that way up here.

CENTRAL (UPSTAIRS)
This level refers almost entirely to Central City, the "hub" of our inner world. The landmark of this city is a skyscraper-like building referred to simply as "Central." This building is where the core-anchored headvoices reside, as it has been stabilized into a sort of "safe space" for them.
The inhabitants of Central are all tied to proper System function, especially the maintenance of the System itself and the care of its myriad inhabitants. Their anchors reflect the core energy colors. Laurie is the protector of the Upstairs, and by her own extension, the entire System as well.
MIDDLE HEADSPACE
Often "Midspace."
We referred to this level as "downstairs" for a while, but that became confusing as "downstairs" actually refers to physical reality for us, so we dropped this double usage.

LOWER HEADSPACE

Lower headspace is more strongly connected to raw consciousness than Central or Midspace; as a result it is typically fluid and highly mutable, with few 'fixed' areas. Lowers frequently work with the Undergrounders.
UNDERGROUND
Refers to a level of headspace below Central City, thought to be virtually inaccessible prior to 2012. The main habitable areas of it resemble basilica cisterns, and/or cathedral cloisters. Deeper, less hospitable areas resemble caves or catacombs, and often have an eerie red glow. At least one such area appears infested with massive insects. Exploring the Underground is highly dangerous and not recommended, as the Tar also resides there, albeit in a currently-unknown location. The exact size and extent of the Underground is unknown. This level also does not seem to follow the same rules of space that upper levels of headspace do.
The inhabitants of the Underground are all tied to trauma on some level. Their anchors may be coping methods, preventative actions, or the trauma itself. Knife is the protector of the Underground.

THE CHTHONIC LEVELS
Refers to a level of headspace below the Underground, which we were not aware of until 2014.

We know very little about it, at it is highly inhospitable, and those residing there are not welcoming of intruders or visitors.

This level is very organic in structure, resembling a massive cave formation. Its main area consists of a large underground body of water.

FLOATSPACE
Small "pocket locations" of headspace that are self-contained in raw headspace. Leon's cathedrals were the first example of such places we became aware of.

RAW HEADSPACE
Technically not a "level" at all, raw headspace does not even hold a mappable location. Rather, it is a term to refer to the "unformed" areas of headspace, blank white expanses of infinite potential. It is not impossible to enter them, just very difficult. Raw headspace can also be seen whenever a location begins to deteriorate, or when a location is not fully formed. This is what the entirety of headspace was until approximately 2002, when it began to solidify into the beginnings of the Downstairs.
Jay is commonly seen as the "protector" of raw headspace, as he is the White slot holder, and therefore has the most influence over it.

DAEMON REALMS
…
INFINITII'S BUBBLE
An entire level unto itself, the Bubble is literally a small, tangible sphere of encapsulated headspace. It was created by Infinitii in February 2013, and it is where he resides. Jay wears it as a necklace, attached to a silver chain, at Infinitii's behest. He has also procured a similar physical necklace in the waking world, for the sake of fronter interaction with Infinitii.
The Bubble is highly unique, as it is a floating level, and therefore exists within whatever other level it is brought into. It is bigger on the inside than on the outside, although upon entering it one will appear to "shrink." The inside is shaped like a large dome, and from within it one can still perceive the outside world as through translucent glass above. This fact can be used to produce a bizarre "recursive reality effect" if Jay enters the Bubble, as the view from "outside" will therefore reflect the interior. Lastly, the Bubble can only be entered or exited at Infinitii's command, as it exists for the sole purpose of keeping him safe from danger as long as the Tar still exists.

 

 

ENERGY COLORS
Our entire inner reality runs on several different colors of "energy," i.e., the ethereal stuff that makes things exist and function up here. By extension, this energy is inherently tied to the life of all beings native to headspace as well.
Ideally, these multiple colors should all function in harmony, with no corruption or manipulation within. Unfortunately this is not often the case, since the System and headspace itself were both created from trauma. We are moving beyond this, but it is a complex process.
As of 2015, sixteen different color slots have been identified. Each of these has its own specific sort of energetic function, which pertains not only to how it works in headspace, but also how it affects the headvoices that are bonded to it in their functions.

THE SPECTRUM
Due to the very substance of headspace being organized into colors, it is only fitting that those who were born from it exhibit connections to those same hues.
This phenomenon of color functions is the most pervasive aspect of our inner world, and as such it is difficult for us to fully grasp. Furthermore, since headspace itself exhibits its own strange sort of consciousness, the Spectrum itself is no exception. It shifts and evolves of its own volition, sometimes dramatically, according to what is needed for headspace to function properly. No one has been able to manipulate or otherwise influence the behavior of the Spectrum, not even the cores. Perhaps this is for the best, as it exhibits a wisdom in its silent management that we could only guess at ourselves.

The Spectrum itself is the groundwork of our entire System. It serves to organize and maintain proper order in headspace, making sure every headvoice has a proper role.
Each Spectrum color has one "core slot," which reflects that basic hue (the core slot of Red is Red). It also has several "sub-slots," which include shades and tints of that same color, and whose functions reflect variations on that color's basic energy (sub-slots of Green include Sage and Jade).
Ideally, all headvoices hold a color slot. Most headvoices manifest already anchored to a fitting color, thanks to energy resonance: if their function or origin is clear, they will naturally reflect whatever color matches it most closely. This is seen most often with Core slot holders.
However, not all individuals in headspace are part of the Spectrum. Faceless voices and outspacers must find solid anchors/functions before they can become part of the Spectrum. Nevertheless, all non-Spectrum individuals still display a sort of "resonance" with one or more colors; it is simply clarity that they lack. Once clarity of function is found, individuals naturally gravitate to a fitting color slot.
Black & White energies are unique as they inherently hold all other colors within them, and they are also the only colors capable of existing in a solidly corrupted state (the Tar & Plague). Negative B/W qualities CAN bleed over into any other slot, or infect more directly through temporary "possession" (e.g. Julie and Laurie both having some Black abilities), but this poses a high risk of often-fatal destabilization to those affected. Positive B/W bleedover is more subtle, usually only manifesting in powerfully specific but heartfelt situations (Soul Forms, the Angel Helmet).

A headvoice in a core slot will not only reflect the basic attributes of that energy color, but they will also act as a guardian of that energy within headspace, and all those who use it. All core slot holders typically reside in Central headspace due to their important roles. Sub-slot holders will still reflect attributes related to that core energy color, but not as strongly.

When a headvoice anchors fully into a color, their eyes and hair will match it. Any discrepancy in an anchored headvoice's eye/hair color, as opposed to their actual slot, is a telltale sign of their anchor splitting, migrating, or failing. The only exception to this rule are those in the Monochrome slots (Black/White), as they can naturally mirror any slot in the Spectrum if they so wish, and this inevitably changes their eye color.

(disclaimer for the following list: many of us went missing after the august reset. nevertheless this list includes the most recent holders.)
(C) = Central ... (D) = Downstairs ... (U) = Underground ... (M) = Midspacer... (L) = Lower... (O) = Outspacer ... (H) = Core ... (X) = ???

BROWN
CORE: Spine Hypomone (C).
BEIGE: held by Aimee (D).
TAN: possibly held by the "siren" (D)
RUSSET: held by Jayce (D).
SPICE: held by Spice (D).
CHOCOLATE: held by Overload (D).
BISTRE: held by "The Bear" (U).

RED
CORE: Javier Anastasi (C). Previously Jewel Lightraye (all). Accessible by the Monochrome holders.
BLOOD: held by Razor (U).
CRIMSON: held by Eros (X).
CHERRY: held by Zwei (D).
RUBY: held by Jewel (D,H).
MAROON: held by the "dead red" voice (D).
CADMIUM: held by Cannon (X).

ORANGE
CORE: held by Lynne Stabelle (C).
VERMILION: held by Algorith (U).
TANGERINE: held by Hyakin (M).
CORAL: held by Amara (M).
PEACH: held by Kalisha (M).
GAMBOGE: none.

YELLOW
CORE: held by Josephina Bellameire (C).
AMBER: held by Genesis Apolymis (I).
VANILLA: held by Sylvain (U?).
GOLDENROD: held by Marigold (L).
GOLD: none.

GREEN
CORE: held by Nathaniel Victoire (C).
SAGE: held by Sergei (M).
JADE: none.
OLIVE: none, previously held by Bridget (X).
LIME: held by Cel (D, H).
CHARTREUSE: possibly held by "the oni girl" (D?).

AQUA
(the lineup of this slot is still unsteady)
TEAL: held by Emmett (D).
MINT: held by Minty (U).
AZURE: held by Einsatz (D).
AQUA: held by Chaos 0 (O).
OCEAN: held by Garrison (M).

BLUE
CORE: Waldorf Kalliope (C).
SAPPHIRE: held by the "navy singer" (D).
SKY: held by Kyanos (M).
SLATE: possibly held by the Gent (D).
CRYSTAL: none, previously Nathaniel Victoire (C).
POWDER: none, previously held by Missy (X).
NAVY: none.

INDIGO
CORE: held by Leon Kiasi (C).
ICE: held by David (U).
DUSK: held by Ryman Saikaras (O).
SMOKE: possibly held by the "airport voice" (D).
MIDNIGHT: none.

VIOLET
CORE: held by Laurie Uberich (C).
PURPLE: held by Markus Barashir (O).
LAVENDER: held by Xenophon Lephise (I).
LILAC: held by Christina Marie (U).
MAUVE: held by Isadora (M).
PLUM: none.

PINK
CORE: held by Julie Enantios (C).
CLARET: held by Knife (U).
CERISE: held by Mulberry Delta (U).
SUGAR: held by Sugar (U).
ROSE: held by Jeremiah (U).
VICTORIAN: held by an unknown female alter (U?).

MONOCHROME (BLACK/WHITE)
BLACK: held by both the Tar (X) and Infinitii Eternos (H).
WHITE: held by Jay Iridos (H).
SILVER: held by Mister Sandman (I).
GRAY: held by Sherlock (M).
STORM: none.


Chaos 0's current slot (originally Cyan, then Aqua) is currently unknown, as his manifestation changed dramatically post-reset. Assumedly it is of the Teal lineup.

Julie, Bridget, and Missy technically do not have solid anchors, as the latter two are splinters and Julie is infected by the Tar. However, they CAN hijack actual color cores, and have done so in the past in order to "lock out" people trying to anchor into them: Julie as Pink, Bridget as Green, and Missy as Blue. This hijacking has had negative long-term effects on all three of those slots, and those who hold connected sub-slots.

Jezebel and Sharona, two malevolent voices, seem to hold Black slots by virtue of their strong connection to the Tar. It is unknown whether or not they are capable of existing apart from it, especially since Jezebel is a splinter as well.

It is unknown whether or not the Spectrum has any opinion on the massive number of faceless/ nameless voices currently making themselves known thanks to therapy. We suppose time will tell.

 

 

 

SPECTRUM ENERGY COLORS
Our entire inner reality runs on several different colors of "energy," i.e., the ethereal stuff that makes things exist and function up here. By extension, this energy is inherently tied to the life of all beings native to headspace as well.
Ideally, these multiple colors should all function in harmony, with no corruption or manipulation within. Unfortunately this was not always the case, since the System and headspace itself were both created from trauma. We are moving beyond this, but it is a complex process.

As of 08-23-2017, twenty-six TENTATIVE different color slots have been identified:

 

BROWN, INFRA?, RED, BLOOD, VERMILION, SUNSET, ORANGE, AMBER, YELLOW, LIME, GREEN, EVERGREEN, AQUA, CYAN, SKY, BLUE, NAVY, INDIGO, PURPLE, ULTRAVIOLET?, VIOLET, PINK, MAGENTA, CERISE, GRAY, WHITE, BLACK, CHAMPAGNE?, GOLD, SILVER, BRONZE? GLASS? MULTICOLOR????

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

OLDER NOTES:

 

The four "monochrome" colors can be grouped into one, leaving a total of sixteen. (two 8 point stars)

There are also SEVEN distinct color trios:

 

RED, VERMILION, ORANGE, AMBER,

YELLOW, LIME, GREEN, AQUA,

CYAN, SKY, BLUE, INDIGO,

PURPLE, VIOLET, PINK, CERISE,

BROWN, GRAY, WHITE, BLACK.

 

--OR??--

 

CERISE, RED, VERMILION, ORANGE,

AMBER, YELLOW, LIME, GREEN,

AQUA, CYAN, SKY, BLUE,

INDIGO, PURPLE, VIOLET, PINK,

BROWN, GRAY, WHITE, BLACK.

 

And there are EIGHT distinct color pairs:

 

RED, CYAN,

VERMILION, SKY,

ORANGE, BLUE,

AMBER, INDIGO,

YELLOW, PURPLE,

LIME, VIOLET,

GREEN, PINK,

AQUA, CERISE,

BROWN, GRAY,

WHITE, BLACK.

 

 

BROWN is placed at the beginning with the REDS as it is the "BASE" hue and effectively acts as the "door" between Headspace and Bodyspace.

The MONOCHROMES are a door between Headspace and Heartspace.

 

 

Each of these hues has its own specific sort of energetic function, which pertains not only to how it works in headspace, but also how it affects the headvoices that are bonded to it in their functions.

BROWN
Attributes:

ELEMENTS: bone, earth, stone
It is connected to bone and earth and stone, to the physical anchors of life itself.
Headvoices who hold this color seem to hold a strong connection to the physical body, and/or what it experiences.
Instability in Brown manifests as
...

RED
Attributes: purpose, creativity, drive, audacity,
- It is strongly connected to creativity, blood and the life force.
- Headvoices who hold this color seem to invariably be "artists" in some way. They have a drive to creatively express themselves, through any outlet they deem proper.
- Instability in Red manifests as rage, hedonism,
- The Red color is arguably the most mysterious in the System, as it was originally tied ONLY to the Jewel bloodline. When Jay, the most recent host-piece, permanently moved out of it in mid-2013, the slot was emptied for the first time since the System's inception.

…

 

VERMILLION
Attributes: … 
Headvoices who hold this color (...)
Instability in Vermilion manifests as
...

ORANGE
Attributes: composure, kindness, hospitality, amity,
Headvoices who hold this color seem to work as "balancers," keeping emotions stable and healthy but not suppressed.
Instability in Orange manifests as
...

 

AMBER
Attributes: … 
Headvoices who hold this color (...)
Instability in Amber manifests as
...

YELLOW
Attributes: vitality, power, confidence, 
Headvoices who hold this color (...)
Instability in Yellow manifests as
...

 

LIME
Attributes:
Headvoices who hold this color (...)
Instability in Lime manifests as
...

GREEN
Attributes: balance, healing, peace, compassion
It appears to be strongly connected to the natural world, notably vegetation and insect life.
Headvoices who hold this color (...)
Instability in Green manifests as
*Due to Bridget's corruption of this slot, all headvoices who anchor into Green seem to have a high risk of traumatic resets. Nathaniel has infamously died four times (due to either murder or stabilization failure; he was Blue AND Green though), the Sage voice was brutally killed shortly after manifesting, and Cel's identity was in shreds for years.

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JADE/ EVERGREEN
Attributes: … 
Headvoices who hold this color (...)
Instability in … manifests as
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AQUA
Attributes:
Oddly, it appears to be connected to simple self-care, and a more childlike mindset.
Headvoices who hold this color (...)
Instability in Aqua manifests as
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CYAN

Attributes:
Headvoices who hold this color (...)
Instability in Cyan manifests as

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SKY

Attributes:
Headvoices who hold this color (...)
Instability in Sky manifests as
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BLUE
Attributes: communication, joy, innocence, hope
- It appears to be connected to the sky, and to reflections (not water, just reflections).
- Headvoices who hold this color (...)
- Instability in Blue manifests as the inability to speak, depression,
*Due to Missy's corruption of this slot, all headvoices who anchor into Blue have a high risk of dying. Nathaniel, Waldorf, and Kyanos have all experienced death at least once after anchoring here in the past-- Nat at Julie's hands (initially), Wally from a forced anchor freeze, and Kyanos from major stabilization failure.

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INDIGO
Attributes: truth, insight, awareness, gentleness, self-sacrifice
- Headvoices who hold this color (...)
- Instability in Indigo manifests as panic, fear, paranoia, and confusion. This was notably visible in Leon when he first tentatively anchored into this slot.
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PURPLE
Attributes: … 
Headvoices who hold this color (...)
Instability in … manifests as

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VIOLET
Attributes: protection, truth, spirituality, honor, benevolence, devotion, wisdom, integrity
- Headvoices who hold this color typically dedicate or devote themselves to the protection of something, either a person or an idea. They are highly insightful and are masters of diplomacy. They also seem to have an inherent and powerful spiritual side, and greatly value integrity in this sense in both themselves and in others.
- Instability in Violet manifests as purposelessness, the need to control, doubt,
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PINK
Attributes: closeness, compassion, softness, elegance, union of opposites
- Headvoices who hold this color have shockingly dichotomous but non-split personalities, often displaying two opposite qualities or aspects without self-conflict (e.g. rage and gentleness).
- Instability in Pink manifests as hatred, spite, manipulation, and violence. All Pink voices have the potential to quickly become unstable so they are treated with caution.
*Due to Julie's corruption of this slot, all headvoices who anchor into Pink seem invariably tied to the trauma of sexual abuse, either as sufferers or preventors.

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CERISE
Attributes: … 
Headvoices who hold this color (...)
Instability in … manifests as

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GRAY
Attributes: … 
Headvoices who hold this color (...)
Instability in … manifests as

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WHITE
Attributes: conscious, structure, order, stability, individuality, innocence, knowledge, creation through objects 
- It shows a connection to rainbows, and it displays a similar iridescence.
- Headvoices who hold this color can freely shape ANY energy, but can only work with what is given. They can change their form if they desire, but this must be deliberate and stable. They can freely edit headspace energy, but must stay within creation limits. They also can control what memories are put into the archives, although their access to the entirety of data is limited. White voices also seem to have difficulty moving through time.
- Instability in White manifests as disconnection, the inability to feel emotion, suicide
- It is one of the two "core" monochrome energies of headspace. As such, its holders must be protected, as sufficient damage or corruption to a White core can damage the structure of headspace just as severely.

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BLACK
Attributes: unconscious, community, mutability, mystery, potential, understanding, creation through people
- It shows a connection to the night sky, and it displays an oilslick-like iridescence. Black energy is also said to taste like sugar.
- Headvoices who hold this color have highly mutable bodies, but cannot control this well; it tends to move constantly. They can "bring out the potential" of ANY headspace energy, even beyond limits, but cannot force changes. They also have full access to memory archives, but unless something is put in there, it cannot be accessed. Black voices also seem to have difficulty moving through space.
- Instability in Black manifests as loss of impulse control, loss of self, addiction
- It is one of the two "core" monochrome energies of headspace. As such, its holders must be protected, as sufficient damage or corruption to a Black core can damage the substance of headspace just as severely.

SYSTEM MECHANICS
(aka how stuff works? its really bizarre sometimes)
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It is possible for an anchored headvoice to die, and later "resurrect" without warning. This is because, if headspace has decided that individual "is supposed to live," it will actively prevent them from staying dead, or even dying in the first place, regardless of headvoice interference. The most notable examples of resurrection are Nathaniel and Infinitii, while the most notable example of nigh-immortality is Laurie.