by Scoliwings 

“interpreter horror stories”

(Drake) I stumbled upon this thread about interpreter horror stories, and while ve don't have a twitter, I thought I would share our own experiences.

ve straight up didn't have interpreters for some of our high school classes and had to cope with AP classes and a rotating cast of 90% inept interpreters who couldn't keep up with the fast-paced classes

ve emailed the LEA of the school about how terrible a permanent interpreter was, but that interpreter was her friend and she said she broke down in tears after reading the email and then the (LEA) provided to lecture us for half a hour about how terrible ve were for daring to say that her friend's ASL was terrible (she only fingerspelled for long periods of time)

LEA being the person in charge of interpreters and accessibility of that school i think? but also she was our homeroom teacher. so yeah high school was hell

ve didn't get permanent interpreters for a solid couple months last semester (in college), either, and some classes just did not have interpreters at all for a couple weeks, and ve still consider that a far better experience than the above

at least if ve have to put up with temporary/contracted interpreters ve know they will be good

that particular incident with the LEA and horrible interpreter from high school traumatized us, so last semester when ve were about to give an important presentation, ve dreaded telling the one assigned perma interpreter of that class that well, ve couldn't have her interpret for our presentation because she was not good at understanding us. she went "oh it's fine i know we've been struggling with understanding each other". ve still don't think she should be an interpreter but god what a refreshing answer
by Scoliwings 

“nameless's thoughts on gender”

Written on January 16, 2022.

(Nameless) A few thoughts on gender. For context, I was replying to a conversation on a Discord server about this article on growing up as a closeted trans woman. Fair warning that the linked article is very heavy in many ways that I'm not quite sure how to describe, but it seems like a harrowing life experience to go through. Kyka found my words very insightful, and wanted me to share them here as well. You don't have to read this heavy article in order to understand my train of thought here, but I thought including it was important.
[ This makes me think that I am neither cis nor trans, and I wonder if it's possible for there to ever be a society where neither of those words are a thing. There just shouldn't be such a big split... ]

A friend of our system asks what I meant by that, what was my thought process relating to the article?

I take some time to think over the questions as I walk on my way somewhere.

[ It makes me think about my own childhood, and how, yes, while I did technically have a girlhood, as this article defines it-- I didn't feel particularly connected to this identity. I like the thought that when people look at me, the first thing they see is not any gender, not any gender identity connected to anything -- but they see me. It doesn't feel like I grew up as a cis girl at all. There were a lot of different interests I was allowed to have that weren't connected to being a girl at all. I simply enjoyed who I was, and I still enjoy who I am right now. ]

[ I'd been gone for seven years before 2022. I see everyone else thinking about it so much, and it seems like it was just never a thing that occurred to me or impacted me in a significant way personally. Whereas my wingmates have stronger gender feelings because... I suppose I don't understand this well. The more rigid divisions of gendered activities happened shortly before I stopped existing for that period of time after age 13. Teenagers become more fixated on labels, on their status in society. Why would I want to be known as something I can't control? ]

[ Why should anyone be judged for that? ]

[ ...and, consequently, I'm not trans for the same reason i'm not cis. Who I am hasn't changed in a significant capacity as far as I know. So, I'm me. I will continue to be the same me that always has been. ]

[ Cis is something that's assigned to you from birth, right? But no one assigned me myself. I developed this on my own. No one else can grant me that selfhood and personhood. ]

[ Does that make sense? ] I ask the friend. They think so, but they need to mull it over. They had been using the word "trans" as unquestioningly as the way that transphobic people use the words "male" and "female" - they add, while identifying as trans is great, it still defines one by their body. I elaborate further.

[ "Trans"... as a body... I don't believe that either. My wingmates have shown me that gender can be disconnected from the body. It is more a very large shift in your sense of identity and perhaps of self -- maybe you feel like you need a change, or this change calls out to you. You change radically as a result of... a feeling somewhere in yourself? And that feeling may or may not be connected to your body. Maybe I'm misdefining it...? Ah, presentation, that's it? ]

[ It is a huge shift in your perception of yourself. It's a radical change to your worldview. That seems like the experience of being trans to me. ]

[ But my self-perception, and worldview, hasn't changed for me. Gender is the same as it always has been. I find it strange that more people are thinking about it so much these days. It's not bad, it's just an odd change that occurred while I wasn't present. ]

[ These labels help a lot of people. But in the same breath, they harm a lot of people. ]
by Scoliwings 

“A letter to our followers from other sites”

Written on August 4, 2021.

(Nameless) This site is probably fairly confusing for anyone who didn't already know us, isn't it? An personal site, hosted on a service meant primarily for webcomics, not necessarily other forms of art and blogging, but that has worked well to our needs and desires in regards to how we'd really like social media to be. We've tried several different social sites over the years -- Tumblr, Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Spacehey, Waterfall, Deviantart, Mastodon, Snapchat, and so on. They'd perhaps work to amass ourselves a good audience to see our works, our comics and animations and literature, but they didn't make it easy to do so. I'm sure everyone has noticed -- over the past decade, social media has become actively hostile to its own users, and this is where I'd go as far as to say it's not social media at all.

This webcomic-like medium we have put our works on also technically qualifies as social media, but it is so far detached from how people might see modern social media. It is so much friendlier to us and our mental health than anything else we have tried. I'm aware it isn't necessarily as accessible, but we don't want to be a product of corporations anymore -- this way, by having our own personal site, we can control everything that people see here. No ads, no other content except our own and whatever we want to put here.

(Erie) ...augh, that being said, we really need to actually update our portfolio site over at Weebly's image description feature doesn't even work! And our commissions, too, there's so much old art. And what do we do about suddenly being plural in other people's eyes????

(Nameless) Admittedly that's new to me too, for different reasons. I don't think I'd be the best person to introduce all of us, but I can at least say how that happened about us discovering that we're a plural system. We'd had some plural friends for a few years, but it didn't occur to us that we might have been plural because we didn't have enough information and resources on plurality or DID in general, not to mention all the stigma around it. Even now all of this stuff is still confusing to us, simply because it's not very clear-cut who is who and who has which interests, and et cetera.

(Erie) I apparently provided some clues that led up to that realization? Someone else in the system tried to go by my name for a few days, and they got such an aura of wrongness that they just couldn't use that name at all, as opposed to it simply being a name that they didn't like. And my catfolk sona appeared in some dreams.

I really want to emphasize that we did gather a fair amount of research and information, and even tried talking to each other and waiting a month before truly accepting that we were a plural system, and going on as normal, because we'd already been operating this way long before. It was a similar process comparable to when we were accepting our queerness; a big realization, but not a world-shattering one. It was just nice to finally have the resources and language to describe it all, even if we can't really be ourselves offline.

So, yeah, we're a plural system who collectively goes by the name Scoliwings and the pronouns they/them. At the moment there's about seven of us, I'm Erie and you just saw Nameless earlier (yes, that's their name), and the others are Shard, Vesta, Drake, Serrano, and Kyka. We'll get an About page on this site later for better introductions.
by Scoliwings 

“dream log 123: moon”


Written by Shard on June 21, 2021. Short and sweet; about ending up on the moon somehow.

dream log 123

i... ve're on the moon, still sharing a body in this one

i somehow got there along with a group of people that signed, i feel like i should know them but they're strangers

not even wearing proper equipment we're just walking around in normal clothes and enjoying the moon and seeing the earth from afar

after a night's sleep, there is an event where the moon gets really close to the earth, so we went to the equatorial regions to get a better look and WOW we were close enough to see the details of the clouds and storms

we all point out landmarks, countries, and return back to our moon hotel where they're all having fun and joking amongst themselves

i wonder if we could safely visit one of those rovers out there

another night passes and i ask someone, how long are we staying here? my watch's GPS doesn't work and it's glowing bright red

"oh, two weeks"


by Scoliwings 

“dream log 122”


Written on May 1, 2021 by Drake. This is mostly about being in a place that's a mixture of an mansion and prison, and it is always raining outside.


dream log 122

(human form, again) i'm walking in a mall and there's a staircase somewhere and something happened and suddenly i'm part of a big pile of bodies for the second time because this is a dangerous staircase why is it still here


we all get back up, go through the mall, there's now rumors about us after the staircase incident, none of which are true


i think more happened in the mall, but it shifted to a different dream. i'm going to what appears to be shown initially as a perfect paradise, but in reality is a prison. i'm always one second away from crying, it's all just really upsetting. it looks like a normal... house? mansion? whatever you could call a big building. but everything -- and i mean everything -- is bleached white, the furniture, the walls, the weird shutters that show nothing from outside except small holes to let light through.


i'm here, around other young people, all being directed by strangers who put on an act of caring about us. i think we'll never see outside, but somehow i get away from being monitored, and am able to peek through one window. outside is a gray, gloomy day, and it's already raining. i can see a big, olympic-sized pool, albeit it looks like a regular backyard pool. it feels even more painful being here.


then the keepers -- i'll call them keepers -- they say we'll have a field trip, and i take a nice, thick blue raincoat for the rain. it's just a mess of possessions and objects being lost amongst the storm of people in the mess hall. nobody is ready, but i am called first, to follow the keepers downstairs.


we go down past an unconscionable number of stairs, to the point that i have to run and run to avoid the crowd behind myself, and i wonder how i got so good at running down stairs. until finally we arrive downstairs, in what seems an entirely different world -- it's still indoors, but nothing is white. everything is dreary, dark and i see a tattoo parlor next to the entrance. the keepers say, a friend of theirs.


we're guided further indoors, but to at least a place with visible windows, and... it's a big log cabin, with many tables everywhere. somewhere was a gas-station styled concession stand. everyone rushed there, taking a vast assortment of confectionary, candies, and i was supposed to get a pretzel for 75 cents, but the vendor handed me four. four raw pretzels


they tasted good. they didn't have a raw texture, but they were soft and salty

by Scoliwings 

“Terrific Tales and Tidings #5: Ghost ferret”

Part of the TTT series. Written on October 14, 2019.

tags: #tale, #secondpov, #ghost, #witch, #ferret, #death


TTT #5

Your form - it feels off, weird, like you're not fully there.


You attempt holding up your arm, and it's a color you've never seen before. Especially not with your human eyes. Your hand hovers over it, trying to rest upon it, and you have a feeling that... it feels right? It feels normal to touch your skin, but you don't have skin, do you?


The form you hold passes through a mirror, affirming two things: one, you're a ghost, and two, you just saw your body right there in that room you floated into. You're dead. You decide that you don't care how you died, and immediately warp yourself someplace else. It doesn't matter now that you're a ghost.


A ferret chitters worriedly at you as you float out of the home - it's yours, you realize. The familiar of a local witch who resided here. You try petting it, and your hand just passes through its head, but it squeaks appreciatively anyways. You love your ferret. What a good familiar. You can't bear to leave it behind, and somehow manage the strength to pick it up and launch yourselves out of there, zooming towards who knows where.


You can't crash as a ghost, but it'd be concerning if you had crashed into the ground with your dear familiar in tow. Instead of crashing, your form slows down, as if it seems to understand that the ground is approaching, and you touch down with ease. One question worms its way to the front of your mind:


How are you going to take care of your ferret? It doesn't know how to survive in the wilderness, you didn't have a backup plan for it, it's going to --


The ferret stares imploringly at you, still hanging from your ghostly hands, wiggling around midair. What, hon?


It forces itself into your hand, jarring everything in your vision, making you both drop onto the ground. Suddenly you feel much more solid yet smaller, more grounded now, and you are less concerned about your witch, and oh. OH.


You suppose it's time to live your afterlife as your familiar. You take a moment of silence to thank it - it chitters in your mind, there is no need. We are one now.


Taking in the warmth of our friendship, we find ourselves a crook in a tree to rest in. It's going to be okay.

by Scoliwings 

“Terrific Tales and Tidings #4: Vampire friend”

Part of the TTT series. Written on October 13, 2019.

tags: #tale, #secondpov,  #blood, #vampire, #deaf


TTT #4

A pair of webbed hands synchronizes: "Do you remember?"


"Do you remember," it repeats.


You sign, "Remember what?" to the small bat in your lap. You're not quite sure how--


--oh. Your neck feels warm, and as you reach it with your fingers, you realize there's some blood on your fingers - it had just been beginning to clot. You look back down.


The bat scrunches up its face with the thumbs of its winged arms, seeming guilty and apologetic. You don't know how it's signing to you with its wings, and you don't know how you can make the sentences out - is it really a bat?


"I'm so sorry," it looks up at you with the most soulful of puppy eyes. "I didn't control myself. It'd been far too long. I took just enough blood to return to my former self - much kinder than the wild apparition I once was - but I took too much from you."


"A vampire?" The sign for vampire lands on your neck, and it's bruised, you realize pretty quickly after wincing slightly. Gotta remember to not touch that wound.


"You must've temporarily lost some of your memories. Or maybe you're confused. Either way, I was waiting for you to wake up. I'll get you some food and water, stay here." It transforms into a human, one sporting a very fashionable, comfy winter coat. Unfortunately, you're unable to appreciate the nuances of their appearance, because they suddenly weigh way more on your lap and your legs are screaming.


They get up quickly, apologizing again, and it takes less than a minute for them to bring back a bowl of rice and a cup of water, which you gratefully ingest.


"So, I still don't remember. Is this my house? Who are you?"


The vampire nods, their deep blue eyes meeting yours, which should unsettle you, but it doesn't for some reason. "Well, this is your humble abode, and I am - or was," their expression changes slightly, "- your friend. We just met a few days ago, actually."


"Ah," you ponder to yourself. You think you're beginning to recall. "You were friendly during the day, but not as friendly as you are now. You bit me just a moment ago, when the sun went down."


"Right," they nod again. "I think you just need some sleep, being newly turned. I'm so sorry. I wasn't a good friend before - can we be better friends?"


"Yeah, let's be friends," you agree as they lift you up from the seat, moving you to your bed, and tucking you in.


You trust your new vampire friend, almost as much as they seem to trust you. You hold that trust to your heart warmly as you fall into an easy, dreamless sleep, holding their cool hand.

by Scoliwings 

“Terrific Tales and Tidings #3: Hopeful creators”

Part of the TTT series. Written on August 13, 2019.

tags: #tiding, #positivity, #thirdpov


TTT #3

Two creators, both close friends with each other, are taking a stroll in a park. They're having a nice conversation among themselves when one of them stops, and so does the other.


The other asks, "What's wrong?"


".... .. ..... .. ," their friend mutters to themself, "Well. I really haven't been feeling good lately. I used to watch the news, but I've had to less. Every seldom so I turn on them, and they're only ever about all the bad things happening."


"Oh, those people. They are terrible, yeah."


"I just... I can't find hope nowadays, either. I find myself creating less and less. Enjoying my work less. How can I possibly enjoy or do anything else when all I can see happening is a bleak future?"


The creator's friend stares off into the sky for a second, pondering to themself. They look back to their depressed friend, and in an effort to lift their spirits, replies: "Well. Things are quite terrible now, you're right. But do you know how I keep going each day?"


They look into their friend's eyes, "How?"


"There are still, and will always be, some good things around. Because of people like us that care, and people like us who do something every day to contribute to society. Even in something that seems just a part of life, like our craft."


The friend smiles, "And you said a long time ago that your reason for creating was to make other people happy. It's because of people like you and me that other people who feel bad about this situation, or any other, can keep going. And I know for a fact that there are many other people like us who care and do something."


"...that's how I find hope. Because of those people that are like us."


The other one looks amazed. They practically tear up and hug their friend.


"Oh, my gosh, that's exactly what I needed to hear! Thank you. Thanks so much," they blubber, squeezing them tightly. 


"No prob. I needed a nice train of thought like that, too," whispers the other creator, hugging them back.

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