#i don't know if this will reach someone

[fiveisthedaddyhere]

uuuuh hey guys im not okay

[the-dot]

saw something that made me do a double take so: poll

1. for the purposes of this poll, if you have ever written any amount of fanfiction, even just a sentence, even if you don't post it, that counts

2. if you write fanfiction but don't read it please tell me why. i want to study you

[starry-bi-sky]

Blood Blossom Au: Baby's First Commissioner Meeting :)

TL:DR This Post: Danny (orphan) gets poisoned with blood blossom extract by Vlad. He runs away from him and ends up under the care of one Pre-Robin Battinson Batman! Starry is loudly pushing her batdad agenda.

(Also known as "Late At Night, When The Nightingale Sings" on my ao3!)

This was a fun rough idea I've been sitting on for weeks, thinking about how Commissioner Gordon and Nightingale's first meeting might go.

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

Commissioner Gordon likes to think that he's adjusting to the new normal of Gotham very well, -- the new normal being grown men running around dressed like bats, in military-grade strength body armor, committing acts of vigilantism, -- and slowly, little by little, he was no longer being surprised when this new normal pops up out of the shadows like the world's most terrifying daisy. His shaving lifespan thanks him for it.

....

The kid is a surprise though.

Granted, he seemed to be a surprise to the Bat too.

There's been a string of murders lately, -- which, in Gotham, is kind of like saying there's been another storm during monsoon season. And there's just been another; in some dilapidated building down in south Gotham, with the broken, boarded-up windows and mildew-crawling walls to match. The victim is a man in his thirties, multiple gunshot wounds to the chest, left in the center of the room for the blood to pool out around him.

The place is already secured when he arrives, the building swarmed with officers and the forensic detectives. The Bat emerges shortly after he does -- or, he might've been here the whole time, hiding someplace dark and shadowy. For his own sanity, Gordon doesn't think about it too hard.

The kid is a surprise, and he appears like a bolt of lightning.

He shows up in the middle of a conversation Gordon is having with the Bat.

A whistle, sharp and loud, slicing through the air, meant for open air rather than a confined space. Gordon's ears pierce and protest the sound, and the solemn, murmured chatter floating through the room abruptly cuts off like the swing of a gavel. As he turns towards the sound -- as they all do -- he swears, up and down, that he sees Batman's shoulders jump, just slightly.

At the source, perched on the window, is a boy. A boy in a gray-blue scarf and an oversized black hoodie, one that hangs off his frame and has ace bandages wrapped around the wrists in some attempt to cinch the sleeves. The hood is up, big like the rest of it, and threatens to swallow the upper half of the boy's face whole in the fabric. What upper half Gordon can see, is smeared with some kind of opaque, black face paint. He's holding onto the side of the frame with one hand, on his hip is a grappling hook. A familiar grappling hook.

Gordon has multiple questions, and his officers tense up.

Martinez puffs up, brows furrowing as his face shapes into a frown. Shoulders rolling back. "You can't be here, kid--"

The reaction is immediate, like a spark to gunpowder, the boy yanks his fingers from his mouth and his mouth twists into a scowl. Head snapping over to Officer Martinez, his hood manages to stay on but Gordon swears that as he bares his teeth, the glint makes them look sharper than they should be. His voice is rasp and quiet and harsh; snappish in its hissing; "Put a fuckin sock in it, Martinez. I'm not stayin."

Martinez reels back, and the boy immediately veers his attention off him. Like a switch, his demeanor drops. Despite half his face being covered, his mouth twists into a cringing, apologetic smile. Slanted and off-beat, embarrassed. It'd be disarming if this wasn't Gotham, and if he didn't just hiss at Martinez like he was about to bite his head off.

"Sorry." He whispers, voice deceptively polite and softer now. Gordon has to strain his ears to hear him. "I was looking for him."

He points his finger towards-- Gordon? No, Gordon follows the direction, and finds himself looking at -- the Bat.

The Bat, who always looks stiff as a pole, now looks even stiffer. Somehow. Well, the explains the grappling hook attached to the boy's waist.

"What are you doing here?" The Bat says, gruff and unable to completely smother the stumble of surprise in his tone.

The boy still holds a sheepish smile, and slips off the window ledge. His feet hit the creaky boards with a near-silent thud, the Batman finds his feet and rapidly begins crossing the room.

Gordon notes the slight tremble in the boy's legs as he straightens. He adjusts his scarf, which droops close to his knees now that he's standing, and slings a backpack -- how long has had that? -- off his shoulders. When the Bat reaches his side, he does as he always does, and looms over the boy like a spectre. A threatening mass of shadows cloaked in all-consuming black. Standing next to him, the boy looks teeny in comparison.

The Bat is a man who terrifies even the most hardened criminals, Gordon has seen grown men shiver in fear at the mention of his name. And yet when the boy looks up at him, he doesn't even flinch.

Instead, his sheepish smile melts away like ice under the sun, holding only traces of his previous embarrassment. It remains as a shadow on his face, a small upturn at the corners of his mouth. The boy pushes his hood back just enough to reveal glinting, ice-flint eyes surrounded in tar-black face paint. He holds the backpack up with one arm. "You forgot this."

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Sharing is Caring!

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[canisalbus]

I really appriciate how often Machete is depicted struggling and feeling like a burden, while still being loved and supported by Vasco. It gives the top tier angst of "i'm not good enough, I'm not worth it" but you frame it in such a way where it's clear that's just how he *feels* and is not how things really are, but also it's so nice to see someone who struggles quite often in a loving and unique relationship that suits them. The narrative of not being able to love or be loved unless you're consistently healthy is really tiring lol.

.

[critter-wizard]

ep 43 had me tearing up in a fucking shopping centre ‼️‼️

b+w alt version that I truly couldn't decide if I liked it more . Also I included a lot of thoughts in the tags but they're somewhat incoherent<3

[oneshotgremlin]

Up and Down

Thoughts on how beings generally perceive their world one spatial dimension lower than the dimensionality of the space they inhabit:

In the flatlands, the way people perceive the world around them is through lines, and so visual receptors HAVE to be on the edges of their shapes

Otherwise by all accounts the person would be effectively blind

So Mrs.Red and Mr.Blue have this strange yellow boy

Who appears to be born with no eyes

(It’s directly in his center, but without tests and doctors nobody can see it)

And for all intents and purposes, the boy is blind

He has to feel his way around buildings and people (in his hand a black cane that his parents bought to aid him)

And he doesn’t know what his parents look like, and only knows them by their voice as they guide him

They love him all the same, regardless

(Meanwhile, he stares up at the infinite expanse of the night sky. But the thing about infinity is that it makes where you stand so infinitesimally tiny in comparison, and no matter how far you run side to side the stars do not move an inch for you. And if they’re all someone sees, the only logical conclusion that can be drawn is that where they are is unspeakably, claustrophobically small)

(It doesn’t matter if the kids at school bully him and the adults look at him with pity and disdain that he can’t even see, because don’t they know how SMALL they are? Don’t they know how small EVERYTHING is?)

And so, with years and years and nowhere else to go, Bill reaches UP

(And no-one else has tried before, because why would they? There is no up or down to conceive, only forwards and backwards and left and right.)

It takes unimaginable amounts of energy to punch a rift into a dimension. In a time and space unmeasurably far away, a six fingered man and his five fingered twin would learn that lesson well

In the flatlands, it’s less of an interdimensional portal looming ominously in a metal room and more of a calculation

l is for length. w is for width. h is for height

And like a computer told to divide by zero, everything falls apart

Did you know that when energetic particles that erupt from the stars collide with a sufficiently nitrogen rich atmosphere, it produces the color blue?

Did you know the only reason the flatlanders didn’t drift off into the freezing cold yet boiling hot void of space, despite not having a planet with the volume and mass needed to produce a gravitational field, is their dimension’s lack of third dimensionality?

Like insects pinned underneath glass, yet the glass protected their corpses from falling apart?

They scream. He cries. He laughs. They die.

It’s an old saying: “When gravity falls and earth becomes sky beware the beast with just one eye”

And when little Billy looks away from the stars, looks down to finally see his tiny, minuscule home

For the first and last time, he sees a blue triangle with a hat, and a red triangle with a bow.

[shouldprobablybereading]

Great job by Whelan as always but I do hope that is not what the railing looks like all over urithiru, because that's a major safety hazard. Totally not PBL complient

[tempesttz]

i feel like causing problems today: correcting actual endogenic misinformation on the anti endo blog about "correcting misinformation"

WARNING: VERY LONG POST ABOUT SYSCOURSE BELOW THE CUT! you have been warned. stay safe! :3c

[/image id: screenshot of tumblr blog @antimisinfo, the blog's profile picture, and the blog's header stating "correcting misinformation." end id.] (before we get into this, some of these images will be very bright! i will try to provide accurate image ids to every screenshot i post. stay safe!) okay so see this account right? op has no clue what they're talking about. addressing pronouns right now, i was going to refer to them by their preferred collective pronouns but i can't find them? i checked their carrd and their alters all had different pronouns and their about me just says this

[/image id: text stating, "horned haters is a subsystem filled with alters who hate endos / pro-endos. our whole system does but we are more passionate about it and plan to try make as many safe spaces for anti-endos as we possibly can!" end id.] so at least i know they prefer alters. cool [happy] so far okay whatever they REALLY hate endogenic systems thats cool thats whatever nothing new there but

[/image id: five images of different flags, likely did/osdd related, anti endo related, or something similar. text underneath flags states "system hot takes," "anti endo support group," "anti endo system terms," "agre and littles safespace," and "fictive stuff." end id.] jegus dude you weren't joking about being passionate about hating. this is like, grade a hater here. but i digress this probably isn't the post to be screwing around on i'll keep the screwing to a minimum i promise. that being said i don't promise to be nice, i do not owe anyone kindness, especially when they are not kind to me. i will try to be polite. so this is already splendid right but you would think with this many accounts dedicated to hating endogenic systems (they also own anti endo vents, i think?) they would at least know what they're talking about, right? right?????

[/image id: text reading "so what are endos? endos or endogenics are people who claim to have did/osdd without trauma or claim to have alters/be a system without having did/osdd." end id.] source: endos / endogenics and why they aren't valid, may 8 2024 for the sake of convenience, i'm going to be referring to did/osdd as osddid from now on. okay so first of all, anyone who claims to be endogenic while having osddid is almost definitely also traumagenic and has reasons rooted in trauma, those two things aren't mutually exclusive. endogenic is a broad, personal label. an endogenic system with did could be one with a lot of created alters or headmates. or just two created alters, headmates, etc. who knows! it's a very personal label after all. that being said, to have osddid, you have to have some form of trauma in almost every case, because trauma is what causes the dissociation, amnesia and other symptoms of osddid. anyone who's arguing to the contrary is wrong. you cannot have osddid without trauma? "so tempy, endogenic systems aren't real! they don't have osddid!" wrong. you can be a system without having osddid. for just one example, sourced from the national library of medicine, pubmed central, "multiplicity can be placed along a continuum between identity disturbance and dissociative identity disorder (did), although most systems function relatively well in everyday life. Further research is needed to explore this phenomenon, especially in terms of the extent to which multiplicity can be regarded as a healthy way of coping." (2017) taking some bookmarks from your sixth grade english class (which i can only hope you have passed by now, if you are on this website,) we are going to use some inferences. if multiplicity isn't dissociative identity disorder, but it is a state of being multiple and a system, what do you have? a system without osddid. "but tempy, that doesn't mention osdd!" that's because osdd wasn't a medical term before the dsm-5. not to mention, it stresses that "...most systems function relatively well in everyday life..." and that "...multiplicity can be regarded as a healthy way of coping." osdd is a disorder and an osdd system's plurality is disordered. non-disordered plurality is a thing that exists, and almost all non-traumagenic plurals are non-disordered! so we're already off to a terrible start. op isn't creating a distinction between plurality and osddid, likely because they believe that osddid is the only way to be plural. this not only was disproved above by a literal scientific article on a .gov website, but also the icd-11.

[/image id: text stating "boundary with normality (threshold):" which then moves a line down to a bullet point stating "the presence of two or more distinct personality states does not always indicate the presence of a mental disorder. in certain circumstances (e.g., as experienced by 'mediums' or other culturally accepted spiritual practitioners) the presence of multiple personality states is not experienced as aversive and is not associated with impairment in functioning. a diagnosis of dissociative identity disorder should not be assigned in these cases." end id.] so someone can experience multiple personality states without it being part of a mental disorder. and it's not dissociative identity disorder, and it can't be otherwise specified dissociative disorder, so... i wonder what it could be? well, many things! all under the wonderful way-too-vague umbrella that is endogenic plurality. oh, you need more proof? how about we look to a book written by eric yarbrough, a psychiatrist who specializes in lgbtq issues:

[/image id: text reading "the phenomenon of plurality is unknown to most mental health clinicians. most professionals know this condition as dissociative identity disorder (american psychiatric association 2013), although plurality and dissociative identity disorder are not exactly the same. being plural, or having two or more people existing in one body or space, is just one part of the diagnosis of dissociative identity disorder. many people who are plural do not experience distress from the existence of others within themselves." end id.] what was that, psychiatrist eric yarbrough in your book transgender mental health which was published by the american psychiatric association?

[/image id: text reading "plurality is a more patient-centered approach to what has historically been referred to as dissociative identities. this is not the same as the dsm-5 diagnosis of dissociative identity disorder (american psychiatric association 2013). plurality makes up just one part of the larger diagnosis and does not necessarily cause distress. although many people who are plural have a history of trauma, there are just as many who do not. a plural system is a collection of all the alters present. with some people these alters might come and go, whereas with others they are static and waiting to be discovered." end id.] this is not the same as the dsm-5 diagnosis of dissociative identity disorder, huh? it's just one part of a larger diagnosis and doesn't necessarily cause distress, huh? still not convinced? rapid fire! zarah eve, sarah parry: "not all multiplicity is based in trauma" (2021) mick cooper: "neuropsychological research has demonstrated the inherently divisible nature of the brain and consciousness" (unsure, likely pre-2013) zarah eve, kim hayes, sarah perry: "multiplicity experiences are phenomenologically distinct from clinical dissociative experiences" (2023)

kymbra clayton: "there may be in the general population a large number of people with [multiplicity] who are high-functioning, relatively free of overt psychopathology, and no more in need of treatment than most of their peers. they may not have abuse histories and may have evolved a creative and adaptive multiplicity." (possibly 2005)

the entire endogenic and non-traumagenic resources google doc, created by a diagnosed traumagenic system can we at least establish there's been a recorded medical existence of healthy, non-disordered multiplicity in psychiatric fields and that this isn't something that someone just made up on tumblr one day? okay, cool, thanks. now i wonder if there's a word for that. oh wait. it's called non-disordered plurality and tends to be much more common in non-traumagenic systems. by now you've probably forgotten the actual reason this post exists, so back to antimisinfo!

[/image id: text reading "why is this bad? this is misinformation because as far as science knows did/osdd is a trauma based disorder (specifically caused by trauma in early childhood, which is speculated to be 1-9 / 1-12 years old) and your brain would not split/create alters without reason. you cannot have alters without having a disorder, this is common sense as it's not normal to have alters. to add onto this endos also take over our communities and teal our terms. (we'll make a post with further information on that in the future.)" end id.] okay so first off non-disordered systems exist, let's stop talking about osddid as if it's the only way plurals can exist. second off, you can be multiple without having a disorder, it's literally highlighted in the icd-11 that non-disordered multiplicity exists. see above for disproving that. this is not common sense, because as seen above people can experience multiplicity without it being disordered, therefore meaning it is "normal," though not realistically normal as all plurals are a minority. normal =/= bad/disordered. cool? cool now, onto "endos take over our communities and steal our terms." i have no clue what terms op is talking about (tried to find their elaboration on those terms but it seems they haven't posted it), nor have i ever gotten an actual comprehensive list of terms they think we're stealing, but here we go: the terms traumagenic and endogenic were created by an endogenic system

[/image id: text reads "an important part of the development of these terms involves our journey towards identifying as plural. we have used a lot of terms for ourselves over the last thirty years; since 2014, we have identified as endogenic, but have known we were plural since at least 1990. the road" text cuts off. end id.] the term plural can be traced back to 2003 and even in its oldest records recognize the existence of non-traumagenic plurality. it has always been an inclusive term

[/image id: header reads "heart's home." text next to it reads "join date: january 02, 2003." text underneath reads, "this is my site for people that have mpd did, {;} also i agree that not all is cause by trauma. {;} i was on the ring from ring world and did not know this was moved." end id.] introject is a psychiatry-focused word, meaning that it could be claimed to be osddid exclusive, however multiple communities have used them in tandem for years. it can be traced back to this glossary which was written before the dsm-5, or pre-2013.

[/image id: text reads "introject - introjection occurs when a person (singlet or plural) internalizes another person (real or fictional) into his or her mental space. in classical psychology, the introject is usually a parent, whose advice for good or ill becomes integrated into the person's moral system. more broadly, many people experience introjects as a kind of muse, inspiring them to creativity or self-improvement (a psychologist would call this an "internalized imago"). (psychiatric)". new line. new line text reads, ""introject" is seen as derogatory by some, because it is a psychiatric word and seems to imply that such people of necessity are unreal. They prefer terms like walk-in, soulbond, or fictive. having an introject does not necessarily mean you're multiple. it is an experience common to singlets and plurals. some multiple systems report adopting people from books, films, or real life, making them part of the group and allowing them to take the front if they desire." so, having introjects hasn't even always been seen as a fully plural experience! singlets used to be considered to be able to have introjects too! isn't that cool? not to mention, they also have a definition for fictive in there, recognized as a wider plural term! cool, cross that off the list... oh? what's this?

[/image id: text reads "system - a group of persons in one body. also, the operating system by which a group governs itself. multiples have many different names for this: group, collective, clan, household (or house), family, etc. (may have originated with a few multiples writing for the amateur press; we first read it in an early mpd book.)" end id.] so non-disordered plurals have used the term system since ever too... not to mention, hey, look at this term!

[/image id: text reads "empowerment is for all multiples. It is not only for natural (non-trauma) multiples; you can be empowered and be a multiple who was born as one person and split due to child abuse. In fact, if that's your situation, empowerment is a wonderful thing for you, and is something your therapist (if any) ought to be encouraging." end id.] wow... non-trauma multiples. look at that. is that enough terms? if you want me to look up more, feel free to suggest anything the endogenic community is "stealing" that haven't been used synonymously and consistently in both traumagenic and endogenic spaces since before traumagenic and endogenic were terms. okay back to misinformation.

[/image id: text is a link that reads "there is also a carrd that explains why endos are bad and debunks a few myths if anyone is interested in it! if not continue reading." end id.] i didn't need to click on this to know it was the why endos are bad carrd. this is the most touted anti endo carrd in existence. i'm so sick of seeing it i'm not even addressing it today. it's wrong and blames endogenic systems for systemic issues like "making actual systems be less believed." not a verbatim quote, but you can go read it for yourself and then scroll up and read everything i just said again.

i've never actually seen another anti-endo carrd. which is saying something, because there's a lot of endogenic carrds, some better than others. carrds in general aren't reputable in most situations, unless they cite other sources, which the why endos are bad carrd doesn't. it cites a google doc about cultural appropriation and the theory of structural dissociation, which is about osddid, not non traumagenic plurality. it also implies that anyone identifying as endogenic has been lied to, is traumagenic and in denial, is a singlet who's experiencing a factitious disorder or other disorder misleading them, or are a singlet faking because they think it's "fun." no comment, i'll talk about it in length another day.

[/image id: text reads, "why can't you have did/osdd or alters without trauma? as far as science knows did/osdd is a trauma disorder and in order to have alters in the first place you require dissociation, which is also a trauma (or stress) response. here are tons of medically reviewed sources that say this:" image ends. end id.] once again, not osdddid. also, "as far as science knows..." see above. science knows about non-disordered plurality. op goes on to list a bunch of articles about dissociative identity disorder, that talk about dissociative identity disorder. they are wonderful articles about dissociative identity disorder and prove that individuals with dissociative identity disorder (and by extension otherwise specified dissociative disorder) experience that disorder due to trauma. that being said... non-disordered multiplicity is a thing, and endogenic systems still don't have osddid. seeing a pattern?

[/image id: text reads, "what about religious beliefs / tulpamancy? first people are not required to believe or participate in your religious beliefs (and religious beliefs are not exempt from criticism) and second tulpamancy is a closed buddhist practice that has nothing to do with being a system and should not be compared to being a system nor should it be included / involved in system communities. Note that the dsm-v also says that in order to have did; "the disturbance is not a normal part of a broadly accepted cultural or religious practice." <- this does not mean it's possible to have alters due to a religious thing, if anything it says they cannot be counted as alters / as a system." end id.] okay so i corrected this in the image id, but op actually wrote "tuplamancy" twice. lol first off, tulpamancy isn't a closed buddhist practice. a tulpa is a theosophical term that was originally inspired by the tibetan buddhist nirmāṇakāya, translated as in tibetan as sprul-pa. "the western understanding of tulpas was developed by twentieth-century european mystical explorers, who interpreted the idea independently of buddhahood," according to wikipedia, sourced from tracking the tulpa (2015). a google search could tell you this. did you research any of the communities you are attempting to debunk past listening to what people who agree with you say? if you've decided in the past three months that google is your friend, i would google "echo chamber." second off, people absolutely are not required to believe or participate in your religious beliefs, and religious beliefs are subject to criticism. however, they should also be respected. this post, along with most other things you have had to say, have not respected spiritual plurals. not to mention, not all non-traumagenic plurals are spiritual. not to mention, not all tulpamancers are spiritual, in fact, most aren't. "modern practitioners, who call themselves "tulpamancers", use the term to refer to a type of willed imaginary friend which practitioners consider to be sentient and relatively independent. modern practitioners predominantly consider tulpas to be a psychological rather than a paranormal concept. the idea became an important belief in theosophy." see: wikipedia again. i mean, if you want me to go find scientific articles about this i can but wikipedia has plenty. go check the sources on wikipedia. this should have been the first thing you did if you wanted to "combat misinformation," by doing actual research before posting. op then starts talking about did. see: not all plurals are disordered. op also takes the time to shit on spiritual multiplicity again, which i will rightly ignore, refer to two paragraphs ago. it's midnight and i would like to finish writing by 1am.

[/image id: text reads, "to add on, no you cannot pray to be a system or transition into being a system. if you were to pray and one day magically become a system you are either in denial or you've convinced yourself you're something you're not. believing you can be a system without trauma or that you can become a system by praying is like believing you can get autism from vaccines or drinking too much dairy milk, that's just not how it works." end id.] this is a half-truth! you cannot pray to become a system unless you count spiritual possession (and frankly that responsibility lies on the individual in question), and you cannot pray to have osddid as that's a dissociative disorder that stems from childhood. you technically can transition to being plural (created systems are a thing, intentional and unintentional creation of headmates has been recorded dutifully since at least the early 1900s (see: tracking the tulpa, 2015). for the sake of it, here's a sciencedirect article about authors who experience different forms of hearing their characters in their head, who's recounts all sound very similar to non-disordered plurality. "believing you can be a system without trauma or that you can become a system by praying is like believing you can get autism from vaccines or drinking too much dairy milk, that's just not how it works." maybe if all plurality is disordered. it isn't. see above when i showed multiple examples of non-disordered multiplicity. believing that all plurality is disordered is like insisting that god created everything on earth after being presented with the theory of evolution. the analogy goes both ways.

[/image id: text reads, "what about mixed origin systems? Mixed origin systems are not a thing. did/osdd forms purely from trauma, you can't form from a mix of trauma and not trauma, that's not how it works. if you identify as mixed origin you are likely in denial and really need to come to terms with the fact that you are either traumatized or you're not a system at all." ] okay so first of all people can be traumatized past the age of twelve. ooh burn i know crazy. not to mention, plurality in general is known to be experienced by neurodivergent individuals, who as a minority are more likely to experience some form of trauma. this isn't a controversial statement, right? i don't have to prove this, right? cool great thanks. oh hey i just found a really flat ginger ale this will now fuel the rest of this post. there's this crazy concept, some people can be traumatized without it causing them to be disordered. or, a person with osddid could have created headmates, therefore making some of their system of non-traumagenic origin. personally, i was a system before i was traumatized. this caused my plurality to have some very trauma-based aspects, trauma holders and trauma-focused roles. that being said, my plurality (mostly lol) isn't disordered and my first recorded headmate was a created/spontaneous headmate at the age of ~nine.~ isn't that cool? anyways i've been medically recognized as plural so you can't fakeclaim me [silly] i dont have osddid. don't fit the diagnostic criteria. but i've been experiencing headmates since 9 and have recognized my plurality since 12. i'm 18. most of my headmates can be sourced to when i was 13-15, as that's when i experienced the most trauma (i'm better now stay safe though yall). that's decidedly after the gracious "1-12" estimate you gave, op. not to mention, we created headmates intentionally at the age of 12. so what's up with that op? what am i? okay i'm done being anectodal, i just took the opportunity to parry a personal opinion with a personal anecdote just to further drive the nail in that people like this exist and are living breathing sentient individuals with lives outside the screen and many of us have been plural since ever. i sourced non-traumagenic multiplicity to before the dsm-5 just in this post alone, not to mention tulpamancy (many tulpamancers don't consider themselves plural/multiple or part of the community).

[/image id: text reads, "what about other kinds of origins? Other origins like "willowgenic" and all that bullshit? Yeah no, same thing as endos, not possible. look above for all the proof you need, did/osdd is only caused by trauma. traumagenic is the only valid origin." end id.] i dunno if i told you this but did/osdd isn't the only form of plurality because not all plurality is disordered. also, spelling every origin you don't agree with incorrectly in a post that's supposed to be informational doesn't lend to your credibility. it's spelled willogenic. you're welcome. also, the word "traumagenic" was created by an endogenic system (see above, during "endos are stealing our terms," first link). you're appropriating our terms, buddy. [silly]

[/image id: text reads, "but I gave myself did! / but I created my own alters! no you didn't. that isn't possible, you cannot turn yourself into a did/osdd system and creating alters is a coping mechanism, not something you do for fun, sources on this;" text ends. end id.] half truth! you can't give yourself osddid because it's a dissociative disorder that forms due to childhood trauma. you can, however, create alters/headmates. see above when i talked about tulpamancy. op goes on to link more resources about dissociative identity disorder that don't mention other forms of plurality. not all plurals are disordered, let's move on.

[/image id: text reads, "isn't being a system like the same as being trans or being lgbtq? no, many endos compared the two but they are completely different. Being lgbtq is an identity, it's something you are born as. being a system is a debilitating disorder caused by severe trauma, it is counted as a disability which is;" text ends. end id.] first off i gotta say it again, not all plurality is disordered. op goes on to explain why did is a disability, which is true. that's just true. but again. not all plurality is disordered. second off, half truth! being a system is not the same as being lgbtq! that being said, a lot of systems are part of the lgbtq community, both due to its known effects on gender and sexuality and because a lot of them are neurodivergent. speaking on the internet plural community here, anyways. a lot of anti endos are referred to as "sysmeds" as a reference to "transmeds," people who believe that all people who are transgender must have a disorder in the form of gender dysphoria. sysmeds are people who believe that all people who are systems must have a disorder in the form of osddid.... same thing different font debunked not all systems are disordered. anyways.

[/image id: text reads, "but the dsm-v says that trauma isn't required! no, the dsm-v actually says csa isn't required, there are other forms of trauma that don't involve csa or child abuse. To act as if it saying that the trauma isn't always ca or child abuse means that it doesn't require trauma at all is extremely invalidating to those who are traumatized in ways that don't involve child abuse or csa." end id.] both of you are wrong jesus christ. okay so first of all the dsm-v heavily implies that trauma is basically required in order to have osddid.

[/image id: text reading "dissociative identity disorder is associated with overwhelming experiences, traumatic events, and/or abuse occurring in childhood. the full disorder may manifest at al-" text cuts off. end id.]

[/image id: text reads, "the dissociative disorders are frequently found in the aftermath of trauma, and many of the symptoms, including embarrassment and confusion about the symptoms or a desire to hide them, are influenced by the proximity to trauma. in dsm-5, the dissociative disorders are placed next to, but are not part of, the trauma- and stressor-related disorders, reflecting the close relationship between these diagnostic classes. both acute stress disorder" text cuts off. end id.] second of all the part of the dsm-5 that goes over dissociative identity disorder doesn't mention sexual violence once. the best i can assume this claim came from is an old belief that most dissociative identity disorder trauma if not all is inherently sexual.

[/image id: text reads, "promoted by charismatic individuals such as cornelia wilbur -- that multiplicity was almost always caused by severe, repeated child abuse, usually sexual, and was an extreme form of dissociation." end id.] so... where did you get this info, op? you didn't give us a source, after all. and again.... not all plurality is disordered. so this is a pointless argument to make. shit, i'm out of ginger ale. and it's 1am. it's okay i'm basically done right? uh, right?

[/image id: text reads, "but this source claims endos exist / did doesn't require trauma! most of those sources are extremely old and / or made by endos (or pro endos) themselves. (we'll make a more in-depth post on this topic some other time, but for now this is all we have to say on it)" end id.] first off i dated every source i cited, most are post-2013 and the newest is from last september (sep 2023). the oldest is ~2003. you're welcome. second, if you denounce every source given matter how reputable because it's "written by pro endos," you'll only end up listening to people in your own community. hey, remember when i asked you to google "echo chamber?" also, i'm waiting for that post, op. also also, for the sake of it, not all plurality is disordered, so why are we mentioning did again? oh yeah, because you don't believe in non-disordered plurality. is that because all the sources proving their existence are pro endo? hey, fun challenge, if you're over the age of 21 and find yourself wishing to, take a shot every time i reiterate not all plurality is disordered. [joking]

[/image id: text reads, "but we don't know everything about the human brain! you're right, we don't. the brain is mysterious, but we do know enough to know that it doesn't do these kinds of things for no reason. we know the brain reacts to trauma and we know what the difference between a normal brain and a disordered brain is. just because we don't know everything doesn't give people an excuse to jump to conclusions and spread misinformation. it is better to stick to what science currently knows which is the theory of structural dissociation, which is the current theory about how did/osdd forms, and so far no one has been able to disprove it. and before someone says it, no it is not only a theory, it is a scientific theory which is;" end id.] hey i have this fun concept for you not all plurality is disordered. also, just to throw it out there, otto van der hart, the guy who created the theory of structural dissociation referencing the haunted self and doing so along with ellert neijenhuis, suzette boon and kathy steele, had his license revoked years ago for abusing his plural patients. not to mention they promote only referring to the "client" and not the "parts," and only referring to alters as "parts of the client." i recommend reading this article on power to the plurals, and if you feel like some extra reading, you can also check out this old article about how psych professionals used to be encouraged to bait or purposefully leave information out or use different names for integration to attempt to coerce their plural patients into final fusion. in conclusion, not all plurality is disordered, source your shit, and if you're going to talk about only dissociative disorders at least get your claims right. thank you. stop spreading misinformation.

dave got a blinkie for his post so now i want one

[/image id: green and yellow blinkie gif with the words "written by jade harley!" in pixelpoiiz font. end id.]

[/image id: blinkie with a dark blue, almost black background featuring multiple stars, one of which twinkles. contains text reading "written by kankri." in the pixeloid sans font. end id.]

[crabsnpersimmons]

question on tumblr etiquette:

if you fall under a user's DNI list, but that user reaches out to you via ask or DM, without knowing you fall under their DNI list, do you still respond?

hypothetical example: user A specifies on their blog "DNI if you're over the age of 18", but then user A reaches out to user B. User B is over the age of 18, but user A does not know this because user B doesn't mention it on their blog. User B does know that user A does not wish to interact with people over the age of 18. does user B respond to user A?

[transmechanicus]

Really fucked up that two ppl can care about each other and make their best efforts to communicate and still end up hurting each other so badly they cannot stand to be in the same room.

[starry-bi-sky]

i have... ✨Danyal Al Ghul Headcanons✨ but specifically for my yaelokre danyal oneshot

There's also the tumblr post here but I recommend the link in the title because its the ao3 version, and that one is edited and has some stuff in it that's not in the tumblr post, and will be the version I'm using.

So for summary: this Danyal is also from a Demon Siblings Au where Danny is five years older than Damian. However, things turned out a bit differently, and Danny and Damian had a fantastic relationship with one another. Danny loved music and regularly came up with songs to sing to Damian with. Specifically the folk band Yaelokre's EP "Hayfields" (seriously go fucking listen to it its sooo good. Harpy Hare is the second song but its my favorite. Special shoutout to @gascansposts for introducing the band to me)

He falls off a train when he's twelve and Damian is seven while the two of them and Talia are on mission. He ends up with magically induced amnesia and wakes up in Arkansas while the Fentons are on their yearly Divorce-iversary visit to Aunt Alica, and since he can only remember his name, he ends up being taken into their care.

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

Yaelokre Danny has the same facial scar as Things in Threes Danyal, since he was initially another version of him where things turned out better. I'm debating on whether or not I should take it away however, and give him a different scar (maybe from when he fell off the train?), just because the scar is a pretty key identifier for Ti3 Danyal.

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

Danny frequently visits Aunt Alicia in Arkansas! Well, only after he gets settled in and stuff. He doesn't really like the city that much and prefers the countryside where Alicia lives. I know she lives in a cabin but I'm changing it to a farm, so she puts Danny to work and gets him to help her.

I don't want to confine his hobbies to only being star stuff, because people tend to have more than one hobby and I feel like it reduces him to one-dimensionality, so he likes to garden, and learns guitar. His room becomes filled with plants, and he turns their roof into a rooftop greenhouse right below to OPS Center.

He has a complex relationship with the weapons from his past, but he's not... like... appalled by it? When he finds his weapons in the Fenton attic all he thinks is that they're his weapons, and he starts carrying a knife on him afterwards. Essentially he becomes fascinated with weaponry because its one of the few physical ties he has to his past, and while he's not training like he is in the League, he allows his strong muscle memory to guide him through his katas.

Danny likes climbing things. This causes Problems For Everyone Else.

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

Danny was not the "kinder Al Ghul" in the League. His kindness extended to his brother and family, and that's it. To everyone else he had high expectations out of them, and the pride you'd expect from the grandson of Ra's Al Ghul and trained by its top members. While he wasn't like, unnecessarily cruel or anything, he wasn't merciful either.

This transfers post-train fall as him coming off as no-nonsense and unforgiving. He's not fond of the idea of giving people second chances, and is skeptical of the idea. He's disgusted by incompetency and views it as an unforgivable offense, especially if he thinks that the person should know better, although he's not sure why. Some egocentrism for the soul.

He doesn't like being touched by anyone who isn't family, and gets irritated when anyone grabs him or holds onto him for extended amounts of time. Dash has gotten hit so many times. With Jack Fenton's tendency for abrupt physical affection, it doesn't make it any better. I'd argue it'd make it worse because Danny doesn't want to be touched more often than not.

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

Danyal had a red scarf in the League that he wore on his last mission, it came off before he fell off and caught itself on the roof. Damian still has it and took it with him to Wayne Manor. He's got it locked in his room and takes it out when he's alone and missing Danny the most. One time he forgot to put it away before leaving his room, and Dick was visiting the manor for something and found it. Damian found him holding it and freaked out.

Dick could only say "I've never seen you wear this, Damian, this is really pretty--" before Damian shoved him to the floor and stole it out of his hands, before screaming at him; "Don't touch this! You don't ever touch this! This is mine! You hear me!?"

It caused such a commotion that the rest of the family present came to see what the fuss was about, and Damian kicked them all out of his room. Dick is the one brother Damian's the closest with, so the fact he reacted so strongly shocked them all.

This is likely what leads to the "Danyal" conversation.

[unfinishedslurs]

prophetic nightmares of the dead (steddie)

Eddie’s been dreaming of dying. 

It started his first round of senior year, some kind of prophetic fuck-up from his brain. No one knows except Wayne. Wayne gets it, kinda, from his time in ‘Nam. Knows how vivid nightmares can get, knows all the tricks to waking up and remembering you’re alive. 

“It’s that damn music,” he mutters to make Eddie laugh through tears, after Eddie’s woken him up again with his shrieking and stumbling out of his room. “Or that game. Your imagination is vivid enough without you feeding it, boy.”

“You’re right,” Eddie responds unsteadily. “No more of that devil shit for me. I’m going on the straight and narrow. From now on it’ll be…fucking church hymns and songs about the Lord.”

Wayne hums in absent agreement, still rubbing Eddie’s back. The glass of cold water sits heavy in his hands. He takes a drink. 

It was practically routine. 

He got better at waking up silently, at not running to his uncle after the fourth, seventh, twentieth nightmare in a row. Avoided sleeping at all, showed up to school with bags under his eyes and cranky as all hell. His grades dropped lower than ever, Wayne got more and more concerned, and Eddie kept dying every night. 

The Queen of Hawkins High wasn’t the person he was expecting to understand his predicament. 

“Do you ever feel like you’re losing your mind?”

“Um, you know, just... on a daily basis.” He smiles, tries to make her laugh. Every day until I get out of this damned town. 

Slowly, he wheedles it out of her. 

“I keep having these dreams,” she admits. “Nightmares. Every night, for years. It’s always…it’s always the same.”

A chill goes down his spine. 

“I’m sorry, I sound crazy.”

“No, no, no,” he scrambles to reassure her. “Keep going, it’s okay. Safe space, right? It’s just me, you, and the trees here.”

She nods, unsteady. “There’s…a monster. And he…he’s after me. And when he catches me, I always…the dream always ends with me…” She raises a trembling hand to her eyes, not bothering to wipe away her tears. Almost like she’s checking if they’re still there. 

His blood runs cold. 

“Dying,” he whispers. Chrissy lets out a sob. “Every night, since ‘83, you’ve dreamed of dying.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because it’s me, too, Chrissy.” He jumps up, pacing in circles. “I…every single night, since that Byers kid went missing. It’s not the same as yours but this is…this is fucking crazy, what are the odds—oof!”

Chrissy has barreled into his chest, clinging to him with her arms around his neck. He can feel the collar of his t-shirt getting damp. 

“Uh,” he stammers as she sniffles into his shirt. His hands hover around her, not sure what to do until he settles them around her back. “There, there?” He tries to soothe. It’s not very soothing, with the way his voice shakes. “It’s okay.”

“Something’s wrong with me,” she gasps. “It’s following me. I keep seeing things when I’m awake, my mother and a clock and a monster—“

“Shit,” he says, a sinking feeling in his chest. He’s not exactly superstitious, but he has a feeling there’s more to this than dreams. “Hey, listen, Chrissy, you’re gonna be okay. Nothing’s going to happen to you.”

She just shakes her head, burrows in closer like she can worm into his skin if she tries hard enough. He’s never been hugged like this in his life, and he has no idea what to do with the scared teenager in his arms. 

“Here, hold on,” he says, and carefully removes her arms from his neck. She wipes her eyes, looking away. 

“I’m sorry, I just…”

“No, no, it’s cool,” he says. “Promise. I just wanted to give you this.” 

Fumbling, he drapes his leather jacket over her shoulders. Her cheerleading jacket can’t be very warm, especially combined with the skirt she’s wearing. 

She pulls it tight around herself, even though it probably sticks like weed and cigarettes and Eddie’s BO. He’s a little too preoccupied to be embarrassed about that right now, though. 

The bell rings, signaling the end of class. Chrissy startles like a scared rabbit, dread coloring her whole face, and Eddie makes a decision. 

“Do you want to get out of here?”

Looks like Hellfire’s getting postponed after all. 

They make a stop at Family Video, partially to rent a movie or two, but mainly because Henderson never shuts up about Steve fucking Harrington so now Eddie knows exactly where he works. Why the little rich boy is working a dead end job with Keith as his manager is a mystery, but it’s not one he’s interested in uncovering. Hopefully he’s on shift today. 

All of Eddie’s shit luck must have worked to make the stars align, because there he is at the counter, in all his ex-kingly glory. He doesn’t look up as the bell rings, apparently focused on whatever he has in hand. 

“Welcome to Family Video,” he calls, chewing on a pen. “Let me know if you need help finding anything.”

“Is that Blue Jeans?” Eddie asks, walking up to the counter as Chrissy goes to look through the shelves. Harrington jumps, slamming the magazine shut. 

“Hi, what can I get you—Munson?”

“Harrington,” he grins, reveling in the frown he gets in response. Harrington meets his eyes for one startled second before his gaze travels down to his Hellfire shirt, over his vest and bare forearms, and taking in the belt and ripped jeans. Eddie smiles wider. He oh so loves intimidating the jocks and moral majority of this town. 

“Shouldn’t you be in school?” Harrington finally asks, eyes jumping back up to meet his gaze. 

“That’s actually why I’m here, I need you to pass on a message for me. We’re skipping, and—“

“We?”

“Hey Eddie,” Chrissy says, appearing behind him. She lays three movies on the counter. “I picked some out, I hope that’s okay.”

“Yeah, yeah, ‘course,” he says as Harrington’s eyebrows jut up. Chrissy is still wearing his jacket, and he realizes exactly what this looks like. Shit, is Harrington friends with Carver? They probably have some jock bro code that’s totally going to end in Eddie getting beat up, shit—

“Hey Chrissy,” Harrington says agreeably. “Finally dump Carver?”

She blinks, startled at the insinuation. Her cheeks flush. “Oh, no—“

“It’s not like that,” Eddie breaks in, laughing to cover up the panic he feels. Trying to walk the delicate line between not a queer and not stealing a jock’s girlfriend. “Chrissy here just needs some company.”

Harrington nods, clearly not believing them. 

“Seriously,” he presses. “I mean, can you really see a girl like her with a guy like me?”

Chrissy frowns, but Harrington looks him up and down again. 

“I mean, yeah,” he says. “But it’s really none of my business, I don’t get paid to care who dates who.”

Eddie blinks. It almost sounds like Harrington was calling him hot or something.

Before he can figure out what Harrington actually meant, he starts scanning the tapes. He pauses on the last one, brow furrowing, before he looks between Eddie and Chrissy with understanding in his eyes. Eddie doesn’t know why the sudden change of heart. 

“Rocky Horror Picture Show?”

Shit. 

He has to clear his throat. “You have that here?” 

They don’t. They shouldn’t. It’s not exactly small town video store material. Eddie had to go to Indianapolis to find it again, he knows damn well it’s not at Family Video in fucking Hawkins. 

But the cover stares up at him anyway. 

“I found it on one of the shelves,” Chrissy says. “It looked like it doesn’t get checked out a whole lot. Is it any good?”

Eddie braces himself for the slurs. For the bored retail worker to disappear and the Bible thumping, red blooded American to come out. It’s not Chrissy’s fault, she didn’t know any better, but if Harrington knows this movie and now he knows that Eddie knows this movie, there’s some bruises in his near future. 

“It’s pretty good,” Harrington says easily. Eddie blinks his eyes open to see him smiling warmly at Chrissy, handing her the tapes. “For a, ah, certain type of people.

Well color him surprised. This is an interesting turn of events. 

“I own it,” Eddie blurts out without meaning to. Harrington’s eyes snap to him, widening at the confession. “It’s, uh, hard to find, I had to go out of town for it. That’s why I was surprised.” 

 “Oh, I guess we don’t need to rent it, then,” Chrissy says, completely unaware of the staring contest that’s happening between him and Harrington. 

Harrington looks away first. “Right,” he coughs, and goes to cancel it. Chrissy pulls cash out of her pocket. 

“Oh, Chrissy, you don’t need to—“

“Don’t be dumb,” she says. “I picked the movies, I’m paying for them.”

He shrugs, unable to fight the logic in that. He’s not exactly in the mood to spend money right now, anyways, since he’s definitely giving her a discount on the drugs after this.

“What was it you needed me to do?” Harrington asks as he prints the receipt. 

“What?”

“You said you had a message.”

“Right,” Eddie says. He completely forgot about that. “You’re going to the game tonight, right?”

“How did you know that?”

“Sinclair said you go to all his games.”

“He talks about me?”

“Dude, those kids never shut the fuck up about you,” Eddie says. “Makes me want to pull my hair out.”

“It’s mutual,” Harrington snorts, looking a bit touched. “Henderson already phoned me to ask to join the campaign, man, I’m not filling in—“

“He asked you?”

“Yeah? Wait, if this isn’t about that, then what is it?”

“Tell Henderson he got his wish,” Eddie says, putting his hands in his pockets. “I’m postponing the campaign.”

“Wait, really? Lucas is going to lose his mind, he was gonna be so bummed if he missed your nerd game—wait, why are you telling me?”

“‘Cause we’re ditching, Harrington, catch up.” Sinclair was excited for the end of his campaign? It makes him feel a little bit guilty, somewhere deep in his nonexistent soul. Oh, well. He’s postponing now. 

“I’m going to wait in the car,” Chrissy says, and takes the tapes and Eddie’s keys with her. 

“I see what this is,” Harrington says, leaning closer to Eddie and pillowing his chin on his hand. “You got them all riled up, and now you want them to shoot the messenger.”

“You caught me.” He grabs his chest, pretending to be shot. Then he leans forward with a grin. “What’re you gonna do about it?”

“Maybe I won’t tell them, make them wait for the entire time for you to show up. Henderson’ll do it, you know. Then who’ll be in trouble?”

Eddie laughs without meaning to. He doesn’t believe for a second that Harrington will do it, which surprises him. But it seems like Harrington is full of surprises this afternoon. 

“So she really hasn’t broken up with him yet?”

“Huh?”

Harrington nods behind him, to where Chrissy is in the van. It seems like she’s playing music, nodding along with a small smile. 

“I told you, man, we’re not—“

“That’s not what I meant, it’s just…” he grimaces. “She’s way too good for him. And she’s never seemed…you know. Happy.”

“Really? I’d have thought you and Carver would get along, you know, jock bonding or something.”

“The only jock I’m friends with these days is Sinclair, and he’s as much of a nerd as the rest of ‘em. Anyways, even if I was still on the team, it’s like…I dunno. He sounds like a preacher.”

“The devil knows scripture, too?”

“Something like that.” He shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. How’d you two end up hanging out anyway?”

“Oh, you know,” Eddie says lightly. “Shared visions, strange dreams, things like that.”

He waits for Harrington to laugh it off, to roll his eyes and go back to his girly magazine. It doesn’t happen. If anything, Harrington grows sharp, gets a cutting edge Eddie’s never seen on him before. Not even for the time he spent as king, looking for peasants to push around. 

“Visions? Did you see any weird dust, or animals? People acting weird? Or anything else like that?”

“What?” Eddie blinks, startled. “No? They’re just nightmares, dude.”

Actually, his dreams do involve weird looking animals. A bunch of ugly bats, with teeth that hurt. Whoever said you can’t feel pain in dreams was a fucking liar. 

They’re not just nightmares, Eddie knows. At least, not for Chrissy. Not if she’s outright hallucinating. There’s something wrong with both of them, and Eddie’s of half a mind to just drive them both down to Pennhurst and get it over with. But that’s their business, and he’ll be damned if he tells King Steve Chrissy’s secrets. Even if he doesn’t seem that bad, now, out of the fluorescent lights of their school. 

“Right, right, of course.” He laughs, dragging a hand down his face. “Sorry, I’m just…on edge, I guess. Didn’t get a lot of sleep.”

“I know the feeling.”

“Right,” he says again. “Well, have a good day, I guess. Tell Chrissy her tapes are due back in five days. And, uh, thank you for choosing Family Video.”

“Yeah, sure thing,” Eddie says, feeling equally unsteady after the weird turn their conversation has taken. He heads for the door, only pausing when Harrington calls out. 

“Oh, and, uh, Eddie?”

“What?” He pauses, one hand on the door. 

“If anything…weird happens, let me know, all right?”

He has no idea what that means. “Don’t worry, Harrington,” he says, throwing a smile over his shoulder. “I live weird.”

When he gets back in the van, Chrissy studies him closely. 

“What?”

“What did you and Steve have to talk about? I didn't know you were friends.”

“We’re not,” he snorts. “Me, friends with the King? Can you imagine? Nah, we share custody of some of the freshmen in Hellfire.”

“I don’t know,” she says. “I feel like…” she trails off, biting her lip raw. 

“Like what?” He encourages. 

“You called me a queen. Does that mean we can’t be friends?”

“Uh…” Eddie says, stumbling a bit. He does want to be friends with Chrissy. Even without the fact that they’re probably going to end up at the same cell in the nuthouse, she’s sweet and quiet in a way that makes him want to ask if anyone’s ever told her she can be loud. Her eyes are big and sad, but he can see a smile glancing along the edges of her mouth when he looks at her. She’s clever, he’ll give her that. He’s been caught hook, line, and sinker. “No, I’d— I’d like that. To be friends with you.”

Her smile feels brighter than the sun. 

“Then what’s so weird about being friends with Steve?” She asks, glancing towards the Family Video window. Harrington looks like he’s back to reading his magazine, but glances up like he can feel them watching him. Eddie looks away and starts the van. 

“Well, for one thing, you’re not one of the assholes who called me names and pushed me and my friends around.”

Harrington’s not either, really. Too busy standing around and being self obsessed to bother. His friends did all the pushing around for him. Wouldn’t do to get his hands dirtied with the freak. The familiar bitterness rises in his chest, and he tries to push it down. Looks at Chrissy out of the corner of his eye as he pulls out of his parking spot. 

Her smile has faded, and he could kick himself. “Jason is, though,” she says quietly. 

“How long have you guys been dating, anyway?” He asks, eager to change the subject. He pulls out of the lot, all too ready to leave the video store and the man who resides in it behind. 

“Three years.”

Eddie chokes, not expecting that answer in the least. “Three years?”

“We got together when we were fifteen,” she says, a grimace pulling at her mouth when he glances at her. Shit, maybe Harrington was right and there is trouble in paradise. 

“How do you stand him?”

“He loves me,” she says. It’s not an answer. 

“Yeah, but Chrissy, he’s like, a major dick.”

“He loves me,” she repeats. “He wants to go to college together. He wants to live in Hawkins, and have a pretty white wedding, and a job that pays and a wife that’s pretty and sweet and doesn’t have nightmares about dying every night. A wife that’s not crazy. And she’ll have his kids, all two and a half of them, and she’ll always smile and stay at home and never do anything with her life because she gave up all her dreams for him—“ 

He pulls onto the side of the road. “Jesus,” he breathes, twisting in his seat. “Chrissy. That’s not love.”

“He’s safe.” She looks at him imploringly, eyes wet. “I just have to make it until summer. He can have his pretty little girlfriend, his pretty little life. He can have whatever he wants. I just have to make it to summer.”

He swallows back bile. “What’s summer?”

She looks down. “I got an early admission. University of Chicago. I have scholarships. I’ll pack everything, and run away there, and I’ll never have to see him or my mom or anyone else in this fucking place ever again.”

“I used to hate Steve,” she whispers. “Even if he was nice to me, I used to…just wish he didn’t exist.”

“Shit, Chris, so did I. He was an asshole.”

She shakes her head. “No, because it wasn’t like that. It wasn’t because of that. I was just…jealous.”

“Of Harrington? I think everyone’s been jealous of him at some point.”

Her face screws up. “You don’t get it,” she says. “I didn’t want his house, or his money, or his car, I just wanted…”

“Him?”

“No!” She pulls her hair in front of face, looking at him desperately. “I wanted to be him, because he was…”

He really doesn’t know where this is going. “Because he was…?”

“Nancy,” she breathes with a sigh. “He had Nancy Wheeler, and she was pretty, and smart, and I…I wanted it to be me.”

Oh. Oh. Holy shit, Chrissy Cunningham is coming out to him on his ratty couch. He’s safe, she’d said about Jason, and he’d thought she was talking about all the other ways he was convenient, but… there’s safety in a shield. Easier to hide behind a boyfriend then have people asking questions you can’t answer. He’ll eat his shoes if Jason knows, but at least he’s good for something. 

She’s turning pale. “I’m—I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—I don’t know why I thought—“

“Woah, woah, woah,” he says, grasping her hand as she tries to flee. “Chrissy, I—Chrissy, wait. Me too, okay?” 

She freezes. “You too?”

“Yeah, Chris, me too.”

“Like you had a crush on Nancy too?”

The look he gives her speaks volumes. 

“Oh.” She settles back down on the couch, her too-thin wrist trembling in his grip. “Okay.”

“Okay?” He asks, just to make sure. 

“Okay,” she says. 

“Good.” He sighs, lets go of her hand to run his fingers through his hair. “So, Wheeler, huh?”

A flush blooms across her face. 

Steve breaks the surface again, looking panicked, before being dragged back under. 

Immediately it’s chaos. 

“Steve?” Nancy calls, looking over the side of the boat frantically. “Steve?”

Robin jumps in. 

“Woah, woah, woah,” Eddie says, as something determined flashes over Nancy’s face. “Let’s think about this—“

She takes a deep breath and dives in after her. 

“Shit!” He looks at Chrissy, eyes wide with dread. “We’re not going in there, are we?”

Sounds echo from the shore. Shit, the police. 

They’ll probably die if they go down there. But if the cops find them, they’ll take Chrissy’s Walkman, and then she’ll definitely die. 

He sees the same resolve settle over her face. 

“This is crazy,” he mutters. “This is crazy! Dammit, dammit, dammit!”

 She takes his hand. “On three?”

He lets out a hysterical laugh, gripping her hand tightly. 

Chrissy counts to three. 

They jump. 

He spits blood. It dribbles down his chin, and Eddie follows it down, down, watches a few drops land on that glorious chest and thanks every god there is that he’s too scared for the frankly impressive boner that wants to form. 

Chrissy elbows him. 

“Hey! What was that for?”

“You’re drooling,” she whispers. 

“Can you blame me?” He hisses back. “Look at him! That was some fucking Ozzy shit right there!”

She gives him a look. 

He toes one of the dead bats by his foot. Ugly little fucker, with sharp teeth. It’s almost familiar. 

He doesn’t get too far with that train of thought. 

“Sense of humor still intact, that’s good.” She chuckles nervously. Then she shakes him. 

“Ow, Rob!”

“You have to stop doing shit like this! ‘Hur, dur, I’m Steve, I’m going to go into the highly dangerous portal and get eaten by bats because I’m stupid—“

“I don’t sound like that!” He bats her hands away from his torso. “Also, you seem to be forgetting the part where I was dragged against my will.”

“You can’t take any more concussions, Steve!”

“No concussion,” he says, and takes her hands in his. She pauses to breathe. They look like they’re in their own little world, and something bitter twinges in Eddie’s chest. “No rabies, no concussion, I’m okay.”

“You’re definitely not,” Nancy says as she moves in to wrap his injuries. He grunts in pain. 

“I’m fine,” he insists, and Eddie snorts. He gets a scathing look in return. 

“We are not fine,” Eddie says. “We’re in some sort of hell dimension, shit, I…” he turns in a circle, finally taking in the world they’re in. Everything is grey and barren. Red lightning cracks across the sky. 

It looks exactly like his dream. 

He lets out a nervous laugh. “What the fuck,” he says. “What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck—“

“Eddie?” Chrissy grabs his hand, and he turns to her with wide eyes. 

“Chrissy, it’s just like my dream. This world, those weird fucking creatures, it’s exactly like…”

She turns pale. 

“Dream?” Nancy asks, sharp. “What dream?”

“It’s crazy,” Eddie says weakly. He’s starting to believe it less and less. 

“It’s both of us.” Chrissy straightens, raising her chin. “It’s always the same thing. For me, it’s a monster. He takes my eyes, snaps my limbs.” Mercifully, none of them point out the similarities with the recent killings, although all three of them straighten. “For Eddie, it’s…”

“Bats,” he says. “Ugly fucking bats, with sharp teeth. Everything is grey and desolate, and there’s this kid—“

The other three exchange what can only be described as a look. 

“I’m crazy,” Eddie pleads, trembling. Please, for the love of God, please tell me I’m crazy. Stick me in the loony bin, tie me up and leave me on the front steps of Pennhurst. Please. 

“You’re not crazy,” Nancy confirms. It feels like a death sentence. 

“So, what’s the story there?” Eddie asks, tripping over a rock. “How’d you figure out the whole ‘Prophetic Nightmares mean death’ thing, anyway?”

Steve furrows his brow. “You’re taking this surprisingly well.”

“I’m not.” Eddie lets out a laugh. “Trust me, I’m not at all. But I think some part of me had always known, you know? Like, it was too real to be just my imagination.”

Steve nods. “As far as we can tell, it’s only people who die from the Upside-Down,” he tells Eddie. “Has to be directly from it, no second-hand murder or anything.”

“Great.”

“Yeah.” He grimaces. “And it can change, you know? You might be having nightmares one night, and then you do something significant enough to change your…fate or whatever, and they’re gone. Or maybe something happens, and you start having them. It’s not always set in stone, you know?”

“Well, good,” Eddie breathes. There’s a chance they get out of this. “That’s good.”

“Yeah.”

“How do you know all this? Like, do people just come up to you and tell you their nightmares? Do you go around asking everyone in Hawkins what they dream about?”

“As far as we can tell, it started with Barb.”

“Barb?”

“Yeah, uh, Barbara Holland?”

“The one who died from the chemical leak?”

There’s a heavy silence, where Steve looks at Nancy. There’s regret in his eyes. 

“She had a nightmare, the night Will disappeared. Told Nancy a monster took her, something with no face and lots of teeth. Nancy told her to lay off the horror movies.”

Something sinks in his stomach. 

“That night, they came over to my house, you know? We were messing around, being stupid, and Barb cut herself. It wasn’t supposed to be a big deal, we told her to go home and went inside. The next day, she was missing.”

“Shit,” Eddie breathes. “The chemical leak?”

“Bullshit,” Steve confirms. 

“Shit.”

Steve blinks, eyes jumping back up to his. “What?” He asks, sounding breathless. Poor guy. Those bites must hurt like hell. “Sorry, I didn’t hear that.”

“It’s fine,” Eddie says, even though his mood sours a bit at the idea of Steve not listening to him. “I was just saying, you and Wheeler looked pretty cozy. I think you’ve got a chance.”

Steve stares at him. “…what?”

“Christ, Harrington, your ex-girlfriend! Nancy Wheeler, who leapt after you without a second thought and was giving you eyes the whole time she was patching you up. I’m telling you to win her back.” Sorry, Chrissy. She'd told him she was over that particular crush, though, so he figures it's fair game.

“Nancy? You want me to date Nancy again?” He asks, as if the idea is so far out of the realm of possibility that it’s baffling. 

“Do you not?”

“Not really.”

“Why?” Eddie asks, because if there’s anything he’s learning about himself these days it’s that he’s a bit of a masochist. “Isn’t she the perfect girl for you?”

She is. They fit so well, Eddie could see it from space. Nancy Wheeler, with her determination and fearlessness, guns in her room and fire in her heart. Steve Harrington, the hero, the protector, standing at her side where he belongs. It’s so storybook it practically writes itself. 

But Steve’s shaking his head. “We weren’t…good together,” he says haltingly, as if he’s debating on whether to even tell Eddie this. “I wanted to ignore it all. I was scared of what I’d seen, scared of the government guys whose NDA’s I signed, just…scared. I wanted to pretend like it never happened, like  everything was normal. Nancy couldn’t do that. She lost Barb, and I…told her to forget. I told her to just put out the story the Feds were selling, because I was a coward. Barb’s parents sold their house to hire an investigator for a girl we knew was dead, and god, Nancy’s face…”

Eddie doesn’t know if he wants to hear this. He looks back up at the girls walking ahead. Nancy looks as fiercely determined as usual, but for the first time, he wonders what’s behind it. 

“I hurt her, and she hurt me,” Steve continues. “I…shit, I really thought she loved me, you know? I thought we would get married, have kids, the whole nine yards. Realizing it was all…well, bullshit, that was almost worse than any concussion I’ve had, but I don't blame her. I wasn’t what she needed.”

“And now? I mean, you’re clearly a different guy than you were back then,” Eddie says, because he’s kind of nosy at heart. Steve’s being all introspective and shit, just giving up all this information for free, and he wants to know more. It’s not at all because something in him turns smug when faced with the fact that the world’s most fated couple aren’t fated at all. Are actually kind of terrible together, if Steve’s to be believed. 

“It’d just be the same thing all over again. I’ll always love her, but we want different things. Different priorities and stuff. I wouldn’t be able to keep up, and she’s not going to slow down for me.”

It doesn’t mean he has a chance. Eddie’s got, like, negative chances with Steve Harrington. Still, the little peacock in him preens. 

“What does she need, then?” 

Steve’s face is almost wistful. “She needs someone like Jonathan. He’s got…drive, or whatever. He’s someone you know you can trust to do what needs to be done. The two of them made sure the stuff about the chemical leak was published, you know that? Nancy needed closure, and Jonathan made it happen. He’s cool like that. And he’s good to have in a fight, too. Throws a mean punch.” He smiles wryly at that, touching his temple like he’s lost in a memory. “He’s passionate, and caring, and he’s so stressed all the time, but he still manages to be, like, soothing. And he’s got those eyes, you know? They’re big and sad and like, wet all the time. He always looks like he’s about to cry, but it works for him. He’s just…he’s good at making people feel safe.”

Eddie barely processes the words, too busy staring at Steve in confusion, jealousy churning in his gut. Which is to be expected, given that he’s been pushing said jealousy down for this entire conversation, but he doesn’t know how they went from Steve’s relationship with Nancy to how pretty Jonathan Byers’s eyes are. 

He’s good at making people feel safe. God, he had it all wrong. In the wake of finding out they’d lived through three world-ending apocalypses, that might be the greatest confession of love he’s ever heard. And it’s from King Steve, about a boy that humbled him so bad he drop-kicked his crown straight across the country. 

Steve catches him staring and shuts his mouth with a click. Everything has a washed, gray tinge to it, but he swears his cheeks flush.

“I’m rambling,” he laughs, looking slightly panicked. “I was just trying to say that Nancy and I don’t fit together. Not like that. I don’t really know if we ever did.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, “I’m starting to see why.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”  

“Nothing,” he squeaks. Well, in for a penny, out for a pond, right? He’s already in hell, might as well try and sus Harrington out while he’s at it. “Just…Byers? Really?”

“I don’t—“

“Didn’t he kick your ass?”

“Not you too!” Steve groans. “I already got the third degree from Robin. I was asking for that beatdown. Shit, some of the stuff I said was so nasty it makes me want to take a shower when I think of it.”

His eyebrows fly up at how easily he’d given up denial. “Gotta say, I didn’t think he’d be King Steve’s type.”

“He—I—he’s not—“ he stammers. Never mind, then. Denial still firmly in place. 

At least until Steve lets out a sigh. “I don’t know why I’m trying to deny it. I can see that hanky in your pocket.”

Eddie’s eyes widen innocently. “Oh, this?” He asks, tugging it a bit for emphasis. It stays firmly in place, because he’ll be damned if he doesn’t pin it. He learned after the first three he lost to miscellaneous chaos. 

“Don’t play dumb, that’s my job,” Steve complains. “Shit, I can’t believe I said all that. That’s fucking embarrassing.”

“I mean, I just tried to get you to win back your ex-girlfriend when you’re in love with her boyfriend,” Eddie says mildly. “I feel like we’re both embarrassed here.”

Steve’s flush would be visible from outer space. “I’m not in love with him.” 

“Who are you trying to convince here?”

“I’m not!” He protests. “Like, yeah, I used to be, but I’ve moved on. Firmly moved on. I love him in the same way I love Nancy, you know? Like, she’s the first person I ever loved, and he made me realize that I like both. They’re always going to be part of me. But I’m not in love with him anymore.”

Eddie’s heart takes off without his permission. 

“Don’t tell Lucas,” she pleads. 

“I won’t,” Steve promises. 

Max hesitates.

“You don’t have to tell me if—“

“I’ve been having Nightmares.”

Eddie sucks in a breath. 

“What?” Steve sounds…shit, there’s not a way to describe how broken Steve’s voice is with just those four words. 

“Ever since Billy died,” Max says. “I can’t…it’s Vecna. I know it is. He gets me.”

“Max, why wouldn’t you tell us? We could have—“

“I thought it would be easier,” she tells him, voice cracking. “If I just pulled away, I thought maybe it would hurt less when I finally go. And I think—I think I wanted to—“

She cuts off with a sob, and Eddie’s heart fucking shatters. 

“Max,” Steve says helplessly. 

“I’m sorry,” she cries. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, and I’m sorry I haven’t been here, and I’m sorry for thinking I wanted to die but Steve I don’t, I don’t, I’m not ready to go. I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die, I don’t want to, Steve, I don’t know what to do—“

Steve pulls her into his chest. She curls her fingers into his shirt, and he meets Eddie’s eyes over her head. Eddie sees tears streaking down his face before he ducks his head back down. 

“I’m here, Max,” Steve promises. “We’re gonna figure this out, okay? I’ll do everything I can to fix this. You just keep that Walkman on.”

She nods into his shoulder, still crying. It’s violent, her sobs shaking her entire body. She looks smaller every time Eddie sees her, like she’s retreating into herself, and now she looks tiny. Looks all her fifteen years, clinging to the only adult in the vicinity she trusts like he’s her lifeline. And Eddie sees the resolve settle on Steve’s face, knows without a doubt that he’s going to do something stupid. 

“Yes, we do,” Max says quietly. Even from here, Eddie can see her trembling. 

“No,” Steve says. “No, no, no, no, no.”

She’s got a whole plan though. Outlines it with steel in her voice, confident enough that everyone nods along. If Eddie didn’t know better, he’d believe in it too. 

Steve looks damn near apocalyptic. “Max,” he says through gritted teeth, “can I talk to you in the other room?”

Lucas stands up with her, but Steve stops him with a look. Still, he doesn’t sit back down until Max puts a hand on his arm. 

“It’s just Steve,” she tells him quietly. “We just need a minute.”

No one says anything as they close the door to Max’s room behind them. A deafening click of the latch in the silence. 

As soon as the door is closed, Dustin and Erica have their ears pressed to the wood. Chrissy isn’t far behind. 

“Guys,” Nancy hisses, even as she creeps closer, “really?”

“This should be a private conversation,” Robin whispers, wringing her hands as Lucas tiptoes across the room to join them. “Like, you know how Steve gets about you munchkins, obviously he wouldn’t take this well. Honestly, I’m not taking this well, and I’m not your guy's babysitter-slash-big brother-slash-dad. But it’s the best plan we’ve got, unless we want to just let Vecna-slash-Henry-slash-One to give up and find his fourth victim somewhere else and we wouldn’t know who it was and then he really will open the gates and kill everyone we know—“

She’s shushed by four different people. 

Eddie gives in, crossing the room as silently as he can to join their little eavesdropping party. Robin follows him. 

“—said you weren’t ready,” Steve is snapping, voice barely muffled through the door. Thank God for shitty trailer soundproofing. “I told you all you had to do was keep the goddamn Walkman on, and that’s what you’re going to do! We’ll find another way.”

“There is no other way, Steve!” There’s a light thump that Eddie thinks might be the stomping of a foot. “It’s our only shot at winning this. It has to be me.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“What are we gonna do? Wait for him to target someone else? Wait for them to die, because I was too selfish? Because I’m a fucking coward?”

“Yes!” Steve hisses, clear as day. Their little group of eavesdroppers look at each other with wide eyes. “Fuck, Max, if that’s what it fucking takes to keep you alive. He’ll find another target—“

“Are you kidding me right now?”

“I’m not letting you die on my watch, Mayfield. I’m not letting you die, period.”

Max sounds close to pulling her hair out. “You’re not letting me do jack shit. I know the risks. I’m willing to do what it takes.”

Eddie’s heart twists. Jesus, she’s a fucking kid. He’s with Steve, on this one. 

“Well I’m not,” Steve replies harshly. “And if those guys out there knew, they wouldn’t be so gung-ho about it either. You know damn well if you told them you were having Nightmares—“

Dustin loses his balance, and falls on the floor with a thud that seems to echo in the sudden silence that follows. Everyone freezes. 

When Steve opens the door, he’s glowering. Eddie can’t help but notice the tears in his eyes. 

“Seriously?” He demands. 

“You’re having Nightmares?” Lucas asks Max, heartbroken. 

Max’s face is thundering. “That was a private conversation.”

“If you wanted privacy, maybe you should have better soundproofing,” Dustin snarks. “We could have heard you from the living room.”

“Sorry for assuming we didn’t have to ask after closing the goddamn door,” Steve growls. 

Max pushes past them all, heading straight for the back door. 

“Max, wait—“

“Max!”

“Hold on—“

Steve starts after her, stopping them all in their tracks with a glare when they try to follow. He doesn’t say anything, just lets out a derisive huff before slamming the door shut behind him. 

They stand there, crowded in the tiny hallway, frozen. 

“I think we may have fudged that one up,” Robin says quietly. No one disagrees with her. 

By the time they come back inside, everyone else is scavenging for apology food. Max is wiping her eyes, and Steve’s hands shake like he needs a cigarette. 

“I’m the bait,” Steve announces. No preamble, no room for debate, just laying it down and expecting everyone to go along with it. 

Obviously, he was hoping for too much given the kids they hang out with. 

“Will that even work?” Erica scrunches her nose. 

“Yes.”

“Wanna elaborate on that?” Robin asks quietly, moving into his space. He gives her a look, but lets her close the distance between them until she’s taking his arm and dragging him to the couch. He sits obediently, and Max immediately moves to the side Robin’s not on, leaving a bit of distance between them like she wants to be close but is scared to touch. 

“Nope.”

“How do we even know if it’ll work?” Dustin asks. “You can’t just decide Vecna will go for you instead, that’s not how it works. That’s not how any of this works.”

“He’s right, Steve,” Nancy says apologetically. She backtracks at Steve’s deadly look. “Obviously, we won’t use Max anymore if she’s having Nightmares, but we have no way of knowing if Henry will come for you.”

“I could do it,” Chrissy offers quietly. Bile floods Eddie’s mouth, and he swallows it back with his protests. “He might still come for me, since I was cursed.”

“You’re not cursed anymore,” Steve reminds her. “You don’t even need the Walkman. Plus, he wants someone El knows. We don’t know that he’d come for you.”

“We don’t know that he’d come for you, either,” Lucas says. 

“He will.”

“He will,” Max affirms quietly. When Eddie looks at her, she’s staring at her own hands. 

“How do you know?” Erica asks. 

“Because I had my first vision while we were outside,” Steve says. 

That shuts them up. 

They’re distracted by Robin standing up abruptly enough to knock over her chair, yelling something incomprehensible at Steve about his “stupid box,” and where he can shove it, whatever that means, and storming off. Steve stays sitting exactly where he is, head down, looking defeated. 

Eddie and Dustin exchange startled glances. 

Chrissy creeps up to Steve cautiously. “Are you going to go after her?”

He shakes his head. When he raises it, Eddie notices his eyes are rimmed red. “You should,” he mumbles. “You’d probably help more than I would, right now.”

She nods and slips away. Eddie sends Dustin in the Sinclair’s direction, and plops down in Robin’s empty seat. 

“She not doing too hot with all this?”

Steve grimaces. “I told her where my will is.”

“Ah,” Eddie says, genuinely at a loss for words. “Well, fuck.”

“Yeah.”

“You not leave her anything?” It’s a shit joke, one that he kicks himself for making, but he laughs. It’s hoarse and cold and all too fake, but it’s a laugh. 

“Like, almost everything I have. To be divided as she sees fit.”

“Making her do all that? No wonder she’s pissed.”

Steve’s snort is real this time.

[bumblingbabooshka]

B'Elanna, Neelix, Tuvok and Chakotay needed to star in an episode where they just talked about their different beliefs and approaches to spirituality/religion. Paired off and all together. I need to gain more insight. I need characterization and I need it to be messy.

[puppetmaster13u]

Meat Marionette #?????

Y'know I wonder what the Justice League thought about when they first met Bludhaven's Bat lol

[musashi]

i JUST realized this might be related to one of my other friends in the mvk fandom suddenly hardblocking me so uh

hey y'all! if you frequent the mvk tag, there is a regular blogger there who i will not name, but who has some sort of pathological attachment/obsession with me. they and i were tumblr mutuals but we were not close. we DM'd twice and had scattered interactions here and there.

they are accusing me of:

being abusive toward them

being otherwise cruel to them

being ableist against disabled folks who are high-support???

sending suibait/having my friends send suibait

probably other things.

EDIT: someone's informed me they're accusing me of posting private stuff from their vent account? the only account i know of theirs is the one we were mutuals on

i can't stress enough that none of this is true. there is no proof of it and if you press this person they will have none. all that happened was some time about a year ago when we were mutuals, i feared they might be vagueblogging about me when i was having depressive episodes and i sent them this message about it:

i was being honest here, but they then turned around and said i was spot on--they were vagueblogging about how badly they wanted me to shut the fuck up, stop whining, etc (paraphrasing, but that was the vibe exactly) every time i needed social support. they have since deleted their message admitting to this. i am so sorry i cannot prove it.

since then multiple mutual friends of ours have unfollowed them because they squat on ym blog and, again, pathologically blog about me. they revel and make posts about "justice" and "karma" whenever i am upset on here. they scream and yell and cry whenever i am happy. they have admitted to wanting to convince their mutuals to abandon me:

again, i can't prove this is about me but i have a lot of testimonials from people who noticed this being in both our circles and can vouch for it. initially i was just going to roll my eyes and move on but i think they might be telling other people i'm some horrible fucking abuser who mistreated them when i wasn't even close enough to them to do so.

anyways, sorry to everyone who tracks the tag! i don't know how to prove that i didn't hurt this person. but... like... if they approach you, please do your best to use best judgement and consider the facts in front of you.

again, i will not be naming them. this is not a callout post. this is a preventative measure, because i am a traumatized wreck and i really cannot deal with things of this nature.