#post traumatic invention disorder

[plasmara]

been thinking about how jay is obviously reconnecting with his inventor side (which—don’t even get me started on because i’m actually so emotional about it?? he forgets EVERYTHING his friends his family all of it but deep down he still knows who he is at his core.. mmrnrhrhddhh)

and how when he (inevitably) rejoins the ninja

he’s absolutely going to adopt sora. like. immediately. zero questions asked. he sees her rewiring half the monastery at 3am with five energy drinks and that crazy look in her eyes and he’s like that’s my daughter… and he’s just a dad now

AND AND AND

jay’s not sleeping bc his memories are coming back too fast and too loud and none of them feel good

sora’s not sleeping either bc she’s spiraling over arin and trying to pretend everything’s fine (don’t ask me about this timeline just go with it)

so they both just. keep wandering around the monastery at 3am. inventing vending machines that give you compliments. or robot cats with absolutely no purpose. stuff like that

and then nya finds them one night and she doesn’t even ask why they’re up. like just sits down, grabs a screwdriver, and is like ‘ok what are we building’

I NEED MY SILLT LITTLE INVENTOR FAMILY I CANT DEAL

[hyperlexichypatia]

Even if I weren't philosophically a psychiatric abolitionist, I think I would still hate the way fiction uses psychiatry and pop psychology and "mental illness," because it's just lazy characterization.

Fiction has the potential for rich and illustrative exploration of character motivations, desires, influences, inner lives, values, decision-making, and you went with... "a brain disease made them do it"? Really?

"Why did this character try to kill his own sister?" "Because he knew that she would recognize their grandmother's coin collection and would figure out that her brother was the one who stole their uncle's inheritance." ^This is interesting! What a conniving, manipulative character! I feel rewarded for investing in this book!

"Because he's a Malignant Narcissist Sociopath." ^This is boring as fuck. I read this whole book and the explanation ends up being "ontologically bad person disorder"?

Occasionally it circles around to So Godawful It's Hilarious, like Batwoman, which centered an entire season arc around "The Bad Guy is Bad because of a magic brain science button that switched his brain to 'evil' and he needs another magic brain science button to switch his brain back to 'good.'" Literally borrowed the plot of Bart Simpson's evil Krusty doll. And I don't care about creator intent -- according to me, this is an absolutely hilarious parody of psychiatric culture. Yeah, that is the logical conclusion of "brain disease made them do it" bullshit, good job!

I started to compare it to the "devil made them do it" trope, but that's unfair -- there are a lot of interesting, nuanced demonic possession stories, and the idea of a "devil" can be used to explore the nature of morality, free will, forces beyond our control. I don't believe in literal "real" (inasmuch as "real" is a meaningful concept) demonic possession, but at least it's an interesting fictional lens. Neurobullshit isn't even interesting.

I've seen criticism lately of stories where "the characters talk as if they've been to therapy", and sure, that annoys me too. But I've also seen this criticism applied when characters just have a modicum of emotional awareness or expression, and... do you think therapy is a prerequisite for having feelings? Even in a real-life context, I've seen people say things like "She must have been through a lot of therapy to get to that point" when a person, like, stands up for themself or expresses their wishes. Do you think no one did these things before therapy was invented? Once I saw a story written in the 1940s praised for its depiction of the main character's grief at his best friend's death, because it was "remarkable for a time before post-traumatic disorders were widely understood." Do you really think no one was writing about grief and loss before modern pathologizing terminology? Do you think people were all emotionless robots until someone invented feelings in 1995?

Psychiatry is an inaccurate way of conceptualizing human emotional experience; it's an oppressive way of conceptualizing human emotional experience; and it's also an incredibly boring way of conceptualizing human emotional experience.

[anti-lies]

Attention: After Talking to Another Real System, I've Come to Believe That the Endo Community is Being Infiltrated and Controlled by CIA Operatives

I need everyone to be aware and be vigilant because the threat is real. The endogenic community was invented to divide us and keep us distracted.

Having combed over several big potential CIA operatives, I've narrowed the field down to four possibilities. Remember that any or all of these could be CIA operatives, but I'm certain at least one has to be.

Possible CIA plants

@guardianssystem: This system claims to be a pro-endo "traumagenic" system as a way to give themselves authority. They have activity across multiple websites including TikTok and X. They're notable for compiling this document of "sources" to prove endos exist. This document is everywhere. It has suspiciously become the main compilation of endo sources that they love to link to at every turn.

@cambriancrew: They're a tulpa "system" who runs r/tulpas. For anyone who doesn't know, "tulpamancy" is essentially a form of brainwashing. Tulpamancers say they can change a person's brain to give them headmates, and they've convinced multiple "doctors" to back them. All of this sounds like MK Ultra stuff. Cambrian Crew, besides being an outspoken endo, appears to be well connected, and used those connections to help organize an AMA on r/tulpas. In this AMA, their CIA-paid doctors claimed to have conducted brain scans on tulpamancers that showed changes in brain activity when their tulpas were possessing limbs.

@sysmedsaresexist: A nefarious saboteur, Sysmedsaresexist posed as a prominent anti-endo voice for YEARS, building up a massive anti endo following on this site. Between their SysmedsAreSexist and JustAnotherSyscourse blogs, they practically single-handedly ran the "#shit endos say" tag dedicated to mocking endos. But then all of a sudden, they turn? And like CambrianCrew, SysmedsAreSexist appears to have a close relationship to "doctors," posting a screenshot of an email from Colin Ross, an expert in DID, that appears to support the existence of endogenic systems. All of this looks like a years-long psyop to gain people's trust and convert them.

@sophieinwonderland: Finally, that brings us to Sophie, another tulpa "system." She also has her own page filled with endo "sources" though not as detailed or widely disseminated as Guardians'. The more I looked into this one, the more disturbed I became. Sophie is, as far as I can tell, the system who started "The Future is Plural," the mass movement which we all know seeks to traumatize children en masse and give them dissociative disorders. She also openly brags about teaching people methods to dissociate and hallucinate, says that she believes she can rewire people's brains, and cheerfully is arguing in favor of propaganda.

Please, whatever you do, do not engage with these people. Not only to avoid harassing them, but because if they are indeed CIA operatives, it may not be safe to do so directly. I may be putting myself at risk just by talking about this aloud, and I believe they're already trying to discredit me, but I feel someone has to talk about this.

Community input in finding the spies is incredibly important.

Knowing all of the facts, I'd like to know who you all think is most likely a CIA operative.

[mariacallous]

An air raid alert has just started when Victoria Itskovych joins a Zoom call from Kyiv. “It’s, like, a usual situation,” she says. “But really, it’s not usual.” February 24 will mark the second anniversary of Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine. For nearly two years now, Kyiv has been under bombardment. Some weeks, people have to trudge to their shelters night after night, checking text alerts and Telegram channels to figure out where the missiles are falling and when it’s safe to come out—although, it’s never really safe.

That relentless stress, and the trauma of losing family, friends, and colleagues on the front, has taken its toll. A poll by the city government last year found that 80 percent of residents reported symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder. Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine has exposed the whole of Ukrainian society to battle shock. “We’ve all suffered from this,” says Itskovych, who is director of the Kyiv City Council’s IT department. “Almost every person has somebody who was injured or died during the war, or lost their home or lost their health.”

In the face of such widespread injury, the Kyiv government has turned to Ukraine’s now-famous civic tech infrastructure for help. As the war enters its third year, the municipal government is starting to build a citywide system for providing mental health support to citizens. It’s a vast challenge, but also a unique opportunity—the first time that such a mass-trauma event has happened to a society that has already built the tools of digital government. Dealing with the mental health impacts of the invasion will be absolutely vital to keep society resilient, functioning, and committed enough to repel the invaders. It’s also the key to Ukraine’s postwar recovery, laying the groundwork now for a society that can rebuild itself physically and psychologically from the horrors of war. “This is the future of our society,” Itskovych says. “We are building the basis for the resilience of the community itself.”

At the heart of the plan is the Kyiv government’s digital platform, Kyiv Digital, which it launched in 2017. Before the invasion, it was largely used to manage parking and public transport, and to notify residents of disruptions to services such as road closures or power outages. When the war began, those notifications became more urgent: incoming attacks, the locations of bomb shelters, and the safest routes to reach them. Like other parts of Ukraine’s civilian technology, the city pivoted its tools to keep people safe and support the war effort, bootstrapping and rewiring the systems at pace.

“The first changes to the notifications we did in hours,” says Oleg Polovynko, adviser on digitalization to Kyiv’s mayor. Since then, the digital teams have been engaged in a constant cycle of innovation, trying to figure out what services they can bring online. The war has pushed them to act more quickly, to adapt tools they have and invent things that don’t exist.

They’ve expanded tools for civic participation, letting citizens vote on petitions, send feedback to the city government, and ask for help, such as financial support to repair bomb-damaged homes. And they’ve collected a lot of data, which is how the Kyiv government has been able to measure the scale of the city’s distress—and people’s reluctance to seek help. Of the 80 percent of residents who show signs of trauma, “40 to 45 percent are afraid to have contact with doctors who can help,” Polovynko says.

But this is only half of the problem that needs solving. For those who do want to seek treatment, there simply aren’t enough resources to help them. Clinical psychologists are supposed to limit the number of patient consultations they do in a day, so they don’t burn out. Before the full-scale invasion, Inna Davydenko saw a maximum of four patients daily. Today, Davydenko, a mental health specialist at the City Center of Neurorehabilitation in Kyiv, sees twice that number. When we speak, she’s just finished a video call with a soldier stationed near the front, whom she’s helping cope with stress and anxiety.

Even before the war massively increased the number of people dealing with trauma, depression, and anxiety, Ukraine’s medical system suffered from an underinvestment in mental health provision. “In most hospitals, you have maybe one psychologist. In good hospitals, it’s maybe two,” Davydenko says. “A lot of people need psychological help, but we can’t cover everything.” There is simply no way that the current system can grow to match the enormous jump in demand. But, Davydenko says, “almost every Ukrainian person has a smartphone.”

This is exactly what Polovynko and Itskovych want to exploit, using Kyiv Digital’s platforms and data to digitize mental health support for the city, and so close the gap between need and resources. Their project will focus first on those they’ve identified as being most vulnerable—war veterans and children—and those most able to help others: teachers and parents. The next six months of the project will be a “discovery stage,” Polovynko says. “We need to understand the real life of our veterans now, of the children, of the parents, what’s their context, how they survive, what services they use.”

The project will track people through the process of recovering from trauma, monitoring the treatments they ask for and the ones they receive, their concerns as they move through the mental health system, and their outcomes. Once the team has a detailed map of services and bottlenecks, and data on what’s working and what’s not, they can match individual needs with treatments. A full roll-out is scheduled for early 2025.

“It doesn't mean that the whole chain of the service will be absolutely digital,” Itskovych says. Some patients may be directed to group therapy or one-on-one meetings with psychologists, others will be given access to online tools. The aim, she says, is to create efficiency, to close the service gap, but also to provide comfort, meeting people where they are. “For a big part of our clients, there is more comfort with getting the service online, in different ways. Some people are not comfortable meeting a specialist one-on-one; they prefer a digital way to get the service.”

The project is being supported financially and operationally by Bloomberg Philanthropies, a charitable organization created by former New York mayor and Bloomberg founder Michael Bloomberg. James Anderson, head of government innovation at the organization, says that the project comes at a critical time for Kyiv, where people continue to suffer even though global attention has shifted away to other crises.

“There's always a tremendous amount of attention when the immediate crisis hits,” Anderson says. “But mayors continue to have to deal with the human costs of crises, long after the newspapers have turned to new subjects. That’s certainly what we sense and see in Kyiv.”

The size of the challenge in Kyiv is clearly daunting. But, Anderson says, there are reasons for optimism. Cities have got better over the past two decades at responding to common crises, such as Covid-19, which also required rapid, mass digitization of services. “Every crisis is distinct and different, and awful, in its own way,” Anderson says, “but there are lessons learned.” The Kyiv government, and Ukrainian society more widely, have demonstrated a capacity for rapid innovation to meet urgent needs, and Anderson hopes that success in this project could see it replicated internationally. “This is not the last war. This is not the last crisis,” he says. “I think Kyiv has lessons that they can share with cities around the globe.”

For Kyiv, and Ukraine, the crisis won’t end when the war does. “Psychological health is the number one problem for Ukraine,” Davydenko says, before correcting herself. “Number one is Russia, number two is our psychological health,” she says. “PTSD is our future.”

[lokiiied]

it’s time for my long awaited autistic coded jamie post. okay so…

sensory issues? check. also his lil tongue thing.

not understanding social cues & having to be told/explicitly asking how to interact with people and then learning & adapting; asking for and actually taking every piece of advice he gets from people who are important to him. that’s like. literally the base struggle with autism.

mislabelling his own behaviour as thinking he’s “being a prick” at times when he’s genuinely just expressing his thoughts/gently explaining something to people because other people have always told him that’s what he was instead of differentiating for him that he’s actually really smart and has good ideas.

sometimes he is just a prick tho.

plus there’s his trauma to factor in where he’s also afraid to share his ideas & feelings cuz of his dad.

the way he just assumed he misinterpreted everything and was sent off to man city as punishment for not doing enough about his behaviour and then never asked ted about it after he came back (even though ted really should have had a conversation with him and cleared everything up.)

how he’s remembered all these little factoids about amsterdam that he learned ten years ago and he might’ve had a little amsterdam and/or movie hyperfixation after the holiday with his mum to cope and distract himself from the traumatic memories of the previous time w his dad.

fully accepting his title of being a lil dumb/himbo. even though he also has a lot of knowledge about random things, is one of the best footballers in the league, and works really hard/wants to learn to be better. feel like this can generally be applied to all autistics (replacing football w that one thing that you’re really good at). and idk i feel like autistics invented himbos. so yeah!

also before someone tries to apply all of this to = ptsd…you can have ptsd and be autistic. not everything is a trauma response, and statistically autistic people are more likely to have trauma, anxiety, depression, & comorbidity with other disorders. it’s all very interconnected! xx

while i’m at it, roy’s autistic too!

difficulty expressing emotions and verbalising his thoughts/feelings. growling when he’s angry/non-verbal literally the most autistic shit ever.

his voice. as an autistic who has a very monotone/hard to hear/control voice i. recognise ways of speaking and i register his voice as part of his autism.

not great at communication/assuming people just know what he’s thinking.

also incredibly blunt/direct doesn’t sugarcoat things or lie when it may be socially expected to do so.

literally. his resting face. “you frowned your whole career” “no, i never smiled, that’s different.”

two autistic people trying to hug each other:

+ “well, you came at me too fast!”

anyways mostly they’re autistic cuz i’m autistic and my spidey sense says so.

[rei-ismyname]

Hey hey hey!

So I saw this post: https://www.tumblr.com/isntverynice/778177063642415104?source=share

And I'm having brainworms. Sabertooth, right. Sometime last year, I finally got around to reading the AXIS event, and that's when I met AXIS Sabertooth. When I tell you I started hyperfixating over him, I'm not kidding. In his wikipedia page (yes he has a wikipedia page, I did not know that) apparently Psychologist Suzana E. Flores called him the incarnation of antisocial personality disorder. Which is like wow. Back in the, 90's? 80's? He had Birdy, a telepath help him manage his animal side and then she died. And then, he got WORSE.

Here's the thing right. I liked his AXIS version. It gave him some character imo. Other than the "I hate wolverine and everyone so I will just be the definition of a villain and selfishly do things which benefit me. Slash, slash, grr grr" thing that he always does. Hell, it gave him an almost heroine too (albeit Monet and him would have been a toxic pairing according to the writer, Cullen Bunn, would have been "torturous love")

I also liked the run he had in Weapon X-Men and the Hunt for Wolverine series. Neat.

The Krakoa arc? Good grief. They really unpacked a gold mine of therapy when keeping him in the pit. Douglas and Krakoa really gave him singlehandedly the best version of "Listen, you can change, why can't you change, please try" bit I've ever seen anyone give a marvel villain in the X-Men. And he said "nah fuck that imma do my own thing" and seemingly created hell?? 😭😭?? When he finally came to take revenge on Krakoa/Wolverine, I was like ??? Really?? Now is when you're pulling this card? To the writers. Why throw more stuff at this? We get it, Krakoa is falling to pieces but SERIOUSLY? The dismemberment of Daken is something that's going to stay with me as a genuine wtf moment.

It's just. I liked what he was in the Age of Apocalypse reality. He helped a child, and was a GOOD guy. He was his own person (somewhat) out of Wolverine. They're so perfectly a Ying and Yang that I want to rant to someone about it. (Will probably do so later if you're okay with it)

And his past as a kid? HOLY HELL. That explains a lot, but like, OOF. you know?

Sorry for rambling a lot if this is offensive to you. But if you didn't mind, give me your thoughts PLEASE.

Hey there! Thanks for sending this one in and apologies for taking so long to get back to you. I've had a lot going on but also it's a lot to think about. It's definitely not offensive to me, in fact I love asks like this :). Keep them coming! So, Sabertooth...

I share all of your thoughts on how fascinating Victor Creed is. I'm generally skeptical of pathologising comic book characters, just because there's so much content that it's unlikely anyone has read it all. That's just the comics too, no idea what he's like in other media.

He's often functioned as a dark mirror to Logan but their behaviour and history aren't that different in a lot of ways, especially if you zoom out and look at their entire history. Both have mutations that inform violent/antisocial behaviour, both have awfully traumatic childhoods, they've both been weaponised by governments etc and thrown away when they were too much trouble/no longer useful.

They both kill a lot of people and have dubious support systems. Logan has been given a lot of grace, faith, and love with the goal of rehabilitation, and I don't think Victor really has. Sure, he spent a bunch of time locked up in the mansion's basement as a project for Xavier. It's understandable given his actions, but treating someone like an animal generally inspires animal behaviour. Krakoa did an even worse job, inventing an ad hoc law to apply retroactively, voted on by Magneto, Apocalypse, Shaw, Mystique, Emma Frost, Exodus, etc. People who are taking advantage of the amnesty. Yeah, he disobeyed orders by needlessly maiming people, but he was working for a collective project greater than himself. That's a start, though we'll never know how it might have turned out because he was thrown in a hole explicitly forever. If you're trying to be better and you're rejected by your entire putative community, why even bother trying?

It's interesting and quietly awful to consider who is worthy of redemption or even help in Marvel. It's quite rare for bad guys to make a full face turn, and even rarer for the good guys to be open to the possibility. There's a very neoliberal attitude to punitive justice and the prison industrial complex, informed in part by comic book inertia. If all the 'bad guys' are reformed then there's nobody to fight, and even after AXIS, for instance - a literal magical inversion of moral compasses - the heroes never let Creed forget that they were watching him and waiting for the inevitable reversion. It's not exactly restorative justice; it's conditional tolerance that can be withdrawn at any time.

AXIS and AoA both do the same thing IMO - they highlight that under different circumstances Victor Creed can be a completely different person. Almost as if his behaviour is learned and a result of his experience and environment, not necessarily a personality disorder. As much as I despise punitive justice and institutionalised incarceration, I don't have answers for a better way, not fully. I do wonder what the point of these morality plays is if the pathway to reform is arbitrary and gatekept. Omega Red was dealt with in a fascinating way on Krakoa, but Creed never got that chance despite X-Force doing MUCH worse. It's certainly true to life - criminality is too profitable to treat as a social or health issue - and it doesn't feel right to ignore Creed's living and traumatised victims, let alone finding out who's willing to live next door to him.

Creed's relationship with Logan is especially interesting. I don't think Logan has changed all that much at the end of the day. Socially, he benefited from a lot of support and patience, but if you put their body count side by side what's the actual difference? Logan still gets to kill people while being very popular, whereas Creed gets villain work here and there and hates his guts. Obviously he makes his own choices, but his jealousy and hatred of Logan is something I find relatable. 'Why him and not me?' Doesn't seem very fair.

It's not as simple as that, but at the end of the day I think these kinds of questions are beyond the scope of Marvel comics in general. Or rather, the answers are. Sabertooth will always end up back as a remorseless bloody handed killer no matter what he does. Logan will always be a good guy, a moral paragon even, no matter what he does. There will always be variations on their eternal themes for us to discuss, and any answers come from outside the text. Sabertooth showed us him languishing in the hole, Sabertooth and the Exiles expanded on his choices and motivation, then Sabertooth War came right back to his psychosexual obsession with Logan in incredibly gruesome detail.

I'd love to see some What ifs exploring roads not taken with Creed, but I fear it's out of the scope of Marvel comics, especially right now. A 616 focus on how, if it's even possible, someone who's hurt so many might choose to be better/be allowed the choice would be delightful. However, I think that's in the hands of the fandom. In discussions like this, in fanfic, in revisiting old stories. Maybe it is true to life that reform is not for everyone, that society finds it as hard to trust as people find it to change. Creed doesn't spend all that much time in actual prisons but the serialised status quo is a systemic institution of inertia all of its own.

Maybe that's a little trite and prosaic, but I think it's no less true. The good guy/bad guy dichotomy in media and entertainment assists in normalising and perpetuating how we view criminality too. It gets easier to dehumanise and forget about the scary other, instead of viewing them as people who deserve empathy and help. Sabertooth probably seems like a bad example, but it's not hard to look at a traumatized child and see what the world did to him. Continues to do to him, as he expressed himself with the only avenue he has - violence.

Those are my thoughts for now, rambly as they are. Some really good food for thought there and I'm glad you brought him up.

[musashi]

You think the brand of people who hate MVK and call him neglectful also hate Misty or does she get a free pass as a Girlboss(TM)

no, they're just as bad to misty (but weirdly fine with morgan?)

honestly the person i compare misty to isn't mvk, it's miles. miles and misty both did the same thing (jouhatsu) but miles is forgiven, rarely held accountable, lauded as morally complex or untouchable because he's twaumatiiiiized but misty is demonized always and forever as a neglectful, absent mother whose love is worthless because of the choice she made.

i've never met a single person in this fandom with a favourable opinion on misty, it's fucking depressing as all hell. meanwhile no one gives a shit about morgan who canonically beats her fucking daughter (amongst many, MANY other things)

how the aa fandom chooses to declare parents abusive has nothing to do with the parents and everything to do with how easy it is to project onto their "victims." case in point:

misty fey: morally complex in canon. maya, while not super popular, is growing as projectionbait due to her self-worth issues & the fact that she's often shipped with franziska who everyone is inexplicably horny for. VERDICT: ABUSER.

morgan fey: abusive in canon. beats her youngest daughter & controls her access to the outside world. manipulated all three of her children into committing attempted murder for her. iris is not projectionbait because she is viewed primarily as a threat to narumitsu and thus despised. dahlia is not projectionbait because she is not mentally ill in a sympathetic way, instead exhibiting severe cluster b tendencies and being "one of the bad ones." no sympathy is given to dahlia despite the fact that she was clearly a severely mentally ill child in need of support. pearl is not projectionbait because people's only perception of her personality is "child" and nothing more. VERDICT: NOT ABUSIVE, SIMPLY A CHARISMATIC VILLAIN.

blaise debeste-winner: abusive in canon. berates his son every single opportunity he gets. i am almost certain he does worse by the end of the game but have not yet finished it. eustace is not projectionbait because he is a narcissist and that is not one of the acceptable mental illnesses, see dahlia. VERDICT: NOT ABUSIVE.

manfred von karma: not abusive in canon, I AM INVITING EVERYONE READING THIS MESSAGE TO COME INTO MY INBOX AND DEBATE ME ON THAT POINT RIGHT NOW. DO IT, COWARD. cartoonishly evil. ridiculously so. so evil that it loops back around into being hilarious. morally complex in that we are rarely allowed to know what he is thinking, and so many interpretations of it arise, rightfully so. miles was made to be projectionbait. punitive view on justice that all the fucking catholics on this website share. canonical post-traumatic stress disorder. attractive young gentleman. shippable with the protagonist. severe guilt complex. deep-seated self loathing. would identify as an "anti" if he were on fandom twitter. depending on your interpretations of canon, suicidal. franziska is debatable projectionbait--being like dahlia in that she is the 'wrong' kind of mentally ill--but she inches ahead into a firm yes because she is a burning-out gifted kid and, again, annoying lesbians on this website want to have sex with her. VERDICT: MANFRED VON KARMA INVENTED CHILD ABUSE AND IF YOU COME AWAY FROM THE TEXT WITH ANY KINDER INTERPRETATION ON HIS RELATIONSHIP WITH HIS KIDS WE WILL UNPERSON YOU ON TWITTER.

i could go on, but i love myself, so i won't.

[rosethornewrites]

Fic: the thread may stretch or tangle but it will never break, ch. 27

Relationships: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī & Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī & Wēn Qíng, Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Jiāng Chéng | Jiāng Wǎnyín & Jiāng Yànlí & Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Lán Huàn | Lán Xīchén & Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī

Characters: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī, Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Wēn Qíng, Wēn Níng | Wēn Qiónglín, Granny Wēn, Lán Yuàn | Lán Sīzhuī, Wēn Remnants, , Fourth Uncle, Lán Huàn | Lán Xīchén, Jiang Yanli, Jiang Cheng | Jiang Wanyin, Original Characters, Niè Míngjué, Niè Huáisāng, Niè Zōnghuī, Jīn Zǐxuān

Additional Tags: Pre-Slash, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Secrets, Crying, Masks, Soulmates, Truth, Self-Esteem Issues, Regret, It was supposed to be a one-shot, Fix-It, Eventual Relationships, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, wwx needs a hug, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Filial Piety, Handfasting, Phobias, Sleeping Together, Fear, Panic Attacks, Love Confessions, Getting Together, First Kiss, Kissing, Boys Kissing, Family, and they were married, Bathing/Washing, Hair Braiding, Hair Brushing, Feels, Sex Education, Implied Sexual Content, First Time, Aftercare, Morning After, Afterglow, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Torture, Scars, Eventual Happy Ending, Hand Jobs, Chronic Pain, Biting, Conversations, Self-Sacrifice, POV Third Person, POV Lan WangJi, Bugs & Insects, Adoption, Ancestors, Ancestor Veneration, Golden Core Reveal, Top Lan Wangji | Lan Zhan/Bottom Wei Wuxian | Wei Ying, First Time Blow Jobs, Multiple Orgasms, Switching, sex-related injury, Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī Stays at the Burial Mounds, Lán Yuàn | Lán Sīzhuī is a Wèi, Good Sibling Jiāng Chéng | Jiāng Wǎnyín, Dissociation, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Disability, Scheming Niè Huáisāng, Disabled Character, somnophilia

Summaries: Wei Wuxian starts to fulfill the yuefu.

Notes: See end of each chapter

AO3 link

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25-6

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

The booth is large enough for Wei Qing to see patients, Wei Ning to brew medicine and keep food warm, and for Wei Ying, Lan Wangji, and A-Yuan to stay toward the back. A-Yuan plays quietly with his toys, and Wei Ying works on his notes about invention ideas, specifically told he can do no experiments here by Wei Qing. 

“We don’t need to scare folks off with explosions,” she says wryly. 

Wei Ying squawks indignantly but doesn’t argue, instead focusing on getting his ideas on paper. Lan Wangji oscillates between meditation and transcribing his notes into something more orderly. 

Her patients range from people with headaches, to women who have their moon or are pregnant, to people with more serious conditions. Wei Qing is kept busy, and by extension Wei Ning is as well. Brewing medicine is a meticulous process and if Wei Ying distracts him, Wei Qing glares at him, so he generally stays distracted in Yiling.

They continue Wei Ying’s musical acupuncture treatments every morning before they leave the Burial Mounds and when they return in the evening. At times, the brighter and warmer sun in Yiling leads his husband to drowse, and he’s happy to lend him a shoulder to nap on. 

Over a week passes before one of the street children, one who seems to be newer to the street, less wary, allows Wei Qing to examine him and give him medicine and salve for a particularly nasty-looking dog bite on his leg, hidden beneath his tattered robes, which makes Wei Ying shudder in empathy. He rolls up his zhong yi trousers and shows the boy his bite scars. 

“I was on the streets here in Yiling, too, for a long time,” he tells the kid, who looks awed. 

He’s maybe four years old, close to A-Yuan’s age, maybe a bit older. The boy eventually gives them the name Zhi. The inflection could have multiple characters, one meaning will or determination, another meaning wisdom, and still another meaning essence, though it’s doubtful he knows which one. 

It takes another week, during which A-Zhi stays near their booth and plays with A-Yuan much of the day while eating multiple meals, before they offer to take him home with them in the evening, explaining they live in the Burial Mounds. 

“What about the Yiling Laozu?” the boy asks in a whisper. “Is he going to eat me?”

“Aiya, if I was going to eat you, I would have already,” Wei Ying says softly. “And I haven’t eaten A-Yuan either.”

The boy bolts, leaving a distraught Wei Ying in his wake, but he returns the next day, a bit shy, but still staying close. When they ask if he’d like to come with them that evening, he bravely nods, following them up the mountain until he tires and joins Wei Ying and A-Yuan in the cart. 

“You’re not ugly, though,” A-Zhi says thoughtfully on the way. “Yiling Laozu pictures are ugly.”

Wei Ying huffs, and Lan Wangji answers for him. 

“The pictures are lies. Wei Ying is very beautiful.”

That gets a bashful whine from Wei Ying, especially when A-Zhi and A-Yuan agree. 

“Many lies are told about Wei Ying,” he tells the boy seriously. “Gossip is often wrong.”

A-Zhi is doted upon by the aunties and uncles, spoiled by Popo, fed plenty, and given a nice place to sleep with Popo and A-Yuan. When he comes with them to Yiling the next morning he is dressed in fresh, clean robes sewn from the bolts of fabric they had dyed green with bamboo leaves. One of the aunties, Qiuyue-ayi, sewed it in expectation of this development, having heard nightly from Wei Ying talking at dinner each night, giving them all anticipation—she is already working on more. A-Yuan happily calls him Zhi-gege.

“You don’t have to come to Yiling with us,” Wei Qing tells the boy.

“I want to play with A-Yuan,” A-Zhi says shyly, “and show I’m not eaten.”

He is clearly a bright child, potentially forced to mature beyond his years by his brief time on the streets as Wei Ying was. They don’t ask him how he wound up there, at Wei Ying’s insistence. 

“He’ll tell us if he wants to, Lan Zhan. Let it be his decision.”

Eventually, when he’s ready, they learn his father was killed by soldiers, likely Wen in the Sunshot Campaign, and his mother died of illness not too long ago, leaving him with no one and nowhere to go. 

They find the street children staying closer during the day and eating their fill after A-Zhi joins them, and slowly they add two more coming with them to the Burial Mounds. 

Aside from A-Zhi, who apparently imprinted on Wei Ying when they shared scars from dog bites, the other two gravitate toward the aunties and uncles. Lan Wangji cannot help but be relieved, as he is not certain they can effectively parent so many children. 

One, a little girl of about seven who suddenly joins them partway home one evening and introduces herself as A-Mei, mostly stays at the Burial Mounds during the day as well instead of following them into Yiling. She sticks close to Qiuyue-ayi, who presents her with a little dress made from the purple-dyed fabric and brushes her hair once she’s bathed. Wei Ying spends the next day at their booth whittling a rabbit hair pin, which she takes shyly with a happy little giggle. She largely stays close to Qiuyue-ayi and only goes back to town with them once. 

A slightly older boy, maybe eight or nine, A-Tao, identifies the character of his name as “like the tree,” which is good information to have because it could also mean pottery or cleanse. He spends several days hanging close to their booth before coming to the Burial Mounds, then mostly stays there and watches the farming and does little chores, like bringing water to those tending the crops, and is roundly spoiled by Popo with food. He’s understandably wary, shying away from them, and they let him sleep in Jifu’s old hut so he can be alone. 

“None of their stories are likely happy,” Wei Ying says softly after they’ve bathed and gone to bed to bask in the afterglow. 

Lan Wangji knows this, but Wei Ying is in part thinking aloud, which he is quite used to, so he only shifts to bring him closer. He knows also that this is forcing Wei Ying to relive a painful time in his life, but he hopes it brings a sense of catharsis. He is saving children from the very circumstances he was in as a child. 

“Even if they had happy lives before, those lives are gone now.”

“We will make new happy lives for them,” Lan Wangji promises, and is pleased when this seems to make Wei Ying settle. 

When Min Cenxi next visits with more supplies she is delighted, and she comes with disciple uniforms and other clothing in child sizes. She introduces herself as their da-shijie and fields questions about Lotus Pier. 

“We’ll teach you to swim, because there are a lot of lakes. And I’m sure Wei Wuxian will plant you with the lotuses so you’ll grow big and strong.”

A-Tao and A-Mei giggle at the idea, while A-Yuan insists it works and even gives siblings to a rapt A-Zhi.

By this time the children know they’ll be going to Lotus Pier eventually, but A-Mei is distraught upon learning Qiuyue-ayi will leave with Min Cenxi and insists on accompanying her, something easily accommodated. 

“Honestly, da-shixiong, I’m not surprised you’re already bringing that poem to life,” she says, which is how they learn that she’s heard it in Yunmeng already. “You’ve always been good with kids. Now for the lotuses.”

She gives him several varieties that Jiang Wanyin sent with her, meaning a pond will have to be built. Lan Wangji is about to resign himself to going without his husband to Yiling daily to protect Wei Qing until he’s succeeded when she reveals that two senior disciples will be staying to accompany her and help around the community. So he will be able to help with the process of growing lotuses after all. 

The disciples will serve as further protection for their little settlement, as well, and Lan Wangji nods his thanks. While the Jin haven’t acted, there is no guarantee they won’t. 

The children look adorable in their little Jiang sect disciple uniforms, A-Mei in her blue practice-appropriate dress, A-Zhi and A-Tao in purple hanfu. There are even several lotus guan for the boys to wear, and A-Tao can’t stop touching his when Popo puts his hair in a proper crown. 

Wei Ying starts building the pond for the lotuses near the cave entrance, between the entrance to the great hall and the Demon-Slaughtering Cave. He is helped by Lan Wangji, who insists he isn’t bothered by a little dirt, and a thrilled A-Yuan and A-Zhi, for whom digging is great fun getting dirty—not in their disciple uniforms, but what have been relegated as play clothes. A-Tao joins in when the Wei uncles insist on helping, and A-Mei just watches them as though judging them all, her countenance similar to Wei Qing’s. Even some of the visiting disciples help out. Popo brings out lunch for them all, cooked by some of the aunties, and they enjoy a small meal of noodles, mushrooms, and pork. 

By the end of Min Cenxi’s stay, the pond has been built and filled with water by Wei Ning, who simply fills a bathtub in the stream several times to do so, and the lotus seeds have been planted. The excuse to celebrate is a welcome one, so a larger meal is cooked, and Min Cenxi brings out some Lotus Breeze. 

Wei Ying asks A-Mei if she remembers her surname, or if she would like to take Wei or Jiang as her surname, and she wants the same surname as Qiuyue-ayi. A-Zhi wants to be a Wei as well, as soon as he hears she’ll be one, but when they ask A-Tao if he remembers his surname, he clams up. 

“If it’s Wen, that’s what we used to be,” Wei Qing tells him bluntly, and then has a crying little boy clinging to her. 

It’s a sad story—his parents pushing him out the back door of the farmhouse, telling him to run to the woods as gold-clad cultivators approached their farm, having heard terrifying rumors of what happened to people named Wen. They took his parents, likely to a labor camp, and burned the farm and slaughtered the animals needlessly, leaving the carcasses to rot. The poor child has wandered from town to town since, terrified someone will realize he’s a Wen and turn him in. 

Lan Wangji can’t help but wonder if other street children have similar stories, their lives ruined by the war and its aftermath. He wonders if the yuefu will draw them to Yiling.

“You’re our tang-di,” Wei Qing tells him, “and it’s up to you, but our surname is Wei now.”

And so they hold an adoption ceremony for all three children, bringing them into the family officially. Wei Ying takes great joy in introducing them to his parents, and explaining to their tablets why he is doing so, asking for their blessing. A-Yuan adorably insists they’re all his siblings, something A-Zhi enthusiastically agrees to. A-Mei shyly offers to be his tang-jie instead, and A-Tao shrugs at the idea, too worn down from crying to make a decision. Likely he will be their tang-ge. 

In the aftermath, A-Tao takes to sleeping with the aunties and uncles in the larger building, happy to have rediscovered distant family, trusting finally that he will not be turned out, and the Jiang disciples are able to take Jifu’s hut instead of sleeping in the great hall, and the uncles get started on building a second bed for them so they don’t have to trade off or share. They try to protest that it’s unnecessary, but the uncles insist, having worked on making small beds for the children so they don’t have to share with an adult unless they want to for comfort. 

A-Mei thanks Wei Ying, calling him gege, and he suggests she can call him Xian-gege.

“A-Yuan called me that before he started calling me A-Die,” he tells her.

“Okay, Xian-gege. You’re coming to Lotus Pier later?”

“Of course.”

She gives him a hug, brief and shy, and then runs to Qiuyue-ayi. 

A few days after Min Cenxi leaves with two of the remnants and the newly-named Wei Mei, several Nie disciples arrive with Nie Zonghui to night hunt the resentful creatures of the Burial Mounds beyond the wards. To start the arduous process of clearing them, with the hope of eventually cleansing them entirely. 

The Nie disciples have clearly been briefed on the situation, and they cook a feast out of a boar they slew on the way, while Wei Ning makes side dishes using supplies they provide. By the time the meal is finished, the children are stained liberally with grease and drowsing happily, likely soon to be bursting with energy and ready to run it off. 

Though they don’t want for meat anymore, such a meal goes a long way in rebuilding strength for the previously malnourished, and is thus welcome. Lan Wangji and Popo join forces to bully Wei Ying into eating enough, and A-Zhi mimics A-Yuan when he feeds Wei Ying from his bowl, too. Wei Ying puts on an exaggerated pout, but eats what he’s given by their children. 

“I know how to feed myself, you know.”

“Are you sure? I thought Xianxian was three,” Popo teases, and Wei Ying laughs. 

They also come with gifts of toys for the children, clearly acquainted with the poem, along with more practical gifts like better tools for farming and woodworking. They pass on a letter from Nie Huaisang, in which he tells them of his success with the yuefu and where it is currently released—Gusu, Yiling, Yunmeng, and Qinghe, carefully avoiding Lanling for now, though it will undoubtedly travel by word of mouth at some point.  

I don’t want Jin Guangshan time to notice it yet. He might scoff, but Jin Guangyao knows the power of such things. 

A cautious, intelligent approach that again reminds him that Nie Huaisang isn’t the know-nothing fop he pretends to be. Lan Wangji reminds himself to never play weiqi with him. 

While the Nie disciples conduct their Burial Mounds night hunt within the warded-off areas, Wei Ying and Lan Wangji rejoin Wei Qing in her daily trips to Yiling, along with A-Yuan and A-Zhi. To their surprise, the street kids seem pleased to see them, showing more interest in hanging around the stall, with new faces appearing for the free food. 

That night two more, a pair of orphaned brothers about A-Tao’s age, named A-Yun, for cloud, and A-Heng, for persistent, join their ranks on the trip back to the settlement, admitting they’d heard the yuefu while loitering outside a wine house in another town, then traveled to Yiling. Already its reach has brought results. 

“Will you really adopt us?” A-Yun asks, wary but hopeful. 

“If you’d like, or you can take the Jiang name when we go to Lotus Pier,” Wei Ying says seriously. ”If you become Weis, you’ll have plenty of aunties and uncles and a popo to dote on you, plus you’d have A-Yuan and A-Zhi as your didimen, if you want.”

“You need not decide immediately,” Lan Wangji adds, knowing the boys may want time to make a decision. “And you may take the Wei name without regarding us as parents if you prefer.”

“Planting with the radishes worked!” A-Yuan crows happily. 

This requires explanation to the other boys, and leaves A-Zhi awed and A-Yun and A-Heng amused. 

The two murmur between themselves the rest of the way home, and Lan Wangji makes no effort to listen in, allowing them their privacy.

The boys recognize one of the uncles as soon as they get to the Burial Mounds, one of the few not from Wei Qing’s branch. It winds up being a family reunion, if a bittersweet one because Bai-shushu confirms their parents died—their mother on the march to the labor camp, and their father taken by the smiling man and never returned. Like A-Tao and A-Mei, they’ll become cousins to A-Yuan and A-Zhi through Bai-shushu. 

“They did a good job, staying together and taking care of each other,” Wei Qing says, watching the boys as they cry tears of grief and joy. 

“And now they have more family to take care of them,” Wei Ying says, smiling softly. “The yuefu is bringing Wen children here, and may bring any Wen in hiding to us as well.”

“If not, it will still bring hope to them,” Lan Wangji adds. 

Wei Qing and Lan Wangji treat Wei Ying’s back before dinner, then wake him so he can eat. Afterward, they help get the children ready for bed and Lan Wangji organizes the mess of notes Wei Ying brought back from town that he has worked on while idle. 

The Nie disciples camp in the great hall, boisterous about the successful night hunt, which involved fierce corpses and several yao. They leave the next day after breakfast with a letter Wei Ying has written for Nie Huaisang, letting him know of their progress. 

The next day is not one of Wei Ying’s good days, so after his morning musical healing session, Lan Wangji lets him sleep instead of waking him to go to town with Wei Qing. He’s had a nice series of good days, so she isn’t worried, telling him to simply let him rest. So Lan Wangji spends the day working on sorting his recent notes and fielding A-Yuan and A-Zhi when they come together to check on “A-Die.”

“Baba takes care of A-Die,” A-Yuan tells A-Zhi, who nods seriously, letting his new brother explain everything to him. “Diedie sleeps after music and needles.”

They are not disruptive, so Lan Wangji entertains their questions and even shows them how to write their names, fascinating them, and eventually Popo comes to collect them. 

By the time Wei Ying wakes, Wei Qing and Wei Ning have returned from town with three children, two girls and a boy. When they leave the cave, they find the lotuses sprouting and are in time to stop A-Yuan from pulling one out. 

They are well on their way to fulfilling the yuefu. 

—————

Getting a new PCP this month and I have a long Covid appointment to see if they think I have it. I just want answers, you know?

Many thanks to adrian_kres, who also writes amazing fics, for being my awesome beta reader throughout this fic.

A-Zhi is named with the character for will, 志, pinyin zhì. Or at least this is the character Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji will decide upon.

A-Mei is named 美, pinyin měi, which means beautiful. Not demon or dark, I promise. Amusingly, apparently meimei, or little sister, sometimes uses this character. I can just imagine someone calling her Mei-meimei with all three characters the same. Or at least Wei Wuxian teasing. 

Qiuyue is named 秋月, pinyin qiūyuè, which means autumn moon. 

A-Tao is named using the character for peach tree, 桃, pinyin táo, the wood of which in Taoism is considered to repel evil spirits. He knows the meaning of his name and doesn’t need one chosen for him. 

A-Yun uses the character for cloud, 云, pinyin yún, and A-Heng uses the character for constant or persistent, 恒, pinyin héng. 

Bai means cypress/cedar tree, 柏, pinyin b��i. 

I should specify that these aren’t going to be major characters (except maybe A-Zhi) but it felt awkward not to name them. This is largely so we can see how quickly their numbers grow with the children coming to trust them and even learning of a benevolent war-hero Yiling Laozu adopting and taking care of children and traveling to get in on the deal. Especially Wen children. Kind of an interlude chapter. 

ayi = auntie

da-shixiong = first elder martial brother

didimen = plural of didi, little brothers

gege = older brother

popo = grandmother 

da-shijie = first elder martial sister 

shushu = uncle

tang-di = younger male cousin

tang-ge = older male cousin

tang-jie = older female cousin

yuefu = a style of narrative poetry that basically borrows from Chinese folk song traditions—the Ballad of Mulan is an example

zhong yi = undergarments (shirt and trousers)

[waitafrikk]

tell me about your ocs.

this has been sitting in my inbox for a month whoops

im gonna go thru the ones that i tag posts with because those are my little guys i think about most. i started writing way more than i thought so ill put it here. youre all legally obligated to read tho (/j)

Lowell croft - an archeology student (kinda) with a healthy concoction of anxiety disorders due to Things. (my CoC group follows me so i wont be spoiling this but https://toyhou.se/28505595.lowell-croft if youre not in my group you can read all about him here). he also has a real bad smoking addiction but thats what happens when youre born before the invention of anxiety medication.

Cam nette - French 😥. Museum curator and cellist. Due to a traumatic event (king in yellow moment, seeing the pallid mask) cam lost his memories. He was Camilla from the king in yellow. He also got possessed? kinda? by a demon and his name is actually Camio. i played this entire several month long game with no knowledge of any of this it was so good. throughout the game his priority was mainly finding his sister (Cassilda) but this changed in the finale due to finally finding his partner.

his partner was his psychologist dont. worry about it. he tried to kill him accidentally a few times but also dont worry about that either. the playlist i have for him is 10 hours long <3333. he makes me unwell! He was also indefinitely insane for most of this game.

Amber Watts - ok so thats not their name atm but i need to keep the tag consistent. AW is a changeling! he is currently going by the name Arcas O'Reilly and is now the brother of Anfie O'Reilly (@galaxyofender hii). AW has chronic dnd dead parent syndrome (all my fault) (wait no one of them was THE DM ILL GET TO IT)

their parents died when they were ~16 due to illness and they left for another city with their brother, somchai. This city is heavily anti-fey, and AW spent this time as amelia wattana. In this city, she met Aster Rush and was normal and heterosexual about her. She also met Erdene Damir, and spent the short time there as a blacksmiths apprentice. Erdene was essentially her extra parental figure.

Somchai was murdered by an antifey group found in this area, not bc he was fey but simply bc it became known that AW was. a preventative measure essentially. Aster and Amelia fled, now Amber Watts. At this point, Amber becomes a Vengeance paladin for obvious reasons. also she was 19 at this point she should have been at the club!

They went around a while, before separating and Amber now going as Ander Wyatt, where he spent a year as a private investigator working with Rowan Woods. After this, Ander joins the part as Amber Watts again. this is where the campaign begins. we travel around and im not explaining the plot bc theres almost a years worth of. stuff.

basically where we are rn, Amber is Arcas and Erdene died of a plague we were trying to cure. the party returned to the city Amelia used to live in. Arcas has terminal teenage boy syndrome and i tried to make him a little edgier but also hes just a little guuuyyyy

you can read stuff here also! (i dont think theres any spoilers for my group, other than AWs true form)

IH ALSO THEIR PLAYLIST IS 12HRS 30 MINS LONG LMAO

in order: Amber watts, ander wyatt, amelia wattana, arcas o'reilly. they havent shown their true form to anyone yet, its still technmically a spoiler i guess

[edit bc i forgot!!! about tantalum!!!]

Tantalum Hythenos - A dunamancy wizard who is in blightshore to research the weird fucked up magic! most of my group follows me here too so https://toyhou.se/27329236.tantalum-hythenos you can read about him here :D

he's a noble and keeps getting robbed :( he also has a familiar cat called Voes (viscera of our enemy spiders)

these are the main 4 but i think ive done a few oothers

guy mann and buster samson - private detectives. busters dead and guys existence is questionable (he's related to what happened in the cam nette game.) https://toyhou.se/22588826.guy-mann read about guy here

Kipper atwater - my first ever CoC character. Hes a drag queen (Ms. Julia Verte) oceanographer. he and his boyfriend maxie are dead </3

Nate blau / blood worth bottling - im pretty sure ive tagged nate in something? this is my vampire story im working on. Nate gets turned into a vampire and starts going thru it.

for this you get a snippet of the writing <3

ty for asking luny <33 i have way more you can read about on my toyhouse that i linked but these are the ones im the most unwell about

[play-now-my-lord]

they should invent memory that doesn't come with post-traumatic stress disorder

[z0mbiefrank]

if doctors really cared so much they would invent post traumatic fun relaxation disorder

[homestuck-fanauthor-coalition]

@orangestorapples

> Be Dave Strider. “No one person invented film.” Your teacher, Ms. Raincorn, explains. “But the first prototype of something similar to film was unveiled in 1891, by the Edison Company, who also invented other appliances we still use today such as batteries and light bulbs.” Your leg is bouncing under your desk, and you're resisting the urge to anxiously drum your fingers while you keep glancing at the door. You had been allowed to pick a seat towards the back, where there wasn't an overhead light directly above you or shining in your eyes. It's part of your, uh, “accommodations” for your shittier than usual eyes. You hadn't really noticed, especially since on set the only lights that had been on were the ones pointed at the stage and away from you. Everything else had been pretty dim, even without your shades on. That is not the case here. You can hear every single one of those damn lights buzzing like a particularly persistent fly, and it's making it hard to hear your teacher with how distracting it is. Don't be mistaken, the class is fucking sick and you're totally into it, but it's fifth period and you've been here all goddamn day- which is too fucking long to go without being able to move. Fuck- you're so looking forward to having PE next semester because you are GONNA lose your shit if you can't get more movement into your day. Fuck, can you get your schedule switched?

Chapters: 71/?

Rating: Teen and Up

Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Category: Gen

Fandom: Homestuck

Relationships: Dirk's Bro | Alpha Dave Strider & Dirk Strider; Dirk's Bro | Alpha Dave Strider & Dave Strider; Dave Strider & Dirk Strider; Rose Lalonde & Dave Strider; Roxy Lalonde & Dirk Strider; Rose Lalonde & Roxy Lalonde & Dave Strider & Dirk Strider; Jake English/Dirk Strider

Characters: Dave Strider; Dirk Strider; Dirk's Bro | Alpha Dave Strider; Dave's Bro | Beta Dirk Strider; Rose Lalonde; Roxy Lalonde; Rose's Mom | Beta Roxy Lalonde; Roxy's Mom | Alpha Rose Lalonde; Ben Stiller; Owen Wilson; Donald Glover

Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort; Angst and Hurt/Comfort; Abusive Dave's Bro | Beta Dirk Strider; Post Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD; Childhood Trauma; Psychological Trauma; Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking; Implied/Referenced Underage Drug Use; Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session

[sophieinwonderland]

Debunking r/DIDcringe "debunking" Endogenic Claims

Cool!

I expect a well thought-out post citing lots of sources to prove their points!

No. There are many studies showing DID is heavily correlated with severe and repeated childhood trauma.

It's theorized this correlation is because DID is caused by trauma, but this hasn't been shown. A causal relationship, even if likely, is difficult to establish as it would technically require children to be traumatized to test.

Luckily, this particular nuance isn't actually a point of debate. Nobody on either side is arguing that DID can't be caused by trauma. I think most people on both sides are in agreement that the relationship is a causal one. (Even if I'm going to be pedantic about how that hasn't been proven.)

But just because a causal relationship may exist doesn't mean that's the only possible cause. To think this risks falling prey to the Fallacy of the Single Cause or Causal Oversimplification.

If you were to run an experiment where you hit people on the arm with a hammer, you can successfully prove being hit with a hammer is a cause of broken bones. But it would be fallacious to conclude that hammers are the only possible cause of broken bones.

Whether you can have DID without trauma is an extremely complex question and theories very often fall prey to the above fallacy.

I will say my personally feelings are that DID is virtually always caused by trauma, but people should be open to the potential for other causes to exist in rare cases.

I wouldn't use the word "prove". What I will say is that multiple experts in the field have acknowledged the existence or at least the possibility of plurality/multiplicity without trauma or a disorder.

It is true that there was one paper that suggested a continuum of multiplicity that ranged from what it called" identity disturbance" to dissociative identity disorder. Although it's worth noting that this same paper referred to DID as a severe form of identity disturbance and places them on a continuum together.

And the claim here that other sources are unreliable is just absurd.

Non-disordered plurality has been acknowledged in the World Health Organization's ICD-11's Boundary with Normality, stating that multiple "distinct identity states" may be present without a disorder.

Likewise, the creators of the Theory of Structural Dissociation have said it's possible hypnosis and mediumship may involve "dissociative parts of the personality" that possess "self-consciousness."

Additionally, the book Transgender Mental Health by Eric Yarbrough has explicitly said you can be plural without a disorder or trauma.

This book was reviewed and published by The American Psychiatric Association.

Notably, there is also no one saying the opposite. There is no academic paper arguing that you can't be plural without a disorder or trauma, or that you need trauma to have multiple "distinct personality states" or anything of the sort. If you look at academic papers, the range is from neutral (this needs to be studied more) to pro (this is a real phenomenon.)

I'm not going to go too far into the appropriation claims beyond saying that Tibetan Buddhism is an open religion, the Dalai Lama has encouraged people of other faiths to use Tibetan Buddhist meditations, and there's no evidence sprul-pa (the practice tulpamancy was based on) was a closed practice.

The appropriation narrative was invented by and pushed by sysmeds, and isn't actually a concern within Buddhist communities. If you want to see this in action, here's a comparison of r/Systemscringe and r/Buddhism opinions on tulpamancy.

The fact that cringe subreddits are way more concerned about the so-called appropriation than actual Buddhist subreddits should be a good indication that this was always more about using Buddhists as a talking point to silence one of the most studied endogenic communities.

As for the whole "DID isn't plural" thing, this is just semantics.

Some DID systems view themselves as parts, others as people. Psychiatrists would say that the whole body makes the person. But there are philosophies that suggest that the ability for dissociated parts to each have their own self-consciousness and agency makes them a person.

When discussing plurality, I personally use the term "agent." It bypasses a lot of these silly semantic arguments over what is or isn't a person. Because whether we're talking about multiple people, dissociated parts, or even spirits, what we're discussing is an experience of multiple agents with their own self-consciousness and and agency.

That's essentially what plurality is.

Multiplicity is an experience of being multiple. Again, the World Health Organization's ICD-11 says you can experiences multiple distinct personality states without a disorder. You do NOT need DID or OSDD to experience multiplicity.

If there's a single peer-reviewed academic source anywhere that claims you it's impossible to be plural without DID or OSDD, you're welcome to provide it.

Additionally, I've been unable to find any studies showing a significant correlation between OSDD-1 without amnesia (what's inaccurately called OSDD-1b) and trauma. It's often presumed to exist, but the evidence isn't there.

As you stated earlier, dissociative amnesia is heavily linked to trauma. If dissociative amnesia is a criteria of DID, then naturally that link would exist there as well. So then, if the multiplicity is caused by trauma, we would need to conduct studies into people with OSDD who have no amnesia to confirm that.

From what I've found, no study of this sort has been conducted.

Finally, this asserts that all multiplicity comes from these disorders. A claim that they fail to support in any way. Because they CAN'T support it.

Because again, all the research studying plurality have affirmed that you can be plural without a dissociative disorder.

Well, That Concludes Another Anti-Endo "Debunking" Post With No Sources!

Wait. That's not entirely true! They do link to this one:

Except it doesn't confirm any of their points, and seems to mostly be added to prevent the automod from removing their post. Like they said, most of this was "from memory."

Meaning they're just regurgitating things they've heard online from unknown sources.

[polskasroka]

The Promise of Eternal Oblivion

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Hades (Supergiant Games Video Games) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Melinoë & Odysseus (Hades Video Game) Characters: Melinoë (Hades Video Game), Odysseus (Hades Video Game), Achilles (Hades Video Game) Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Written During Hades II (Supergiant Video Game) Early Access, Hurt No Comfort, Angst, Night Terrors, Nightmares, Father-Daughter Relationship, Father Figures, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, ody can no longer run from his past, POV Odysseus (Hades Video Game), References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore Word count: 6,868 Summary:

The Lethe, the famous river of oblivion, is a tempting option.

Read on AO3 or below!

All’s said and done, at last. Chronos has been cut into pieces once more and hidden in the darkest corners of the Earth and the Underworld by all the gods who fought against him. The feasts have been thrown, both down in the House of Hades and high up on Olympus to celebrate the victory that has restored the once lost peace and balance in the world. It’s currently being rebuilt and reborn, now with Demeter’s and Persephone’s great aid. So is the House of Hades.

The shades are taking care of everything, with Dusa and Zagreus being in charge of the design choices. The latter wouldn’t be in that position if it hadn’t been for his mother’s power to convince the rightful lord of the house that it was a good idea.

Melinoë has also been offered to share the job with her brother and the maid but she politely declined, as she usually does. She prefers to continue acquainting herself with everyone around here and becoming more knowledgeable when it comes to what is where in her old-new home.

She isn’t the only one who was encouraged to stay at the House of Hades or return to it.

Hypnos did it without hesitation. So did Skelly.

Nemesis refused.

Hecate chose to stay at the Crossroads, for it had always been and would always be her home. Apart from that, she wants everyone to have that sort of safe haven ready in case anything went wrong once again.

Moros would follow Melinoë wherever she’d go and reside. That earned the House another child of Nyx.

Then, there was Odysseus, who had to consider all pros and cons of staying at the House of Hades or claiming his spot in Elysium. Certain that he’d have few to no things to do there, he accepted the invitation. Sentiments similar to Moros’ might have also affected his decision. However, Odysseus would follow the goddess to the edge of the world for reasons different from those of Doom’s.

It did sound great at the start, it really did. A change of scenery was meant to do good, especially when moving from the middle of magic woods to a house. One that belongs to none other than the God of the Dead, the King of the Underworld, at that!

And maybe it was a bit vain of Odysseus to be thinking such things but he’d once lived in a luxurious place like this. He’d owned it. He’d been a king.

That part is, however, a far cry from who he is now.

He does have responsibilities but they’re not overbearing. He’s not a ruler of men anymore. Not in the mortal sense, at least. He’s still a tactician, though. That particular trait got him a task, for the fulfilment of which he’d have to use his experience and knowledge to invent new ways of preventing the Shades from leaving the Underworld.

The task never ends, obviously, but Odysseus doesn’t really mind. He’s got a purpose, so he’s not sitting idly, spending his every waking hour thinking about his past. The scrolls of plans and maps always lying on his private desk efficiently pull his thoughts away from the heartwrenching things he’d done when he’d been alive. The gut-churning war crimes or sacrifices made that would’ve ended badly no matter what he’d done.

When the war against Chronos was being waged, the duties he’d perform for Hecate and Melinoë kept the intrusive thoughts at bay in a similar manner to how his current job is doing it. The difference is that the constant fighting was much more consuming. There never was a real break from anything. Now there are. Even Shades aren’t able to work all the time.

Odysseus desperately clings to the most recent plans that he’s been working on, even while leaving his private chamber, granting himself one of these breaks. He’s almost afraid to let the thoughts about his best blueprints go for fear of spiralling down a breakdown filled with guilt and hundreds of ‘what ifs.’

He would be so successful at that if he hadn’t exited that room.

The spell is broken once he steps out of there. There’s no going back now, although he wishes he still had that boldness in himself, so that he’d just turn around and crawl back into the safety of his own four walls.

It’s not Melinoë who’s making him want to return to the blessed solitude, no. It’s the cries that he hears and blood that he sees that make him want to do that. It’s memories of the ‘great war of Ilium’, as Moros once dubbed it, that feel like crashing against a stone wall. The memories evoked by the sheer sight of Achilles. And Odysseus hasn’t even heard him speak today yet! Now, that is a new record for him.

“We, um… don’t talk about me and bows,” Melinoë says, laughing a bit nervously. “Isn’t that right, Od?”

“Ah, the bows!” he replies cheerfully, not to infect the goddess with his sour mood. As he approaches them, he continues, “the Nightmare Goddess here has many talents and the bows seem to be her only weakness.”

“You’re much too kind.” Melinoë rolls her eyes.

“It can’t be that bad, lass. Come on, let’s see what we can do about that.”

Melinoë doesn’t see the way Odysseus’ eyelid twitches at what Achilles has just offered. The man in question does.

“I’m not sure, sir. I always shoot everything but the target!”

“Your brother used to do the same thing. I managed to teach him, so I dare say I can manage to teach you too. Surely, it can’t be impossible for some of us, at least.”

The only reason why Odysseus holds back whatever snarky comment he’s got ready is Melinoë’s chuckle. He can’t bring himself to ruining her moment of amusement.

“Why don’t you join us, Od?” she asks as if nothing happened. As if Odysseus isn’t gritting his teeth so hard, that they’d shatter were he not a Shade.

“I might as well.” He smiles his usual smirk at Melinoë but drops it once she’s not looking at him anymore. Instead, he looks Achilles right in the eye and says, “watch out for your heel.”

Odysseus would really like to be happy for Melinoë and maybe he is. He surely is proud that she’s actually trying to learn how to use a bow properly but he’s so mad at himself for not having taught her himself. The worst thing is that he doesn’t know what he’s been doing wrong this whole time. The bow just didn’t work out a couple of times and they abandoned the idea. And now she’s picking it up in no time!

And it’s thanks to Achilles at that, out of all people!

Ridiculous is what this is.

As if to add insult to injury, Odysseus has been suffering from nightmares recently.

It’s not that he didn’t have them earlier, back when the war against Chronos was still on. He did have them but they contained much different things. In those days, he’d dream about losing a lot. He’d dream about losing the afterlife he had at the hands of the Titan. He’d dream about losing the Crossroads and everything that he and the rest of their inhabitants stood for. And he’d dream about losing Melinoë.

Such nightmares had Odysseus wake up with cold sweat running down his spine.

Now that the dangers are gone, his mortal past is catching up with him. It’s also getting progressively worse, for he soon can’t remember a night without a nightmare. He thinks about telling the goddess about it, wondering if she could help cease the images and noises of bloody battles and the terrible events that happened during his 10-year-long journey home.

The arduous way back has a lot to offer in the nightmare department. So does the war. Every night, it’s as if his mind’s casting lots as to what kind of suffering it’ll inflict upon itself.

There is something that tops everything, though.

The memory of dropping that infant from the wall.

That horrifying and infamous moment looms large over Odysseus’ dreams. If he happens to have it appear in his sleep, the rest of the night becomes restless. It makes him sick to the stomach no matter how many times he’s relived those dreaded seconds inside of his own head.

Giving him sleepless nights is one thing. One day, he goes to walk around the House of Hades and lands on the top of the high walls that surround the place. Everything is perfectly fine until he looks over the edge at the floor all the way down at the bottom of the wall. His head starts spinning immediately and there’s suddenly no air left in his lungs (as if he needed it), and his throat’s all dry. His knees almost give out and he has to stumble backwards and sit down.

Breathing, albeit unnecessary, seems impossible for a good while and the tactician feels like he’s about to pass out, his chest painfully tight. Luckily, though with tears welled up in his eyes, he manages to calm down, one palm on his breast, the other trembling.

He’s visibly shook even by the time he comes back to the main halls of the House. He needs the safety of his chamber, even though he’s not high up on the wall anymore.

“Odysseus!” Melinoë’s voice pulls him out of his head and he stops, and turns around to face the goddess. “I thought you were ignoring me.”

WHAT?!

“Me? Never!” he announces quickly, confidently, gesturing with his hand in the air. “I could be working on the most time-consuming plans but I’d never purposefully ignore you, Goddess.”

When he’s done talking, his hand stays in the air for a while and Melinoë’s face gets shrouded in concern.

“You’re trembling, Od. What’s going on?”

Odysseus looks at her and then at his hand, and he quickly shoves it downwards, focused on not letting his façade break.

“Nothing. Nothing at all.”

Melinoë folds her arms. “I don’t believe you.”

There’s a sudden urge to tell her that one thing he’s never told her. The one that haunts him in his worst nightmares and the one that broke him down back up on that wall.

“I…” he tries, he really, really tries, and Melinoë knows it. She hears the way that one syllable wavers. But he can’t let it out. Not now. Not here in the hall. “I haven’t been sleeping too well, Goddess. You see, now that the future is not that uncertain anymore, all the tensions from the not-so-recent times seem to be catching up with me and thus affecting the quality of my sleep. This shall pass soon enough, though.”

A half-lie. Not bad.

But Melinoë furrows her brows nonetheless.  She still accepts that explanation and doesn’t pry further. Odysseus couldn’t be more relieved.

“If you say so. But if there’s anything troubling you, just tell me, alright, Od?”

There’s so much genuine care in her tone and the way she’s gazing at him that he knows he can’t tell her that it’s his nightmares that make him look like one of the undead from Ephyra back in the day. Not when she’s caring so much.

What would he even tell her? You don’t go to the Goddess of Nightmares and forbid her from giving you nightmares. That sounds highly disrespectful at the very least.

The nightmares don’t pass.

In addition, immersing himself in work and blueprints doesn’t help as well as it used to. Even receiving compliments from the Lord of the House or his son doesn’t aid Odysseus’ situation much.

The problem is that he doesn’t have anything to look forward to. While alive, reuniting with his family had been his driving force. Not too long ago, ending the war with Chronos was the ultimate goal that he and everyone around him shared. Now, making it more impossible for a simple Shade to leave the Underworld is a dead end job.

Then, a very foolish idea appears in his head. One of the worst he could have ever had – reopening old wounds is never a smart idea.

So, even though he’s made peace with his wife and son after they all died, he’s started considering finding and seeing them again, all the while hoping that they are still able to recognise him after all this time. After all, the Lethe, the famous river of oblivion, is a tempting option.

Indeed, he hasn’t seen his first own family since that day. But although they parted in a friendly way, without arguments or resentment, Odysseus has been yearning for seeing his loved ones anyway. He’s never really come to terms with them having gone their separate paths. Maybe it’s selfish of him but letting go of people one loves so much is not a simple thing to do.

Odysseus knows it’s not going to end well but he commits to the idea anyway. Anything to sleep through the whole night and stop experiencing the war and his journey home every day, every moment he’s not too busy with whatever is on his hands.

But he can’t just go to Elysium straight away. Wandering pointlessly around that place in search for his family rubs him the wrong way, so he has to ask someone for help. It won’t be Hades, no. He’s dealt with his brothers before and he’s not going to tempt fate anymore. Or ever again, for that matter. But he can ask Melinoë. She should be able to help, especially now that she’s already spent some time in the Underworld and in the House.

Thus, Odysseus seizes the first best opportunity at making such an inquiry to the goddess when he happens to stumble across her in the garden she shares with her mother now. And since old habits die hard, the tactician often tends to the garden, for which both the Princess and the Queen are always grateful.

“Oh, hi, Od! I’ve just finished here,” Melinoë says, standing up and brushing the dirt off of her hands. “I’ll leave some patches for you next time.”

“It’s your garden, Goddess, and you don’t have to remember to leave it for me to care for anymore. Those days are long gone.”

“It’s still our garden. It’ll always be. But,” she sighs, “you haven’t come here to talk about our plants, have you?”

“In fact, I… I’d like to ask for a favour, if that’s not a problem.”

Melinoë looks at him incredulously, folding her arms. “Of course, it’s not. What can I do for you?”

“Let’s suppose I were to visit Elysium. And look for my wife and son.” Odysseus notices how Melinoë’s face lights up, so he continues before she can start. “Is there any way to know if they’d still… remember me?”

His voice breaks a little at the end there and he wishes it didn’t. The goddess doesn’t let him dwell on that for too long, though.

“The Shades in the Administrative Chamber will know. Or they’ll know which scroll we should read to learn what we want to know. O-Or what you want to know! It’s your private matter, after all.”

“Well, I’d be honoured if the Princess of the Underworld herself decided to accompany me to both the Chamber and the Elysian Fields,” he claims in a warm tone, one that’d convince anyone to do whatever he pleases.

He also bows his head and Melinoë can’t say no to it all. Not that she was ever planning to.

“Let’s go then!”

The Shades in the Administrative Chamber willingly help out the two after given enough information on the souls in Elysium they’re meaning to find. While they’re waiting for the right scroll to be obtained, Melinoë gifts Odysseus with a hopeful smile and a bright look and it does fuel his beatless heart with the happy kind of anticipation.

Soon, Melinoë receives the scroll and hands it to her friend. An aura full of gleeful energy surrounds him because he doesn’t want to think of the tens of reasons why his family may have already chosen to drink the waters of the Lethe. And all those reasons would be equally sensible.

Odysseus finds the correct line and his enthusiasm is gone in an instant. He lets out a long exhale and gives the scroll back to Melinoë who also reads the bad news. She then watches him turn his back to her and run his hand down his face. She returns the scroll to the Shades of the Chamber and walks over to Odysseus to lay a hand on his shoulder. He slouches slightly.

“Do you still wish to see them, Od? It’s not a problem for me to find them, even if they don’t… As long as you’re still willing to go,” she offers gently, kindly.

“Aye, Goddess,” he says lifelessly.

The majority of their walk to Elysium is shrouded in silence. Melinoë isn’t too surprised, considering the information that the scrolls contained. Odysseus is visibly tense and nervous, something he rarely allows himself to show. In fact, Melinoë can’t tell if she’s seen him this restless around anyone but herself.

She stops at one point and Odysseus follows. He looks at her and then to the front. A while ago, he was too preoccupied with his own thoughts to notice two Shades a couple of steps before them, floating above the green meadows.

Odysseus glances at Melinoë again, his expression screaming confusion and disbelief.

“I’m sorry, Od,” Melinoë says quietly and watches him turn his gaze back at the pair of Shades. “I assume that they didn’t look like this the last time you saw them… did they?”

“No, Goddess,” he replies curtly. “They were… more whole, if that’s how I can put it. They looked more like I still do. Why has this happened?”

“There’s two reasons for that. The more forgotten the Shades become, the less they look as they used to, back when they were alive or when they arrived in the Underworld. Then, if they have no purpose, no duties that bind them or keep them motivated, they turn into those trusty green Shades. The latter is connected to drinking from the Lethe. After that, all they’ve ever known are these Fields,” Melinoë explains calmly, sensing how gloom’s gripping her friend’s dead heart.

“No sorrows or pain?”

“None.”

A shaky exhale leaves Odysseus’ mouth. It’s filled with some relief, though, and Melinoë hears that. It makes her feel a bit better about him and what he’s got himself into seeing.

“That’s why they have no motivation. This ever-present bliss of Elysium is what rids them of it. They have everything they could ever want, so why pursue something else?” the goddess adds.

“Will they stay in this… form forever?” Odysseus asks with the last embers of hope that he could dig out from his despondent self.

Melinoë hesitates, aware of how the Shade next to her is hanging on the edge of a breakdown by a thread. But he asks, so she can’t let his question stay unanswered.

“They won’t.” Straight to the point. “They’ll fade away, eventually, and their life energy will return to Primordial Chaos. Their essence will never cease to exist. But they won’t be reborn as the same persons.”

Heaviness fills her own heart as she hangs her head and stares at the green grass before her.

As soon as Melinoë hears Odysseus sniffle, she has to squeeze her eyes shut, so as not to let tears fall from them. Her own breathing wavers and she focuses on steadying it back to its natural pattern but still registers the air around her moving and the sound of the Shade next to her plopping down onto the ground.

Glassy-eyed, the goddess utterly pities Odysseus, the sorry sight he is right now. Hoping it’ll be at least a bit of comfort, Melinoë sits down next to him and lifts her hand to lay it on his back. She rubs at it carefully and then his whole frame shakes as he does his best to mute the sob that breaks from his chest. He’s got his eyes covered by a hand that he propped on his knee but Melinoë knows they’re at least as teary as hers.

“When they do fade away, they don’t even notice it. Nothing’s ever going to hurt them again,” Melinoë states reassuringly.

She’s met with silence, which Odysseus breaks after a while. “They drank from the Lethe right after we went our separate ways.”

So he read that entry in the scroll too.

A tear rolls down Melinoë’s cheek, hearing a weep rip itself from deep within his soul.

Odysseus doesn’t speak of his family ever again. He also doesn’t mention the encounter in Elysium and neither does Melinoë, for which he’s utterly grateful.

Days go by as they always do in the House of Hades again. There’s plans lying in front of the tactician’s eyes for most of the time, as he constantly draws his attention away from how his son and wife decided to forget about everything so quickly… But he doesn’t blame them, he can’t blame them. In fact, he thinks it was the most reasonable thing for them to do. They’d suffered enough once and they deserved to be free from those days.

The reality of it hurts Odysseus anyway. It always will.

It’s also yet another thing that’s going to be haunting him, weighing him down. He hates himself for dreaming not only about his mortal days but now also about that blasted stroll to Elysium.

Odysseus wakes up in the middle of every night. The nightmares seem to never be leaving him and he thinks he’s growing used to being torn away from his sleep while yelling and sweating cold beads along his spine. That’s when he knows that it’s no use going back to sleep because he’s not going to doze off again for another two or three hours.

So he revisits his newest plans and ideas, sitting at his desk with the chamber being illuminated only by a single torch hung up on the wall, next to him. In the dim light, Odysseus studies the blueprints, pondering over any possible changes or improvements. There is one concept that involves a wall and he’s feeling brave to assess it one night.

He digs it out from the pile of scrolls that he decided he would deal with later and spreads it across the desk. Holding the two sides down with his hands, he peers over it and an unpleasant sensation washes over him. He tries to weather it by swallowing and releasing a long exhale but it looks like it’s not going to be enough in the long run.

There’s that feeling of something clutching at his chest again and Odysseus blinks and attempts to compose himself because it’s nothing more but a scroll! A Great Tactician can’t be scared of scrolls, it’s absurd!

But it’s true.

Odysseus rips the plan into shreds.

Some other day, Odysseus wakes up with a thought of telling Melinoë about the most gruesome crime he committed during the war. He’s determined enough to do it as soon as possible before the courage leaves him and he’s left with that burden all alone again. He needs to share it with someone. He needs to finally feel better, lighter, and this must be the reason why he’s been coping so poorly lately.

If the goddess is not in her chamber, she is at the training grounds. Courtesy to Hecate, said training grounds look just like the ones back at the Crossroads. Melinoë wouldn’t stand it if they were different from what she’s used to.

So Odysseus heads exactly there but the closer he gets, the more familiar swooshes slicing the air he can hear. Curious and watchful, he peeks inside from the outside of the area and notices the goddess practising her archery skills. It brings a smile onto his face that disappears from there once he lays his eyes on Achilles who’s apparently still there to supervise Melinoë’s progress.

The tactician’s eyes grow cold at the sight and his fists clench tightly when Melinoë’s hit the mark and runs to Achilles to hug him, beaming with happiness and pride. Oh, she’d be a joy to look at if he weren’t there with her. Teaching her. Telling her how to shoot. Praising her for her first ever successful shot. Being there to witness it. Being there to laugh with her and return her embrace.

Odysseus should be there, not him.

When he storms off, all enraged and gritting his teeth, he’s got no chance of hearing how much Melinoë wishes he saw her do that and that her new goal is to better herself at archery even more and then show him how much she’s learnt.

The decision takes him a while to make.

Wanting to smooth out the process, Odysseus lists down all the advantages and disadvantages, both for him and for the residents of the House of Hades who are the most dear to him. Or one resident.

It’s rather sad to admit that the scale tips in favour of resolving to do the deed and finally be truly free. Free from worries and sorrows, and pain, and nightmares.

Odysseus knows it’ll terribly hurt Melinoë but he can’t go on like this anymore. He’s been trying to fight all those intrusive thoughts and remedy his terrible dreams and painful memories but nothing’s helped. Each day and each sleepless night are only making him more and more hopeless and desperate for a moment of respite. And the promise of eternal oblivion is something he’s found himself yearning for for the last couple of months or maybe even years.

The man of duty he is, the tactician doesn’t just leave. He makes an effort to inform everyone in the House about his decision and he’s relieved to hear their responses. The ones he’s talked to understand him but they’re upset anyhow. Maybe except for one figure who understands but is not too distraught. Odysseus is not too baffled by that, either.

He hasn’t told one particular goddess yet, though. And he doesn’t want to discuss this specific matter when he passes her in the halls. Instead, he asks her if she could visit him when she’s done with whatever business she has to attend to.

Odysseus also hasn’t told her about the infant yet. He doesn’t think about the possible repercussions. He’ll cross that bridge when he comes to it.

And it’s going to happen sooner than he’d like. It almost seems as if Melinoë resigned from doing whatever it was that she was planning on, and came straight to Odysseus. He shouldn’t be surprised – it’s not the first time such a thing’s occurred.

Melinoë is perplexed immediately after entering the room and having the door closed behind her. With a puzzled look, she follows Odysseus and takes a seat on a chair opposite him. She searches his face for any indications regarding the matters he wants to tackle but finds nothing but deep concern and… shame?

“Something isn’t right, is it? It can’t be, look at yourself, Od. Is it connected with something or someone around the House?”

“No, Goddess. It, erm… involves my mortal days.”

He swallows and exhales. Then, he drops it, looking Melinoë straight in the eye.

Her mouth falls slightly open as she hears what he’d done. There is clear shock in her expression but then the goddess furrows her brows and purses her lips as if she’s pondering over something important or serious. It puzzles Odysseus, for he was expecting her to… to do what? She’s a goddess, she could know a thing or two about sacrifices that have to be made sometimes.

Will she understand, then?

“Why haven’t you told me about it before?” she asks carefully, quirking an eyebrow up.

Odysseus’ eyes widen.

“Well, I…” He’s at a loss for words – something that never happens to him. “I’ve told you all about my greatest deeds and I suppose I was worried about you changing the view you had of me.”

“You’ve told me about the… less great deeds too. I see why killing a mortal child can be something that leaves a mark on a man but gods aren’t the purest beings, either. I’m sure you know that. And I think I can imagine what it means to be made to choose while being pressed by a god.”

Melinoë sends him a little smile which he returns, remembering how she mentioned being forced to make such decisions during her nightly ventures to Erebus or Ephyra. But then Odysseus also looks at her in a way that she can’t quite read.

I see why killing a mortal child can be something that leaves a mark on a man.

Does she now? She said it with something akin to lightness in her tone. Odysseus can no longer hide his own incredulity.

“That moment is still haunting me, Goddess,” he admits wearily. “Every day and every night.”

Silence.

“I’m so tired of–”

The tactician doesn’t let his voice falter any further, so he just shuts up. Tears well up in his eyes and he hates it. Averting his gaze, he blinks the tears away but it’s to no avail especially now that Melinoë’s got up to come closer and crouch in front of him. She cups his face to wipe the tears away and then grabs his hands with hers and squeezes soothingly.

“I need to rest, Goddess,” Odysseus gasps out. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to stand all these thoughts and memories for much longer. You see, after you defeated that old bastard for good, I was looking forward to whatever it was that the Fates had in store for me. For us all.”

“But?”

“But the optimism died out sooner than I would’ve preferred.”

He tells her about his dreams and his nightmares. He tells her how the latter are only getting worse and worse, never asking Melinoë to change anything about that. Even the sheer fact that he’s telling her that the night terrors are constantly rendering him terrified and exhausted is something he never assumed he would be so open about to the Nightmare Goddess.

Odysseus talks about the walls he can no longer wander atop of. He talks about the torn plans and ideas that he had to forget because they included either constructing walls or getting onto the already existing ones.

And then, he speaks about the utter disenchantment that he was met with when he read the scroll about Penelope and Telemachus.

Melinoë’s radiating with genuine pity and it’s only making Odysseus feel worse. Her mood is visibly plummeting and it’s all his fault. But he can’t keep it all bottled up anymore. He has to let it out, so that she’ll understand why he finally wants to forget everything and claim his spot in Elysium.

“Od?”

His expectant look is enough for Melinoë to go on.

“I’m not making you feel any better when I practise using the bow with Achilles, am I?”

The question quickly pulls Odysseus out of his torpor. He takes a sharp inhale and stands up, pulling Melinoë up too. She doesn’t even notice when he embraces her and draws her close to his front.

“The last thing I want is you blaming yourself for that, Goddess. Or for anything that concerns me, for that matter. It’s him I’m mad at, not you,” he says firmly and feels Melinoë release a breath that she was holding.

“Are you sure? I can talk to him if you’d like me to,” the goddess offers, shrugging. Not a big deal.

“No.” Odysseus then lets her go and wavery words leave his lungs. “It won’t change anything. I’ve made my decision.”

“What decision?”

Revealing the news causes Melinoë to burst out crying and bury her face in Odysseus’ shoulder. He’s there to hold her while she’s shivering, hidden in his arms, clutching the fabric of his cloak. She keeps telling him that she understands but her weeping seems to be implying something else. It’s as if she wants to tell him that everything can be mended, as if that idea’s ready at the tip of her tongue, but such a proposition never makes it past Melinoë’s lips. They’re both perfectly aware of how stubborn he is. She’s taken it after him.

He explains to her why the Lethe is the only solution to the hardships he faces every day. He once again mentions the things he’s already mentioned – his past now going hand in hand with him – and Melinoë is truly listening, absorbing and analysing the information, in-between the sobbing.

Odysseus feared she’d start questioning him and convincing him not to do what he’s yearning to do. But she doesn’t.

To Odysseus’ amazement, she calms down as he keeps talking to her, rubbing her back in a comforting manner. Only then does the goddess truly start to realise the severity of the horrors he’s got to endure daily and nightly.

“Goddess, you’re the last one to hear it all from me because… I’d be honoured if you accompanied me to Elysium,” he adds in a hushed way.

“Do you want to go already?” Melinoë mutters gloomily.

“I’ll wait if you need a moment.”

“Thanks, Od.”

“Take your time.”

It’s Melinoë who starts talking about the pleasant memories of the past she shares with Odysseus. After all, if this is the last time she’s talking to him while he still recognises her, she may as well use it to reminisce, so that they don’t part in melancholy. Not that Odysseus would remember that for too long once they’re off to their own, separate fates.

The goddess’ heart sings when she mentions all the times she played hide and seek with Hecate and Odysseus would help little Melinoë find the Titaness. They’d all always laugh the alleged cheating off later. Melinoë also played the game only with him from time to time and once found, he’d chase her around the Crossroads, purposefully failing to catch her, only to make her smile.

He’s cherished Melinoë’s laughter since the first time he heard it. There was a time when the little goddess didn’t have many reasons to laugh, for nightmares tormented her and she woke up crying in her tent. And Odysseus was always there first, ready to console her and talk flowery words about his own past, prattling on about the challenges he’d faced during the war or his long journey home.

And Melinoë would always fall asleep, listening to his calming voice.

Just as she’s doing now as he ends one of his monologues with a joyous chuckle. It then fades away when the bank of the Lethe appears in the distance before them. They fall silent and the audible sigh that Odysseus makes has Melinoë’s heart sink. They don’t stall, however, and steadily reach the river, stopping a couple of steps away from its gently flowing waters embraced in veil-like mist.

The sight is beautiful. Breathtaking.

“I guess our journey ends here. Thank you, Odysseus. For everything. We wouldn’t have any of this if it hadn’t been for you,” Melinoë utters, her words shaky, as she’s stood in front of him, looking into his tired but pleased eyes.

“Likewise, Goddess. I must admit I never expected the afterlife to be this eventful.”

“But now it’s time to rest. You deserve it, Od. We’ve got our share of it already, so now it’s your turn. Go and enjoy it. Be truly free from all that haunts you.” She smiles but her lips tremble.

Melinoë can’t stop her teeth from clattering, yet somehow manages not to let tears fall from her glassy eyes. She sniffles and puts on a brave face. She shakes her head and then throws her arms around Odysseus’ neck, pulling herself close to him, so that he can embrace her too. He holds her tightly, as if he were to never let go for fear of losing what they have, the bond they’ve forged over the years that Odysseus has always been too cowardly to name or call out loud.

He almost says it then. Almost, since the words die in his throat and all he does is clear it, emotions overwhelming him.

Melinoë sniffles again and soon releases Odysseus from her arms. She then wipes her eyes and tells him that she’s alright. He rubs her arm comfortingly and the goddess mourns the moment he stops and turns around, unable to look at her.

He’s breaking her heart and his own in two at the same time. He knows it but he also knows that this memory, this sentiment will be erased in a moment. He’ll feel no more pain and he’ll finally be free.

That’s what he’s craving, so he doesn’t waste more time and walks away from Melinoë. She’s following him with her gaze, which is boring a hole in the back of Odysseus’ head and he almost can’t resist whipping back around and returning to her.

In fact, it’s when he hears her choke on a sob that his resolve breaks.

Odysseus has the goddess pressed to his chest in no time. She’s not holding back now, crying into the fabric of his clothes, gripping them in her hands not to let him go to that blasted river.

“It’s no use crying over an old bastard like me, Goddess,” he says gently, his own voice shaking.

“H-how am I supposed not to?” Melinoë hiccups and continues, muttering the words into Odysseus’ front. “After all you’ve done for me? After all we’ve been through?”

He wants to say something but tears suddenly roll down his cheeks of their own volition. He grunts to compose himself again but he still remains quiet.

Tell her, you fool.

… Or let her do it for you.

“How am I supposed to just let you go without you knowing how much you mean to me, Od? You raised me and have always been by my side… I could never dream of a better father.”

Something grips him from the inside. It holds tightly and then loosens up, making a wave of relief wash over him, making him cry with no more inhibitions.

Pulling Melinoë impossibly close, Odysseus kisses the top of her head and rests his chin there, weeping just as heavily as she is.

“And I could never dream of a better daughter, Melinoë.”

His heart shatters into small pieces, hearing the muffled cry that she lets out. One last time, Odysseus tightens the hug for a fleeting moment and then opens his arms only to see how downcast Melinoë looks.

He pulls himself together for her, though. He can’t allow it all to get to him. He can’t allow it to convince him to return to and stay at the House of Hades.

Having brushed the freshest tears off of his own face and then hers, Odysseus holds her by her shivering arms and Melinoë locks her eyes with his.

“It’ll be alright,” he tells her (and himself). “Go home now and enjoy the rest of your life, aye? No more tears, Goddess. Chin up.”

She nods, still snivelling.

“I love you.”

It takes all of Melinoë’s willpower not to completely break down right in front of Odysseus. It only feels more impossible when he lets her go again and turns around to wander off in the direction of the Lethe.

“I’ll never forget you, Od. I love you, too.”

When Odysseus glances over his shoulder, the goddess is there no more. He thinks it’s better this way, for this way, she won’t have to watch him do the deed. She won’t have to witness the moment his memory becomes blank.

With his fists clenched and his step faltering, Odysseus reaches the bank of the river Lethe. He sits down on the soft, grassy surface and exhales, staring at the spot where he and Melinoë stood only a while ago.

It’s one of the happiest things in his whole life knowing that Melinoë’s seen him as her father all this time. He wishes it was possible to purge one’s mind solely from bad memories.

But it’s not and the longer he’s there, gaping into the distance with longing for the goddess to return, the stronger the pain in his chest’s growing. And it can be over so soon. Freedom and rest are right there, waiting for him to take a sip. Melinoë’s not coming back and he really shouldn’t be thinking about how she must be feeling now, grieving alone.

Left there, without him to hold her and lift her up, so that she can confidently stride forward again and face another day.

Sitting at the bank of the river, Odysseus glances at his reflection in the lazily flowing water. He reaches out his shaking, uncertain hand and scoops some of the liquid oblivion into his palm.

So this is Elysium?

[catalists]

our love spins a gun around its finger, chapter 1 | a Malevolent fanfic

Rating: M Relationships: John & Arthur Lester, John/Arthur Lester, John/Noel | Charlie Dowd, John/Arthur Lester/Noel | Charlie Dowd, John & Noel | Charlie Dowd Tags: John (Malevolent) Has His Own Body, Gender Issues, Post-Season/Series 05, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Jealousy, Noel | Charlie Dowd has Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder | PTSD, Repressed Arthur Lester, Jealous Arthur Lester, POV Noel | Charlie Dowd, John (Malevolent) Has a Woman's Body, John (Malevolent) Uses He/Him and She/Her Pronouns, Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Summary:

A freshly separated Arthur Lester and John Doe turn up on Noel's doorstep, with an entirely new brand of complication. Namely: John Doe is inhabiting a woman's body. As Arthur and John try to adjust to a normal life, John discovers that gender is not his favorite human invention. Noel offers to marry "Jane" as strictly a matter of convenience--but when they start to date for the benefit of Noel's colleagues, he finds that he's enjoying it more than he should. It's fine. It's practical. Noel wouldn't do anything stupid like really fall in love. And Arthur's absolutely, definitely not jealous of John's growing bond with Noel. And John certainly doesn't have any secrets left that might threaten the small peace they're starting to find...

[mothbeasts]

there's something about penny that I feel fairly qualified to say. that I would get nervous seeing from anyone I don't know. so I'm going to say it and hope everyone trusts that I know what I'm talking about here because it's been eating at me

Massive spoilers for Tangle Tower under the cut + long post

Penny, Penelope, Hawkshaw - Whatever identity she's taking, it all feels indicative of a dissociative disorder, to me. I say this as a bug with a dissociative disorder. Clarifying this now because I know how easy it can be to slip into the "evil alter" trope and that is NOT what I am trying to say here. Okay are we all cool? I'm continuing.

We don't know exactly when Penny's parents left. But I did crunch some numbers. Based on what Felix has to say about her - How she was raised by her uncle Percival, but was overlooked for Poppy - as well as her own admissions in the end of the game establishing that the study was still in use while she was young, the absolute earliest her parents likely left is when she was eight. Eight years old, and practically abandoned. Now, in all likelihood, they didn't leave as soon as possible. There was probably a bit longer of a gap between Poppy's birth and Penny's parents leaving Tangle Tower. But if she was a legal adult - At least eighteen - by the time her parents left, I doubt they would have described her as being raised by her uncle.

But even then, she was traumatized well before her parents left. That's just the final nail in the coffin.

While the study was in use... They were making use of the furnace. The one she admits made her room hot. That convinced her she was haunted.

That would do horrible things to the psyche of a child.

That, along with her parents leaving at a young age? That could absolutely be the inciting incident for a dissociative disorder of some kind.

And I haven't even factored in how she was likely treated as not Really a member of the family by her uncle but that's something for another post. Because it's another layer of analysis that would take way longer for me to establish my theorizing for.

Anyway. Penny went through a lot, is my point here.

And it shows. She can slip between her facets as easily as sliding into a pool with barely any bleedthrough between them. She can be whatever she has to be. Craft a new identity like it's nothing.

And the way she talks about it, too - Even in the end, she talks about Hawkshaw as if she's someone else entirely. Talks about Penny as if Penny isn't her. Insists on being called Penelope, though Sally and Grimoire keep calling her Penny regardless.

I think, in some way, it's true. She's not Penny. Not really. Not in her head. Penny is someone else - Someone who adapted to life in the Pointer family. Always second best. As she says herself, Penny pales in comparison to those who came before and after her. And this is no accident. It would probably help her cope, or at least make her treatment make sense. If Penny was something developed when she was young, it would make sense.

And Penelope... Is another coping mechanism. Born from her need to fill the shoes of her parents, to belong with them.

But both are formed through a need to belong. To fill a spot in the lives of others. Neither of them, and both at the same time, are truly her. And it would explain why leaving Tangle Tower never helped her... Her identity was formed entirely around her life there. Molded to be the perfect addition to the Pointer family.

Where does that put Hawkshaw, then? If I'm being fully honest I don't know. Hawkshaw is definitely something different, or at least a more recent facet of her identity that's fractured off. Not fully fleshed out beyond the role she needed to serve. And Penelope very intentionally invented Hawkshaw. So I think really she's little more than a costume, especially in the time we see her. Maybe she'd develop into something more, given time. Maybe not. I have no clue.

All this to say. I think Penny has something going on in her mind. I think maybe there's something dissociative happening that's caused her to split herself in two just to cope with everything that's happened to her, and I don't even think she knows that's what's going on. Who's going to tell her