Since That’s Just My Tuesday, I Feel The Exact Same.

omg… paaleeaassse

(emphasis on the please)

continue the story about superhero kidnapping hero i loved it

(I’m so sorry to the anon who requested the original and then the continuation I accidentally deleted your ask when I tried to answer it just now ksjdkdjfkd)

I’m going to be honest, I had no motivation to continue this until chocolate was involved heh

Prev.

Cw: kidnapping, drugging, restraints, starvation, refusal to eat, mentioned needles, blood, bruises, uhh idk what else to put here I feel like I’m missing stuff

Hot tears pricked the corners of Hero’s eyes as they squirmed and shrank back in their seat. The shackles around their wrists clanked loudly, each little twist causing the metal links to pinch against their skin.

Across the table from them, Superhero let out a long sigh. Dark circles were prominent under their bloodshot eyes, their hair uncombed and clothes wrinkled. The plate that sat in front of them was barely picked at, only a few peas missing from the small mountain which they had served themself. It was clear that they were tired, deeply exhausted as they tried to manage both their heroic duties and the defiance of their captive.

“Would you cut that out?!” Superhero finally snapped, slamming their fist down against the table and causing all the silverware to rattle.

Hero’s breath caught, their eyes going wide before narrowing with spite. They glared right back into Superhero’s eyes, their jaw clenching as they gave another violent tug against the chains.

With a grunt of anger, Superhero shoved back from the table, their chair toppling in their haste to rise. Hero barely had time to panic before Superhero was before them, their strong grip wrapping around Hero’s jaw and wrenching their head up to meet their eyes.

“I’m sick of your little antics,” They growled, nails biting into hero’s skin as they leaned in close. “I have been nothing but kind to you. I’ve given you a home, I have given you food and a place safe from this goddamned city.”

Hero couldn’t help but whimper as Superhero shoved their face next to theirs, so close Hero could feel the heat of their breath against their cheek as they tried to turn away.

“I have made sure nothing and no one will ever hurt you again, and this is how you repay me?!” Superhero spat. “I have tried everything, Hero. I gave you space. I gave you choices. But no, that’s not good enough for stuck up little Hero.”

They flinched back, squeezing their eyes shut as Superhero’s other hand wrapped around their wrist, biting back a cry as the shackles began to cut into their skin.

“I don’t know what to do anymore, I don’t fucking know!” Superhero yelled, an unfamiliar emotion glistening behind their eyes as they dragged Hero up out of their seat. “I never wanted to hurt you, Hero! I could never hurt you! But shit, you-”

Superhero cut themself off, drawing in a slow breath through their nose.

A moment later, they reopened their eyes and looked down at the terrified face of Hero, whom they still held in a tight grip.

“You know what, I think a night in the basement will do you well.”

Hero’s jaw fell slack as Superhero let go of their face, left to stumble along as they dragged them from the room by the wrist.

“Wait-” Hero gasped, their voice raw from disuse over the past couple weeks. “Wait Sup- Superhero don’t-”

But Superhero just ignored them as they pulled Hero up to a large steel door, digging around their pocket for a moment before producing a small metal key.

“There’s a mattress and a sink down there. You chose not to eat supper, so when you go hungry that’s on you.” Superhero’s voice was flat as they unlocked the deadbolt on the door and pulled it open.

Hero’s heart dropped as they were met with a steep, dark staircase that led into an abyss of shadows.

“Nono please-” They whimpered, eyes wide with terror as Superhero pushed them down to the first step. “Please don’t-”

“There’s a light switch down there somewhere. I’ll be back to get you in the morning.”

Without another word, Superhero slammed the door shut and clicked the lock back into place.

•••

Villain squinted as they watched Superhero slip through the door of a lavish house and draw their cape tighter around themself as the breeze pricks their skin. Through their binoculars, Villain could see the wrinkles on their uniform, smudges of dirt and reminants of the battle from the day before.

If Villain had doubts before, they were certainly sure now. Superhero never went out in a dirty uniform. Their entire personality was centered on being “neat” and “presentable”.

Villain shoved their binoculars back into their bag and stood up. They waited a few minutes for Superhero to take off into alleyways, double checking that the coast was clear before making their way down from the little perch which they spied.

It had been three weeks since Hero disappeared. As if into thin air, not a trace of their existence left behind. No media coverage, no reporters snooping and stalking.. it had been eerie. A disappearance like this would have been publishing gold. Even though Hero wasn’t the most well known, they were certainly up there. For them to not jump on the case- something was up.

At first, Villain suspected OtherVillain. The creep had always been obsessed with Hero, gushing for hours about how “beautiful their screams are” or “how gorgeous they looked covered in blood”. They were the obvious choice. But after a late night meeting in an abandoned factory, a little bit of bloodshed, and bruises that did not fade from Villain’s knuckles for weeks, Villain came to realize they were innocent.

Their next thought had been Supervillain. If anyone was able to control the publishings within the city, it was certainly them. When investigating, however, Villain had to be much more discreet than they had with OtherVillain. Supervillain had eyes and ears everywhere, and if Villain was caught snooping in their base…

They had made quick work of it. Sneaking in through a shipment of ammo, knocking out a henchman and…borrowing their uniform.

From there they just walked around for a while, pretending to be busy at work. Once they dared to ask another henchman about hero, but they had just shrugged.

“I thought Villain finished them off.”

Villain didn’t waste any more time there after that.

For almost two weeks, they spent every waking hour searching. Scanning the city from top to bottom for a mere hint at where their Hero could have gone. They found and fought every Villain to the next city over, desperate for a shred of information. There was always something missing, something they knew they were overlooking.

Until the news interview.

Superhero had had a talk show session planned out with the largest broadcasting company in the city. Thousands of eyes locked against their screens, ready for Superhero to make their appearance-

And they didn’t show.

At first Villain had thought it was stupid, stupid of them even to think that Superhero could have something to do with the disappearance. But the more they thought about it, the more likely it seemed. After a week of waiting, of spying from a distance, watching the change in Superhero’s appearance, they found themself finally breaking in.

The front door was surprisingly easy to kick down. A single deadbolt was all that guarded Superhero’s home, one flimsy lock between Villain and whatever was inside.

The house was clean—Not clean in a recently vacuumed and dusted way. It looked.. untouched. A fine layer of dust had settled over nearly everything, the room before them giving off a strange feeling, one that Villain couldn’t quite identify.

It almost felt like they were wandering the halls of some museum as they stepped out of the parlor and into what appeared to be the dining room. Like everything’s was preserved, tucked away from the prying eyes of the world.

The table was empty, the surface clear of all except two placemats, positioned at opposite heads of the table. On one side of the room, a large stone fireplace took up a good portion of the wall, filled with cinders and half-burned logs. On another, a window with the curtains drawn tight.

Villain stepped closer, their brows furrowing as they crouched down by one of the chair’s legs.

Scuff marks liked the floor, shallow scratches in the wood as if someone had been carelessly dragging the chair back and forth. On the armrests, odd little divots dotted the wood, speckled with-

Villain faltered, their mouth suddenly going dry.

They had enough experience im the business to know what dried blood looked like.

“Hero?” Villain called out as they stood up. The floorboards creaked under them as theirs fingers wrapped around the pistol hidden in their jacket. “Hero, are you here?”

All Villain was met with was the quiet echo of their own voice as it carried through the halls.

They let out a sigh, pushing down the unease that began to creep up their chest. Everything was fine. They had seen how Superhero and Hero interacted on the battlefield- they were friends! This was just villain being paranoid, Superhero would never do something like this to Hero…

Villain hurried out of the dining room, glancing both ways down the hallway they stepped into. They were sure Superhero had cameras, some sort of surveillance system in place to monitor their home. Even though they were on patrol, Villain wasn’t sure how long they had until Superhero got back. They had given up stealth, now all they had left to work with was speed.

“Hero, it’s me, Villain!” They yelled, choosing one direction and quickly walking, throwing open each door they passed before moving on. “I- I’m here to help you!”

Villain took a deep breath, trying to shake off their growing anxiety. Maybe Hero had run away on their own, by their own choice. Yeah- yeah that’s probably what it was. They were probably living a normal life somewhere in a little suburban town with low crime rates, happy and healthy and safe-

Villain’s heart nearly stopped as their eyes caught on a door.

The door itself was made of a strong metal, sealed shut with a padlock. They could feel a cold draft slip from the gaps near the hinges.

Oh fuck…

“Is anyone in there?!” Villain slammed their fist hard against the door, making the latch rattle. They let out a string of curses, bringing their hand up to tug at the padlock. It was much sturdier than the one that had been on the front door, undoubtedly impossible to remove without some sort of lock pick or a sledgehammer.

Villain glanced down at the pistol, still clutched tight in their left hand.

“If there’s someone in there, get away from the door,” They yelled, pulling the gun fully out of their jacket and flicking off the safety. “I’m coming in- brace yourself.”

For a moment, Villain hesitated. If the room was empty, they’d be wasting a good bullet and precious time. But who kept a door locked- sturdily locked without good reason? Even if Hero wasn’t inside, there had to be something important.

They adjusted their grip on the gun, aimed at the lock, and pulled the trigger.

•••

Villain shoved their gun back into their jacket, switching on the safety as they did so. The stench of gunpowder overtook their senses for a moment, making them cough as they ripped the broken padlock from the door and flung it aside. The handle was cold to the touch as Villain grabbed it and twisted, pushing it open.

They paused, every thought in their mind slowing to a halt as they stared down the poorly lit staircase into what seemed to be a basement below. A rush of cold air made their hair stand on end, goosebumps raising along their arms.

“Hero..?” Villain swallowed back the bile that began to creep up their throat, taking a cautious step through the doorway. Every alarm in their mind was going off, screaming at them to turn the other way. A tension filled the air, so thick Villain couldn’t breathe right as they slowly descended the stairs. They kept one hand against the pistol, ready to pull it free at any moment.

When Villain got to the bottom of the stairs, a wave of emotions crashed over them, their heart twisting. Part of them wished they had run, while another was glad they didn’t. Their minuscule reliefs was short lived, though, when they noticed the limp form strewn across the mattress wasn’t moving.

“Shit,” Villain cursed, their face going pale as they sprinted across the room and dropped to Hero’s side. Even with their back to them, Villain could recognize them anywhere. “Shit shit shit-”

Villain grabbed Hero by the shoulder, rolling them off their side and onto their back. Their heart was beating so hard they could feel it in the tips of their fingers as they looked to Hero’s face.

Villain nearly sobbed in relief as they watched Hero slowly blink open their eyes.

“Hey hero- hero it’s me,” They rushed out, stumbling over their words as they brought a hand up to cup Hero’s cheek. Their skin was cold and clammy to the touch, half-staved and sickly but they were alive. They were alive and they were here.

Villain’s joy quickly faded when they received no response. Hero’s eyes were glassy, their gaze distant as they stared ahead at the ceiling. The rise and fall of their chest was shallow, their body otherwise still.

“Hero?” Villain echoed, their chest tightening as they carefully gathered Hero in their arms. “Hero can you hear me?”

Villain waited, watching Hero’s face for so much as a twitch, but their expression remained blank. Blank and empty.

“Fuck,” Villain’s stomach twisted, disgust and hatred quickly swelling behind their eyes as they noticed the marks on the side of Hero’s neck. Dozens of needle marks and bruises littered their skin, all recent.

Villain forced the anger down, shaking their head to clear their mind as they stood up, cradling Hero’s limp form close.

“Oh Hero.. what did they do to you…”

I can’t believe that a war criminal is canonically a Tumblr Sexyman

the ghost of one specific homosexual cowboy regularly possesses Tumblr gays

Truths & Myths: Pluralpedia Part 1

Welcome to our "Truths and Myths" series! In this series, we aim to debunk misconceptions and provide accurate information about Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID). We will mainly focus on DID as it is the disorder we are most familiar with on both a personal and research basis.

Each post will highlight the accurate and inaccurate parts of each term, from the best of our research ability. Then, at the end, we will explain the full story of what DID actually is and provide our sources. We will be taking requests for terms anyone would like us to review. Otherwise, we will use random terms we find.

This first post is an exception to the random terms as we wanted to go over the formation of a DID system.

 To develop Dissociative Identity Disorder, a child must experience overwhelming, severe, and repetitive trauma during their childhood. Having a dissociative disorder such as DID, PDID (ICD-11), or OSDD (DSMV) is the only way to have forms of dissociative identities.

As previously mentioned, DID can only be formed from trauma.

However, it has been suggested that individuals with a natural ability to dissociate or use dissociation as their primary response to trauma are more likely to develop DID. This innate ability allows them to reach a high level of dissociation and form dissociative identities. It is important to note that there is currently no confirmed link between this ability and the development of DID, but it is a proposed logical theory that would need more research.

Furthermore, certain biological factors can make an individual more susceptible to trauma, such as being born biologically female or being neurodivergent. For example, biological females are statistically more likely to experience s*xual abuse, which may have been the trauma they experienced as a child that led to the formation of their system.

Additionally, it is crucial to clarify that Dissociative Identity Disorder cannot be present at birth, and therefore, one can not be born with a system.

The theory of how personality is structured suggests that the personality comprises "modes" that contain cognitive, affective, behavioural, and physiological representations. These modes also represent a plan for encoding experiences and responding to internal and environmental demands.

For example, a person may have a "mother mode" activated when caring for a child, and this mode would have planned what care a child needs. However, the person will also have other modes, such as one associated with demands about their work or demands for defence in verbal ways. In a regular adult, all modes are connected to each other and are under a "conscious control system," which allows for an integrated self-state. This is why it may feel you have fluctuations in your personality or feel differently around your family than your friends. They are different modes, but importantly, they are all integrated together, unlike in an individual with DID.

DID occurs when this coupling process of modes is disrupted by dissociation caused by trauma. This results in smaller, more isolated pockets of modes, leading to multiple conscious control systems that represent different and discontinuous modes. Each of these systems has its own aspect of self, reflected by the modes within it.

One's I specifically used to write my explanation:

Though I suppose technically, in the way the theory is currently proposed, people who have DID never had a "singlet" phase. Otherwise, they would not have been able to form a system or develop DID.

Revisiting the etiological aspects of dissociative identity disorder: a biopsychosocial perspective. (Section under Dissociative Identities)

McLean Hospital. (Section under What is Dissociative Identity Disorder?)

Other external sources that also validate my claims but were not used specifically in the writing:

Cleveland Clinic. (Section under What causes Dissociative Identity Disorder)

The coupling process can be disturbed when a child tries to displace their thoughts, feelings, and emotions onto a “not me” in order to escape what they are experiencing and carry on with life and allows the child to remain for example creative or have a sense of humour even in very difficult circumstances. This leads to disconnected feelings and disorganised attachments to primary caregivers, which means the integration of modes is impossible.

NHS (Section under Causes of Dissociative disorder. It is important to note that this covers all dissociative disorders, not specifically DID)

Better Health Channel. (Section under Causes of Dissociative Disorders. It is important to note that this covers all dissociative disorders, not specifically DID)

Thank you for reading our first part to this series. Feel free to send us an echo to our page or leave in the comments any questions or suggestions for future parts to this series.

Made from the collaborative efforts of the system who run this blog.

The best one.

'keep an eye on the case loads over the next few days' AN EYE YOU SAY. AN EYE ? AN EYE ??????

It’s the thumb post y’all.

I’m opening ‘50 Shades of Grey’ to a random page and posting what I find. Part nine.

Christian Grey put his thumb in my mouth. And then the other one. And then two more. "Wider,“ he said as he put in one more. "I bet you’ve never had this many thumbs in your mouth.” I hadn’t.