#multiple selves

With SAS (UwU 🌸)

For both pro and anti endos, no DNI

I ended up dozing off in the pedicure chair, I'm so goddamn cute now, I've just seen all the bots, and we're going to be crushed by snow tomorrow

It's a damn good day, this January 24th, 2026

Let's speed run this, there's so many new people

Hi, I'm dude, I graduated in social services, did my hours to get licensed, went back to school for law. Now I do neither, but I love syscourse and maintain access to university libraries.

This gives me unique access to research and things like the cited, annotated DSM.

Let's start from the beginning and then get into the best of the best research. Every single linked post contains REAL research, real (mostly) peer reviewed articles, real sources to back up every single point, and archived websites exploring community history.

Here's a syscourse history/research primer

Late 1800s to early 1900s

Freud first used the term "endogenic" to refer to the fantasy theory of CDDs (jump to the second post). The idea that we're all faking it. This specific fact was immediately forgotten, and we can jump adjacently to Pierre Janet, the person who originally conceptualized the theory of structural dissociation. It's that old. The Haunted Self, a book discussing the history of the theory and proposed treatment for structural dissociation, often cited by anti psych people because one of the three authors is known to have abused his patient, is not the theory itself, nor are they the people who came up with the theory. This is so much more than just a theory, but we'll get to that in a bit.

In the early to mid 1900s, the Multiple Self Theory gained traction. Yes, this is also that old. This is where all the BEST research is. "Endogenic" appears to just be the newest term for a phenomenon that has been going on for centuries under various other names, and discussed in depth in journals outside of psychology-- philosophy, consciousness, Self, anthropology. Research into "endogenics" is in its infancy, with maybe 5 credible articles that have a very shaky basis (links further down). Research into MST is robust and far reaching. MST has described everything from switching to internal communication and exists outside of trauma theories.

And it's not just the MST. I don't particularly enjoy kinhost, but this is a great page covering other theories that were growing alongside all this, with real research article links.

Endogenic, in reference to the fantasy theory, continued to see usage but no one seems to care about that.

In the 1980s we saw the satanic panic, a very important milestone in CDD history, if not a disappointing one. The panic would continue until roughly 1994, though the False Memory Syndrome Foundation would run until 2019, and Grey Faction and the Satanic Temple continue their work to this very day.

In 1989, the very first MPD newsletter started. You can still read all of it here. It's actually really beautiful stuff. The community continued to grow into the 90s.

To summarize the second half of the above linked post, 1995 presents the VERY FIRST community mention of non disordered multiplicity (we're not going to talk about Ross' paper from the 80s in this post). Astraea's web would be the first website to discuss this topic. Go and search everything you can, use every search term you can think of, check every archive you can access. I assure you. It starts with astraea.

And astraea is a piece of crap. They would start the empowered multiple movement, a literal DID hate group that tried to boycott the diagnosis as a whole and fought to remove it from the DSM.

You know how these days there's an argument over whether endogenics should use "system"? This isn't our first rodeo. It was in the late 90s, during the fight over the word "multiple" (related to MPD, which was still in use) that "plurality" was coined as an anti psych alternative. "System" wouldn't come into use until much later, with plurals claiming it was dehumanizing, and created by doctors to control us. Then they forgot they said that and decided they wanted system.

Anyways, IMO, the multiple self community and plural community collided right at this point, with the multiple selves being the very first "endogenic" systems (a term that was still over a decade away from being "loving coined", despite all prior usage AGAINST CDD systems).

The 2000s saw an absolute surge in CDD research and support for the trauma theory. We can now see the TOSD on brain scans, among other incredible facts. We can almost diagnose CDDs with imagining. I have posted so much of this research. This isn't up for debate, so I'm not bothering with links for this portion. I don't even know what I'd link to make the point--

OMG, yes I do. Those citations are overkill, I love it.

And we're finally seeing official, real research into endogenics and plurals.

“Here’s Dissociative Identity Disorder, and we’re not that”: a constructivist grounded theory exploration of multiplicity experiences

The online community: DID and plurality

Varieties of tulpa experiences: The hypnotic nature of human sociality, personhood, and interphenomenality

Anomalous self and identity experiences.

Of all of it, my favorite is the Stanford tulpa studies. Essentially, a study of 5 different groups from the across the world, who utilize dissociation (or prayer) to experience a second consciousness. Including tulpas. Scans show two separate streams of activation, and that's really fucking cool.

I really like all of lurhmann's work.

This has already happened, we're here, we're just waiting on final papers, you can either catch up or look dumb, this is INCREDIBLE for several reasons, and is already proving helpful in terms of developing therapy techniques. I expect in the near future that we'll see direct comparisons between CDD systems and plurals, and I genuinely can't wait.

I expect that it'll be different. That CDDs will continue to be linked to neural biomarkers related to trauma, and that plurality will present in a hundred other ways. That we can finally put this argument to rest.

"Endogenic" would be "coined" in 2014. Previous usage of this term would never be discussed again, no matter how much I talk about it. Endogenic became synonymous with plural, and plural was already synonymous with empowered multiple rhetoric. The words changed but many of the ideas did not, leaving a very ingrained ableism to many pro endogenic arguments.

In 2017, the plural association was created and everything got worse for everyone every single year ever since.

If anyone would like any further information or a deep dive into anything in particular, please let me know.

Angel had been confused when he had gotten a dorm room all to himself, two bunks to the room, his miniscule amount of stuff relegated to the tiny place he thought he’d had to share.

 He’d asked the university about it but all they had cited was his scholarship and a more than enthusiastic assertion that the university needed more people like him. The beds would be filled they assured, although they were sure the new occupants would be more than happy with however he used the extra space in the meantime.

He’d just sat there waiting for classes and some ample funds direct from the school for things he hadn’t ever expected to be part of a full ride. Food and tuition sure, but also a sizable fund for clothes, toiletries and bedroom necessities.

The visit to the student clinic had been suspect, but Angel wasn’t going to question much in his fully tuition paid nikes. They could ask for him to participate in a human sacrifice and it would be worth it, for all they’d supplied him with a complete timeline of his bachelorette degree and then his PhD. A guaranteed future his advisor had said.

“Won’t be lonely too” She’d happily said, before giggling in a just ever so ominous way.

It all came to a head, literally, when Angel’s left shoulder had started to ache.

It wasn’t painful really, but it felt wrong. His spine felt strange and his back muscles seemed to swell, as his heart and lungs seemed to flutter in his chest. The sensation travelled down a perfect split of his body.

“We’ll be sure to get you in touch with the art department” the school chiropractor had said after adjusting his shoulder, his tone clearly seeing nothing wrong with Angel. “I’m sure there’s a student who’d be more than willing to help you when you have need for some special adjustments” he’d said, not elaborating before he did something to Angel’s muscles that felt good enough to shut him up.

After a ill advised night of drinking, Angel and a cute guy having snuck into a frat party before making out in a bathroom, Angel had settled into his dorm bed with no memory of having gotten there, staring down with a unthinking alcohol addled brain at his shoulder that seemed to writhe.

He’d woken up facing a indistinct blob growing out of the shoulder the next morning and sat there breathless. It had been vaguely human in the dawn light, pale and hairless as it slept. It’s every breath pulling air into Angel’s lungs, mouth open as its facial features seemed to swim.

A single incisor was chipped, the same that Angel had hit falling off a skate board years ago. It was the detail that stopped Angel from screaming at the parasite that seemed to have pushed his neck aside, so that it seemed to own just as much of the body’s real estate as he did.

Angel hadn’t moved as he seemed to watch the features resolve as the sun rose. Complexion painting across the guy’s face and presumably neck, although Angel would need to move to see that.  Hair sprouted, forming eyebrows and facial hair, a full head of hair far too rapidly growing out of the top of the head, a mop that would need to be cut before Angel would let them go out in public.

The guy woke up what felt like decade later, groggily yawning before opening his eyes to Angel’s, the two same deep brown irises locking as Angel tried his best to telepathically communicate with the new guy who shared his body.

That morning was something he wished he could relive, the two of them getting to know each other. Clumsily figuring out sharing a body, failing at getting a t-shirt over their heads as they gave up and decided a button down would be the best way to go, less buttoned than usual to accommodate a slightly awkwardly widened chest. Both learning that they were each other’s inner monologue, perfectly in tune with the other.

It was simple for the two to line up the situation, fit all the pieces together. Hell after they’d simply blasted through one of their near impossible scholarship assigned worksheets, that had been answer enough.

Angel was a wunderkind, and one that the school was seemingly openly interested in replicating. They hadn’t even really hidden that fact, every little document he’d received now obviously pointing towards the end goal without a shred of malice. Hidden details not so much to bury human experimentation, but for the fact that they seemed to know he’d enjoy the twist.

Scaring his dorm mates with his new shaggy headed twin had been nothing short of hilarious to the conjoined twins, as was scaring his barber half to death and confusing a ear piercer who seemed deeply intimidated by the overly confident pair of heads demanding she match the placements on the unpierced head perfectly. They’d then gone quickly to the school nurse, indistinguishable from each other with a matching pair of haircuts, ear rings and smiles as the nurse gave them the happy news that everything was going as planned.

Like they were expecting, she’d congratulated the two and informed them of the school’s enthusiasm again. They were excited to have as many aspiring new scientists out of Angel as they could get.

Angel had locked eyes with his twin and they both knew they were screwed at that thought.

For now they relaxed back at their dorm, homework finished in minutes as they scrolled on their phones, ordering a couple pairs of new sneakers and more than a few matching outfits that their new seamstress friend at the art department would inevitably modify. An amount that would certainly handle the four boys that would be sharing this room by the end of the  year. Hopefully more.

For now they just enjoyed the feeling as their chests expanded, ever so slightly, moving in different directions as mitosis continued. Feeling each other’s control over their limbs as one absent mindedly scrolled and the other shifted. Enjoying the way each other felt like a comfortable suit, already missing the way it felt when they were just a little bit closer.

Excited to feel it all over again soon, and watch it in 3rd person as well.

It is a VOCALOUD song.

The PV was illustrated by Tsukumo Nomo.

“There are three people in one person, one eight years old, another forty, the third one, one hundred and five years old. Picture this: those three people live in one room; they have nothing in common in terms of coming to agreement and sharing work.”

~ Gurdjieff, 'Paris Meetings 1943'

Charles and Erik ACTUALLY COMMUNICATE!!

Read from the beginning on Ao3 if you like!

Erik poured Charles and himself a glass of scotch, added some ice cubes, and brought them back over to the fireplace. Charles barely reacted when Erik placed the glass down in front of him, beyond the flicker of a distracted smile.

“Do you think you’ll be able to keep hold of the teleporter with practice?” Erik asked after a moment of silence.

Charles took a mouthful of whiskey and swallowed. “I’m not sure. Connecting with him was like trying to grip mercury, and I don’t know if that’s just a property of his mental structure, or if I’ll be able to improve.” He frowned into the fire. “I don’t know how I’d practice, though.”

Silence fell again. “What about the other man?” Erik asked. “Janos Quested.”

“I don’t know,” said Charles slowly. “I was able to connect with his mind, but…” He sat up properly and leaned his elbows on his knees, looking at Erik for the first time. “The thing is that Cerebro was always different to the way I usually use my telepathy. And this version of Cerebro is still a work in progress.”

“You got his location, though,” Erik frowned. “That’s what we wanted, after all.”

Charles grimaced. “For all the good that does us when he works with a teleporter. And what I saw of his thoughts was…” He shook his head. “I can’t really sort out anything clear, just… there’s loyalty there. But also a deep rage, and fear.”

Erik shrugged. “None of that contradicts what we already know about the Hellfire Club. They hate humans.”

Charles studied Erik for a moment. “I’m not sure… we know that Emma Frost believes in Shaw’s vision of the future, and that’s why she’s with him. But… I can’t imagine Shaw’s changed so much over the past decade that he’s recruiting by words alone.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m saying that Janos’ rage felt… personal. It didn’t feel like that of a man who wants to destroy half of the world. It felt…”

Erik narrowed his eyes at him. Charles squirmed under his gaze. “It felt like yours, my friend. Janos Quested has been through something like you, and his fear and fury feels like yours.”

Erik’s fingers tightened around his glass. “So what?” he asked roughly, drinking the rest of the whiskey and standing sharply, busying his hands with the decanter. “What does it matter if we can empathise with the enemy? This changes nothing.”

“I only mean that we might not be facing a united front. Quested may not be our enemy.”

“He was never my enemy,” scoffed Erik. “I never cared a damn about him or any of the others, you know this, Charles! My target is Shaw, and I will kill him.”

He braced himself, spine tight for the gentle, patronising remonstrations. How killing Shaw could never bring him peace, how they must rise above, be better. All those things his father said about the sneering boys who spat on him in the street, and where had that got him?

But Charles was silent. Erik turned with a frown. “What? No moral imprecations today?”

Charles bit his lip, and to Erik’s horror he saw tears glistening in his eyes. “Charles… I’m sorry, I didn’t…” Shit, he’d been teasing, nothing more! He’d never thought it would hurt Charles, he’d never meant to hurt him!

“You were younger than Francis,” Charles whispered, and he looked up to meet Erik’s eyes as the tears fell. “How could he… how could anyone?”

Erik knelt in front of Charles, hands hovering above an arm, a knee, so un-used to giving comfort. “It was a long time ago,” he said. “I’ve grown- I’m strong enough now. It’ll never happen again.”

“It should never have happened in the first place,” Charles said, clasping Erik’s hands between both of his own. “All he’s taken from you, when you were so young. And he’s going to take this from you too, your mercy--”

“I’ve killed before, Charles, many times. My soul is already broken.” He gave a crooked smile, trying to joke it away.

“And now you feel like you have to kill him, but you don’t. He’s already taken so many choices from you, don’t let him take one more.”

“I can’t let him live. I won’t.”

“Then let me help,” said Charles, so soft it was almost a whisper. “Let me… if I can get to his mind, I believe I can shut him away from his power. Let him live in the depths of a CIA prison, knowing what he used to be, what he can never be again. Let him see you turn your back on him and his murderous life, and let him know he failed.”

Erik stared at Charles. The room crackled with the force of Charles’ ferocity, the viciousness on his face. “You realise that’s not mercy,” Erik said slowly, his heart racing. He had never thought to be afraid of Charles before.

Charles nodded. “I know,” he whispered. “I thought… you were right. I’ve been so afraid, I’ve been running for so long I thought it was the same as standing up for myself, but… I see Francis and Arthur and I’m angry. I’m so angry that anyone dared lay a hand on them! And then I remember that was me. And it was you, and oh, God, Erik, you must have been so small, so afraid, and I am angry.”

Erik leaned up, straightening his body so he could reach Charles’ lips and kiss him, his free hand sinking into Charles’ soft hair so he could worship him. Charles froze for a moment, and then he was kissing him back, sliding forward on the chair to press their bodies together, tangling his fingers in Erik’s turtleneck and moaning into the kiss.

Like a sucker punch, Erik was swamped by a wave of emotions and thoughts, a storm of wanted him so long, so perfect, so beautiful, so powerful, of every touch Charles had ever stolen, every late night, every debate, every chess game. Every sensation right now, razor sharp, the wool under his skin, the taste of his lips, and just as Erik thought he’d faint from it, it receded.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry, Erik, please, please say something, oh God, what have I--”

“Charles,” Erik croaked, wrapping his hands around Charles’ wrists where they clung to his jumper. “It’s fine, I’m fine, just--”

“I’m so sorry,” Charles said. “I didn’t mean… I just…”

Erik smiled and stroked Charles’ cheek with his thumb. “I mean it - it was overwhelming but… is that how you feel? All of that?”

Charles bit his lip and looked up at him in a way that must surely be designed to melt Erik to the core. “Always, when I’m with you, my friend,” he said, and Erik kissed him once again.