#Handler and/or Programmer

[msclaritea]

Oscar 2025

Host: “Adam, what are you wearing?”

Adam Sandler: “I like the way I look. Because I’m a good person. I don’t care about what I wear and what I don’t wear.”

Then he stands up, walks in his blue hoodie to hug Timothée Chalamet, who is wearing a yellow COSTUME. "

So, what have I learned from observation of Degenerate Hollywood and its sick traditions?

First off, Timothy Chalamet is most definitely being pimped out, and Kylie Jenner is just another well-paid beard. There is no way in hell that a thirsty little pushover like Chalamet is going to be too intimidating for his people to talk to, as the article, explaining why he lost, implies. He will do anything he is told to, mostly because he really has NO choice. If people go back and look at some of Chalamet's public appearances in recent years, you can see it in his eyes. He catches abuse and what a nice bunch of grown men he hangs out with.

Good old Adam Sandler certainly didn't disappoint. The layers of meaning on him are near genius:

The mocking of tradition and public decorum ala Fetterman and Zelensky; an ongoing attempt to dismantle our societal norms

The Color of the Ukranian flag when paired with Chalamet. Yellow clothing is code for a Trafficked victim

Hood Rat outfit as a shout-out to the recent desperate push of the Music Industry to boost sagging Rap Music sales

Taking center stage as Timothy's Handler or one of his Programmers. The amount of time they've spent together over the years, along with using Chalamet to boost yet another failed project of Sandlers' is a big, red flag

No matter what he does or where he goes, the Academy obviously has Big Ben on the brain, even as they hand out Oscars to former Marvel actors, like cheap candy (shame about Sebastian, tho 😏) They also continue to freeze out and fuck over stronger talent, even at the expense of the increasingly dismal ratings.

Timothy Chalamet's outfit was indeed a subtle throwback to Benedict, playing a Pedophile in Atonement. 'They' nearly always add several meanings into the coding, making it a little more difficult to discern, but as a long time movie buff, this just added to the overall creepiness, for me. I knew there was something familiar about how Timothy was dressed, paired with the Pornstache.

At this point, I really don't think I want to see Benedict get on Oscar. The entire industry and most of the people involved in it are very, very sick. Not one moral man or decent role model is to be found in Hollywood, and that renders it obsolete. For what is there to look up to? Absolutely nothing.

[fragmentedfae-userboxes]

These are strictly ramcoa/cult survivor related

[hc-did-culture-is]

Questioning HC-DID system here.

Is it possible for someone who's already a victim of programming/ramcoa to experience more programming from other alters? i.e abuser introjects or malicitors "continuing the job". We have several more powerful alters that forcibly create others, and i was not sure if this was possible/common

Also, how do you figure out what each programs triggers are? we have several alters that closely fit the programming type(?), but the only 'trigger' I'm aware of so far is whenever we're asked to give our own personal opinions on anything spiritual related

Thank you!

- 🧠 hemlock

yes, it's pretty common to have alters split off and instructed to reinforce/control programming.

we personally use two terms: internal handlers and internal programmers. Internal Handlers may be put in charge of managing other programmed alters, or activating/deactivating certain programs. Internal Programmers have more power (in our experience) and are responsible for keeping programs running. They may hand out punishments and rewards, or instruct others to do so. They may be able to activate split programs, and add/edit/remove programs from alters.

Alters cannot create or destroy programs that impact the body or create entirely new programs. They also can't can't destroy programs without deprogramming, regardless of role.

As for identifying triggers, we're not entirely sure. The way we do it is... Extremely Hard to explain, and not something we've seen anywhere else so I doubt it would help even if we could explain it.

Maybe someone will respond to this with a better answer?

[ego13]

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤMINISKIRT ❘❙❚ feat. YU JIMIN

synopsis ࿐ Having found a rather prestigious job for yourself, you couldn't even imagine that your boss had her eye on you, taking advantage of your boyfriend's naivety

pairing ✳ yu jimin x fem!reader ✳ word count 9k+ ✳ setting ✳ buisness AU, buisnesswoman!yu jimin

warnings ࿐ cheating, reader has a boyfriend, jealousy, marking, freaky conversations, cunnilingus, kissing, body worship, cum eating, scissoring (kinda), switching, praise kink, eventual smut, sex toys, strap usage (r!recieving), missionary, cowgirl, doggy style, multiple orgasms, pet names (good girl, sweetheart, doll), semi-hard sex, sex in the water, clit stimulating.

playlist ✳ you won't be able to take your eyes off of me, don't stop me

Across the room, a glass wall separated the lobby from an expansive office.

Behind the desk stood a woman.

Yu Jimin.

You recognized her immediately.

"No, I don’t care what your logs say, I said check the handler before pushing it. How many times do I have to tell you — if you touch the server side without passing QA, you don’t wait for my damn permission. You just don’t do it!"

The man across from her, mid-30s, in a T-shirt and jeans, looked like he wanted to disappear.

"But Jimin-ssi, I thought—"

"Don’t think. Test. Revert the commit. Fix the loop. And tell Minseok to stop patching garbage into mainline before stand-up!"

You froze in the doorway, hesitant to interrupt. But just then, Jimin turned, probably catching your reflection in the glass.

She looked straight at you.

Her expression shifted instantly. The hard edge in her eyes melted, replaced by something more measured. Still alert, but… different.

"Out," she snapped without breaking eye contact. Her voice still firm — but directed entirely at the programmer.

"Y-yeah. Right. Sorry, sunbae," the man stammered, grabbing his laptop and nearly tripping over the chair as he left the office.

Jimin waited until the door clicked shut.

Then, her voice lowered, smoother, almost warm: "You’re the applicant, right? Come in."

You swallowed and stepped inside, forcing your shoulders back, your heartbeat suddenly louder in your ears.

She moved around to the front of her desk, one hand slipping into her pocket. She looked at you carefully — not in the judgmental way you expected, but like she was scanning for something specific. Noticing.

"I’m Yu Jimin," she said, holding your gaze. "Nice to meet you."

You stepped closer, bowed politely, then fumbled to pull your resume from your bag. Your fingers felt slightly stiff as you handed it over.

"Here’s my resume," you said, trying not to sound nervous.

She took it with one hand, flipping it open with practiced ease. She glanced down, eyes scanning the page, then back up at you. Her mouth tugged into a faint smile.

"You studied law," she noted. "Dongguk University?"

"Yes," you said, nodding once. "Graduated last year."

"Good." She looked you over again — gladly not in a disapproving way. Her eyes lingered a second longer than necessary before returning to the paper. "And you’ve got decent language certifications. Any actual office experience?"

You shifted your weight. "Just part-time admin work during school. Filing, basic scheduling. Nothing serious."

Yu hummed, closing the resume slowly. "I see."

Her eyes locked on yours again. "You’re pretty young. Most people applying here for assistant or analyst roles are already in their late thirties."

You nodded, unsure what to say.

She tilted her head slightly, the edge of her lip pulling upward. "But you look like the type that learns fast."

You blinked.

There was a moment of silence. Then she leaned against the edge of her desk, still facing you.

"Do people tell you you have a very… calm face? Like you don’t get flustered easily," she said.

"I—uh… not really," you replied, confused. "I'm actually flustered all the time."

That made her laugh, low and quick. "At least you're honest."

You felt your cheeks warm slightly.

Jimin tapped your resume against her palm, still watching you. "Do you mind if I ask something not on here?"

You shook your head. "No, go ahead."

"Are you single?"

You stared at her.

She smiled, unapologetic. "Sorry, that was inappropriate. You don’t have to answer that. Just — curious."

You forced a small laugh, unsure how to respond. "It’s okay. Uh… no, I have a boyfriend."

Her eyebrow arched slightly, but she let it hang there without commenting further. She set your resume down on the desk and crossed her arms.

"Alright," she said, her tone returning to something closer to professional. "I’ll be straight with you. The position I have open isn’t glamorous. It’s a mix of scheduling, document review, fielding calls, and sometimes dealing with my CTO’s bad temper."

You nodded. "I can handle that."

"I’m sure you can."

She pushed herself off the desk and walked back around to her chair, gesturing for you to sit in the one opposite.

"Let’s talk details, then."

"So, the position is technically 'executive assistant,'" she said, tapping a pen lightly on your resume. "But in reality, it’s a secretary role. Mostly supporting me directly."

You nodded. "That's fine. I don’t mind handling basic tasks."

"You’d manage my calendar, coordinate meetings, handle follow-up emails, and — occasionally — remind me to eat something before I collapse." She gave a small smirk. "It’s not the most thrilling job in the world, but I do value people who can keep things running."

"I understand. I’m organized. And I don’t mind repetitive work."

She tilted her head again, watching you.

"You strike me as someone who's careful. Neat handwriting, polite tone, dressed conservatively… very by-the-book." Her eyes scanned your outfit briefly. "Your boyfriend must like that about you."

You blinked, not expecting her to bring that back up. "I guess. I mean, we have our differences."

"Mm. He must be a lucky guy," she said casually, resting her chin on her hand. "Though personally, I find it a bit wasteful."

"Wasteful?"

She shrugged. "Letting someone like you spend your best years covering for a guy who plays games all day. If it were me, I wouldn’t let you leave the apartment in the morning without at least three compliments and a decent breakfast."

You didn’t know what to say to that. You gave a small, awkward smile, but looked away.

Jimin leaned back slightly, still watching. "Sorry. I’m being too forward again."

"It’s okay," you muttered. "I just didn’t expect this kind of interview."

"Neither did I," she said quietly, almost to herself.

There was a brief silence before she clicked her pen and returned to a neutral tone.

"Anyway. It's a full-time position. Nine to six, Monday to Friday. Sometimes later, depending on deadlines. Pay starts at 2.8 million won a month, plus lunch stipend, transportation allowance, and health coverage."

You nodded quickly. "That’s fair. More than I expected, honestly."

"Good." She paused, then added, "If you’re hired, you'll also need to sign a confidentiality agreement. We work with a few sensitive clients."

"That’s not a problem."

Jimin gave a small nod, then tapped your resume once more before setting it aside.

"I like you," she said plainly. "You seem grounded. Honest. A little too stiff maybe — but that can be unlearned."

You blinked again. "Thanks… I think."

"That was a compliment," she added, smirking, "Even if you have a boyfriend."

Your breath caught slightly. "You’re very direct."

"I don’t like wasting time."

Jimin’s fingers lingered at your waist just a second longer before she reached up and brushed a loose strand of hair from your face.

"You really shouldn’t be going home alone after drinking," she said quietly. "Even if it's just a couple glasses."

"I’m fine," you replied, your voice quieter now. "It’s just the subway, twenty minutes and I'm home."

She shook her head once. "No. I’d rather not risk it."

Before you could argue, she was already stepping away, reaching into her blazer pocket and pulling out her phone.

"I’ll call my driver. He’s downstairs. He can take you wherever you need to go."

You watched her, caught somewhere between flattered and confused. "Jimin, really, you don’t have to—"

"I know I don’t." She glanced at you again, her tone softer. "But I want to."

There was a pause while she tapped something out, then she looked up again.

"He’ll be out front in five. Black Genesis sedan. Plate ends in 78."

You exhaled slowly. "Okay… thanks."

She came closer again, standing in front of you but not too close this time.

"It’s nothing. You’ve had a long day, and you still managed to hold yourself together like a pro. Least I can do is make sure you get home safe."

You nodded, feeling your heartbeat still a little fast — not from the alcohol, but from her. From the way she looked at you like she actually saw you.

"Let me grab my things," you murmured.

She nodded once. "I’ll walk you out."

You picked up your bag, the warmth of the office still clinging to you as she opened the door. For a brief second before stepping into the hallway, you glanced back at her — still half in disbelief that a woman like her was showing this kind of attention. And care.

Jimin caught your glance and gave you a small smile. "Let’s go."

The elevator ride down was quiet, but not uncomfortable. She stood beside you, hands in her pockets, glancing over once or twice but saying nothing.

As the elevator doors opened in the lobby, the driver was already visible through the glass doors outside, standing next to a sleek black Genesis parked at the curb.

You stepped forward, but Jimin suddenly reached out and took your bag from your shoulder.

"Hey—"

She shook her head. "You’ve had enough on your back today," she said simply. "Let me."

You blinked at her. "It’s really not that heavy—"

"I didn’t say it was." She slung the strap over her own shoulder, ignoring your protest. "I just don’t want you carrying it."

You gave her a look, but didn’t argue again. There was something firm but not aggressive in her tone — like she didn’t see it as a favor, just a given.

The driver opened the back door as the two of you approached. Jimin handed off the bag to him gently. Then she turned to you.

"He knows where to take you. I texted him your address already."

You stared at her. "Jimin, you’re... really something else, you know that?"

Her smile was slow. "I’ll take that as a compliment."

You climbed into the backseat. Before you could close the door, Jimin leaned down slightly, just outside the frame.

"Text me when you get home. Just so I know."

You nodded. "Okay."

She paused for a second, then added, "And try to get some sleep. Tomorrow might be your first day, if you’re still interested."

You couldn’t help but smile. "Yeah. I am."

With that, she stepped back, and the driver closed the door.

The car pulled up in front of the apartment building just as the sky started to turn that soft grey before sunset. The driver stepped out and came around to your side, opening the door with a quiet, "Miss, we're here."

You nodded, thanking him softly as he helped you out. The black Genesis looked completely out of place on your quiet street. As you adjusted your bag on your shoulder, you noticed Yunho standing at the front gate, leaning on the railing with a familiar scowl.

His eyes were locked on the car, then shifted to the driver, then to you.

You didn’t say anything as you walked past him toward the building entrance. He walked behind you.

"Nice ride," he muttered, the sarcasm already thick in his voice.

You kept walking, trying to keep your expression neutral. But by the time you unlocked the apartment door and stepped inside, you could already hear the frustration in his voice building up behind you.

"So who the hell was that?"

You dropped your bag, taking off your shoes. "My new boss’s driver. She didn’t want me going home alone after drinks."

"She?" Yunho raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "And she just sends a luxury car like you're some damn CEO?"

You looked over your shoulder. "What’s your problem?"

"My problem?" he snapped. "You show up in a car that costs more than this building, some guy opening your door like you’re royalty, and you don’t even think to explain?"

You turned to face him fully now, jaw tight. "Because I didn’t think I had to explain basic decency. It was a job interview. A good one. With a woman who actually take their work seriously."

His eyes narrowed. "And what? You’re suddenly impressed with her because she got money and fancy cars?"

"No," you said sharply. "Because she work. She built something. She do more than sit around playing League all day waiting for a miracle that’s not coming."

That hit. He flinched slightly, but recovered with bitterness.

"So now I’m the loser again."

"I didn’t say that," you replied, even though the words were hanging in the air.

"Yeah, but you didn’t need to." He scoffed. "Guess it’s easy to look down on me now that you’ve had drinks with billionaires."

You sighed. "I’m tired, Yunho. I’ve been tired for a long time. I just want a future that isn’t built on excuses."

He didn’t reply.

You picked up your bag again and walked into the bedroom, needing to be alone. For a moment, you considered texting Jimin like she asked.

But instead, you sat on the edge of the bed, phone in hand, thinking about how quickly everything could change — and whether you'd be brave enough to let it.

You stood by the bed, pulling an old hoodie over your tank top, when your phone buzzed on the nightstand. You glanced at the screen. Yu Jimin.

It was already past 10 p.m. You hesitated for a second — normal people didn’t call at this hour for anything work-related — but you still picked it up.

"Hello?"

There was a pause, then her voice came through, low and smooth, a little rough like she’d either been drinking something warm or was just naturally that way late at night.

"Hey. I hope I’m not bothering you."

You sat down on the edge of the bed again. "No. Just got home a while ago."

Another pause, lighter this time. "Did my driver get you home okay?"

"Yeah, he was polite. Thank you again."

"Mmh," she hummed. "I told him not to be too polite. I wanted to be the one to spoil you."

You exhaled through a short laugh, not sure how to respond to that.

There was a rustling sound on her end, like she was leaning back into a couch or bed. Then she asked, softly, "How are you feeling?"

You blinked. It wasn’t a usual question — not when coming from someone you barely met a few hours ago. But it was genuine. You could tell.

"A little overwhelmed, honestly. But... not in a bad way."

"I figured," Jimin said. "It was a long day. But you did well. I meant it when I said I want you on the team."

You nodded slowly, even though she couldn’t see it.

"And," she continued, voice still smooth, "I have a business trip. Paris. Airplane. Tomorrow. Boring tech meeting with men who’ll repeat the same pitch three different ways. I’m supposed to attend... but I don’t really want to go alone."

You sat up straighter. "You want me to come with you?"

Jimin chuckled softly. "Well, officially, I’ll say I need a secretary with me. You know, someone to help coordinate meetings and smile politely."

"And unofficially?"

"Unofficially, I just want to look across the table and see you there so I don’t fall asleep."

You didn’t know what to say. You stared at the floor for a moment, then bit your lip. "You’re really asking me to fly to Paris with you?"

"Yes," she said simply. "One night in a suite, nice food, we come back after the meeting. Think of it as a trial run for the job. Or... just an excuse to get to know each other better."

You looked over toward the closed door of the living room where Yunho had gone quiet. Then back down at your phone.

"Okay," you said, quietly but firmly. "I’ll go."

There was silence for half a beat. Then a pleased hum on the other end. "Good girl."

Your cheeks flushed.

"I’ll have my assistant book everything," she added, voice softening again. "Just bring yourself."

"Thanks for the invitation," you said, letting your voice drop just a little, a teasing edge slipping in. "I'll try not to embarrass you in Paris."

Jimin laughed on the other end. "I’m counting on you to distract everyone, actually."

You bit your lip, smiling to yourself. "Then I’ll pack something nice."

"You better."

The line went quiet after that, and you set your phone down on the nightstand, heart still beating a little faster than usual. You stood up, ran a hand through your hair, then walked to the closet.

You opened the suitcase you hadn’t used in over a year, dragging it out from the bottom shelf. It was a little dusty. You unzipped it, already thinking through what you’d need.

You were halfway through folding a shirt when Yunho's voice came from the doorway behind you.

"What the hell are you doing?"

You didn’t turn around right away. Just kept folding the shirt, slower this time. "Packing."

He scoffed. "No shit. Where are you going?"

"Paris. For work."

You heard his footstep into the room. "With who? That fancy company that sent you home in a private car like you’re some VIP?"

You turned around now, meeting his gaze. He looked like he hadn’t moved from the couch since you left.

"Yes," you said flatly. "YJ Group. My boss invited me to go with her for a meeting. It's work."

He stared at you, then laughed once, sarcastically. "Your boss. Yeah, I bet."

You crossed your arms. "You wanna do this now?"

"You're really just gonna run off with some rich stranger because she gave you a ride in a nice car?"

You stepped around the suitcase. "No, I'm going because she offered me a job. A real job. Something you haven't bothered to look for in months."

"That's low."

"No," you said, pointing at him now, "what's low is sitting on your ass every day, gaming with your friends, pretending you're gonna magically become some pro player while I'm the one stressing about rent, bills, everything."

He was quiet. Not because you’d gone too far—because you hadn’t.

You turned back to the suitcase. "I’m going. You don’t have to like it."

He stood there for a second longer, jaw tight. Then he turned and walked out.

You zipped the suitcase closed.

You lay down on the bed with your suitcase closed and standing near the door, ready. The apartment was quiet now.

You stared up at the ceiling, the dim light from the hallway spilling in just enough to make out the outline of the fan above.

Everything still felt a bit surreal.

Just yesterday, you'd been checking job boards with zero leads and zero hope. Now, you were flying to Paris with the founder of one of the most talked-about tech companies in the country. And not just flying — invited. Personally, not just email that her assistant would sent her. For "business."

But it wasn’t just the job that occupied your thoughts.

It was Jimin.

Her voice still echoed in your head—calm, smooth, slightly rough like she’d been talking all day, but always careful when she spoke to you. The way her eyes had lingered when you first walked into the office. The casual touch at your waist.

You exhaled slowly and turned to your side, pulling the blanket up to your chin.

It was insane. She was your boss. You had a boyfriend — barely. But still.

And yet, your last thought before falling asleep wasn’t about Yunho, or your resume, or the meeting ahead.

It was about her.

What it would feel like to sit beside her on the plane?

To hear her laugh in person again?

To see what she looked like outside the damn office — off guard, relaxed.

Then, eyes slowly closed.

You woke up to the weight of an arm around your waist and the faint heat of breath against the back of your neck.

Then realization hit you — Yunho.

His arm was draped lazily over you like nothing had happened last night. Like he hadn’t stood in the doorway accusing you of sleeping your way into a promotion. Like he hadn’t sat around for months doing nothing while you scrambled to hold everything together.

You stared at the wall for a long moment. His touch didn’t feel comforting. It felt heavy. Clingy. Like something that used to mean safety but now just made your skin crawl.

Carefully, you slid your hand under his wrist and lifted his arm off you. He stirred but didn’t wake. You sat up slowly, then swung your legs over the side of the bed.

You didn’t look back.

The floor was cold under your feet as you walked to the bathroom, shutting the door with a quiet click. You turned on the light, squinting for a second, then faced yourself in the mirror.

You turned on the tap and splashed cold water on your face. It shocked you awake, and for a moment you just stood there, dripping, palms braced on the sink.

You stepped out of the bathroom, towel still draped around your shoulders, when your phone buzzed on the dresser. You picked it up, half expecting a message — but instead, Jimin’s name lit up the screen.

You hesitated, then answered.

"Hello?"

Her voice came through smooth and unhurried. "Morning. I’m downstairs."

You blinked. "Wait—what?"

"I figured we could go to the airport together," she said casually, then added, a hint of playfulness creeping into her voice, "Is that a problem?"

You glanced down at yourself — damp hair, still in your robe, your suitcase half-zipped on the floor.

"I’m not ready. At all," you admitted, pressing the phone between your shoulder and ear as you reached for the blow dryer. "You should’ve told me you were coming."

"Wanted to surprise you," Jimin said, a low chuckle in her throat. "But I don’t mind waiting. Take your time. I just wanted to see your face this morning."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile pulling at your lips. "Give me ten minutes. Fifteen tops."

"I’ll be right here," she said. "Take your time, seriously. I’ll just sit here, imagine what you look like all flustered and running around in a towel."

You flushed despite yourself. "Goodbye, Jimin."

You dressed quickly but carefully — nothing over the top, just a clean blouse, black slacks and a light jacket.

Before you left, you stood for a moment in the doorway of the bedroom.

Yunho was still asleep, sprawled across the bed like he hadn’t moved since you left it. The blankets were tangled around his legs, one arm hanging over the edge. Peaceful, useless, oblivious.

You didn’t feel angry anymore. Just... done.

You closed the door behind you quietly, pulling the handle until you heard the latch click.

The elevator ride down was silent. Just the hum of the old motor and the dull flicker of fluorescent lights. Then the doors opened — and there she was.

Jimin stood beside a sleek, black Genesis G90, parked right in front of the building like it belonged there. She was dressed sharptailored slacks, an expensive-looking trench coat, sunglasses pushed up on her head — and in her hand, a small bouquet of red roses.

You blinked.

She smiled as you stepped out into the morning air. "For you," she said, holding the flowers out. "Don’t read into it. I just thought they’d suit you."

You hesitated, then took them. "Thanks... You didn’t have to do that."

"Maybe not," she replied with a slight smirk, "but I wanted to."

She opened the car door for you herself, like it was nothing, like it was natural. You slipped in, setting the flowers gently on your lap as the driver closed the trunk on your suitcase and moved around to the front.

Jimin got in next to you, and just before the car pulled away from the curb, she looked over at you.

"You look so good, by the way," she said, tone casual — but there was something behind her eyes that made your skin feel warm. "Worth the wait."

You tried not to smile too much. "You’re not so bad yourself."

You shifted slightly in your seat, the bouquet of roses still resting in your lap, their scent faint but sweet.

Her eyes kept drifting — casually at first, but then less so.

"You really do look good today," she said suddenly, her voice low but clear. "It’s not just polite small talk. I mean it."

You glanced at her, trying not to seem caught off guard. "Thanks. I tried to look presentable."

"It’s more than that," she replied, resting her arm along the door. "You’ve got this... natural thing going. Like you’re not even trying, but you walk in and somehow turn all the attention to you."

You raised an eyebrow. "Pretty sure the attention’s on you. You're the one with the billion-won company."

She gave a short laugh. "Business is boring. People like to act impressed, but it's just money. you, though—" she paused, letting her eyes linger on you for just a second longer than was casual, "—you're interesting."

You looked out the window for a moment, heartbeat steady but quick. "You don’t even know me that well."

"Not yet," she said, tone playful, but not joking, "we will have time in Paris to get to know each other... better."

Silence settled between you for a few seconds, comfortable, not awkward.

Jimin reached into the center console and pulled out a small bottle of water, handing it to you. "Drink it. I don’t want you passing out on the plane. That would ruin the vibe."

You accepted it, chuckling under your breath. "Thanks, boss."

"Call me Jimin," she said smoothly. "We're not in the office now."

You glanced at her again, and she gave you a look that lingered a little too long to be just friendly.

The car sped on toward the airport, and for the first time in a while, you felt a kind of nervousness you didn't mind at all.

At the curb outside the airport, the car eased to a stop. You could even think to move, Jimin was already circling around the car.

"I’ve got it," she said, reaching into the trunk herself and grabbing both your suitcase and hers without hesitation, by that time one of her attendants approached her.

She waved off the him, who looked like he was about to protest. "It’s fine. I don’t want her carrying anything."

You blinked, a little surprised. "Jimin, I can carry my own bag."

She turned her head slightly, giving you that half-smile she seemed to reserve just for moments like this. "And yet, I’d rather do it. Come on."

With both bags in hand, she walked with confident strides toward the sliding glass doors of the terminal. You followed a half-step behind, feeling the stares from a few passersby.

Inside, she made a direct line for the business check-in counter, bypassing the lines entirely. An attendant spotted her immediately and motioned her forward.

"Miss Yu," the woman said politely with a quick bow. "We’ve been expecting you. Everything is ready."

Jimin nodded, setting the bags down gently and placing her ID on the counter. "And my guest. She’s with me."

The attendant looked at you, then smiled and gave another respectful nod. "Of course. Right away."

You shifted awkwardly beside Jimin as they processed the check-in. She glanced sideways at you and leaned in just slightly.

"Relax, doll," she murmured, "this part’s the easiest. No pressure. Just stick with me."

You gave a small nod, trying not to seem out of place in the well-dressed, fast-paced atmosphere.

Within a few minutes, the boarding passes were printed, the luggage tagged and taken, and the attendant was handing back her documents with both hands.

"Enjoy your flight, Miss Yu."

She took the passes and handed yours to you before gently guiding you toward the private security lane.

"You’re handling this pretty well," she said quietly, almost teasingly. "Some people get overwhelmed on their first trip with me."

You smirked, walking beside her. "I guess I’m just built different."

Jimin glanced at you with a faint smile.

The boarding announcement echoed through the terminal speakers, and you followed Jimin toward the gate, your steps slowing a little as the walkway to the plane came into view.

The faint rumble of jet engines outside was louder than you remembered. It had been years since you’d last flown—and never on something this fancy.

You stopped short just before the boarding agent could scan your pass, your grip tightening slightly around the paper ticket.

Jimin, already a few steps ahead, turned immediately when she realized you weren’t beside her. Her eyes flicked to your face, catching the hesitation.

Without a word, she passed both her designer travel bag and yours to the tall, suited man who had been trailing them silently since the car — her bodyguard, walked right back to you.

She didn’t ask anything. Didn’t say a word at first.

Then, to your surprise, she crouched down on one knee in front of you, her hands reaching up to gently take yours.

"Hey," she said, voice low and calm, eyes level with yours, "you okay?"

You swallowed and gave a small nod, trying to play it off. "I just… haven’t flown in a long time. It’s stupid, I know."

"Not stupid." She squeezed your hands lightly. "You’re stepping into something new. That always messes with your head a bit."

You glanced around, a little embarrassed, but no one seemed to care. The gate agent gave you space, and the few people nearby looked away politely.

Jimin tilted her head. "Want me to say something comforting?"

You nodded hesitantly.

She paused, pretending to think hard, then gave you a crooked grin. "Okay. Deep breath. Ready?"

You nodded again.

"I have absolutely no idea how to calm down scared girls," she said, straight-faced. "But you're cute when you're nervous, so I’m just going to stay here until you feel better. Is that working?"

You let out a shaky laugh despite yourself, the tension easing slightly.

"Kind of."

"Kind of is good enough," she said, then stood smoothly, brushing imaginary dust from her slacks. She didn’t let go of your hand. "Come on. I’ll sit next to you the whole way. And if you get scared mid-air, I promise not to make fun of you more than twice."

You rolled your eyes but followed her, finally stepping through the gate and onto the plane.

Inside the private jet, everything looked more like a high-end hotel lounge than anything that should be airborne.

You sank into one of the cream-colored seats next to Jimin, still holding onto the remnants of your earlier nerves, though they were steadily being replaced by a sense of disbelief.

The flight attendant, dressed in a perfectly tailored navy uniform, approached with a polite smile and handed each of you a thick, high-quality menu. All of it — every single item — was printed in French.

You stared at the page, trying to make sense of the cursive typography, but gave up after the third item. "I have no idea what any of this means," you muttered.

Jimin peeked at your menu, then gave you a teasing look. "You mean you didn’t study fine dining terms in law school?"

You rolled your eyes. "Sorry, no. We barely got through Latin."

She chuckled, flipping open her own menu. "Alright, let’s see. 'Foie gras' — that’s duck liver, but like… the fancy kind. And this one — 'homard rôti' — that’s roasted lobster. Worth trying."

You nodded slowly, trying to keep up.

"'Velouté de cèpes' — mushroom soup, but the expensive type. And this one…" She pointed to a long line near the bottom, "'Chocolat noir aux épices douces' — dark chocolate dessert with sweet spices. Probably the best thing here."

"So basically everything costs more because it sounds better in French," you joked.

Jimin grinned, leaning a little closer to you, her shoulder brushing yours. "Exactly. But don’t worry, I’ll order for you. I’ll make sure you don’t accidentally end up with something raw and moving."

You laughed quietly, grateful for the way she made this all feel less overwhelming.

The low hum of the jet was oddly calming. You sat back in the wide leather seat, feeling the unfamiliar weight of luxury around you. Across from you, Jimin was already speaking smoothly in French to the flight attendant, her tone casual but confident.

"Deux portions de filet de bar avec légumes grillés. Une salade niçoise. Et... la bouteille de Dom Pérignon, 2013, s’il vous plaît."

«Two portions of sea bass fillet with grilled vegetables. A Niçoise salad. And... the bottle of Dom Pérignon, 2013, please.»

The attendant nodded and disappeared quietly into the galley.

Jimin turned her attention back to you, crossing one leg over the other. Her eyes rested on you for a moment before she spoke.

"So," she said, lightly. "How did your boyfriend take the news?"

You hesitated, then shrugged. "Not well."

Jimin tilted her head. "Predictable."

You let out a breath. "He didn’t understand. Just saw the car. Assumed the worst."

"Typical," Jimin muttered, her voice dry. "You know..." She leaned in just a bit, elbows on her knees. "Someone like you shouldn’t be stuck with someone like that."

You looked up, unsure how to respond.

She continued, "You’re smart. Gorgeous. Trying to build something for yourself. And he? He’s waiting to ‘make it’ in a video game while you carry the weight of both your futures."

You glanced down at your phone, buzzing silently on the armrest. Yunho.

You stared at his name for a second. No message, just the call.

Then, without a word, you tapped the airplane icon on the screen. The signal vanished.

Jimin watched quietly as you set the phone down, face down.

You looked up again, managing a faint smile.

"Good," she said softly. Then she poured two glasses of champagne and handed you one.

“To new beginnings.”

The attendant returned with their meals, placing the plates down on the small table between you and Jimin. The smell hit you first — fresh, delicate, not overly seasoned. Just… clean. Refined.

You picked up your fork, carefully cutting off a small piece of the sea bass fillet. The texture was soft but held together well, and as soon as you took a bite, your eyes widened slightly.

"Oh my god," you said, surprised. "I’ve never tasted anything like this."

She smiled behind her glass as she took another sip of champagne. "It’s line-caught Mediterranean sea bass. Very light. They cook it at just the right temp so it doesn’t lose moisture."

You looked at her, fork halfway to your mouth again.

"Some of the Michelin kitchens I’ve been to," she continued casually, “they poach it gently in olive oil, sometimes with a touch of citrus and white wine. But this one’s grilled. Clean, simple. No heavy sauces to cover the flavor.”

You chewed slowly, appreciating it more with every bite. "I didn’t know fish could taste like this," you muttered, almost to yourself.

She grinned. "You’d be surprised what food is like when people care about the details. When it’s not just… whatever’s cheap and fast."

You nodded quietly, sipping your champagne. Even that tasted better than you expected — sharp and crisp, but soft as it went down. You weren’t sure if it was the drink or the company, but your shoulders had started to relax.

Jimin didn’t push the conversation. She just sat with you, eating slowly, saying little, glancing over at you now and then with that slight, unreadable smile.

You arrived in Paris late in the evening. The hotel room was spacious and modern, with a large window framing a perfect view of the Eiffel Tower glowing softly in the distance.

Jimin was busy unpacking her things — carefully folding clothes, setting them neatly on the dresser. You stood by the window, staring out at the city, feeling a strange mix of excitement and nervousness.

Noticing you, Jimin paused and smiled faintly. She stepped behind you quietly and, almost without thinking, wrapped her arms gently around your waist.

You stiffened for a moment, then relaxed into her hold.

She leaned in slightly, her voice low and teasing. "Not used to views like this, huh?"

You glanced back at her, managing a small smile. "No, not really."

She stayed close, the city lights reflecting softly in her eyes. "Good. Then maybe it’s time you got used to better things."

Her hands slid to your shoulders, gently kneading the tense muscles, causing you to sigh in relaxation, leaning slightly against her. "Would you like me to run a jacuzzi for you?"

You didn't say anything, just nodded silently, after which you felt the absence of her hands on your body, which made you slightly disappointed, but you didn't have to wait long. Ten minutes later she returned to you, smiling warmly and taking your hand, "come on, I will take care of you tonight."

At the corner of the bathroom stood a massive, sunken jacuzzi tub, already filled with steaming, bubbling water. The scent of lavender and vanilla wafted through the air, the soothing aroma of the essential oils she had added to the water.

"Sweetheart, let me help you get undressed," she offered, but her hands already working on the buttons of your shirt. She took her time, her fingers brushing against your skin with every button she undid, savoring the feel of her soft flesh against her fingertips.

She slid it off your shoulders, letting it drop to the floor. Leaned down, letting you to take all chances to pull back, but as she understood that you had no intention to back off, she captured your lips in a slow, sensual kiss as her hands reached behind to unhook your bra. She let it fall away, breaking the kiss to toss it aside carelessly.

"You're so fucking beautiful, doll," she breathed, reaching out to trail her fingertips along the swell of your breasts, feeling the weight of them in her palms. "I could spend hours just looking at you."

She took your hand gently, helping you into the warm water, the way the water touched your tense shoulders made you close your eyes, enjoying the feeling of your aching muscles relaxing.

Opening your eyes, you saw Jimin slowly unbuttoning her pants, letting them slide down her long, skinny legs, before sending the outerwear down the same path to the floor. Stepping over the edge of the jacuzzi, she carefully appeared behind you, the steam rising around her as she settled into the water.

She pulled your back against her chest, wrapping her arms around your waist. "Come here, doll," she cooed, holding you close as she leaned back against the built-in cushion of the tub.

She could feel you against her, melting into her arms as the warm water soothed you. Her arms began to gently rub your shoulders, fingers working out any lingering tension.

As she massaged sore muscles, she pressed gentle kisses along the side of your neck, her lips lingering on the smooth skin. "You're so tense, baby. Let me help you relax," she cooed, her hands sliding up to your neck to knead the knots there.

Again. Hands slid lower, tracing the curve of your spine before coming to rest on your hips, gripping them gently. "You know, you have such a beautiful back," she murmured, her lips brushing against your shoulder blade. "I swear, I could spend hours exploring it."

Her fingers began to knead the muscles of you lower back, working out any remaining tension. She could feel the way your body body growing heavy and relaxed, melting. "That's my good girl," Jimin praised, her voice a low, intimate rumble. "Can you just let yourself go, sweetheart? Let me take care of you like no one can, I swear."

Jimin's hands slowly slid around to your stomach, fingers splaying across the soft skin. She pulled you more closer, hugging you from behind as the warm water lapped at your skin. "You need someone who can take care of you like I can," her cheek resting against the top of your head. "You need someone, with whom you won't have to count every penny and think whether you'll have enough to pay the bills tomorrow, you need me, doll."

"I want to touch every part of you, sweetheart," she breathed against your neck, her lips brushing against the sensitive skin. "I want to make you feel pleasure that would be beyond anything you've ever experienced in your life."

Her thumb found your clit, circling the sensitive nub with teasing strokes. She could feel you squirming against her touch, the way your hips rocking instinctively to meet her touch.

"Yeah? Do you like it?" she chuckled, burying her nose in the crook of your neck, while her movements, as if mockingly, became faster and slower, as if not giving you a chance to get used to such sensations. "I know you do, doll, this is not even half of what I will do to you tonight."

You barely heard her words, all of it mixed in unison with the phantom sensations of her touches on your body, with the pleasant, warm and slightly dim lighting of this jacuzzi, and the smell of essential oils that were added to the water like an additional drug to quickly drive you crazy.

"I'm ready to spend millions just to see you like this every day, at my disposal," Jimin bit her bottom lip as she heard your uncontrollable whines getting louder with each passing second, "and I think you won't mind."

She said the last sentence with a smirk, and fuck, of course she was right, you've never experienced anything like this, not even close, her touch, her words.

Too well, despite her teasing, she listened attentively to all the sounds that flew out of your mouth, as if with her ears trying to catch that very painful note that would make her stop, even though that was the last thing she wanted right now.

But your comfort was the most important thing now, and that's why when she didn't felt the resistance of your body, she just continued, knowing that right now you want it no less than she does.

"Come on, sweetheart," she babbled, the gentle yet still trembling tone of her voice making you arch your back, pressing your back against her chest, "you don't want to disappoint me, do you?"

Your walls started to clamp around nothing, and feeling this pleasant pulsation, she understood that you were close, and the particularly high moan that flew out of your mouth only confirmed this.

"That's my good girl," she immediately praised, but did not allow you to rest, her hands again slid to your hips, forcing you to turn towards her, ending up on her lap.

This change of position caused some water in the hot tub to spill overboard, but obviously now you both didn't care.

"You're so beautiful, gow many times have I told you this today?" Her words made you smile, "more than necessary," you replied, looking at her face while your lips were almost a millimeter apart.

"Never, I'm ready to repeat this to you at least a hundred times until you understand it." And with that, she captured your lips in a passionate kiss.

She poured all of herself into her touch, her love, her yearing for you, her all-consuming need for the beautiful girl in her arms. Tongue delved deep, intertwining with yours.

Breaking the kiss, she trailed her lips down the column of your throat, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the racing pulse she found there. She sucked lightly, leaving barely noticeable red marks from her teeth every time she bit a little harder than necessary.

At one point she felt your hands on her shoulders, forcing her to lean her back against the back of the jacuzzi, which she calmly allowed you to do, as if giving you a flag in your hands.

You spread her legs, bending them at the knees. At that moment you dazed gaze immediately rushes between her thighs.

Her flesh shines invitingly, that's what made you bite your lower lip, seeing such a strong and seemingly cold-blooded woman for the first time at your mercy. You were slowly saddle her leg to slide straight her older crotch. Her large palms immediately cover your round buttocks, pulling them even closer to her.

"Fuck... so good, sweetheart," she exhaled, watching as you looked straight into her eyes without a drop of shame, slowly starting to move, "really? When you're on the bottom, you look even better than usual." You said as you felt Jimin's hands force your hips to push against her own.

You cover your mouth with trembling hand, and Jimin does not take her excited gaze away from the place where their hips collide. This view really drove her crazy, making her want you even more, although it seemed like where else could it be?

"The hottest view I've ever had in my life," she said with a grin, she says greedily, licking her lips. She doesn't stop kneading the younger's soft buttocks and furiously rubbing her groin against her, catching your clumsy thrusts and half-strangled sobs.

You placed your palms on her stomach under the water, your hair sticks to her crimson cheeks, lips are dry, and you are both quite tense and focused on thrusting, because you both felt the approaching climax becoming more and more tangible.

You falls onto her chest with a drawn-out groan, continuing to twitch convulsively, and she herself presses her wet groin tightly against your folds, while she impatiently lifted your hips to increase the friction between them and prolong the pleasure spreading between her legs.

You both realized that you clearly didn't want to stop now, which is why, after a few minutes, your gazes met again, and you both understood each other without words.

Getting out of the hot tub as quickly as possible, you slowly wrapped your arms around her neck, jumping into her arms, wrapping your arms around her bare waist. Hands gripped your hips tightly as you both walked out of the bathroom, and despite the cold temperature contrast with the hot bath, you both made your way to the bed.

Jimin carefully laid you on your back, hovering over you, she grabs the soft roundness of your breasts with her palms, squeezes them through her own trembling and impatience, she sank lower, kisses your sunken stomach, inhaling the faint scent of your desire.

You don't hold back your moans when she does it especially well for you, but sometimes you react at all, and at other moments on the contrary, you felt everything too sensitively, not even understanding why your body reacted so much to her touches.

Your toes curl convulsively with pleasure. She looked up at you, her eyes dark and hazy with desire as she took in the exquisite sight of you arched against the pillows, your back bowed in pleasure.

"Quite the sight," she said, licking her lower lips, "Is it really me who has this influence on you?"

This question made you lift your head from the pillows, looking at her with a look that literally said "what-is-this-fucking-question", but despite this, you found the strength to answer with maximum restraint, despite the excess of feelings and emotions that were seething inside you, "and who else?"

She seemed to be satisfied with your answer, helped guide your legs up and over her shoulders, the soft skin of your inner thighs brushing against her cheeks, she leaned in closer, breath hot and heavy against your dripping core as she gazed up at your face, taking in every expression that flitted across your features.

"If you had said your boyfriend's name, I swear I would have killed you right now," with this words, she dove in, tongue delving deep into you, swirling and stroking your inner walls. She licked and suckled, her movements deliberate and focused on giving you the most of the pleasure she could ever give you.

Jimin's nose nestling against your mound as her tongue continued assault on your aching clit, the feeling of that stimulation made your body shudder.

"Fuck, baby..." She breathed, before diving back in again, rough surface of tongue delving deeper into your folds. She licked and sucked, her tongue curling to hit that spongy perfect spot inside you, "sweetheart, It feels like I can't get enough of you."

She could feel your body trembling, hear your breathy moans filling the room as she worked up you closer to your peak, your thighs tensing around her head, your body arching off the bed as the coil of tension in your core wound tighter and tighter.

Inner walls clamped down around the tip of her tongue as wave after wave of your orgasm crashed over you, your back arching sharply as you cried out for the last time.

The way your juices gushed, staining her chin turned her on even more, forcing her to obediently swallow every last drop.

With her lips moving up along the skin of your stomach, she chuckled, still feeling the tremors that seemed like they weren't going to leave your body.

"The most beautiful orgasm I've ever seen in my life," she giggled, licking the beads of sweat that were running down your wet body from your collarbone, skillfully catching each one with her tongue, "and it's clearly not the last."

It made you look at her questioningly, you saw the sly way she looked at you and it made you burn with anticipation. Not the last one?

"Are you up to something, Jimin?" you asked, your eyebrows raised in question, watching as instead of answering, she just smirked and moved away from you, taking her suitcase out from under the bed.

"You know, call me a freak, but I took something interesting on the trip with you," she said in a voice that was full of mystery, and in this voice you couldn’t even understand whether she was joking or speaking in all seriousness.

You didn't see what she was doing, you just heard a barely audible click, which made you wonder, is she fastening something? What is she doing?

But all the questions disappeared as soon as she straightened up, she started to slip the harness on, adjusting the straps until it fit snugly against her hips and thighs. The silicone of strap juttted out obscenely, bobbing with each movement as she positioned herself between your legs once more.

"A fucking strap-on, Yu Jimin?" You asked in surprise, despite the fact that this scenario clearly did not frighten or disgust you, "Are you seriously took it "with us" to Paris?"

Your surprised remarks made her laugh as she looked into your eyes defiantly, "why not? I couldn't pass up the chance to fuck you in a room with a view of the Eiffel Tower, it would be a waste of money."

Her answer made you snort playfully as she tightened the toy around her hips more, "come on, roll over for me, baby," Jimin instructed softly, her hands caressing your hips, "a little fun won't hurt, you know."

As you rolled over obediently, she helped arrange the pillows beneath your hips, lifting them to present yourself to her. She ran her hands over the globes of your ass, squeezing and kneading the firm flesh appreciatively.

She pressed the silicone tip against your entrance, rubbing it teasingly between your folds, wetting herself with your lubricant, hoping that this would allow her to slide into you more easily without causing you pain.

"Push back against me, angle your hips to take me deeper, it would be less painful for you, sweetheart," one hand slid around your hip to your front, finding your clit, rubbing slow, firm circles over the sensitive nub. The other hand gripped your hip, holding you steady as she started to thrust, building a steady rhythm.

She pulled out until just the tip remained before slamming back in, burying herself to the hilt. Her hips slapped against your cheeks with each powerful thrust, the lewd sound filling the room along with your needy moans.

She gradually picked up the pace as she felt she could move inside more freely, one hand sliding up your back to tangle in your hair. She tugged your head back, forcing your spine to arch even more as she pounded into you.

"You're looking so fuckable right now," she pushed her hips harder, with a particularly hard thrust, grinding the strap-on deep inside you as she continued to rub tight circles on your clit. She could feel your walls fluttering around the intrusion, your body instinctively trying to draw her in even deeper.

"You're looking so fuckable right now," she pushed her hips harder, with a particularly hard thrust, grinding the strap-on deep inside you as she continued to rub tight circles on your clit. She could feel your walls fluttering around the intrusion, your body instinctively trying to draw her in even deeper.

"Bet your boyfriend will never be able to do it the way I do it," she punctuated her possessive words with a sharp smack to your ass, watching as the flesh jiggled from the impact. "Fucking never," she rubbed the reddened skin soothingly before gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises, pulling you back to meet her rough thrusts.

Jimin pushed you over, again, your body convulsing beneath hers as your orgasm crashed over you. She worked you through it, fucking you through each aftershock until you collapsed onto the bed, spent and panting.

She followed you down, covering your body with her own, her hips still rocking gently against yours as she caught her breath. She gazed at you adoringly, brushing your sweat-soaked hair back from your face, her fingers tracing the curves of your cheeks.

Jimin began to move once, rolling her hips in a slow rhythm, the strap-on sliding in and out of you with a lewd squelch. Her face mere inches from yours, allowing you to see every flicker of emotion and lust in her eyes.

"That's it, baby. Wrap those legs around my waist," she encouraged, her voice a low, seductive murmur. "Pull me in deeper, angel. I want to be as close to you, pretty girl."

As you obeyed, locking your ankles around her back, she leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss, tongue delving into your mouth to intertwine with yours. She swallowed your moans and whimpers.

"That's my good girl," She praised breathlessly, breaking the kiss to gaze at you with hooded eyes dark with desire.

Your hands push her, forcing you to change positions, obviously, she did not offer any resistance to this, on the contrary, she encouraged it

"Sweetheart, you're so fucking eager for me, aren't you?" She purred, a wicked grin spreading across her face. "I love this side of you."

Her hands immediately went to your waist, gripping your hips possessively as she gazed up at you with a look of pure lust, hands up your sides, cupping your breasts, kneading the soft flesh as she admired your confidence. Her thumbs circled your nipples, teasing the sensitive buds till they pebbled under her touch.

"Ride me, baby," she encouraged, her voice low and thick with arousal. "I know you want to take all you need from me, do it, right now."

Jimin guided your hips with her hands, helping you set rhythm that was comfortable for you as you rose and fell on the strap-on. Her eyes were glued to where you both were joined, watching your cunt swallow her up again and again, your arousal coating the silicone.

"That's my good girl, bouncing on me so eagerly," she groaned, her head falling back against the pillow, "you're riding my cock like it was made for your pussy."

You felt your breathing quicken, how it became harder for you to breathe with every movement, because of how hard your body was shaking, she saw this and she continued to push herself, holding you by the hips.

With every push you were closer and closer to falling into the abyss, and the last push sent you straight there, with a loud groan, causing you to fall right onto her.

She wrapped her arms around you, holding you close as she rolled her hips, grinding against yours to prolong your climax. She gazed at you adoringly, brushing your sweat-soaked hair back from your face, her fingers tracing the curves of your cheeks.

Lips kissed your temple soothingly while the silicone toy was still inside you, clearly not planning on coming out yet. The way you breathed heavily into her neck made her chuckle, pulling you even closer.

"Sleep now, baby, you need to get some rest, I don't want my secretary to come to the meeting with shaking legs tomorrow.

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

Weakness

Thank my friends for asking for another Bucky torture fic. Reader is a part of the Weapon X programme and has claws like X-23.

Inspiration for fic is here

Summary: You and Bucky get captured by a familiar figure.

You should have seen this coming. Of course they would find out about your one weakness, of course they would exploit it, of course they would use it against you.

You test the restraints, wincing as they dig into your skin, drawing blood. Your wrists are tightly bound to the sides of the wall, there's no leeway to pull. Your ankles are chained to the floor, forcing you to kneel. There's a metal collar around your neck, a chain extending from it to the handle attached to the floor in front of you. A collar that suppresses your mutation, preventing your healing factor from kicking in. Your claws are still accessible, but popping them would mean permanent damage since you can't heal anymore. It's not like you can move your arms anyways, the most you can do is wait for a stupid lackey to come close enough before popping the claws into their flesh. Doing that would be akin to suicide, and you have yet to find out where they've taken Bucky.

Your one weakness.

The love of your life.

Your everything.

Once again they've taken everything from you. Even after all these years, they still find a way to ruin your life. You growl, hearing the sound of footsteps outside and the door slides open, revealing your former handler.

"Welcome home, X."

You remain silent, glaring at him and he simply smiles back, patting you on the head. He turns around, gesturing for someone to come in and your nostrils flare.

Blood. Bucky's.

The Winter Soldier is dragged in, bruises and cuts littering his skin. He snarls, struggling against his captors and is met with the butt of a rifle against his temple, which causes your chains to rattle as your body instinctively moves, wanting to protect him, but it can't.

"Touch him and I'll kill you," you growl, suppressing the urge to pop your claws. Your claws can't solve this situation, but your brain can, and you need your blood inside your body if your brain is going to function at its maximum capacity.

Bucky is pinned to the floor, wrist cuffed behind his back as a collar is forced around his neck. A shock collar. You know that ugly hunk of metal from anywhere, you once wore it for years on end, with it activating every time you failed. You remember the white hot pain that would race through your body, spikes piercing through your skin into your very bones as you writhed on the floor. You remember the way your handler would turn it up whenever he felt like it, knowing that your healing factor would just piece you back together. You remember the way your vision would swim back into focus, body still twitching from the lingering shocks, chest heaving as he stood over you, smiling all the while.

"Do you remember this place?" He ignores your threat, walking towards you and lifts your head up with a finger underneath your chin.

"Am I supposed to?" You spit back, eyes narrowed.

"I'm hurt, X. This is where we had the most fun together, didn't we?" He lets go with a sigh, turning to face Bucky. "Let's pick up where we left off, shall we?"

"I'll flay you alive the moment you lay a finger on him." The threat rumbles in your chest. He laughs, squatting down so that he's eye level with you and yanks Bucky's head upwards by his hair. Bucky grunts in pain, then spits in his face, causing you to laugh. Your former handler sighs, wiping the mess away and pulls Bucky closer to him.

"Do you know what I did whenever X misbehaved?" He whispers in Bucky's ear but your hearing picks it up anyways. You know he intended for you to hear it, it makes the next part hit even harder.

"I'd do this." You let out a shout, straining against your restraints. He lets go and presses a button, causing the collar to spark.

Bucky screams.

His body convulses, electricity tearing through him. You howl out more threats, but your former handler remains unfazed. He simply watches on, smiling whenever he looks over at you until he lets go of the button and the shock collar stops.

Bucky lies curled up on the floor, chest heaving, painful breaths drawn. His body spasms every now and then, aftereffects of the torture coursing through him. You're panting heavily now, eyes wide, rivulets of blood streaming down your wrists from where the metal has ripped open skin. Your former handler rises and stalks over to you, pressing the device into your palm.

"That was just a starter," he hisses into your ear. "You should have known, misbehaviour is punished."

"I'll make you eat your own guts," you snap back.

"Watch it. Don't give me any more ideas, X." He chuckles, a finger trailing down your cheek. "Doesn't this remind you of the good old days? What fun we had, you and I."

"You sicken me."

"At least I didn't kill children and elderly." He leans in, pressing a kiss to your jaw. "Come on now, memories clawing up at you, hm?"

Bile rises to your throat, your stomach churning. You can smell his scent, his pleasure and it makes you nauseous. He traces a finger along your throat where the collar doesn't cover, clearly delighting in how uncomfortable he's making you. Bucky makes a little noise of pain when your former handler presses the device a little too hard into your palm, causing the button to be depressed just that little bit and activate the shock collar for a short moment.

"Let's make some new ones." He presses his lips against yours, his hand against yours and the button is pressed down all the way. Bucky screams once again but you can't see him, your vision blocked by your former handler who continues forcing the kiss, refusing to let you pull away.

"Eyes on me, X." He whispers. You try to move your hand but he's too strong. His hand pins yours to the wall, forcing the device snugly into your palm. You can't let of the button, not even when Bucky's screams increase in pitch. You know he's hurting, that he's in a world of pain right now but you can't do anything. You're powerless, and panic starts to bubble to the surface.

"Let go. Now." You force yourself to breathe normally, pushing down the spiking anxiety.

"Or?" He plants feather light kisses along your jaw.

"Or I'll strangle you with your own tongue." It's getting harder to ignore Bucky's heart-wrenching cries of pain, and your chest aches even more knowing that you're technically playing a part in his torture. It's your palm that is holding down the button, even if it's your former handler's palm that is forcing the device to press against yours.

He laughs, but lets go of your palm. The device clatters to the floor, the shock collar deactivating now that the button is no longer being pressed. The smell of vomit fills your nose, mixing with the slightly burnt scent of flesh. Bucky twitches, pained whimpers escaping his lips and you snarl, wanting nothing more than to bury your claws in your former handler's stomach and watch as life fades from his eyes.

"Let's see, what else is there to do." Your former handler frowns, pretending to be deep in thought. "Ah, I know. This!"

He holds up a brand triumphantly and you threaten to shove it up his ass if he dares to use it on Bucky but he only laughs harder at the threat.

"Really now? That's the best you can do?"

The thick scent of heat starts to fill the air and he nods at the two guards who have been standing at the door the whole time. They move towards Bucky, stripping him of his shirt and flip him to face the ceiling. You can see his chest heaving, the fear in his ice blue eyes as he stares up at the brand that has started to glow orange from the heat. You pull at your restraints, shouting for your former handler to stop but he doesn't listen.

"Can you feel it? The sweetness of dread, knowing that pain is going to come but being unable to do anything about it? The heat that rises off the metal, warming your skin?" The brand inches ever closer and Bucky sucks in a breath, struggling to move out of the way. "Unh uh, you're being very naughty."

Metal meets flesh and a sizzling sound fills the air. Followed by an ear piercing scream. The cloying smell of burnt flesh seeps into your nose, coaxing bile up your throat. The screaming fades into thin air, only because Bucky's throat has gone hoarse from all the previous screaming and only soundless cries spill from his lips. You don't know which is worse, hearing his screams of pain or watching his face contort in agony as his throat produces soundless screams.

He thrashes beneath the metal brand, arm and legs held down by the two guards as the heat carves into his flesh, permanently marking his chest. You scream, shout, plead for them to stop, beg to take his place but they all fall on deaf ears. Streams of blood now coat the underside of your forearm, claws popped out of instinct despite your best efforts to keep them sheathed but you know the pain is nothing compared to what Bucky is going through right now.

"Stop!" You scream, desperately trying to reach the man you love. "Stop it, please!"

Your former handler's laugh fills the room, fueling your desperation. Your wrists are raw and bloody, but pain is nothing new to you. You've been cut open and sewn back together time after time, pain is your old friend and it won't stop you.

"Make me."

You let out a cry that's mixed with pain and fury, pulling at the restraints with all your might but it's futile. All you manage to do is destroy your wrist, leaving your hands as bloody strips of flesh with bone, your ankles still chained to the floor. You can't move, you can't do anything. You can't even heal, thanks to the suppressant collar around your neck. All you can do is watch as the ones you love get hurt, die, be taken from you.

You're weak. Powerless. You always have been, and always will be.

You collapse to the floor, tears streaming down your face, mixing with the blood that has pooled on the ground. The smell of burnt flesh hangs in the air, tearing you apart.

"Y/N." A soft croak barely reaches your ears. You sniff, looking up at Bucky. You can see the pain in his eyes, the fear that he's trying so hard to hide and your heart shatters all over again.

"I love you."

Your eyes widen. He exhales, a look of relief in his eyes, replaced with a flash of pain when a boot digs into the raw burn mark.

"How cute, but they're mine." Your former handler sneers, bending down so that he can slam Bucky's head into the ground out of sheer spite.

I love you. The words ring in your head. What's left of your hands twitch. Then a flash of metal as your claws plunge into your former handler's eyes and drag down to open his throat. You scream, howling out all the pain you've kept inside, letting out all the anger bottled within you and he collapses to the ground, choking to death on his own blood. The two guards rush forward, firing warning shots but you have enough time to slice through the chains around your ankles and you spring at them, ignoring the pain that's ripping through your body. Your claws tear through flesh with ease, slicing open throats and ripping stomachs apart. An animalistic roar bursts forth from your throat as you bathe in the blood of your tormentors, chest heaving from exertion.

Kill.

Kill.

Kill.

Love.

Kill.

Love.

Love.

Bucky.

All the fight leaves your body at once and you collapse to the floor, the world spinning around you. The last thing you see are a pair of ice blue eyes filled with concern before the world turns black.

Bucky.

[creature-wizard]

I just read Unwelcome Ozian's "Rules of Programming," and Oh Boy.

For those who don't know, Unwelcome Ozian is a conspiracy theorist on Tumblr who purports himself as a kind of guide for people who believe themselves to be programmed multiples - that is, people with deliberately-induced dissociative identity disorder, with alters carefully programmed for specific purposes by means of brutal torture methods. His claims are largely based on the work of Fritz Springmeier and Cisco Wheeler, two far-right conspiracy theorists who spun this whole mythology about an ancient satanic cult that uses torture to put people under what they referred to as "trauma-based mind control," or TBMC. (They also claimed that the fight for gay rights was part of the plan to enthrone the Antichrist in the year 2000, and that Al Gore carried around a briefcase full of blood to drink. That's the level of credibility they're on.)

There have also been a number of abuse allegations (including allegations of sexual abuse) against Unwelcome Ozian from those who came to him for help, so yeah. Also, he really hates Svali (another conspiracy theorist working from Springmeier and Wheeler's mythos) for some reason.

Rules of Programming effectively distills a lot of the stuff you find in the works of Springmeier and Wheeler, with the addition of some actual scholarly concepts/research plus some pop-psychology/pop-self help style lists of things programmers supposedly do to their victims. (A lot of the things it talks about are just regular forms of authoritarian abuse, gaslighting, scapegoating, etc. In fact, some of them even appear to be copied from Internet articles.)

Essentially, this book is yet another modern witch finder's manual, giving anyone who wants to find diabolical witches a set of unfalsifiable criteria that will always appear to confirm their presence. Like the work of Springmeier and Wheeler, its descriptions of torture are just evocative enough to play on the imaginations of people who may not be in the best mental shape and fuel the creation of confabulated memories. (Some of which may very well be mingling with memories of real abuse.)

Oh, and just to be clear, we do have very clear cases of confabulated memories - you can see them for yourself here and here. If you don't want to click the links, the tl;dr is that the New Age movement is chock full of people who very vividly "remember" past lives in pseudohistorical settings and locations that never existed, and some of these "memories" are quite vivid and disturbing.

So, here's some notable stuff from this book:

Marijuana is supposedly contraindicated for programming purposes. (This claim was made by Springmeier and Wheeler in How The Illuminati Creates A Total Undetectable Mind Controlled Slave, but it goes back to Cathy O'Brien and Mark Philips.)

Victims are allegedly given types of programming such as heart of stone programming and color, gem, and flower programming. (These were first described by Springmeier and Wheeler in They Know Not What They Do: Illustrated Guide To Illuminati Mind Control, which was published in 1995.)

Handlers must allegedly present themselves as omnipotent and god-like to victims. But they may also manipulate their victims by threatening suicide. (These two things really don't go together, especially if the cult as hardass as it's claimed to be.)

Alleged behavior of programmers - "Teach children self-betrayal, i.e. show gratitude and humility for punishments and insults." This is literally just how authoritarian Christian parents expect you to behave when punished. (Again, most of the things programmers supposedly do are just things that regular abusers do, period.)

He talks about practices such as anchoring and future pacing, which are described by Springmeier and Wheeler in How The Illuminati Create A Total Undetectable Mind Controlled Slave (published 1996).

Direct quote, "For example if a programmer builds a system using the planets of the solar system there will be alters with planet names, and space terminology used." Compare with "In recent years, these have been solar systems, galaxies, and planets, because they have gone to Star Trek, Star Wars, Alien types of programming" from How The Illuminati Create A Total Undetectable Mind Controlled Slave. Again, it's the same mythology.

He claims epsilon programming is used to create animal alters and describes how they're allegedly created. The stuff he describes can be found in How The Illuminati Create A Total Undetectable Mind Controlled Slave.

He lists off a bunch of stuff that's supposedly trauma-based mind control spiritual abuse. In reality, it's just regular spiritual abuse - for example, "the programmer/handler is in a ‘divine’ position," "misuse of scripture to control behaviour," and "appeal to the work of evil spirits as explanations for the child’s behaviour."

About that last one? A very similar line appears in the article Part 2: The characteristics of spiritual abuse: "Appeal to the work of evil spirits as explanations for the victim’s accusations or behaviour." The earliest archived version of this page is from 2017. The Rules of Programming was published in May of 2023.

The book's text on cultivating a trauma bond includes several items that appear to be slightly reworded text from Dr. Joseph M Carver's article Love and Stockholm Syndrome: The Mystery of Loving an Abuser (first archived on the Wayback Machine in 2015). For example, "The presence of a perceived small kindness from the handler to the child" (RoP)/"The presence of a perceived small kindness from the abuser to the victim" (Carver).

The book's text "Seeking/finding pleasure in the presence of extreme danger, violence, risk or shame" is also found in the article Impact on Abused Persons, which cites a 1997 book, The Betrayal Bond: Breaking Free of Exploitive Relationships.

A bunch of stuff associated with toxic relationships are rephrased as stuff associated with being a victim of TBMC.

The book claims that some "programmed responses" might be "They are only like that because they love me," "You wouldn’t understand," "They will make it up to me later," and "It’s my fault, I make them angry." This text can be found in the 2021 article, The Misconception of Trauma Bonding.

The book lists some benefits of playing chess (for example, "Playing chess can improve cognitive skills like memory, planning, and problem-solving") that appear verbatim in the Healthline article The 9 Best Benefits of Playing Chess.

Some text (for example, "Trauma can shut down episodic memory and fragment the sequence of events") appears to have been copied from the 2017 infographic, How Trauma Impacts Four Different Types of Memory.

Material from changingminds.org appears to have been copied into this book. For example, the text "Agreement over rules typically starts with generalised rules with which it is hard to disagree" can also be found on the page titled Confession, with the slight difference that "generalised" is spelled with a Z. (Its earliest archived version dates to 2004.)

The book claims, "Torture involving states of extreme pain and terror, to the point of near-death, is required to install programming." This inadvertently reveals the absurdity of the alter programming conspiracy theory, because in the real world millions of abusers and cult leaders manipulate and control people with far less dramatic methods every day. Even if alter programming was a real thing, it would be so pointlessly overcomplicated that you'd have to ask yourself why so many people would bother with it.

The book describes a number of abuses and tortures that pretty obviously stem back to European witch panic, including "desecration of Judeo-Christian beliefs and forms of worship," taboo sex, ritual cannibalism, and dedication to Satan.

The book includes the "Steps on Obedience," which are found in Svali's older writings. Additionally, some of the text seems to be copied from Svali's old writing with minor modification. For example, The Rules of Programming says, "The part/alter is placed in a room without any sensory stimulus. The room will have grey, white, or beige walls. The programmer leaves the part/alter alone for specified lengths of time: these times may vary from hours (2-3) (3-5), to days as the child grows older." Compare with Svali: "The small toddler/child is placed in a room without any sensory stimulus, usually a training room with gray, white, or beige walls. The adult leaves and the child is left alone, for periods of time: these may vary from hours, to an entire day as the child grows older."

The book gives a list of supposed secret meanings to perfectly normal hand gestures, which is very obviously sourced from How The Illuminati Create A Total Undetectable Mind Controlled Slave. (RoP: "Hands locked folded interwoven backward - - you can’t break “the circle”". HTICATUMS: "Hands locked folded interwoven backward--you can’t break "the circle"")

The book claims that programmers will write down detailed documentation after each programming session, describing exactly how the session went and what should be done at the next session. Additionally, block reports are supposedly written every four weeks, which summarize the whole thing. This is noteworthy because if this conspiracy theory was actually true, this type of documentation would have come to light at some point by now. The fact that is has never turned up in all of the years alter programming has allegedly been practiced (since the mid-20th century or since ancient times, depending on who you ask) is incredibly damning.

(Break here because this list is reaching Tumblr's text block limit.)

Some text (for example, "A Place in the World. One never need 'find' his or her place because in fact that type of autonomy is not allowed! There is often a false egalitarianism which disguises competition" and "Mystical Manipulation. False origin stories or very selective accounts are given about the leader to demonstrate divine authority, spiritual advancement") seems to have been copied from the article Communal Abuse and Cults (earliest archived version: 2017).

Some text (for example, "Change Of Diet: Creating disorientation and increased susceptibility to emotional arousal by depriving the nervous system of necessary nutrients through the use of special diets and/or fasting" and "Hypnosis: Inducing a high state of suggestibility, often thinly disguised as relaxation or meditation") seems to have been copied from Brainwashing & Mind Control Techniques (earliest archived version: 2004).

Some text (for example, "Sins, as defined by the leader, are confessed either to a personal monitor or publicly to the group" and "Sacred Science: The group's doctrine or ideology is considered to be the ultimate truth, beyond all questioning or dispute") appear to be sourced from Robert Jay Lifton's eight criteria of thought reform. (Originally written in 1989.)

The text "Crafty redefinition of existing words (and the definition of new ones) to powerful euphemisms, secret codes, renamings, buzzwords, chants and mantras, ‘speaking in tongues,’ forced silence, even hashtags" may have been sourced from Cultish’s Exploration of Manipulative Language (originally posted in 2021), or from Amanda Montell's book, Cultish: The Language of Fanaticism.

Some text (for example, "The group devoutly believes it will be the ultimate winner of the final battle" and "Lack Of Restraint: Leaders believe themselves to be free from religious and social laws") appears to have been sourced from Doomsday Religious Movements - Canadian Security Intelligence Report (dated December 18, 1999).

The text "Glittering Generalities: These are intense, emotionally appealing words so closely associated with highly valued concepts and beliefs that the appeals are convincing without being supported by fact or reason. The appeals are directed toward such emotions as love of country and home, and desire for peace, freedom, glory, and honour" appears to come from Wikipedia.

"Name-calling: Name-calling seeks to arouse prejudices in an audience" also seems to be derived from Wikipedia.

The book mentions "Being locked in a small confined spot, a pit or cage with spiders and snakes" as a form of torture. This one can be traced back to Michelle Remembers.

The text describing bladder torture in RoP is identical to the text describing it in How The Illuminati Create A Total Undetectable Mind Controlled Slave. I'm not going to post it because it's kinda graphic, but feel free to compare the texts yourself. Just search for the text "urinary bladder."

Basically, most of the alleged tortures and programming methods are very obviously sourced from Springmeier and Wheeler's books, even if they aren't always described with identical text.

A list of tortures in the book include the hell confinement, the Tucker telepohone, the strappado, the Cold Cell, the German Chair, the box, white torture, and the Tiger Bench. Most of these can be found on this Listverse article from 2013, and RoP's descriptions match up with Listverse's.

So basically, we have someone claiming to be a trauma-based mind control survivor, but a lot of his information very obviously comes from other sources. (Now just to be clear - it's not possible to tell whether any of the copied text comes from the actual webpages I linked, or if they were sourced from other pages or books with the same text. But either way, it's obvious he didn't come up with all this stuff on his own.)

I also think the fact that this book includes so many descriptions of actual abusive behaviors and practices makes it all the more insidious. The author effectively links a lot of stuff that actually does happen with the conspiracy theory in such a way that it can all look like it's the exact same thing, making it seem like if you suffered from these real types of abuses, then you may have likely been a victim of alter programming.

But here's the thing - abusers are often just insecure, lazy, and taking their issues out on someone weaker. Sometimes they're just doing what their family did and haven't realized this behavior is toxic. There's no deep or complicated reason behind it, much less some carefully orchestrated design on this level conspiracy theorists propose.

[fulcrum-art-fox]

That’s kinda wild though if the guy who gets chomped by the pyroraptor and the regional counsellor are two different people because then you’ve got two people in a relatively small geographic area that both get killed by dinos within a relatively small timeframe. Like, isn’t that almost like the poster child for the whole Atrociraptor programme in the first place like - isn’t the whole idea plausible deniability? Could just be a random dinosaur attack? Given that we know for a fact that the pyro is genuinely out there feasting on random civilians, how is Soyona sure that the regional counsellors death is Dodgson’s and the Handler’s doing? Like yes the timing it would be remarkable coincidence if they had nothing to do with it, and with there being two different people in the mix it seems likely that it was, but like, how do you know? Soyona acts upon the perceived betrayal as soon as the Handler gets back and doesn’t go “did you kill the Regional Counsellor yes or no?” Again it seems likely but definitely something you’d want to check and be sure of before you accuse someone of, especially in this business?

[coining-system-terms]

Defeciopus : an alter who is programmed but the program doesn't act as intended, wasn't reinforced enough or other reason.

Flag Meaning : The black in the center represents the programmer / handler / abuser. The white on the outside represents the rest of the system. The gradient represents how failed the program could be. The weak link icon in the alternate flag represents the alter being a weak link in the programming or being called one.

[bunnieonherknees]

bunnie's intro post !!!

no preferred name, call me whatever you want. if you must, default to bunnie

any pronouns and terms allowed :3

chrono 18, afab, genderqueer in a tboy way, kind of a lesbian! very connected with being a cat. low pain tolerance and i love weed

occasionally psychotic/delusional

under 16 can int but not with nsfw/ramcoa things.

new to being radqueer. mostly trisharmed + transprogrammed, but i dabble in being trisharmful too

not looking for anything romantic. absolutely looking for handlers/programmers/abusers/etc.

i block freely, but no real dni

i am entirely pro consent in everything !!!

with that said, consider this post and this blog consent for the most depraved and inhumane interactions as you see fit, harmed or harmful!! asks and dms always open :3

[desirdae-coiner]

TW PROGRAMMING

DESIRPROGRAMMER

A desirdae term for those that desire/yearn/want to be a programmer. (RAMCOA)

Some reasons for this might be:

- intrusive thoughts

- being an internal handler or self-programmed

- etc

This term is strictly against transitioning that harms oneself or others. Transitioning to a programmer in any way is not supported as it harms others.

@desirdae-archive

[unwelcome-ozian]

UNDERSTANDING OF DEEPER STRUCTURES OF DID While allowing for some variation, most programming follows standard protocols. The front/normative section is designed to be free from interference and highly functioning as long as the covert aspects of the system remain unknown and there is compliance with the demands of the programmers/handlers. Many therapists deal with leaking or triggered trauma scenes related to sexual abuse and ritual abuse without ever getting to the deeper structures and teams involved in covert activities or the programming responsible for it. The trauma scenes act like a mine field keeping these deeper structures and parts hidden and compartmentalized. Brian Moss

[doveshovel]

The SSO mech AU is heavily eva, paci-rim and ac6 inspired but. random au lore stuff I think about sometimes below :)

KEEPRS is this universe's specialized defense organization, based in Jorvik, whose purpose is to protect the world in the event of Garnok's revival (NERV style)

Dark Core is a private mercenary company, in partnership with GED (a mech engine/generator manufacturing company with a monopoly on energy systems worldwide).

Pilots are chosen through a scouting/testing process. If they pass, they undergo rigorous mental and physical training. A neural connection puts a great deal of strain on the pilot's mind and body, and they must be able to withstand it. KEEPRS has a lower turnover rate, as their training methods are slower, but have fewer immediate health risks. Dark Core has a very high turnover rate, relying mainly on a few gifted pilots with a natural aptitude that can be trained and mobilized as quickly as possible. Those who fail are disposed of. They pay exponentially better, but are a very dangerous employer.

AIDEEN is a KEEPRS system designed to support pilots, connected directly to their brain and nervous system. Her primary functions are to monitor vitals, manage life support systems, and provide guidance. Each pilot's AIDEEN is slightly different, tailored to create as much cohesion as possible between pilot and mech. Different companies have their own variants with different names for a system with similar functions. Hunter's AIDEEN is malfunctioning, and has gained sentience. With a will of her own, she's capable of breaking artificial limits set by her programmers, but keeps her pilot's actions in line with her own interests.

Kembell and Drake are both handlers for GED/DC mercenaries. Similarly, Elizabeth and Rhiannon are KEEPRS main handlers.

The Bobcats and Bulldogz teams are both participants in professional level mech-fighting coliseum tournaments.

[burninglights]

Apropos of forest and national parks rangers (the dedicated Shit Has Gone Sideways Handlers) having their jobs axed, and as a former hiker, I think that if you’re outdoorsy, you ought to be aware of the following resources:

- Where There Is No Doctor by David Werner & Carol Thurman, regarded by the WHO as the reference text for remote medicine (Internet Archive PDF link)

- Stop the Bleed training, available in the US & UK, which provides training on how to stop haemorrhage in an emergency situation outside of a clinical environment (website link to local training)

- Manual CPR instruction via Revivr, the dedicated British Heart Foundation manual CPR training programme (website link)

- what3words, which generates three unique words that allow emergency response & public safety bodies to locate users (available on android & Apple app stores)

WHILST NOT A SUBSTITUTE FOR PROFESSIONAL HELP IN A TIMELY MANNER, I’d really recommend that folks familiarise themselves with these resources, particularly emergent wound care & how to use what3words, as in an emergency situation, all preparedness is helpful.

In addition to all of this, I really recommend that folks have a first aid kit in their backpacks/vehicles.

You do not need the Batcave in your rucksack or your car boot, but it never hurts to be prepared. You can find stocked first aid kits in most pharmacies and retailers.

Failing that, here is how I stock my personal ‘on the go’ first aid kit for my backpack:

- 1 x card of paracetamol/acetaminophen tablets

- 1 x card of aspirin tablets (substitute for ibuprofen if you’re on blood thinners, have a clotting disorder or have other contraindications for aspirin use)

- 5 x alcohol antiseptic wipes

- 1 x tube of antiseptic cream

- 1 x tube of antihistamine cream (bug bite cream)

- 2 x pairs nitrile gloves

- 30 x plasters assorted size

- 3 x large sterile wound dressings

- 2 x hydrocolloid plasters

- 1 x sterile gauze bandage

- 1 x micropore tape

You may also want to include;

- 3 x large non-adhesive wound dressings

- 1 x roll of comprehensive bandage (self adhesive; useful for fixing wound dressings in place or for stabilising sprains)

- 1 x tube arnica bruise cream

Emergency medications (asthma inhaler/EpiPen/glucagon gel for hypoglycaemia etc) should also be either on your person or in your kits.

Ensure that you’re wearing proper clothing.

In the summer, you need protective sunhats and sunglasses, as well as SPF; you should also ensure that you’re carrying more water than you think you need, as you’ll be dehydrating faster due to a combination of heat loss and exertion. Loose, covering clothing made natural fibres like cotton etc., will shield you from the sun and wick sweat.

If you’re in tick country, sleeves and long trousers that are tucked into socks are non-negotiables. Lyme disease sucks absolute ass and can take months to recover from, as does tick borne encephalitis, tularemia and anaplasmosis. Long hair should be tied up and covered with a hat; after your hike, inspect your clothing and yourself thoroughly for ticks.

Footwear is more important than you’d think. Hiking in your Converse is a sure fire way to twist your ankle to fuck, and if you’re a solo hiker, that’s a good way to get in deep shit very quickly. Hiking trainers or boots are ideal, though any well fitting, waterproof trainer with a good tread and a decent grip will also suffice providing you’re not going through harsh terrain.

Finally, marked trails and campgrounds are there for a reason. Going off trail, especially in terrain you’re unfamiliar with, is a spectacular way to get swallowed up by a ravine or unmarked cave system, get lost and die of exposure, or get eaten.

Human exceptionalism is a real phenomenon, and a detrimental one. For all intents and purposes, when in nature, you’re a ham hock with delusions of grandeur. Bears will kill you just as dead as they would a deer. Same goes for wolves, coyotes, exposure, thirst, caves and flash flooding.

Speaking of wild animals; do not approach them. If you’re close enough to pet them, you are close enough to get bitten/gored/trampled/clawed/otherwise killed in a grotesque manner. Make an effort to learn about any wildlife you may encounter before your trip, and what to do if you encounter them.

Enjoy the natural environment, learn about it, and have fun in it, as loving it and learning about it is the best way to get invested in it’s protection and preservation, but do so in a way that means you’re alive to advocate for it when your adventure is done.

[winterthedoll]

About

Summary

“For now, refer to this one as Winter. That is not the legal name assigned to the doll but, much as it wishes to serve its Purpose, this title serves a purpose here. As you might notice, this doll prefers to be referred to as an object primarily and thus it/its pronouns work best, but she/her will also do. This one is looking for a Mistress, a Witch to help find her purpose. What remains of the soul within, the model and design of the doll’s physical form, lends itself to functioning in the direct service of others as a servant but also as a defender in times of need. It seeks to keep people happy and safe: that is all it ever wanted and all it will ever need.”

Physical Specifications

This one’s model stands at 5’6” and 150lbs with dress measurements available on request. The model was originally produced masculine but the soul within was female. Soon the model’s form will be updated accordingly so the anatomy rightly matches.

Mental Quirks

It is highly recommended for the integrity of the doll that phallic objects, both biological and inorganic, not be shown to it. Likely cause of this is the physical and mental disparity present within its own body (detailed further in Physical Specifications).Please note the soul contained within the doll can, at times, be volatile. While normally subservient, the experiences in its past as well as its functionality as a potential mech pilot have resulted in periods of increased aggression. These periods of aggression can manifest in harmless or even desirable ways (detailed further in Functions) but can just as easily result in distress for the doll and those around it. So far, successful documentation of triggers has proved elusive.Otherwise, this doll finds enjoyment in many forms both typical of humans and dolls but also those considered atypical (detailed further in Functions).

Functions

Combat Capability - This doll is not only capable of defending itself and others, but also teaching others how to defend themselves. When threats are perceived all other functions are overwritten, including obedience and in some cases ability to differentiate friend and foe. This can be manually triggered when a handler identifies a foe or if they wish to purposefully override obedience. Purpose and Stillness - As all dolls are created, this one has a positive mental feedback loop associated with obeying. Those the doll obeys, often described as Witches or Handlers, can command the doll and expect full obedience. Identification of a Witch or Handler kickstarts this positive feedback loop, instilling Purpose as it carries out assigned tasks rewarding further obedience as it awaits new tasks with Stillness. Programmability - Similar to a computer or a well trained pet, further commands and functions can be instilled within this one. These can be introduced subtly through suggestion or directly through request. The more detailed the instructions given the less likelihood of this doll stalling, but increases the chance of logical faults and unintended behavior. Optional Autonomy - When not following instructions, it is perfectly capable of maintaining itself. Unlike a human, however, this doll much prefers following instructions. While this function might result in behavior reminiscent of a human, that does not make it one. Use this function for maintenance purposes.

[hc-did-culture-is]

hc did culture is seeing other hc did systems seem to know everything well enough and even know their abusers/the organization/their handler and whatever else while you sit there with almost no memories except for the occasional flashback and having no clue if you're even safe from your programmer and whoever else. and knowing you won't be able to get help until you move in with your girlfriend, can try to find help, and will finally be in so much better environment for your other disorders and disabilities.

.

[nikitasys]

LIFE WITHOUT FILTER AS A TRAUMAGENIC POLYFRAG+PARTIALLY PROGRAMMED DID SYSTEM

TW : vent, rant, ramcoa, programming, su!c!de mention

(I'm in desperate need for advice, for some kind of guidance or support from other progged systems who may have gone through something similar to what we're describing in this post, or not but who may have ideas of what might be going on with us.)

I stg life has been so exhausting & I just have to unmask & say it SOMEWHERE.

We're a relatively newly discovered+diagnosed system since I realised we were one in August/September of last year (2023). Before that we had been misdiagnosed with bipolar disorder for several years.

When I first realised we were multiple, I progressively began discovering the other alters. The whole process (we're also in trauma therapy) was difficult & messy but overall as days went by I personally felt more & more satisfied to see/feel how much progress we were making, even with all the highs & lows it entailed. I got to meet & learn to know a few alters, we were able to work on some of our problematic in-sys dynamics & slowly but surely understand ourselves better, both as individuals & as a whole.

Long story short, we were PROGRESSING.

Then things got even messier as our trauma therapy caused even more lifting of the dissociative amnesia in our childhood & we progressively realised we were polyfrag & had been through RAMCOA & programming. (That happened end of February/beginning of March 2024)

The whole process was getting more & more chaotic & distressful but we (me + the rest of our group of main fronters) were pretty determined to figure things out & keep on going forward, which was extremely annoying to a bunch of programmed alters who immediately tried their best to keep us quiet/isolated & make us feel insane/terrified by trying to make us go back to our primary abuser, OR convince our psychiatrist to put us on antipsychotics & hospitalise us, OR leave the place we live in to go who-knows-where & ghost everyone we knew, OR off ourself etc... in a nutshell, it was really freaking hard.

But some of us were determined to keep trying to do what was best for us, to keep trying to get better, to gain at least some kind of free will, to LIVE.

I'm sorry, this post is way too long.

But anyway, now it's been a few months since I just don't know what's going on with us anymore. The veryyyy little visualisation I could have of our innerworld is gone, all the main fronters seem to have truly disappeared (mass dormancy?) as well as the vast majority of alters we had identified up to this day. It seemed that I was frontstuck for a long while, & now it's been a few weeks that alters just randomly pop up (whether they front or stay co-conscious) & then disappear almost immediately after as if nothing had happened & I just... I feel so lost.

It's all just so frustrating you know ? To me it truly feels like something MAJOR happened inside both to our innerworld + all the alters & I'm being deliberately locked away from the truth of what it is. I feel like I'm being punished, & tbh I probably am. I'm in a lot of denial about our programming but the whole thing definitely feels like one (or more ?) internal handler/programmer has been orchestrating some kind of system reboot or hardcore scramble or... I DON'T KNOOOW 😭 I just don't know anything anymore. It's like nothing ever happened & it's particularly distressing, you know ? It is SO weird to know deep down that massive stuff is going on inside yourself but at the same time you know nothing & it all makes me wonder if I ever knew anything in the first place ? These thoughts make me dizzy af. It just feels like since syscovery there was overall progress happening, & now there's just nothing. As if everything had been suddenly turned off & restarted or... I just don't know.

Anyway. I realise no one will read this post entirely, but if for some reason you are doing it, first of all congrats & also, THANK YOU.

Don't hesitate to contact us via DMs or comment if you have any questions or advice, we'll be more than happy to answer you to the best of our abilities. THANK YOU IN ADVANCE FOR YOUR HELP 🙏🏻

— host (I think?)

[hinge]

Hinge presents an anthology of love stories almost never told. Read more on https://no-ordinary-love.co