#but just further confirmed the gender envy

[weaverofink]

i can’t believe THIS is the guy giving me gender envy

[professional-yapper]

Proximity Epilogue

Neteyam x Olangi! Reader

Warnings: none, it is not confirmed whether the reader or Neteyam was pregnant for the sake of gender neutrality x

"Jëytru, come away from there," you called patiently to your oldest son, who was now a long-limbed 11-year-old and more like his uncle Lo'ak than you would've liked.

Jëytru pouted, continuing to swing from the decidedly very thin vines. "No, Sempu said I could!"

You raised your eyes skyward, then gave him a hard look. "And what am I saying now, Jëy?"

Your son paused, considering, then stuck his bottom lip out even further and hopped down, bounding over to you in search of alternate entertainment. He found it with the baby in your lap.

"Iiwìr," he cooed, leaning over you to nudge at his little brother's round cheeks as the baby slept peacefully, having been a much better sleeper than any of his older siblings, much to your relief.

You were content to let Jëytru touch Iiwìr gently. He meant no harm in it, and it wasn't like Iiwìr was waking any time soon.

Instead, you devoted yourself to your carving. A pair of new toys for the twins, since they'd broken some of theirs playing some kind of war game. No doubt imitating what Lo'ak and Neteyam told them of the raids on the sky demon bases.

Not that there was a raid today. No. It was serene, a bubbling river running by the hut, birds singing in the trees, a warm wind ripe with the smell of spring moving through the area.

Neteyam had taken the twins out for a little daddy-daughter time. He'd inherited his father's blatant girl-dad attitude, as much as he tried to deny it, and doted on 8-year-old Obia and Erel.

Not that you minded. You were more than happy to have your sons all to yourself. Speaking of sons...

Jëytru had wandered off to perch on the riverside, and Iiwìr still slept in your lap, blissfully unaware of the carving knife hovering in the air above his head as you searched the clearing.

"Okoro! Kalzi!" you called finally, unable to locate the final members of your little horde. Well, not so little. Your brood was the envy of the tribe, your four sons and two daughters Omaticaya-tall and Olangi-strong, and everything wonderful in between.

And yes, you did take pleasure in watching Lo'ak mock-gag every time he was reminded of the fact that you were sleeping with his older brother. As if he and his own mate, the one from the Tayrangi clan, weren't just as bad.

The bushes rustled once, twice, and Okoro, 9, and Kalzi, 5, came out, tripping over each other in their eagerness to answer your call. "We were just playing over there," Okoro said breathlessly, turning to point into the undergrowth. "In the dirt."

You surveyed your sons, smeared in dirt and dusty blue skin- Kalzi, Okoro and the twins bore your skin but none of your physical features, while iiwìr and Jëytru were the opposite- littered with minor cuts and scraps. All evidence of having fun. "I can tell," you replied finally, voice warm with amusement.

Jëytru glanced at his brothers, then laughed at their dishevelled state. Okoro looked down at himself and laughed too. Kalzi laughed, but it was likely he didn't understand what was funny and only wanted to imitate his older brothers. He was only 5, after all, and you remembered your older brothers had seemed very wise and impressive at that age.

How wrong you had been.

Then came the sound of distant voices. No doubt your mate and the girls returning from their morning romp.

"Sempu!" Kalzi cried and took off in that direction as fast as his fat little legs could take him.

Okoro followed with a whoop, and Jëytru, trying to seem like he didn't care much, brought up the rear at a more lackadaisical pace.

You sighed, setting down the half-formed carvings and your knife. Standing slowly, you made sure Iiwìr was secured in his sling before going to greet the rest of your family.

Neteyam was being swarmed by the children when you caught up, Jëytru having forgotten his airs of superiority and whatnot and was jumping around vying for his father's attention with the rest of them.

Neteyam gave you a wry look, pleading for assistance with his eyes. "How did we get so many?" he asked wonderingly.

You looked at him pointedly, resisting the urge to let your lips curve into a knowing smile. "I can't exactly answer that in front of the children, now, can I?"

Neteyam laughed and freed himself from the swarm, coming forward to kiss you, tall, broad frame blocking out the sun briefly as he pushed your hair back from your face to better access your lips. "There you are," he murmured contentedly, eyes crinkling at the corners before you closed your eyes and took him in as best you could before the kids' gagging and carrying on got the better of you both.

"The boys missed you," you hummed, curling into Neteyam's side later, back home in the sunny warmth of your hut. "You must take them out sometime."

"I don't know if I could handle them as well as you, paskalin," Neteyam replied, watching the children mess around together through the gap in the curtain over the entrance to your room.

You chuckled. "Flatterer. But you will have to. I mean it."

"I know, I know, I'm just like my dad," Neteyam groaned, letting his head drop against yours. "I can't be blamed for it like he can, though. Our sons are so attached to you it's almost sickening."

"Like you can talk," you scoffed, but there wasn't much effort in it. Rolling over onto your side, you laid your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart, which always seemed to be in time with yours nowadays.

There was a brief moment of sweet, comfortable silence before he spoke again. "6 kids," he murmured.

"We could really piss everyone off and go for seven," you muttered against his pec.

Neteyam's chest rumbled with laughter. "You're crazy. Are all Olangi this insatiable?"

"I wouldn't know," you snorted. "I haven't slept with any of them lately," you added just to get a rise out of him.

"Oh, you," Neteyam said lowly, shifting to hover over you, golden eyes gleaming.

"Oh, me," you replied smilingly, folding your hands over your chest comfortably as you looked up at him, shifting onto your back.

He lingered for a moment, then pressed a brief, hungry kiss to your mouth before flopping back down beside you.

Chuckling, you cuddled back into his side and let out a deep sigh.

All was right with the world now. Your mate next to you, your children playing out in the main room, and the beautiful day wrapped around the village.

Then Neteyam's mouth bumped against your ear, breath hot on your skin.

"Behave or it'll be 8."

And so we reach the end of my first multi chapter fic! Much love to everyone who liked, reblogged and just generally supported this fic, you are all appreciated! I'm very proud of myself 😭🙏

Taglist: @luvv4j4ybe11 @ikeyniofthetayrangi @rivatar @lunamochii @mochamochimoch1015 @dutifullyannoyingfox @oakbuggy @abcm18339 @atokirina-tsuki

Does actually sicken me to have to finish this so y'all may see more at some point tbh

[yukirayu]

The Takasato-gumi's Tattoos, and Their (Possible) Symbolism

It had been some time since I last made a post for Slow Damage and I promised I'd make one a fortnight ago.

Though I'll be honest, this is more of a half-trivia/half-meta post than it is a full meta.

To start...

It's no secret that the Takasato-gumi is a yakuza organization. And it's common practice for certain members of the yakuza to get tattooed. And they don't just get any tattoo. The symbol they're branded with, as they say, is supposed to represent who they are as a person.

The funny thing is that of course, all yakuza run on crime. Organized crime, but still crime. And the players are shown first-hand how certain members of the Takasato-gumi are anything but pleasant, which makes it ironic that they're tattooed with symbols of Buddhism.

Just to clarify early on, Kotarou and Mayu's tattoos have nothing to do with their ties to the Takasato-gumi.

So we'll be talking about four other members of the group, and know that I did a *bit* of research about I'll discuss shortly below.

We'll start with Madarame, since it's his tattoos that we get to see in-game. 

Though the artbook never confirmed what exactly his tattoo is, it's highly likely that it's modeled after the Guanyin, a.k.a. the Avalokiteshvara Boddhisatva.

The reason this deity is called Guanyin is because its name means "perceiver of all sounds" in Chinese, which refers to how Guanyin - the goddess of mercy and the embodiment of kindness and compassion - hear all those who cry to it for help.

Guanyin is also known as the patroness of fishermen. This is why she's often associated with a dragon, as dragons are regarded as creaturers of the sea in Chinese mythology. Dragons are also seen as symbols of power and prosperity in both China and Japan.

Whatever your opinion of Madarame may be, no one can deny that he's NOT a personification of everything that Guanyin represents. He follows his own desires and instincts. Though some of the aspects associated with a dragon (mainly power/strength) do fit him to a tee.

That aside though, the artbook shows that there are other notable symbols drawn on the tattoos on Madarame's arms. It's not the black scale-like marks that serve as the background, the sakura petals, or the flame marks near his wrists. It's what's found between all that.

Among them are masks commonly used in Japanese theater, such as the Noh mask (on his right arm & on the upper row) and the Hannya mask (on his left arm & on the lower row). And with Slow Damage's attention for detail, they're likely not placed in the design just because.

The Noh mask is used to signify the age, gender and status of the character, human or supernatural. They're modeled in a way that they can show a completely different expression with only a tilt of the head and with the use of clever lighting.

On the other hand, the Hannya mask is more demonic-looking because it is used to represent a female onryo ("vengeful spirit"). Like the Noh mask, the mask can change depending on the level of the spirit's anger, envy and resentment.

The Noh mask can represent how Madarame is hard to read, so it takes having to read into the finer details of his words and body language to understand him.

On the other hand, the Hannya mask can represent his status as a "vengeful ghost" rumored to haunt Shinkoumi.

But the Hannya mask can also symbolize how Madarame's route is where Towa's more destructive aspects become dominant (anger) and where Madarame further worsens the strain in Towa's relationship with his friends out of the belief that they're trapping him (resentment).

Now the previous statement was something I explained (or at least attempted to) in further detail in a meta from a few months ago. I'll just link the meta here so as to avoid getting redundant.

Aside from the sakura petals, there are two other flowers that stand out in Madarame's tattoos. On his left arm, there's a chrysanthemum, and on his right arm is a flower that most closely resembles a peony.

Chrystanthemums are flowers that come in many colors. And in the flower language, the symbolism of a flower can differ based on the color of the petals. A common symbolism for chrysanthemums is love.

The red variant even represents love at first sight. And if the localization (of dubious quality) is to be believed, Madarame found himself enraptured with Towa (or at least his more violent and impulsive self) ever since he first saw him.

The white variant represents truth, honesty and loyalty. I've already said before that Madarame can be manipulative, he can omit truths, but he always speaks his mind and is always loyal to what he wants, whether it's to the benefit or detriment of everyone else.

Lastly, the yellow variant represents neglected or scorned love. Obviously, Madarame is an ex-lover (of sorts) for Towa.

And should Madarame decide to get involved in Towa's life, he makes his entrance like a scorned lover would, with desimposing and destructive force.

As for peonies, their beauty has them considered the "king of flowers". And in Japan, they symbolize bravery and honor. Madarame doesn't have much scruples, if at all. But he's someone with his own way of life, and he's someone who's feared rather than someone who fears.

With that, I'm done discussing Madarame's tattoos. But there's still three other people to cover. While we never see their tattoos in game, the artbook *does* confirm what Buddhist symbol, or more specifically, deity, they're tattooed with (on their backs, specifically).

Kaga is tattooed with the image of Kannon. But the interesting fact is that Kannon is only but the Japanese spelling of the name "Guanyin", which means that both Madarame and Kaga got branded with the same Buddhist deity.

To recap, Guanyin is the goddess of mercy and a figure of compassion and kindness. Certainly not befitting of someone like Madarame... though it is fitting to a degree with Kaga. He may be of the yakuza, but he's said to be fair and far from the greedy type.

He believed that organized crime should be used to help the oppressed, not to tyrannize them further. But this didn't align with how Sakaki and Toono wanted to run things. Since many respected Kaga and wanted *him* to become the next leader... you know what came next.

And so, there's Sakaki and Toono. I'll start with Sakaki.

Like Madarame and Kaga, the tattoo on his back has the image of a Bodhisattva, albeit this time, it's a different one. More specifically, it's the Akasagarbha Bodhisattva, which looks like this.

Akasagarbha is one of the Eight Great Bodhisattvas, and symbolizes infinite wisdom. In Buddhist temples, people would pray to him for wisdom and improvement of memory and of self in the hopes that they would reach enlightenment.

This applies to Sakaki... albeit in a very demented sense.  Improving someone's memory, guiding them closer to reaching their true self and achieving enlightment? That is what Sakaki believes he is doing to Towa, a.k.a. Maya's vessel and successor.

To sum up, in the final route, Sakaki decides to jog Towa's memory by giving him relics of his past, making him more curious and curious about his mother, until the decisive moment comes where Towa becomes "enlightened". Or in other words, "transform" into Maya.

But in the conventional sense, it's a very ironic symbol for Sakaki. Because, without softening any words, the man is batshit insane. I've spoken in length before how Maya's business is like a cult, and Sakaki acts like its most devoted acolyte.

And for reasons we can only guess, Maya managed to completely charm him into supporting her as her right-hand man. He very clearly supports her delusions of villainous grandeur, he sees things her way, and thinks that anything that defies her way is vile and wrong.

It'd be one thing if he knew he had to groom Towa into taking after his mother. But the final Interrogation shows that he genuinely believes that Maya's soul had literally possessed Towa, with Towa now having her memories. If that's not deranged, I don't know what is.

With that, that leaves Toono. Unlike the other three, the Buddhist figure tattooed onto his back is not a Bodhisattva, but another deity known as Kongōyasha Myōō. And as it appearance indicates, it is definitely fierce in nature.

In Japanese Buddhism, this is one of the Five Great Guardian Kings - wrathful deities that protect and uphold the Buddhist laws. It's also known as the "Devourer of Demons," its moniker earned for its task of destroying evil spirits.

So in a way, the Kongōyasha Myōō could be seen as an enforcer of justice. Though this would highly contradict with Toono, who openly admits to his corruption.

Though as said earlier, he's the only one among the four whose tattoo is not a Boddhisatva.

The fact that the deity on his back is a wrathful spirit, even if it's different from a demon, can represent how Toono is always a threat. If not to the main cast, then to Shinkoumi itself.

Even in the routes where he's barely the focus, it's still confirmed that his goals never take a pause. It's always in motion, just dealt with differently depending on which love interest is pursued.

That aside, I also have to point out what the figure on his back is.

As shown in the above images, it has three heads and six arms; hence the Chinese phrase "sān tóu liù bì" (三头六臂) come to mind. It refers to someone with remarkable ability, so in a way, this can describe Toono's ambition.

After all, what is his end goal? To achieve more influence, enough for him to run his own business and undermine Sakaki and the Takasato-gumi by extension, thus granting him control over Shinkoumi. So in that sense, the artist's choice of tattoos for Toono makes sense.

And that's end of it. I'm glad that the artist left these tidbits in the artbook for me to dissect, thus giving me the chance to talk about characters I otherwise rarely discuss.

[marshmallowprotection]

Question: what do you think it's the RFA's characters (+Rika,V,Saeran) gender and sexuality? Since we're in the pride month

I’ve shared my HC a few times before and I have my feelings on the matter. 

As a whole, I tend to say that the RFA will love the MC no matter who they are or how they identify, so lemme just slap that out there first because I’ve gotten a bit of hate in the past about this sort of thing and I sincerely don’t want a repeat of that situation. I have no time for bullshit and no energy for it. It mostly entails a lot of transphobia and acephobia so, uh, terfs, transphobes, acephobes, etc do not interact with me. 

I read Yoosung as Trans and Bi. He’s constantly comparing himself to the other male members of the RFA with envy and sometimes, it reads to me as a puppy crush and I love when Zen and Yoosung interact because they’re both so supportive to each other and it’s obvious that Yoosung admires him. He feels like he’s not as much of a man as the others, constantly feeling like he’s not smart, strong, or appealing as the others. He’s trying to sort out his feelings for boys but he gets stuck between, do I want to be with him, or do I want to be him? The answer is both, he learns. 

I read Zen as Pan. He’s open to love from all walks of life and he feels the Pan label encapsulates his emotional experience in a way that Bi doesn’t. Bi and Pan are interchangeable labels in the same realm, Bi being the attraction to two or more genders, Pan simply saying attraction without any regard to gender. Zen appreciates an aesthetically pleasing person. He loves his MC no matter who they are, and this just felt right to him. As long as you love him for who he is and not just what he looks like, he’s down for it. 

I read Jaehee is a Lesbian, obviously. She’s clearly had an internal struggle with her emotions for a long time. She hasn’t allowed herself to feel anything toward anyone before and she has only assumed that she likes boys because that is what society says that she is supposed to do. She hasn’t ever stopped to think that she felt otherwise, not until her route’s MC comes along and she starts to feel something strongly that she hasn’t felt before. She’s got a lot to sort out, as her instant thought is she wants to be friends forever, but it takes her time to realize that THEY CAN BE MORE THAN THAT AND THAT’S WHAT SHE WANTS. 

I read Seven is NB/Genderfluid, as well as Bi. Seven is a confirmed Bisexual, so, there’s no HC about it. That’s his sexuality guys, point-blank. He loves the MC no matter what and that’s simply that. As far as the other label, Seven loves to dress up, and he loves to fluctuate between dressing up as a woman and dressing up as himself. It may have started back in the agency for missions, but he quickly realized that wearing a dress and makeup and receiving female pronouns every now and again... felt right. So, he can teeter between what feels right to him, but unless he tells you otherwise, he’s okay with you using male pronouns. 

I read Jumin as Ace. Oh, boy, I’ve talked about this one a lot and some people were not kind to me for it, but I stand my ground. He’s not sex-repulsed, but he doesn’t really feel any sexual pull at all. He spent much of his young life being sexually-harrassed by people, from a very young age. His interest in love was already pretty much void, but the notion that people wanted him simply for sex not only disgusted him but it made him feel like an outsider because he did not experience those feelings. Love for him is talking all night in front of a fire, and if his MC wishes to take things more physical, he’s not averse to it but it would have to be something talked about from both ends.

I read Jihyun as Demi. He is a very closed off guy. He’s someone that keeps his heart inside of him and is wary of getting close to others that he doesn’t already have in his life. It took some time for him to feel attached to Rika, and it would also take time for him to become attached to his MC. He simply does not fall for someone fast and hard, he needs time even then, he struggles to understand if what he is feeling is love or just the strong bond of a cherished friendship. It is a bit harder for him because of his internalized guilt, and inability to be selfish. 

I also, read Saeran/Ray as Demi. Romance for him is sort of a mixed bag, and while he feels strongly for others, it isn’t until he feels like he’s come to know that person that he feels that he’s in love with them. He can feel the intense feelings of infatuation all day and strain to understand why he feels such a pull to another person but it is not a sexual thing for him until much time has passed. He loves his MC, but it would take a lot of time and trust for him to feel ready and okay with sexual feelings. He’s got a lot of his own guilt and shame when it comes to being selfish, so it may take him even longer to realize that he wants to take things any further with his MC. He wants to hold their hand and be with them, but sex never crossed his mind. 

Rika is... Honestly, I’d have to really think about Rika. 

[corinthbayrpg]

NAME. Sebastien Mercier AGE & BIRTH DATE. 30 & May 4th, 1990 GENDER & PRONOUNS. Male & He/Him SPECIES. Witch ( earth + force field generation ) OCCUPATION. Detective FACE CLAIM. Alexander Ludwig

BIOGRAPHY

( tw: violence, death ) The Merciers were a proud family, from the time that Sebastien could walk, he did so with his chin held high. Their coven, their name, everything about them was prestigious. The French socialites were well-regarded within the supernatural community, even feared, and because of this, Bas was given every advantage. Tutors in academics, and magic alike, with a close-knit group of friends of the same social standing. Sebastien was the second-born of four, his older sister Valerie and he were inseparable, wherever she went, he was bound to trail along after her. She was talented, bright, and innately talented in such a way that she was the envy of many young witches in their coven. 

Four years after his own birth came another sister, Zara, then two years after that came the youngest, Beverly. The only boy of the four, it was Valerie who was always telling him how she and him needed to look after their kid sisters. From what, Bas never could have imagined, their life was a charmed one, however strict their parents may have been, they had one another, and having one another felt like plenty. He was ten when Valerie’s death rocked the foundation of their quiet, idyllic life, Bas remembered how everything changed after that. Social events were cancelled, trips were no longer something the family went on, the Mercier children were kept practically under lock and key. 

He saw Valerie each night in his dreams, some nights she was torn apart by vampires, other nights she was offered up as a genasi sacrifice. Sometimes creatures came out of the dark, gripped her and rotted the flesh from her bone, but each night he watched her die, and each morning he awoke to the memory of the one request she screamed at him: protect our sisters. Even if Sebastien itched for his own sense of freedom, he needed to put Zara and Beverly first, he needed to keep them safe, even if they were too young to understand why, or to resistant with their own innately rebellious spirits. 

The families once wide social circle narrowed to witches only, they were still elite, and to the outside world they had only become more ingrained in their exclusive ways. Few people saw the fear behind the closed door, and that was all part of the image that the Mercier’s tried to project. Whatever happy, free-spirited boy had once lived within Bas had died along with his sister, what came instead was an overly-protective, hot-headed, withdrawn young man who wanted desperately to find out what happened to his sister. Law enforcement seemed like the best path, at the very least, he could see things that normal human officers couldn’t, and he could use his magic to make sure that no one went through what he did as a kid. 

However Bas tried to look out for his siblings, he only seemed to push them further away. It made his already short temper flare, and even when they went away to school he couldn’t help but keep tabs on them. He was on the force by then, and when Beverly disappeared, Sebastien immediately assumed the worse. He visited every morgue in the city, combed through alleys, interrogated all of the people that had known her, eventually he learned the truth: she ran away. A truth that felt like a slap in the face, it left only him and an increasingly rebellious Zara. More and more he’d get phone calls from his pals on the force, something to do with his sister, some string that needed to be pulled in order to get her out of trouble, some favour once more on her behalf. She never seemed to care, Bas would confront her about it, and these confrontations would just lead to screaming matches between the two of them.

A few months after Beverly’s disappearance, Zara left too. He’d known about her shapeshifting girlfriend, and truthfully he hadn’t cared. All of his sisters were gone, either they’d left against their will, or of their own volition, it didn’t seem to matter anymore, but he’d failed completely. His parents weren’t the same, no one had been the same after Valerie died, but things got worse after Beverly left, and even worse when Zara chose to follow after her. His parents hired a private investigator to track their daughters down, and on a whim, Bas threw him off their scent. He planted misinformation, wove together false trails, fake evidence, and a series of places that would take the P.I. nowhere but dead ends. 

Sebastien didn’t know why at first, maybe it took Zara leaving for him to see the gilding for what it was, as pretty as it looked, a cage was still a cage. Bas saw Valerie in his dreams less and less, but the promise was the same: protect our sisters. It took almost two decades for him to realize what he needed to protect them from, he’d always thought his parents were right to lock them all away, to keep them from the world. Bas remembered numerous times when tears would spring to Bev’s eyes, to Zara’s, they told him what they wanted, what they needed. But he ignored it, because he was their big brother, and he was supposed to be right. 

Word that Zara had settled in the same city as Beverly reached him, and after he confirmed that she’d been there for a few months, he decided to see Corinth for himself. It had been years since his parents had taken them there, and starting over in Greece would be too easy. There was a great deal that he wanted to say to his sisters now, but he wasn’t sure if he should, or even if he could. One thing Bas understood though, Corinth Bay was a dangerous place, and he needed to protect his sisters. 

PERSONALITY

+ protective, honest, hardworking - quick-tempered, impatient, reclusive

PLAYED BY Shane. EST. He/Him.

[janexeu]

     though the mist might prevent some from seeing it, JANE MÁRQUEZ is actually a descendent of HYPNOS. it’s still a question of whether or not the TWENTY-SIX year old DEMIGOD ELEMENTARY EDUCATION MAJOR from NEW ORLEANS, USA has taken after HER godly parent completely, but the demigod is still known to be quite SACRIFICIAL & STUBBORN.

( she’s b-b-b-back on her bs : katya ! tis uhm ,,,, a lil bit of a chonk of an intro but ill try 2 b cute w it. any time u wanna yeet jus peep the gif again & forgive me bc Look At Her ! )

POWERS ( more info here )

hypnokinesis  — p much made her a glorified babysitter w lynch-esque wacko dreams. it got stronger naturally as she got older, but jus w herself n eventually the ppl shes real close w. its also gotten a lot better since comin to eonia 

seeing gods in dreams  — she doesnt hang out w em every fridays at tgifs but like ,,, if she had Pertinent Questions she cud smhw make it happen. found out abt her being a demigod at age 10 when she met hypnos

memory retrieval — shes got great memry of her own but bc she knows it can help w grief n all that, shes been learnin in eonia how to do it 4 others if they mayb wanted it

BIO POINTS 

her single ma died during childbirth so jane's been in the foster care system since 5ever. attempts at reunification nvr worked out but thankfully she got real lucky w her group home and foster families. twas stable enough to not emotionally scar her even further but the instability of it all was fosho a big ol’ lot and has influenced her rigidness in sum aspects of her life

she lived p much as a mortal even tho her powers r a lil freaky. never went to camp but it worked out bc all her abilities r internal and cannot be Perceived by others. she had a talk w hypnos abt what 2 do n he mentioned camps but also gave sum monster avoidance tips ( like rarely use ur powers, maybe learn self defense, yada yada ) n she jus ,,, did that so she cud continue livin real normal w the mortals. logistics of camp stressed her out esp bc shes livin w non-family n stuff yk it was All Too Much, miss her w the added demigod stress tyvm

got married at 23 to her childhood sweetums luis, but he ,,, died abt a yr later fr a car accident. coma for 2 weeks n jane p much slept the entire time in his hospital room, visitin his dreams n talkin to him. twas a life support sitch so they eventually decided to pull da plug whch was real sad but like she's processed it 2 da best of her abilities. her powers helped a lot in the coping too n she visits memories of him in her dreams smtms when it gets real sad then shes ok again bc life goes on n life is pretty uwu

bc of her bg round kids of all kinds, shes always been passionate abt em. always takin babysittin/tutor gigs and went to community college so she cud teach n then worked as an elem teacher. only started considerin goin 2 eonia 4 postgrad when she had a student who showed signs n strugglez of bein a demigod. she eventually got to talk to their godly parent 2 confirm n she was shocked pikachu meme, real concerned for all those youngins who hav no clue what to do ! or how to cope ! bc they cant facetime w the olympians lyk she can ! so cue her discussin eonia w luis a lot then a year after the accident, broke out the pro-con list again. took abt *checks watch* another yr til she finally decided to zoom 2 athens but then whoosh she did !

PERSONALITY

yearning ? idk her — shes can be a bit of a take it as is typa chick. can be a lil literal jsksj not dumb but like ,,, def doesnt read into things enuff to pine n long n year yk. some things might def fly over her head. she says Yes To Serotonin in this house. she dk the the mitskis n the sikens n the carsons ; its all mary oliver up in this joint. we just tryna luv life n be grateful folkz

le freak, say chic ! — control freak, that is. growin up in an unstable envi meant shed cling 2 stability n independence, wrvr she cud get it. so when it comes 2 the way she does things, she can be real a heel digger. also bc she has 2 deal w kids yk so it can b A Lot n shes v stern lyk dat. ofc she wont infantilize the eonians .,,,. or will she ? big sis vibes outta control. she means well tho always always means well. itll also b v hard to get her 2 giv up on sum1 bc life ? she luvs it n knows u can too

changes by david bowie — is decidedly skipped on the playlist. she doesnt like change !!! i mean she knows its inevitable but still not entire unavoidable. ever since she got out of the system, shes had a partner n her own way of doing things n its been workin out so why change it yk ? she says time may change me but jokes on u i can sorta trace time 

rip but im different — this goes out to all em whores in this house. she respectz ur hustle but like ,,,, not her thang. girl doesnt even get drunk when she drinks bc she doesnt rlly drink sksjsk doesnt like the taste of it, big baby ! but like she's Lived, its more like. ok tried it, not for me. thanks tho. also for all the meanies in the house, y’all perplex her. shes empathetic n wont show the judgement but smtms shes lowkey lyk .,., ur how old n u had all this goin 4 u n ur still so rotten ? how u actin like a 7yo w a trantrum ? scratch head, make it make sense

at least u tried — dad jokes, bad puns, tries to be big jokester but isn't funny. she's pretty tho so she gets away with it. idk wht else 2 say ur honor. shes the type thatll embarrass u w affection

well that was Awkward — probably sum1 abt her if  they see her actin a Fool bc shes in a foreign sitch or topic. when shes a fish outta water then she can be so ! easily ! flustered ! which is p much her in eonia. shes not new new but theres way 2 much godly shennanigans for her to wrap her head ‘round n sis has never gone to camp so its ice bucket challenge level shock from time to time still w da magics n lore

til death do us part — yknow when death cab for cutie said i knew that u wer a truth i wud rather lose than 2 hav nvr lain beside at all ? how abt when they wrecked me by rudely sayin love is watching sum1 die ? yes ? no ? nywy thats jane 4 ya. if she loves then shes in and if shes in then she is all in, luke danes stylez

was that a vivid enough picture or did i just word vom the same things agen n agen sjksjs jus know shes cute n sweet if a lil frustrating n annoying bc shes stubbornpants mcgee. may or may not have a slight compulsion to help fix other ppl ..,,.. someone set her str8 n tell her fix u by coldplay isnt it !!!  

OTHER INFO 

5′9″ born 4 october 1994, virgo sun n moon

not a freshie ! idk how long her program is but like ,,, lets ignore that 4 now ok jus kno that she been here a while

yogi & boxing enthusiast back at home. hc her mans got real into the martial arts w her when hypnos told her she gotta learn how 2 defend so that was one of their things : bonding by workouts so jane cud protecc herself if need be

her maiden name’s jane fulton. got her mommas surname but the name jane ? thats some jane doe bs some rando picked out for her which she hated at first but then seeing tarzan made her go hmmm, ok bet !

lgbtq+ alliance president ! identifies as pan

she met her late hubbie when they were abt 7ish, real friends 2 lovers cuteness. jane was there for him throughout his entire coming out & transition ergo her passion for the community esp queer kids bc she was That Cis Ally for her mans. wears her ring as a real lowkey necklace now

shes also real passionate abt sleep. will ask u how did u sleep last night p much every day u see her bc ppl spend like half their lives asleep catherine ofc shes gonna ask

her fave thing abt eonia ?  the whole siblings bit. shes had 2 make do w what she got n build a family from scratch so this ? she luvs it a lot let her give u kithes hypnos babies

shes p well versed in the greek thingies but only thru the knowledge mortals gets + dream info. after her realizin who she is, all things ancient greek jus sorta became her niche interest ykwim ? shes not like Super Learned abt it more like ,,, ok i gotta at least make Sum sense outta all this, gotta learn what i can. imagin how embarrassin it wud b 2 see a god in ur dream n then go : sorry to this man. nope. not jane, not her, nuh-uh 

luv languages : words, acts of service, physical touch !

useless hcs but she loves disney sfm ok. smtms dresses up as princess tiana for bday parties n shit bc shell do nythin 2 put a smile on the kids n babs faces

ya like jazz ? bc jane surely does ! adores motown & 60s music. nina simone owns her. no one drag peggy lee from 101 dalmatians ! not an important hc but i jus wanted to quote my bubble butt winged bee lover barry

POSSIBLE CONNECTIONS

children ! infants ! babies !

demigods that make her scratch head damn u live like this ? but also wud knife emoji to protect n care for. shes not the oldest on campus but shes been livin independently p much her entire life so she finks shes got a tight grasp on the myth that is Adulting  

srsly tho the Big Sis vibes is off the charts w this one. shell perserve u dumdums

baddie influencies !

convince her 2 get drunk at a party ! bc she never does. convince her to maybe try drugs ! or go hook up ! do smths impulsive idk jus smth new !

gl tho bc shes not rlly ,,, easily influenced But she can b reasoned w ! in general i fink its just gonna be a fun dynamic if y/m knows how to coax sum wildness outta her or w/e bc thotty yummy theyre hotty yolo rzning jus wont do w this gal. will most likely get argumentative like a big ol momma hen but if u win then ur winning big

Sleep Now or forever hold ur peace !

idk sum1 she helps w their messy sleep ? shes def not super public w it, surely knows her other siblings r Better at it but if  y’all are close, she probs enjoys doin it 4 ya. she runs her hair thru fingers a lot when she does it. like a lot a lot unless u tell her to get lost

lover boi, lover gorl, lover enby !

she can be a lil traditional when it comes to how she views rels. she wants all that meetcute courting bs ! no gender roles tho n u best be sure shes not constantly comparin w her late hubbie ,,, but she jus wants smth magical n 2 be wooed again yk ?

so yea ,,, crushers mayhaps ? sum1 who is tryin 2 woo her ? sum1 she had a meetcute w and now janes got lowkey heart eyes for em ? idk lotsa possiblities but pls keep in mind she is not good at the flirtings so hav mercy on her 

eonia tour guide !

or jus friends who like ,,, constnatly fill her in w all the godly stuff n whatnot. years of not goin 2 camps mean u miss out on a lot ! explore ruins w her n get her info her mortal educ didnt make her privy 2 yk 

head real empty atm i will think of sum n let y’all know when i do, but give us all the conekshunz. friends, enemies, the usual bit, lgbtq alliance peeps, lmk whats up whats done whats cookin we want it all

( shes p much a new muse n da result of me tryna bring in an emotionally healthy kid to this sad sad university. janes in a v good well-adjusted place rn n is my therapy muse bc that other bitch m** is a messy handful. but wbk life aint linear so mayhaps shit’ll hit da fan or one of y/m will ruin her lmfao press f pls ! but also color me eyes emoji bc we love to see it )

[honeymoonjin]

curious - taehyung x reader x yoongi smut

A/N: 4.4k. This has been extended for the full version as of 19/04, rather than me posting the second part separately. Taehyung confides in you and your boyfriend Yoongi that he might be bi, and the two of you offer to let him experiment with you to find out. Warnings for explicit sexual content: mxm oral, female receiving oral, exhibitionism/voyeurism, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, dirty talk, mxm sex, threesome.

Recently, date night in with Yoongi had become overrun by one of Yoongi’s bandmates and best friends, Taehyung. You weren’t sure if he just didn’t get the memo, or if he didn’t care, but week after week, the second you thought you were going to finally get some alone time with Yoongi, Taehyung had to show up. The worst part was, you could never get mad at him either.

On this particular evening, the three of you had been drinking a fair amount, trying to loosen Tae’s lips on whatever issue had been bothering him in the past week or so.

“No matter what it is, we won’t judge you, I promise.” You reach over and clasp his hand in yours, and he stares down at it sullenly.

“I just don’t want you guys to find it gross.”

“Honestly, Tae,” Yoongi groans from the other side of Tae, leaning back on the couch with one arm resting on the back, fingers brushing against the back of Tae’s neck when he moved. “One time I walked in on Namjoon jacking it to some army fanart of himself jacking it. I can’t imagine whatever you have is weirder than that.”

Taehyung takes a deep breath, avoiding eye contact with either of you. “I think…I might be attracted to men. As well as women, I mean.” He shifts uncomfortably. “If you think-”

“Taehyung,” you interrupt firmly, “there’s nothing wrong with that. Have you not been paying attention to the lyrics of your own group? All of us are fine with that.” You squeeze his hand. “But I’m so happy you felt like you could tell us.”

“It only took an entire bottle of our good wine,” Yoongi grumbles, downing the last of his glass. “Anyway, is that it?”

“Well, no,” Taehyung starts, voice still quieter than usual, “I’m not totally sure. I haven’t really done much stuff with either gender before, so I don’t know for certain. It’s all so confusing.”

Maybe if you weren’t already on the deep end of tipsy you wouldn’t have suggested it, but you are, and as you glance past Tae to your boyfriend, you can see in his eyes he’s having the same idea. “The only way to know is to try, Tae-tae.”

“That’s the problem!” he protests, “I don’t…oh. Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

You hum happily and lean onto him so that your faces are centimeters apart. “If you want to experiment, we’d love to have you.”

“Have…me?”

Yoongi lowers his arm so that instead of the tips of his fingers touching Tae, his whole hand is wrapped around the back of his neck, pointer and middle finger slipping up to scratch lightly along his scalp. “Let hyung take care of you, Tae. We’ll just play around for a little bit, no strings attached, and then you can decide afterwards if you’re bisexual or not. Does that sound good?”

Tae’s eyes flutter shut and his head tips back at Yoongi’s gentle but insistent touches. “I’d really like that, but only if you’re sure.”

“Oh, Y/n is definitely sure,” Yoongi confirms, “aren’t you, baby girl? I’m not small by any means but I’ve told her you’re bigger.”

Taehyung whips his head around to Yoongi. “You…you what?”

“Come on, Tae. All the members tell their girlfriends about the sexual exploits of the others. It’s basically tradition at this point.”

“You do?”

“It’s okay, Tae-tae,” you coo, “I won’t tell anybody. It just seems a shame to let your natural talents go to waste. When was the last time you got your dick sucked, huh?”

“Uh, never.”

Your mouth falls open. “Wait, are you serious? Well, that ends tonight. Which one of us do you want to suck your cock, baby?”

He flushes and lets out a little whimper, mumbling something.

Yoongi grins, catlike. “Speak up, Taehyung.”

“I want hyung to do it.”

You bite your lip, trying to subdue the excitement you feel at seeing your boyfriend kneel between the legs of another man, of one of your best friends. By now, there’s a growing dark patch on his otherwise grey sweatpants, and you can tell by the slight stretch of the fabric that he must be painfully hard.

Taehyung sighs and tips his head back when Yoongi pulls the waistband down enough to let his dick spring out, the cool air lighting up the sensitive nerves. Yoongi swallows hard, pupils blown wide and the look of lust on his face has you shifting against the couch, wanting some friction.

Unfortunately for you, the erotic sight of your boyfriend leaning in and licking a broad stripe up the side of Taehyung’s cock is never repeated. Taehyung swears, and his hand flies down to push Yoongi away by the forehead.

“What are you doing?” Yoongi huffs, but you hear the hint of concern behind his gruff tone.

“I-It’s too much, I don’t want to come like this,” he replies shakily, “I don’t want this to be over just yet.”

You smile teasingly. “What do you want to do then, Taehyung? We could all sit in a circle and sing kumbaya until you think you can last longer than ten seconds.”

His eyes are half-lidded as he stares at you and the tan of his cheeks is slightly pinkened. “I,” he swallows and wets his lips nervously, “I want to watch you guys.”

A spike of arousal shoots through you as you suck in a breath. “What do you want to watch us do, Tae-tae?”

He breaks your gaze and turns to Yoongi. “Can you make her cum, hyung?”

Yoongi looks up at Taehyung from between his legs. He blows cool air over the head of Taehyung’s cock, grinning catlike at the way Taehyung hisses and jerks his hips. “Make her cum how?”

“With your mouth,” he pants, “and your fingers.”

Yoongi doesn’t respond verbally but instead stands up and walks out of the living room and into the dining area. You frown until you hear the scraping of chair legs and you see Yoongi return, only to place a single chair in the middle of the room.

“Come sit, baby girl,” he says in a low tone.

Your heart races, but you stand up, undressing on your way there until you sit in the chair completely naked. The open air feels nice against the heat of your pussy, but you’ll go crazy if you don’t get some friction soon.

Luckily, Yoongi is in a giving mood tonight. He glances over his shoulder at Taehyung. “How many?”

You tip your head back at the question, and Taehyung lets out a breathy chuckle. “How many can she take?”

Yoongi hums in consideration and runs a single finger up the inside of your naked thigh. “She’ll take everything I give her like a good little slut, won’t you, baby?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out dumbly, knowing that he can probably smell your arousal from down there if he can’t already see it. Yoongi always knew exactly how to get you excited fast.

Taehyung groans and Yoongi laughs at the sound. “Of course, she will need to be able to fuck us once I’m done, so maybe we’ll cap it at two for now, hm?”

Without further confirmation from Taehyung, though it does come in the form of another desperate groan, Yoongi readjusts his position so his face is inches away from your heat. You automatically let your legs tip open wider for him, and he rewards you with a gentle smile, teeth resting on his bottom lip.

Slipping one hand under each knee, he leans down and flicks the lightest kitten lick against your clit. You exhale shakily. “Yoongi, please, hurry up.”

He hums but otherwise ignores you, slowly pulling your legs wider apart for him and tugging in one solid motion so that your butt slips out from under you. You squeak in surprise and latch onto his shoulders, now with your tailbone resting right on the edge of the chair.

He lets go of your legs after lifting one up over his shoulder and letting the other hang limp and reaches between your legs to spread your lips.

You whine as he shifts to the side and turns around slightly, pulling your leg with him further. “Come here, Tae,” he commands, “come see.”

Taehyung swears and goes to tuck his erection back into his pants but Yoongi shakes his head. Reluctantly, the younger boy comes to kneel beside Yoongi, cock still dribbling precum hopelessly, bobbing in the air when he moves. You don’t envy him; at least you’re getting some relief.

“Doesn’t she look so pretty, Tae? All spread out and ready for us?”

You groan at the use of the word ‘us’ and feel yourself grow even wetter. Taehyung glances up at you and smiles shyly. “She’s beautiful.”

You flush but the sweet moment is interrupted by a small growl from Yoongi. “Watch and learn, buddy.” Without a moment’s hesitation, he plunges a single finger into you, palm down.

Yoongi grins at your pleased whine, and begins fucking you slowly, corkscrewing his finger as he goes for more friction. It feels so good after being turned on for so long, but it’s not enough, and you shift your hips up, eager for more. “Look at her,” Yoongi whispers sultrily, “we’ve barely even started and she’s desperate to cum. Don’t worry, baby, you’ll get enough orgasms tonight to last you the week if you’re lucky.”

He pulls out his drenched finger and pushes it back in with another, not thrusting, just curling up and pulling out some of your copious amount of wetness and offers the shiny digits to Taehyung. “Have some, baby boy. We need to get your appetite up.”

Taehyung stares at Yoongi unsurely as he leans forward and gently laps up your cum off of Yoongi’s fingers. Once most of it is gone, he pushes his tongue so that the two fingers split apart and licks up through the middle to collect all that’s left, breaking the strings that stretch between Yoongi’s digits.

The sight is unbelievably erotic, and it’s all you can do to keep your eyes open to enjoy it when the bliss you feel as well as the sleepy buzz from the alcohol wants you to shut them. You bite your lip and whine again, wanting the attention back on you, and Yoongi obeys, this time landing his mouth on you.

In teasing but calculated strokes, he stimulates your clit, flicking over it and under and around the sensitive hood. Instead of giving you more penetration, he has to use one arm across your hips to keep you still, and the other hand to keep you spread and open for him.

“So good, Yoongi,” you breathe heavily amongst pleasure-filled pants, digging your heel into Yoongi’s back, and you’re too blissed out to notice Taehyung approaching you quietly and reaching a hand out to touch your chest.

At the exact moment that he grabs hold of your left breast, thumb and forefinger skimming over the top to roll your stiff peak between them, Yoongi stops licking you and sucks your clit into his mouth, dragging the flat top of his tongue against it firmly.

You cry out and jerk in the chair, catapulted into a powerful orgasm. Taehyung gasps and hastily takes his hand off of you, worried that he’s done something wrong, and you whine at the absence of pleasure on your chest as your clit is played with all throughout your orgasm.

Yoongi plays rough but he’s not cruel, or at least he isn’t this early in the night, so once the pleasure gives way to stinging oversensitivity and you push at his head, he backs off with a glossy, wet face and smug eyes.

You pant, going boneless, feeling the walls of your pussy clench periodically as aftershocks run through you.

“I didn’t hurt her, did I, hyung?” Taehyung asks innocently.

Yoongi chuckles. “No, you didn’t, she liked it. And as a matter of fact, even if it did hurt, she still would’ve liked it. Dirty slut.”

Taehyung’s eying up your heaving breasts as you come down fully. “I thought you said two, Yoongi.”

Yoongi smirks. “You’re right, I did say that. You ready to go again, baby girl?”

You hum your confirmation, expecting him to start small like last time, but your eyes fly open and your hips jerk in his grip when the hand by your pussy suddenly gets into action as he fucks you with two slightly-curled fingers at a brutal pace.

Every stroke drags against your g-spot, and your toes curl when Yoongi pairs the merciless thrusts with hard sucks at your clit like it’s candy.

“Ah-a-ah, Yoongi!” you cry out desperately under the overwhelming assault. It’s like all your nerves are on fire, and you don’t know that you can take much more. You whimper when you feel Yoongi pull his mouth away from you for a second to command Tae in a gruff voice to play with your tits.

Taehyung jumps forward eagerly and cups your breasts firmly, playing roughly with your peaked nipples. The added stimulation launches you into a second orgasm which has you swearing and crying out far louder than the first one. Taehyung keeps his fingers rolling your nipples until it becomes too much, and you cringe away.

Once both Yoongi and Tae sit back and you feel like you can breathe again, you let your leg fall off Yoongi’s shoulder and tuck them together, too sensitive for anything else.

“What do you want now, baby?” Yoongi mumbles, voice muffled. You look down at them in confusion only to see your boyfriend nibbling at Taehyung’s neck, the younger member’s eyes squeezed shut in bliss, baring his throat to his hyung. “Are you ready to join in now?”

Taehyung swallows hard but nods eagerly. “Yeah, hyung.”

“Mm, good.” Yoongi pulls back and admires the blossoming hickeys he’s sucked into Tae’s golden skin. “You sure you don’t want me to suck you off?”

Taehyung looks like he’s turning down free money as he shakes his head miserably. “I know I won’t last. God, I feel ready to burst even now and I’ve done nothing but watch you two.”

You adjust yourself in the seat with shaky legs. “Tell me, Tae: do you reckon you’re a top or a bottom?”

He coughs. “A what? I- I told you guys I haven’t done this kind of thing before.”

“Surely you know, though,” you reason, “there’s a pretty big difference between fucking someone and getting fucked in the ass.” You grin cheekily. “Yoongi would know.”

The man himself turns around to glare at you. “That was one time. Behave, little girl, or you won’t have the strength left to get off that chair.”

You gulp but stay silent. Your clit still hasn’t stopped twitching from that last orgasm, and you think pissing your boyfriend off maybe isn’t the best idea right now.

Taehyung shrugs. “I don’t know, I just… I’d rather one of you tells me what to do here. This is my first rodeo, after all.”

“Bottom, then.” Yoongi sits up on his knees and stretches languidly, pulling his shirt off to reveal the unblemished planes of his lean but soft stomach and wiry shoulders. “We’ll need to prep you first, baby boy. Will you be good for us?”

Taehyung nods, and the use of the plural ‘we’ makes you feel more in control and less on the chopping block than you did before. You manage to stand up off of the chair, wincing at the large puddle on the outer edge that drips onto the carpet. “Let’s take this to the bedroom, Yoongi. The last thing I need is jizz stains on our good cushions.”

Yoongi raises an amused brow at your commanding tone, but follows, letting the loose elastic waist of his old sweatpants hang low on his hips as he strolls down the hall, leaving Taehyung to help escort you and your weak legs down like a gentleman.

Yoongi’s already into the lube when you arrive and collapse onto the bed, and you shuffle up against the pillows, watching happily as your boyfriend positions Tae in front of you, face to the sheets and ass up, still fully clothed.

“This is your last chance, Tae,” Yoongi warns, “are you sure you want to do this? No hard feelings.”

Taehyung props himself up on his elbows. “I want this, hyung. This…feels right.”

“Then strip for me, baby.”

You watch Taehyung’s whole body shivers at Yoongi’s dark tone, but he tugs off his shirt and wriggles out of his pants and underwear, until he’s lying flat on the bed, dick trapped between his stomach and the bedsheets.

“Ass up, Taehyung. I want you to stay that way until I say you can move, got it?”

“Yes, hyung.” Tae follows his command and sighs into the mattress when Yoongi runs a warm and still slightly sticky palm over one cheek, giving it a playful smack.

Normally, you would be touching yourself at this point, jealous of the action you were missing out on, but you were so tired that the only thing even keeping you awake was how erotic the sight in front of you was. Over the next few minutes, Yoongi began stretching Taehyung open for him, praising him for how well he was taking Yoongi’s fingers. One became two, two became three, and soon enough, Yoongi was rifling around in your bedside cupboard for two condom packets.

“Here’s the plan,” he states upon his return, giving his cock a few lazy tugs before rolling a condom on, “you think you might like men, so I’ll fuck you. But you also think you probably like women, so you’ll fuck Y/n. Put this on.”

Tae lets out a quiet groan and fumbles for the foil square Yoongi threw on the bed, struggling to put it on his dick from his all-fours position, but obediently staying there nonetheless. Eventually both men are ready, and you shuffle yourself down a little further until you are slotted underneath Taehyung.

“Hey,” you greet teasingly.

With the ceiling lamp illuminating his mop of hair, Taehyung looks like a dream as he beams down at you in nervous excitement, muttering a breathy, “hey” back.

“You get used to Y/n’s pussy and then you can take me, okay, Tae?”

Taehyung nods shyly at Yoongi’s command, and reacheds down to place his cock at your entrance, endearingly shoving it between your legs blindly a few times before managing to slip in. Your body was so wet and relaxed from your two orgasms that the moment he finds the right spot, he sinks in a good few inches. He lets out a startled gasp and swears, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Does it feel good?” Yoongi asks from behind him.

You let out a quiet laugh, relishing in the feeling of his blunt head inside you. “Don’t speak too soon, Yoongi. He hasn’t even got halfway yet.”

“A-ah!” Taehyung lets out a deep cry as Yoongi scoffs and pushes down harshly on Taehyung’s hips, forcing him to plunge fully inside you without warning. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, oh god,” Tae chants, shaking over you.

You can’t help but laugh at his cute inexperience, but it’s with a furrowed brow because Yoongi is right; Taehyung is definitely bigger than him. It’s a stretch you’ve never felt before, and even just the mere act of light laughter causes shocks up your spine as the slightest shift of your pelvis makes his cock hit parts of your vagina that you didn’t even know a dick could reach.

Taehyung wiggles his hips a little to get used to the feeling of being inside someone, and you let out a low, long moan, making Yoongi chuckle at the sound. “Oh, I think Tae-tae’s not the only one having fun tonight, hm? Does my little slut like having another man’s cock inside her?”

“Mm, it’s good, baby. You’re missing out on feeling him stretch you open. It’s fucking delightful.”

Taehyung blushes at the praise but Yoongi just tuts. “I don’t think I’m missing out at all, not when I get to enjoy his perfect ass. You ready for me, Tae?”

“Oh, please,” Taehyung sighs, shuddering as he feels the pressure of Yoongi pushing into him.

It takes a while since Taehyung is so tight, but eventually the three of you are completely flattened together, your hips reaching around all the way to Yoongi, enjoying the way lifting your hips at that angle makes Taehyung slide even deeper.

“Fuck,” you breathe, “if one of you doesn’t start to fuck me, I’m going to go crazy.”

“See, Taehyung? My dirty girl is insatiable. Should we give her what she wants?”

Taehyung nods feverishly, whimpering ever so softly as Yoongi begins to rut into him shallowly. Once he gets a hang of the rhythm, he begins fucking into you every time Yoongi pulls away, forming a cycle of alternating thrusts, back into Yoongi and forward into you, over and over.

You tip your head back and allow yourself to be lazy, simply taking whatever Taehyung gives you. The friction has you worked up yet again, although you’re not really expecting to come again.

Behind Taehyung, you can see the look of pure focus on Yoongi’s face as he builds up his strength until the only noises in the room are the slapping of skin and the sounds of pleasure emanating from the three of you.

You’re struck by the thought of how harmonious the three of you sound; Taehyung’s much deeper voice balancing out Yoongi’s and your higher ones.

“How does it feel, Tae-tae?” Yoongi grunts between thrusts.

“Ah, so good, hyung, it feels so fucking good. O-oh god, I’m close already.” Taehyung keeps slamming his cock into you on the offbeat of Yoongi’s thrusts, and his moans begin to come a little more unevenly. “Mmm, fuck, I can’t- Ah, I’m gonna- fuck!” Taehyung’s cries become a growl as Yoongi freezes and reaches a hand around to grip Taehyungs cock tightly at the base, stopping his impending orgasm.

“Not yet,” he gruffly commands, “you don’t get to cum until I say so, pretty boy.”

“Please,” Taehyung whispers, but doesn’t protest, hanging his head in frustration.

Yoongi releases his grip, slapping him sharply on his right ass cheek. “Did I say you could fucking stop?”

Taehyung sighs out unsteadily and starts picking his rhythm back up. “Hyung, I can’t hold it back, she’s so tight and you’re so big.”

“Compliments won’t get you to cum faster, Taehyung,” Yoongi scolds, slamming into the younger boy with all his energy, sweat beginning to bead on his chest. “I want you to beg for it.”

You bite your lip and moan. Taehyung feels so good inside you, and his slight curve means he’s dragging against the bottom of your clit with every stroke, but it’s the dirty words from your boyfriend that have you beginning to approach the edge. You reach a hand up to begin lazily rolling your nipples between your fingers, eyes lolling shut in raw pleasure.

“Please, hyung,” Tae moans, “it’s too much, please let me cum. I need it so bad. I’ve been a good boy, Yoongi.”

Yoongi chuckles darkly. “And good boys get to cum, do they?”

“Ye-es,” he whines wantonly.

“Cum for us, Taehyung. Now.”

Your hand is roughly squished, and the breath is knocked out of you when Taehyung suddenly collapses onto you fully, his hips wildly jerking as he screams out his orgasm. His feral desperation, paired with Yoongi’s beautiful cries as he finds his own release prove too much for you, and you’re thrown without warning into a third orgasm.

It’s much weaker than the other two, but it comes out of nowhere and hits you like a train, leaving you shuddering under Taehyung’s heated torso.

Once all three of you calm down, the two men pull out one at a time and both stumble over to the trash can like it’s an office water cooler, taking off their used condoms and disposing of them properly.

In a half-asleep daze, you hear Yoongi tell Taehyung to go back on the bed, and you feel the bed dip under his weight as he lies on his side facing you. Yoongi joins the two of you, lifting your dead limbs up one by one to maneuver you under the sweaty sheets, then following suit.

For about ten minutes, your pants all mingle together in the otherwise silent room, but eventually Taehyung speaks up. “…thank you,” he whispers with a croaky voice, “I really appreciate this, you guys.”

You hum in content. “You’re welcome, Tae-tae.”

“So, what’s your consensus?” Yoongi ventures.

Taehyung’s shyness seems to have vanished after his orgasm. “I sure liked getting fucked more than I thought I would.”

Yoongi lets out a hearty laugh. “Glad I could be of service, then.”

“Thank you, hyung. Thank you, noona.”

You close your eyes and snuggle into the sheets. “Night, Tae.”

“Oh. Am I not… You don’t want me to go?”

Yoongi shuffles on the bed, presumably sitting up to face Taehyung. “If you don’t get under the sheets and spend the night, I’ll have to make you stay myself.” There’s no bite behind his threat but Taehyung laughs weakly and does as he says anyway.

You enjoy the sound of their breathing evening out for a few moments, but then poke Yoongi’s cheek. “Do you reckon any of the other guys might want a sexual education while we’re at it?”

You let out a squeak when he turns quickly and nips your finger. “Watch it, Y/n. Your pussy isn’t a public service.”

Taehyung sighs blissfully. “It fucking should be.”

Yoongi grumbles. “Goodnight, everyone. Taehyung, I hope you enjoyed this one-time offer. Sleep well.”

You have to laugh at his tough demeanor. “Don’t worry, baby. I’d take your dick over Tae’s any day.”

“Good, because the buffet is closed.”

“…but maybe it can open again for special occasions?”

“No.”

“That’s fair. Night, Yoongi.”

“Goodnight, baby girl.”

[writings-of-a-hufflepuff]

Weasley Jumpers

Fandom: Harry Potter: Hogwarts Mystery

Pairing: Charlie Weasley x Reader

Warning: N/A

Writer: @imaginesofeveryfandom aka @hufflepuffing-all-day-long

Summary/Request: You receive a Weasley jumper in the post and teasing and confessions ensue.

Notes: Gif is my own, using my art of older Charlie Weasley which you can find on my art blog @artisticwarnug here. If you use please make sure you credit me and my art blog properly, that the ownership is clear as it is my own art and I would hate for it to be unclear that I made it <3 x

I know Bill is one that gets you the Weasley jumper...buttt...I love Charlie so much. 

Gender neutral

You’d been at breakfast, the owl post arriving in it’s usual flurry of activity. You expected perhaps a letter or two from your family, but nothing more. You certainly weren’t expecting a brown parcel, wrapped with twine. It fell rather heavy in your lap, soft, but not entirely light and you would have opened it then and there had you not been running late for potions with Snape who absolutely hated you. So instead you’d shoved the parcel into your satchel, where you kept your ink, quills, and parchment before going about your day. It could wait after all.

It wasn’t until lunch, which you decided to eat out by the great lake with each of your friends that you had time to open it and have a look. 

“What you got there, Y/N?” Tonks asks as you pull the brown parcel out of your bag. Each of your friends, Penny, Tonks, Bill, Ben, Charlie, Tulip, Andre, Barnaby, and Rowan glancing at you curiously. It was strange how such a large group of random people worked together so well.

“I don’t know...I got it at breakfast this morning but I didn’t have time to open it. No idea who would be sending me a parcel though.” 

“What if it’s cursed?!” Ben fretted and you rolled your eyes at him, hushing him and reassuring him that you were sure it was probably something completely harmless, despite the many adventures you all got yourself into. 

“Well, open it then!” Penny urges you on and under the watchful eyes of your friends you begin to untie the twine and pull apart the layers of brown parcel paper. 

It is not what you expect at all. It’s a Weasley jumper. So clearly a Weasley jumper. The exact same colours as Charlie’s, maroon and mustard yellow. Your first initial knitted into the front of it. It is a pleasant surprise. You’d always looked at Charlie’s jumper with envy, Bill’s as well. They both looked so comfortable and warm, and at the height of winter Hogwarts could get rather cold. You’d been contemplating simply stealing one of theirs for a while now. 

“Mum, must have sent you it” Bill looks entirely confused as to why you’d receive a parcel from his mother, Charlie seems flushed, red tinting the tops of his ears, his cheeks and even his neck. 

“There’s a letter.” Within the folds of the jumper, a little piece of parchment with neat handwriting greeted you. 

“Dear Y/N, I know this must be a surprise but I was making this years round of jumpers for Ginny and the boys and decided that you should have one as well. After all, you’re one of Charlie’s closest friends and Bill’s as well. It would be lovely if you could come to the Burrow over the Christmas holidays. Much Love, Molly” You read out, rather bashful at the realisation that she’d sent this to you because you were close to Charlie, it seemed ever so much like Bill was the after thought in the letter. 

It was true that Charlie was perhaps your best friend, as much as Rowan would hate to hear you admit that, and while you and Bill certainly were close friends you doubted he talked much about you or your escapades to his mother. He had to preserve his image as prefect after all!

“Mum...” You looked up to Charlie’s groaning, head in his hands. You supposed it must be somewhat embarrassing for your mother to make a jumper for your friend because of you. But you were rather happy. You’d always wanted a Weasley jumper and you supposed it would have happened eventually after all you knew so much about the Weasley’s Charlie often joked that you might as well become an official one yourself. It was also nice to know Charlie talked about you, even if it was to his mother. 

“Charlie..it’s fine. I’ve always wanted one!” At the time you’d meant it of course, but days later as the teasing began to increase you started to wonder if having a Weasley jumper wasn’t more trouble than it was worth. 

You were wearing it to your usual trip to the Three Brooksticks with Andre. Drinking butterbeer across from him and being ever so careful not to ruin the jumper which was both warm and comfortable. The sort of thing you could fall asleep in.

“I think this means you and Charlie are married now. A Weasley jumper is practically an invitation into the family.”

“Andre...”

“You like him. His mother sent you a jumper that she only makes for her family or people she considers almost family. He’s my friend too...and if he’s talking to his mother about you...”

“Andre, we do dangerous, stupid, reckless things every year. He probably just tells her about the trouble we’re getting into.”

“You should hear him talk when you’re not around. He likes you. Whether you want to admit it or not.” Each of your friends seemed to agree or at least share the view that Mrs Weasley wanted you to marry into the family. 

You couldn’t deny that you had a crush on Charlie. He was handsome, kind, brave, passionate about what he loved, and always happy to support you in whatever you needed. But, it seemed like a stretch to assume he felt the same simply because his mother had given you your own handmade jumper. 

You still continued to wear the thing, however, and found yourself flustered when Charlie took note of it one Hogsmeade weekend in which the two of you decided to go out near the Shrieking Shack, the other’s deciding to continue shopping. You quite liked sitting on the peaceful hill, even if the Shack was creeping and looming.

“It looks good on you.” 

“Mmm?” At first you’re not quite sure what he means, and ask a question with only a hum. Ask him to clarify without words.

“Mum’s jumper. It looks good. You look good.” Charlie rubs the back of his neck, he’s going that usual Weasley red, making his freckles stand out even more. 

“Oh..thank you. I love it, I really do...” You’d written Molly back thanking her for it and promising you’d ask to see if you could visit the Burrow soon. Even her letters sounded warm and friendly. Motherly. 

“Will you be coming to the Burrow this Christmas?”

“I need to ask my parents, but, I hope to. I want to meet your family...and spending extra time with my best friend is also a plus.” You tease as you bump his shoulder with your own. 

He looks down and away from you, his cheeks deepening in colour even further. It’s times like these, where Charlie flushes bright red and averts his gaze, that you think maybe Andre was right. Maybe Charlie did like you.

“You know...everyone keeps joking that your mother wants you to marry me...”

“She probably does.”

“Where would she get that idea though?” You’re hoping to get something out of him, to really understand why Mrs Weasley sent you this jumper, to understand why Charlie talked about you so much or at least enough for her to make you a jumper. 

“I...I talk about you...look, you’re my best friend, yeah?” You nod and confirm that of course you’re his best friend, he looks up and meets your eye. “I don’t want to ruin that, but I talk about you because I like you. I really like you and mum...mum knows that...she’s always known when one of us had a crush.”

“So she really does want us to get married?” 

“Or at least...date, but I know you probably don’t feel that way so...i’d rather keep you as a best friend then lose you completely.” His expression drops and it hurts to think that he believes you don’t feel the same. You’re not sure you could feel anymore affection for this boy if you tried.

“Who said I didn’t feel the same way?” 

“Well, I always assumed that you an-” You cut him off, “You know what they say about assuming? It makes an ass of you and me.” 

“So...?” A little smile starts to form on his face, dimples coming into play, his freckles moving in a little dance across his cheeks. 

“So, I like you Charlie..and I thought you didn’t so I kept quiet, but I really like you.” You take his hands in your own holding them, smiling at him brightly. It was thrilling to know he liked you. He really liked you and Andre hadn’t just been getting your hopes up. 

His hands tighten on yours, his smiling widening even further as he pulls you closer by them. “So...next Hogsmeade Weekend?”

“It’s a date. I have to get started on becoming an official Weasley after all.” You laugh as he pulls you into a hug, the smell of fresh grass and honeysuckle surrounding you as you press your face into his shoulder. Both your jumpers merge together, the same wool matching perfectly.

[ah-geez]

Héloïse Adelaide Letissier - Self Portrait

“For the longest time, my body and my civil state were something I had to forcefully reconcile through faded forms- I remember the thickness of some fabrics, the excuses I came up with to avoid knocking at any door.   So my self-portrait starts here, with yet another sidestep : I simply cannot collect myself.

Can’t get myself together. Won’t set myself straight.

I disintegrate, Like the slow explosion of an idea.

Smells and names do define. I hardly own any.   I spent hours in shops, desperately breathing perfumes. I still regularly fantasize about identity theft.   My smells, my names,   Since my early childhood, I lost them constantly, in nosebleeds or in friends’ tears - I simply forgot about them. Some love to reminisce ; I already melt with the stream that runs ahead. And yes, I found some solace in lying, for there is a softness in the way stories harden ; in them lies a burning accuracy - I’ve been more sincere in my novels than in any other conversation.   I only exist ahead (desires!), which quickly made me see myself as a spear, a mist, a projectile.

It wasn’t a first, but this time,   with naming myself came some different wind.   Christine. I kept on whispering it with awe.   In the subway, in the streets, in my small flat in Lyon : Christine.   I jubilated, I knew something they were still unaware of : I became.   All the pieces of advice thrown at me over the years tasted like iron in my mouth ; you should try to be, better not to, you could after all ; I was told to endure through it, to deal with it, I was told to let white musk drip on my wrists for it was a healthy, luminous smell.   And then,   Christine.   One of the first songs I wrote, built over musical loops on my computer, was a curious rhapsody on the will to be saved by my own fluids, all odorous : sweat, blood, saps, everything they carefully try to scrape off young girl’s skins. Deafening angers as I was skimming through our magazines ; is that all that we’re destined to ? I only saw in there some cruel manual on how to properly disappear.   My room always had empty walls.   The window was the only appeal ; I glanced at the pavement below.   And I envied them - the boys - with their embraces.   Foreheads touching as if they were about to merge, hands on the back of their neck : everything could settle with a kiss - the lips are already so close - but they always chose the violent assent of a fight. Something was promised in their breathlessness - something that pursued me until nightfall. That was already Christine at the window, with burning, curious eyes.

Now,   I’m done with assenting. I’m done with pleasing the eye.   My face, at the time, was ribbed with fury ; it was acne melted to my own scratches. I then tried to make myself up in tears, bended over the mirror, with lights so dim I could hardly see. I felt deeply impure, and along with impurity came fears - dreads of being sick, dreads of zenithal suns, dreads of being up close. Christine was a detonation, a brutal irruption of light in my tiny flat. I suddenly appeared, rough and brave in that same mirror, but now with another face : one of an upset little squire.   If it felt impossible to play by the rules, I’ll infect them all ;   My disease would became chaos, and this chaos would became highly contagious.   Sun hurtling down everything, almost vibratile in its intensity, My flat upside down, reveled in the brightness of a different spring.   Any chaos will trigger two seconds of pure joy.   I repeat : any chaos will trigger two seconds of pure joy.

Outside, kids with hoarse voices, scars as stains of their own power. I would eventually belong there.   My perfume is already on my skin.   And now, I’m one with the stream !

Their women don’t exist. They suck the idea of their women out of their very neck -  then it bleeds. My eroticism is precisely what sets me free of those skimpy limits, this gender I’m assigned to ; I desired them all, but never with the same sex.

(Of course I’m not going to make it easy on you with lazy definitions. I plan to enrage you, to always escape. Here come the winds ! )

I don’t know how to keep myself together.   I only make sense when I move - look at my fluttering hands ! They’re telling the truth ! And when I dance,   my face arrives.

The calmness with which muses parade their faces infuriates me. They’re made of fragile milks, nested in our hands.   Note of the 12th of February 2016 (I think I was in Paris) : can’t stand faces anymore.

Mine keeps on contradicting itself, sometimes of a juvenile smoothness, sometimes rumbling with doubts ; brutally damaged even, under indirect lights — I’ve got the face of a young skateboarder who’s just ploughed into the city, holding a beer with his fingertips. I’m nowhere, if not for the teenagers.   Pockmarked face, Purple blemishes near the mouth, pinkish reliefs on the temple, the terrible cruelty of the day they bravely dive into, the sweetness of their ass, and the roughness of their cheeks, and those dreadful mugs at daybreak that all of us together decide to ignore, the sheer beauty of their pitted faces, so fragile during cold spells, tremendous outbursts which further confirm the silent truth of emotion. I want them all, and I’m in all of them at the same time.

My lips are red and full in the early morning; my tired eyes squint under the twilight sun. If I were your friend, you’d find something handsome in my wounds. You’d take me down by the riverside, and you’d try to get me to fight you. For a second, you’d be surprised by my agility ; you’d let me take a few swings before the knockout.  There and then, with my head in the wet grass and blood on my lips, I’d understand just how much you love me.

Amongst our clique, I’d be the sickly one, who’s arm’s only half-twisted ; the one who gets to talk late at night, fidgeting a story that excites all of the others.   See, what I’m obsessed about is to liberate, stitch by stitch (cause the embroidery’s intricate and flecked with their own blood), all the girls of the proper way to be a girl.

It’s unescapable : very early, words and attitudes cluster you ; the female is always threatened, either by enclavement or pure dissolution. The most stinging punishment of all is to be casted out of what is fuckable. The criterions are narrow and cruel, to maintain us as inactive as possible. Our clothes are shaped to refrain our bodies from expanding, our pills are swallowed in the name of what must be regulated, our hygienes are yelled as necessary ; as for our desires, they’re suffocated the very moment they arise - remember the insults thrown at the face of those who kissed eagerly !   Facetuned Pythias. Such a turn on.   What do instagram’s goddesses do ? They’re anointed - there’s always new pigments.   Cautiously sticking some flowers on the craters of their cheeks, they ornate the ravages of youth as much as they can Daydreams of runway   Loaded.

The temptation’s always there, because this hurling void never stops ; it calls at you, and it’s so very hard to escape its force-field :   They must love what they see.   And what about me ?   Do you even think I love thee ?

If I’m a sister to women that carry the sword,   I’m also the sister of the hungry ones.   Madonna, in this documentary of the nineties - keen muscles, undulating under her skin. Immense hotel suite, cutting carves. She devours a salad specially concocted for her, then shuts the tupperware down with authority only after a few agressive bites - she is predatory, she is alone, she is being watched, but more importantly, she is filled with desire. In bed with her dancers, both maternal and famished, she asks for the goodnight kiss to be on her lips.

I’m a mutant. What I swallow can’t be traced. Overexcited by the street’s metallic views, nose up in the winds of december, I allow myself to stay out, without any clear purpose. I kept for myself masculine delights, such as strolling and wandering about ; I occupy now the public space with the relaxed muscles of those whom rule, unthreatened.

See how lions move.   This is precisely what I crave for :   the leader’s liquid gait.

I, a tennisman who clutches his fist shortly after match point ; I, a footballer who sways his index nonchalantly after scoring a goal. Watch me steal the time-worn parades of your manhood, and turn them into something way more suspicious.

My horizon is Orlando’s wild surges. In the secret of my room, my dancer’s muscles roll forward whilst something else unfolds. I silently train to escape.   I only sit on chairs close to the door, I ditched heels, I aim for speed, emergency exits, shortcuts - it’s not that I feel guilty, but like Genet’s infamous thieves, I wish to remain free.

Women with a sword, women with an appetite, women with a revenge, bloody witch : everything she’s asked to buy, she just told you she doesn’t want it.”

Extract from magazine EGOISTE N°18 - TOME II, MARCH 2018

[rachel-writes-words]

Toxicity

I suppose I would call it a gift; the ability to see the physical manifestation of toxicity in a person. The best way I can describe it is as though the person is a rotting body floating through water and the more internally rotten they are, the thicker the toxicity they exude. A drunk man in a dishevelled but expensive suit yelling racial and sexist slurs at the homeless woman in the street is almost obscured by his shroud. A young child that views the world with curiosity is mostly free of the shroud – but the toxicity that flows through the child’s mother is absorbed by him when she pulls the boy away from a gay couple that walks down the street.

Arguably, people whose shrouds you can see a mile away are less dangerous than the more hidden ones. I’d heard rumours that the happy, smiling girl serving soup at the homeless shelter was so insecure and hated herself to such an extreme, that she treated her boyfriend with distrust and disdain. This in turn caused him to become a recluse to prove his loyalty to her, or so the gossips said. Her toxic shroud was smaller than the racist man’s, but much more potent.

I had always wondered what my own shroud would look like, as I harboured no resentment toward different races; I respected religious beliefs and I had no qualms about the various sexualities and gender identities. I figured that by being socially aware, polite and by contributing to society it would keep my own toxicity down. I suppose that’s why I referred to my ability as a gift. It helped me to see the traits in other people that I could control in myself. I was able to actively seek out and find healthy and good people to surround myself with and stay away from the rotten ones. I sought out people that acted without selfish instinct; who, like me, made themselves better than everyone else.

That’s not to say I considered myself perfect; I believed true perfection could not exist in humanity. We are inherently flawed creatures by design. I had that fact drilled into me by my parents when I was young; I would never be perfect no matter what I did and once I grew up and saw humanity through this gift, that belief was confirmed. True perfection was a farce; I had convinced myself of that. Still, I had to be as perfect as I could be. I didn’t want to be shrouded like the rest of humanity; even if I was the only one who would ever know. I had to be better. I had never spoken about my gift to anyone; that would have put me straight into a psych ward. However, after I met her, the perfect self I had created was pulled into question.

It was as clichéd a meeting as you could get. An elderly woman stumbled on a curb and fell. Shroud obscured people walked by; a teenager laughed openly as his cigarette smoke mingled with his own noxiousness. I offered the woman a hand up. I had to hold my breath as her toxicity was some of the most potent I had experienced. As she stood up, I noticed another hand guiding her by her shoulders. The elderly lady ripped her hand from mine once she was stable and scowled before offering her thanks to God for sparing her hips. She pushed past me without a second glance. I wasn’t surprised. What had surprised me was the other person that had helped her to her feet.

She was a young woman around my age. It wasn’t her physicality that took my breath away; it would be a waste to describe something so meaningless. No, it was the simple fact that she was pure. Never had I seen anyone other than an infant without a hint of a shroud. I remember cracking a rude joke at the expense of the old lady; it was against my rules, but I had wanted a reaction. She laughed and defended the lady. Not even the slightest wisp of toxicity. I was instantly enamoured, and I asked her to have coffee with me.

We became a couple not long after. We talked; we laughed; we shared our life stories. She claimed I was exactly the type of person she had always looked for and I said the same. We never fought; she didn’t like fighting. The sex we had was indescribable. The sex I had had with other people was always tainted. Just imagine fucking someone while getting enveloped with shrouds of toxins and seeing it get thicker with every degrading thought in their head. No, sex with her was pure. There was no depravity, no inequitable expectations, or demeaning thoughts. It was everything I wanted from my partner. She was everything I wanted.

I’m not sure when I began to question her perfection or my own perceived state of her perfection. I thought at the time that it was perhaps the envy we all feel, or the insecurity in comparison to others. I began to question myself. If she was this perfect; to the point of having no shroud of toxicity and she claimed to love me, did that in turn make me perfect? I started to obsess over that idea. I craved more and more to see my own shroud. I wanted to know. Was I on her level of perfection? If I wasn’t perfect then what was it that made her so much better than me? I did exactly what she wanted; I WAS exactly what she wanted, and she was supposed to be my perfect partner.

I began to resent her pure nature. I dreaded walking down the street with her; I breathed in the toxic shrouds of other people while she walked unphased and unchanged. I watched as she dropped money into the homeless woman’s cup at the same time as a sickly man. She was unaffected; still pure and flawless but his shroud instantly increased. I remember thinking; did he place the money there to make himself feel better? Was she so perfect that not a single selfish thought crossed her mind?

It frustrated me more and more as time went on. I began trying to push her buttons, to get some sort of reaction. I needed to see her toxicity; it had to be there. If I wasn’t perfect, then she couldn’t be. Everyone else spewed shrouds everyday so why didn’t she? No matter how much I tried nothing happened. Her perfection was ruining our relationship. I soon realised I couldn’t be with someone who made me feel like I was as toxic as the other people. I was better than them, but she was making me the worst version of myself.

She suggested that work was stressing me out and took me on a surprise holiday. Typical of her to always notice and attempt to fix other’s problems. On our last night there I took her to the end of an empty pier, and I told her about my gift. It was my final test. Surely, she would walk away and call me crazy. She would judge me; even I would judge someone who told me that, but she just regarded me for a moment with an unreadable expression, before she kissed me.

It was a strange feeling to bury a knife into a body. There was much less resistance than I expected. I could never describe the look on her face; but I will never forget it. I pushed her backward off the pier and as her body sunk below the water; the light of the moon illuminated what I had been seeking. There was her shroud. Blood red and billowing around her in the water. It spread out further and further from her body; it was so dense that I could barely see her through it. She was no more perfect than me. I finally saw her shroud, and I realised that it was just for me. If I couldn’t have perfection, then no one could. If I couldn’t be perfect, then no one could.

*

‘You claim that to be the truth?’ The psychiatrist finally asked, leaning forward as he subconsciously stroked at his moustache. He had been doing that the entire time I had been talking. It irritated me.

‘You don’t believe me?’ I asked. He tapped his pen against his clipboard.

‘I believe you suffer from severe delusions, and that may impact on your ability to give us the truth.’ He said slowly before looking at the investigator seated beside him. ‘You came here of your own free will and confessed to an alleged murder. We need to know the real story.’

‘Isn’t that a sign of a good storyteller though?’ I rebutted and began tapping my finger on my leg in the same rhythm as his pen against the board. ‘That’s the fun part of a story. Trying to figure out what is fact and what is fiction.’

The investigator visibly ground her teeth and let out a sigh. The psychiatrist stopped the tapping of his pen. I steadied my tapping finger. Payback for irritating me with the beard.

‘We have yet to find a woman by the name that you previously gave, and your descriptions of her physical details have been inadequate to profile her.’ The investigator said.

‘I told you where I left her body.’

‘We have checked that stretch of beach multiple times and deep-sea crews have searched the surrounding ocean. There is still no sign of a body.’

‘The fish must have eaten well then.’ I said, giving the investigator a sardonic smile as she shifted uncomfortably. The clink of the cuffs around my wrists echoed in the tense room as I spread my hands. ‘Toxin free.’

[million-dollar-boy]

NAME: K1-B0 GENDER: Flexibly Male ORIENTATION: Demisexual  PREFERRED PET NAMES: Kiibs, kiiboy RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single FAVORITE CANON SHIP(S):  There aren’t any explicitly stated ships unfortunately, Kiiruma is close enough to count though I’d say. FAVORITE NON-CANON SHIP(S).  Kiiruma, Kiibouma (Potentially) OPINION  ON  TRUE  LOVE.  He’s not sure he can say whether it exists or not, unfortunately. He’s just not well-versed enough in the ins and outs of human existence to confirm one way or another, despite how often the concept appears in stories. It could just be because he has no idea what “normal” love even feels like in the first place, it’s all foreign and new to him. Further observation is required before he can make a judgement.  OPINION  ON  LOVE  AT  FIRST  SIGHT.  Kiibo is personally of the opinion that a proper relationship should be cultivated properly, growing along with the partners in some sort of romantic ideal. However once again he has little to no idea what exactly that would even feel like, so it’s entirely possible that opinion will go flying out the window upon meeting someone he just ‘clicks’ with.  HOW  ‘ROMANTIC’  ARE  THEY.  Oh god. Oh God. He wants to be romantic so bad, it’s just- He’s really bad at it because he has no idea how a relationship is supposed to operate. When he just relaxes and lets himself be himself he can be surprisingly thoughtful for someone with almost no human experience, but generally he gets so caught up in doing things ‘correctly’ that he just ends up a flustered awkward mess. 

IDEAL  PHYSICAL  TRAITS. He thinks that most humans are uniquely good-looking in their own way, mostly just because they’re human. That alone makes them wonderful in a way he sometimes envies.  IDEAL  PERSONALITY  TRAITS.  He likes honest people, people who aren’t ashamed of who they are and have enough personality to figuratively (or literally) sweep him off his feet.  UNATTRACTIVE  PERSONALITY  TRAITS.  Unnecessarily bigoted people are the ones who tick him off the most, as well as the oft-mentioned ‘robophobes’. He also dislikes people who would play with his trust, he gives it out relatively easily after all.  IDEAL  DATE.  Give him the most stereotypical date you can possible imagine. The kind you see in every single piece of modern literature, he just wants to experience that for himself before he gets into anything more complex.  DO  THEY  HAVE  A  TYPE: He likes bold people that seem to know what they’re doing, it makes him feel a little more secure since he’s, as he puts it, still learning.  AVERAGE  RELATIONSHIP  LENGTH. N/A PREFERRED  NON-SEXUAL  INTIMACY. HAND. HOLDING.  COMMITMENT  LEVEL. He’s the type to probably commit pretty heavily right from the start, and pretend that he’s doing no such thing to seem ‘cool’. He’s never really been in a proper relationship after all, so he’d likely feel like he has to give it all to make sure it goes flawlessly. It probably won’t, since most of his relationship advice comes from novels and textbooks, but darn it he’ll try.  OPINION  OF  PUBLIC  AFFECTION.  GOD. He has to vent his core temperature just thinking about something like that, it’s just too embarrassing. That’s not to say he’d stop a significant other from doing it, he’d probably give a few cursory complaints and hide behind his collar the entire time.  PAST  RELATIONSHIPS.  N/A

TAGGED BY: @fuckin-rabbit

TAGGING: looks at the camera like I’m on the office

[danisauruslex]

Mental Purge.

Fertility struggles and pregnancy losses are still a “taboo” topic. We definitely don’t talk about it when the one struggling is only 21. We don’t speak of it unless we can make it have a happy ending. An ending where the couple, often thanks to modern medicine, successfully expands their family! But it’s not always like that. It’s not always the couple on TLC who has been together for 10 years and is into their 30′s. It can be anyone. It was me. It’s usually a silent struggle. It makes others uncomfortable. It makes me uncomfortable. Nobody ever knows what to say. I thought I’d want to be more quiet about this, but honestly all I want to do is scream to the world that it’s hard. It’s utter bullshit. I’m emotional and sensitive. I’m afraid the joy expected in future pregnancies with be overshadowed by fear of another loss. Why am I even going through this? My peers haven’t even graduated college but my mind is full of worry over my ability to procreate. I’m bitter that my body can’t do the one thing women are expected to do. I envy the women going in for sonograms, finding out the gender, planning baby showers, being kept awake because they’re sore and being kicked. 

Statistically, 1 in every 4 pregnancies ends in miscarriage. Many end before a woman even knows she’s pregnant.  I had a miscarriage a week and a half after finding out I was pregnant, I estimate only 5 and a half weeks. It was swift and emotional, but I barely had much time to process what being pregnant meant in the first place. I saw a physician a few days after and I was told “the odds are in [my] favor” and there’s no reason to fear the next.

When I missed my next period, I was excited but cautious. I went to my doctor and was assured everything looked good. I went in twice, saw it grow, I heard it’s sweet little heartbeat. I went in again, excited to hear it’s “sick beats”. (I liked to think of my unborn as a tiny DJ creating a hot mixtape) But this time, there was just silence. Naturally, the midwife assured me my uterus may just be positioned further back and a sonogram will show us a heartbeat. We moved rooms and laying there, I remember staring at the screen thinking, “Shouldn’t I be able to see beating? Why is it so quiet?”

Again, a kind nurse had to look at me and say, “I’m sorry”. Another doctor had to hand me an informative packet on miscarriages and explain my options. I chose what I thought would be easiest, a surgical procedure where they would remove any “tissues”. I didnt want to see or feel it. (Wishful thinking, it still caused some physical discomfort and I bled for over a week, as expected). I chose to have a sample sent to the lab for genetic testing. I gave myself peace of mind by choosing to have “Shared Burial” - a Catholic church in the area has a mass service for all who have lost in the past month or so. After my surgery, I saw 2 rainbows over my house and I’m going to allow myself to believe it was a small reminder that things are okay.

There’s so many silly reminders and I’m emotional over everything. I remember laying in the OR panicking because reality set in. I fought to stay awake so I could prolong the inevitable. My shorts fit again and I cried because that means the bump is really gone. I can drink Starbucks Double Shots again because they no longer make me sick. I wasn’t sure what to do with the left over items from the “Grandparent Starter Kit” I made for our parents. It feels like the past few months just didn’t happen, like all the excited conversations and decisions made were just a dream.

A year later, we discovered we conceived again. Both of us were excited and downright terrified at the same time. Everything was fine this time around too - it grew, it’s heart was beating strong, and I got plenty of morning sickness. We shared with a few people and everyone was as excited as us. Another regular check up gave way to silence. They told me my due date changed, so it may just be too early. They asked if I wanted a sonogram but assured me if I came back in a week, we’d hear it. Naturally, I needed to know now. I wanted to go home, but knew where this was heading - I just needed confirmation. There was silence again, I kept saying "it shouldn't look like that." I begged the ultrasound tech to just tell me what I already knew - it was gone. This time I just felt sick and wanted it done. I went home and stayed in bed for a week. It felt like this is what was going to break me.

[serpenscapes]

Reasons to love One Piece (and why you should consider giving it a chance):

-        Ridiculously large and colourful cast of characters (currently at 866 named characters) each of whom have incredibly unique designs and stories

-        There is a reason for everything – a character who is a gold-digger has a reason for it, a character with a pinwheel in his hat has a reason for it, a CHARACTER WHO LITERALLY DRESSES LIKE A BABY ALSO HAS A REASON.

-        Oda (the mangaka) has included his own interpretations of many mythical creatures (giants, mermaids, dwarves, Amazons) in the series as well as inventing many of his own species and tribes, so the breadth of races and species in One Piece is boundless.

-        Insanely well-done foreshadowing. Things that happen 200 chapters ago come back and slap you in the face, or you’ll rewatch it and go “OH MY GOD THAT’S WHAT HE MEANT?” Something that happens in the FIRST EPISODE you don’t realise the true meaning or power of until approximately four hundred episodes later, and then you rewatch episode one and your whole world implodes from sheer BRILLIANCE.

-        The moral of the entire series is to follow your ambitions and pursue them no matter the cost, even if it means sailing a whole fucking ocean, and it’s beautifully portrayed and remarkably moving.

-        THE CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT - a character who insists he will kill someone if they get in the way of his ambition is later willing to sacrifice himself and his own goals for that same person. A woman is certain that she is a burden to her friends and says they should leave her to die, but later when potentially under threat she says she doesn’t mind, as she knows her friends will protect her.

-        Male-female relationships aren’t fraught with sexuality or romance as they often are in other series—they’re FRIENDS. JUST FRIENDS. There’s a lot of skinship and hugging and spending time together and it’s all perfectly acceptable, with none of the unnecessary *doki doki* or blushing.

-        Oda invents a lot of unique technologies within the universe e.g. instead of regular telephones there are “transponder snails”, as well as cyborgs powered by cola, cards which can track the movement and location of a specific person, coatings that allow a ship to travel underwater and many other things.

-        You will ENVY the amount of confidence and conviction the main characters have – not only in themselves, but in one another.

-        Speaking of envy, the friendship and bonds between the main characters will make you cry your heart out. The genuine and unwavering loyalty they have to one another is unlike anything I have ever seen in any other series, EVER.

-        No, really, there’s a scene where the main characters DECLARE WAR ON THE WORLD GOVERNMENT in order to get back one of their friends. THEY LITERALLY SET A FLAG ON FIRE AND DECLARE WAR ON THE WHOLE WORLD JUST TO GET THEIR FRIEND BACK.

-        Multiple strong, well-developed female characters who suffer incredible hardships and have backstories that do not revolve around males or romantic relationships

-        Passes the Bechdel test

-        No unnecessary romance, and any romance that is present is used entirely for comic effect

-        Emphasis is placed on bonds between family/friends/platonic love

-        Due to the foreshadowing and the great number of iconic scenes as well as the hilarity of some parts, the series has great rewatchability value.

-        DEVIL FRUITS – Magical fruits that give you special powers if you eat them at the cost of you not being able to swim. The powers vary from things as badass as being able to turn into fire or cause earthquakes to shit as dumb as turning into a giraffe or making clothes appear on people.

-        Best-selling manga in history, 4th best-selling of any comic globally ever (behind only Superman, Batman and The Beano).

-        The protagonist (Luffy) is straightforward and driven and doesn’t carry around the heavy emotional burdens and questioning narratives that so many other shounen protagonists do—he does whatever he wants and doesn’t care what others will think of him for it. Luffy is incredibly cheerful, happy-go-lucky and charismatic and this is noted by one of the other characters – he has the ability to make anyone around him into his ally. Despite coming off as an idiot (which he often is) he’s also incredibly intuitive and intelligent in combat and all of this together makes him by far one of the most uniquely appealing protagonists in any shounen manga. It is impossible to dislike him.

-        Clever portrayal of characters—Oda intentionally uses very little kanji when writing Luffy’s dialogue in order to portray how simplistic he is. Similarly, he gives Luffy almost no thought-bubbles because Luffy just says everything he thinks.

-        Luffy has the power of the gomu-gomu fruit which means his whole body is rubber and it works very well because: a) His power isn’t ridiculously strong b) He can get very creative with it which leads to a lot of very fun fight scenes and great chances to take advantage of perspective shots, as well as mess around with proportions and this overall adds a lot to the style of the series

-        Every single character is a certified BADASS. Even the characters who you don’t want to like.

-        Variety of well-written and incredibly unique antagonists, each with their own motivations, powers and backgrounds.

-        When a reader asked Oda if there would be any romance for or between the crew members in One Piece he responded that ‘their only love is adventure’ and I find that completely adorable (and also thank God no romance.)

-        It’s really quite difficult to HATE any of the characters. There are over 800 characters and I can only say I genuinely HATE two of them. Many characters are difficult to hate once you learn their backstories and motivations, or simply because as characters they’re so compelling and charismatic.

-        Ever-expanding and HUGELY creative universe: there’s an island in the sky, an island in the prehistoric ages, an island made of candy, an island on the back of a giant elephant, an island on the ocean floor and many more. The scale is quite literally insane when you realise that Oda has invented an entire WORLD from scratch and is making the characters traverse the whole thing.

-        Raises immensely important questions regarding morality, good and evil, politics and the governmental system, monarchy, revolution and rebellion, class, gender, race, corruption etc.

-        The government and marines in One Piece present themselves as a force of justice, but then there are marines known for being corrupt, but then there also some marines who are good?!?!? MORAL DILEMMA?!?!

-        The pirates in the world of One Piece are viewed by the government as scumbags, but then some pirates are good?!?! But then some pirates are complete assholes?!?!?! FURTHER MORAL DILEMMA?!?!?

-        You want to hate a character for doing something but then are they just doing their job?!?! But is their job motivated by the right things?!?! But are they allowed to question this?!?! SO MANY MORAL DILEMMAS?!?!

-        Seriously all the moral ambiguity adds so much to the depth of One Piece.

-        Even Luffy specifically says he is not a hero, doesn’t want to be a hero, and while he admires heroes he himself is not a hero because he’s too selfish.

-        CONSPIRACY THEORIES - The government have destroyed all knowledge of a century in history which is referred to as “The Void Century” and part of the intrigue of One Piece is to find out WHAT HAPPENED AND WHY DID THE GOVERNMENT WANT TO DESTROY ALL TRACES AND WHAT ARE THEY HIDING?!?!

-        There are so many crossing over storylines which then come back later i.e. a character from early in the series is waiting for a group of people, approximately 300 episodes later we MEET WHO THEY ARE WAITING FOR.

-        Cartoonish art style allows for HUGELY expressive characters, dynamic action scenes and a massive variety of (often insane) character designs.

-        It’s hilarious – the guy who is (arguably) the most badass in the series has such a shit sense of direction he gets lost on a straight path. There’s a reindeer on the crew who gets referred to by another member as “emergency food supply.” Another crew member constantly assumes that the other members have died or been eaten. One guy constantly gets “I-can’t-go-on-this-island” disease. When Luffy meets a new species the first thing he asks is “Do you poop?”

-        It will make you cry over: a whale, a ship, a hat, a dog, a bento. No, seriously.

-        You will cry over a lot of other things too

-        (If you watch the anime) it has the most breath-taking soundtrack and the seiyuu all do an incredible job of voicing their characters. All of the opening songs are also TRULY karaoke-worthy.

-        (If you read the manga) Oda uses the chapter covers to tell side-stories about other minor characters or villains, as well as taking drawing requests from readers. The double-page colourspreads and the volume covers are also gorgeous. His Q&As at the end of each chapter are also hilarious because he is a sarcastic fuck.

-        Oda confirmed in said Q&A that Luffy’s dick stretches. Later in the story there’s a scene where a group of women who’ve never seen a man before are pulling at Luffy’s dick (while he’s unconscious) thinking it’s a mushroom that’s grown on him and saying “why is this stretching.” I’m not kidding. I’M NOT EVEN KIDDING.

-        Despite the individual “arcs” and their unique storylines there is a single overarching goal throughout the series—to find One Piece, a narrative that has lasted over 20 years and is still going strong. Said single narrative allows for an attachment to the series because you REALLY want to see the end goal when they finally reach it; a lot of other series lack this level of scope.

-        Each of the main characters have their own ambitions and goals and are driven to achieve these throughout the series, often by a heart-wrenching and tear-inducing backstory (all of which are depicted extremely well.)

-        The arcs vary so wildly in their storylines and settings that the intrigue and fun never stops; you’re guaranteed to find one you like – examples: there’s an arc where they have to stop a civil war, an arc based on overthrowing a fake God, a prison-break arc, multiple arcs where they aim to rescue a friend/family member, a huge war and an actual HALLOWEEN ARC WITH ZOMBIES AND SHADOW MONSTERS AND A HAUNTED HOUSE (so good.)

-        There are SO MANY QUESTIONS AND SO MANY THINGS WE STILL NEED TO KNOW and the fact that Oda has run the series for 20 years and still managed to keep up such a high level of intrigue and creativity is genuinely amazing

-        There’s an undead skeleton with an afro who wears a top-hat, plays the violin (+ other instruments) and has a cane-sword, was also temporarily a rock star and makes terrible skeleton-based puns/jokes. There’s also a tiny reindeer who can transform because he ate the human-human devil fruit. Also he’s a doctor and gets embarrassed and swears at people when they complement him. Both of these characters are amazing and have back stories that will make you cry your eyes out. And they’re just TWO of the characters.

-        The series is my go-to when I need cheering up because the characters are so well-developed that they are easy to sympathise with/develop an attachment towards, the adventures they go on are a good mixture of fun, painful/well-constructed, the determination they have to achieve their goals is incredibly motivational and above all, the dedication the characters have to each other is heartbreakingly genuine.

-        In conclusion: One Piece is completely stunning

[macadampatricia]

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[mindcoolness]

Why Mindcoolness Is a Masculine State of Mind

New Post has been published on http://www.mindcoolness.com/blog/a-masculine-state-of-mind/

Why Mindcoolness Is a Masculine State of Mind

Mindcoolness is both a state of mind and a way of being.

Mindcoolness = Low Mental Noise

Let us being by defining mindcoolness as mental tranquility. In a state of mindcoolness, you can reliably process information because you are not distracted by frantic thoughts and adverse emotions. The cooler your mind, the clearer you can think—the less noise disturbs your thinking process. Mindcoolness as mental tranquility is a lack of mental noise.

In cognitive science, the term “mental noise” describes less reliable information processing. The noisier your mind, the less effective you are in your thinking, decision making, action taking, and goal achieving. Mental noise prevents you from doing your True Will and thus from being free.

We can objectively measure mental noise as reaction time variability. Imagine a simple computer task where you have to press buttons to categorize words, arrows, or digits as fast as possible. Typically, cognitive performance on such tasks is measured as accuracy (correct categorization) and speed (reaction time). But we can also calculate a third measure called “reaction time variability.” If you press the button sometimes quickly and sometimes slowly, you have a higher reaction time variability than someone who reacts either always fast or always not so fast. The more your reaction time varies, the more mental noise you have—something interferes with your thinking.

Mental noise has been linked to sleep deprivation, frontal lobe damage, mind wandering, attention disorders, and executive dysfunction, indicating impaired self-control (Ode et al., 2011). Do you see how it all fits together? Strong willpower = high executive functioning = low reaction time variability = low mental noise = mindcoolness.

Now, let us look at the second piece of the puzzle: linking mental noise to neuroticism.

Low Mental Noise = Emotional Stability

Neurotic people are relatively

emotionally unstable,

easily overwhelmed by stress,

likely to experience negative emotions such as anxiety, worry, fear, anger, frustration, envy, jealousy, guilt, sadness, depression, and loneliness,

prone to mental disorders such as social anxiety, depression, and PTSD, and

bad at regulating their emotions to achieve goals and controlling urges to delay gratification.

Conversely, emotionally stable people remain relatively cool, calm, grounded, and strong-willed even in times of stress, adversity, and temptation.

In three experimental studies (Robinson & Tamir, 2005; not replicated by Colom & Quiroga, 2009), more neurotic participants had significantly noisier minds, measured as higher reaction time variability, than emotionally stable participants, independent of intelligence and no matter what specific cognitive task they performed.

Three further studies (Ode et al., 2011) produced similar results. Healthy participants with higher levels of mental noise had

higher levels of negative emotion,

more depression and anxiety symptoms, and

particularly negative emotional experiences on days when their attention and mindfulness levels were low.

If you find the concept of reaction time variability too abstract and complicated, you can also think of mental noise as intrusive thoughts, including all kinds of recurrent and obsessive thinking.

For example, the heartache after a brutal breakup and the depression after a brutal failure are common sources of intrusive thoughts called rumination. Similarly, the anxiety of approaching hot women and the fear of public speaking are common sources of intrusive thoughts called worry.

Intrusive thoughts amount to distractive mental noise that mediates the link between neuroticism and poor cognitive performance (Munoz et al., 2013).

Concisely, mental noise is a matter of emotional instability, which, as I will explain now, is a feminine quality.

Emotional Stability = Masculine

As I have found in my own research and as numerous psychological studies have consistently shown (e.g., Weisberg et al., 2011; Schmitt et al., 2008), women are, on average, significantly more neurotic than men. By implication, emotional stability is a masculine trait.

It makes sense from a biological perspective, too. Our male ancestors had to be cool, clear-thinking, and self-controlled if they wanted to be successful hunters and tribe protectors. For females, by contrast, it was an evolutionary advantage to be quick to fear and worry if they wanted their offspring to be safe and surviving. A healthy neurotic warmth was more adaptive for them than detached coolness. We must be emotionally open to children we seek to nurture, though not to wild animals we seek to kill.

This is not just random speculation. It is supported by the fact that women are more neurotic than men across cultures (e.g., Kajonius & Giolla, 2017). In fact, this sex difference is even larger in cultures with more gender equality (Costa et al., 2001).

Of course, research on personality is mostly based on self-report (filling in questionnaires), which is biased by cultural stereotypes (“the rational man vs. the emotional woman”) and social desirability (evaluating oneself in a way that makes one look more attractive). However, this does not mean that sex differences in human personality are mere social constructs:

Self-report studies actually deflate absolute mean sex differences since people tend to rate themselves in relation to members of their own sex (Del Giudice et al., 2012). Accordingly, sex differences are larger in gender-egalitarian cultures where subjects rate themselves more in relation to people in general.

Observational studies, which are more objective, typically confirm the results found in self-report studies.

All human traits result from complex nature-nurture interactions. Neuroticism vs. emotional stability and femininity vs. masculinity are no exceptions. While social roles and cultural stereotypes undeniably influence those traits, they are also clearly rooted in biology, as are the gender roles and stereotypes themselves.

In sum, we have psychological research, cultural knowledge, and an evolutionary rationale to believe that neuroticism and emotional stability are feminine and masculine qualities, respectively.

Conclusion: Mindcoolness = Masculine

We can now conclude the argument:

Mindcoolness is a tranquil state of mind indexed by low mental noise.

Low mental noise marks emotional stability, which is a masculine quality.

Therefore, mindcoolness is a masculine state of mind.