#therapist told her that because she’s feeling guilty over not being present in the relationship and that guilt is just fucking suffocating

[notmygrave]

she posted like parts of a photo from this summer on her instagram story doesn’t matter whatever i am in that photo and it’s the beach at the end of my street and i am going to be fucking sick i hope i really fucking hope it makes her a bit sick too

[youremyheaven]

Omg I saw your moon dominance post and I have to share something 😭

I have a friend whom I went to the same school as, we still talk sometimes but not as much.

She has always been quite a charismatic person, and is a relatively small built, conventionally attractive blonde white girl. Needless to say she is considered quite “soft and feminine” - I only mention race because racism would naturally prevent her being perceived that way.

I like her, she’s very diplomatic and intelligent but MY GOD the manipulative tendencies she had growing up😭😭😭

It’s been a couple years since I was regularly in close proximity to her so I can’t remember that many examples of her lying (also because it was a such a common occurance), however I remember it getting to the point where she herself would awkwardly joke about it.

What I *do* however remember quite distinctly the way she’d occasionally have these “tantrums” after I gave her any mild criticism.

For example, one time we were all having lunch together as a group and she made a mean spirited comment on someone else who was nearby. I pointed out that is was a pretty mean thing to say, not in a particularly accusatory tone, and she quite literally started shouting at me saying “WELL THATS QUITE BIG OF YOU TO SAY BC YOU TOLD ME [insert minor joke about manipulative Snapchat fboys that therefore was nothing to do with her] AND IT REALLY UPSET ME [insert sob story about having a disabled brother] etc etc”

She also had a similar public outrage at me after I asked her if she brought her present in for the Secret Santa, and she responded by kicking me in the shins and going on a tangent about how her life is really stressful and how I only worry about “school and sleep” 💀

However the interesting part that I vaguely covered at the beginning is that she had mastered the whole sweet innocent teenage facade. She had people, primarily older men in authority, entirely wrapped around her finger. She developed this oddly close relationship relationship with one of our teachers, which never got inappropriate, but he would direct like 80% of his energy to helping her over other students (who were equally if not more needing of help). Similarly her therapist literally UNRETIRED to help her personally 😭 I can think of so many examples of authority figures literally bending over backwards to be of service to her.

(She also attracted a kind of unreal level of male attention that was way above the average)

To finally conclude:

She is a hasta sun, moon and ketu with PBP ascendant. Her birthtime isn’t exact but I feel as though PBP is more likely than UBP.

There was also an incident of her sleeping with a teacher in his 20s when she was 17 😬 obviously it’s on him, but it’s interesting to consider that she has Jupiter in the 9H in Chitra (mars) - aswell as a mercury chitra which sits in her 4 planet 8H stellium.

Sorry for this extremely lengthy ask😭 it’s more of an info dump than an ask but I hope it served as an interesting example of moon dominance (+ a little bit of mars influence) in women

bestie never apologise for spilling tea 😂i love reading what ya'll have to say, otherwise i feel like im talking to a wall. and i feel you about this moon bestie of yours, im glad you're out of that toxic friendship!!

a few years ago i had a toxic moon dominant bestie who like you said lied so much and manipulated things so much, its hard for me to even make a list of the shit she did lol, yk how a lot of poc parents will whip their kids or yell at them or something and afterwards act extra nice bc they feel guilty?? I've noticed that Moon dominant people are like that to some extent. my "friend" would say the nastiest most vile derogatory things about me TO ME and then when i responded with radio silence she'd be all 🥺🥺im so worried about you, have you eaten? have you done all the assignments?? here's mine, you can refer to it🥺🥺,, like i was always sooo confused by her but then i started seeing thru her bullshit, how she's only being nice cause she feels guilty lol,, she had a tendency to criticize other people A LOT like your friend and honestly its tiring to listen to that shit, so i think i started saying nice things in return like "oh but xyz is so sweet, she's always so thoughtful" and then she'd say some shit "its so crazy you'd say that because i felt like xyz and abc always hated you" like classic manipulation lmao, like she hates those ppl and if i say one nice thing about them, then she'll try to convince me that those people hate me so that i can be on her side in bitching about them lmfao.

Moon dominant people are soooo insecure its sad,, they feel the need to be so rude and nasty af to others to mask their own insecurities. Obviously I'm only talking about unhealthy Moon influence, im sure there are nice ppl out there as well.

u guys pls feel free to dump any gossip/tea u have in my inbox, i love reading this stuff!!

[bravepoems]

230930 - The Funk

Have you ever been in a funk?

Have you ever have that funk last for three years?

Have you ever been ready for your life to start, and then BOOM here comes burnout?

Then BOOM comes a pandemic?

I guess many of you have.

At 28, that was my life.

I started new routines.

I tried my best to uphold the important relationships in my life.

I tried my best to let the toxic relationships get the fuck out of my life.

I threw up a few times

I tried again a few times.

I found someone with potential one night.

I let it slip through my fingers another night.

I found some new friends.

I ended up in a hospital, bandage over my head, walking with my short dress and bruises to my friends couch.

I was in pain for a while.

I realised I should entertain that potential one, one night.

It was wonderful

All of a sudden it wasn’t.

His hair came off and so did his front.

I wasn’t at my best.

Neither was he.

We carefully got closer to each other.

I did my best.

I was burnt out again, but didn’t want it to destroy everything.

I did my best.

He did too.

He was mean.

I was trying to make him comfortable.

He never got comfortable.

Things got worse.

I was screaming at the top of my lungs in the middle of the city as we were walking home, six hours into the new day, after celebrating my best friends birthday the whole night before.

He was unreasonable.

Unconsolable.

I once again did my best.

He apologized. He was being responsible.

Every time.

I never allowed myself to hold anger, resentment or fear.

But it was there.

Present the whole time I was trying to apologize.

Trying to be thankful when he bought me flowers.

When he reenacted a date we never got to have in his livingroom.

My cat got sick.

I moved.

Everything got worse.

He was anxious, controlling and supervising.

But also lovely.

We had high ups and low downs.

I got a therapist.

I got a new job.

We celebrated the new year.

A year later, he once again screamed at me four hours into the night in the middle of the street.

I went silent.

Then I forgave him.

Then came summer.

The one that got away.

He reached out in a millenial way.

At this point I had just started to slowly gain my other relationships back.

My friends

My friends, new and old ones, that I had not had the energy to entertain properply for three years.

Because of burnout.

Maybe because of him.

Maybe because of my slightly destructive habits.

I thought about that guy.

From a decade ago.

All of a sudden he might not have been the one that got away.

Maybe he was just a random face in the place of someone with potential to fill the shoes.

The shoes of a man who desperatly loves or loved me.

Or rather the idea of me.

Maybe I was guilty of that as well.

I don’t know.

Somewhere in the midst of all this a shirt of another man from forever ago became an issue that broke my mental health.

Maybe I actually AM a liar.

Maybe I actually AM as bad as he always painted me to be.

And that state of mental health has remained.

We backed off. We tried something new.

Some days I felt so much love for him.

Some days I felt like calling it off and be better on my own.

I got my groove back.

My best friend (the one with the birthdays) got crying mad at me at the midst of summer.

”He is GASLIGHTING YOU! And I am FUCKING mad about it!!”

And her boyfriend told me:

”You have always been Beyonce,

but not lately”.

Then shit got worse.

My cat got sick again.

My family member revealed a secret.

A disease.

I cried and called in sick for a week.

My new therapist who was supposed to treat the relationship OCD told me to.

She wanted me to be off work for longer.

I didn’t listen.

Now we are three years from where I started.

And for the first time, I really feel it is time.

Time to mend all of my other relationships.

And it came all naturally.

I just hope they want me back as bad as I want them back.

To be continued.

[ramblingtomcat]

Complicated grief regarding emotional parentification

I have some thoughts and here they are. I have a complicated relationship with my brother and it's getting more apparent. At first there was this thing with growing up in general. Drifting apart since I'm not his little baby sibling anymore. When I was extremely struggling with financial things and mental illness. And yet I masked through all that, not getting help, just being plain miserable.

My family helped me only in the ways that were possible for them and I'm not mad about it. It's just a reason I'm not as close anymore. It feels like we don't even know each other anymore. Because mentally ill me has taken over more and more and nobody gets it despite my brother being mentally ill too.

With our mother dying some years ago, I have felt a certain resentment at first. I felt and still feel alone with my grief. And I feel guilty for resenting him for it. I know grief comes in different ways and it's not his fault that he deals with it differently.

He has a fair amount of trauma around our parents. We both were well known bed, but at the same time neglected in a sense. The neglect my brother had to deal with and the parentification he had to deal with is vastly different than the trauma I went through.

He always did how he was told and at the same time masked his whole personality. I think he only shows what he wants others to see. I don't blame him. I do the same. Only that I'm not good at fulfilling expectations. I have always been an outsider. A weirdo. Most of it because I'm neurodivergent.

Anyway I feel like after our father died, but also way before, I took on the role of emotionally regulating my mother. I often felt like a mental punching bag who couldn't do anything right. At the same time I was praised too for a lot of stuff, that at the same time felt like yeah... that's my job.

While I was extremely close to my mother, I at the same time was not always being a child. I enjoyed our discussions. I enjoyed the closeness. Yet I felt like I was supporting her more mentally, than she supported me.

And that's still what makes me angry sometimes. I am a good listener. I'm feeling inclined to solve every problem somebody presents me with. And there is a reason for it. I am a good listener because I was taught to. I am a yes-man because I'm taught into it. I even feel responsible for people's feelings sometimes, which I try not to feel.

I'm the listener who doesn't get listened to. Or understood. I was my mother's therapist for a while and I didn't notice. There was this dynamic I both loved and hated.

And it's none that my brother will ever understand. I feel like I have always been alone, yet feel wrong for feeling like that. Because I at least had family and loving parents. And I at least wasn't physically abused. I know people who had a way shittier childhood than me. In fact I feel like I have no right feeling like this a lot of times?

I feel so disconnected with everything and I'm still not over the death of my mother.

[leafinthebreeze]

What Is Spiritual Bypassing?

Spiritual bypassing describes a tendency to use spiritual explanations to avoid complex psychological issues. The term was first coined during the early 1980s by a transpersonal psychotherapist named John Welwood in his book Toward a Psychology of Awakening. According to Welwood, spiritual bypassing can be defined as a "tendency to use spiritual ideas and practices to sidestep or avoid facing unresolved emotional issues, psychological wounds, and unfinished developmental tasks."

As a therapist and Buddhist teacher, Welwood began to notice that people (including himself) often wielded spirituality as a shield or type of defense mechanism. Rather than working through hard emotions or confronting unresolved issues, people would simply dismiss them with spiritual explanations.

While it can be a way to protect the self from harm or to promote harmony between people, it doesn't actually resolve the issue. Instead, it merely glosses over a problem, leaving it to fester without any true resolution.

While spirituality can be a force that helps enhance an individual’s well-being, engaging in spiritual bypassing as a way to avoid complicated feelings or issues can ultimately stifle growth.

Signs

Spiritual bypassing is a way of hiding behind spirituality or spiritual practices. It prevents people from acknowledging what they are feeling and distances them from both themselves and others. Some examples of spiritual bypassing include:

Avoiding feelings of anger

Believing in your own spiritual superiority as a way to hide from insecurities

Believing that traumatic events must serve as “learning experiences” or that there is a silver lining behind every negative experience

Believing that spiritual practices such as meditation or prayer are always positive

Extremely high, often unattainable, idealism

Feelings of detachment

Focusing only on spirituality and ignoring the present

Only focusing on the positive or being overly optimistic (toxic positivity)

Projecting your own negative feelings onto others

Pretending that things are fine when they are clearly not

Thinking that people can overcome their problems through positive thinking

Thinking that you must “rise above” your emotions

Using defense mechanisms such as denial and repression

Spiritual bypassing is a superficial way of glossing over problems in a way that might make us feel better in the short term, but ultimately solves nothing and just leaves the problem to linger on.

Examples

Spiritual bypassing can sometimes be difficult to spot because it is often very subtle. However, looking at examples can help make this phenomenon more apparent:

Following the death of a loved one, people tell surviving relatives that the deceased is “in a better place” and that it was “all part of God’s plan.”

A woman is angry and upset about something that someone else has done. When she tries to share her feelings, her friends tell her to stop being so negative.

A relative regularly crosses boundaries and behaves in ways that are hurtful to other family members. Rather than confront this behavior, those who have been harmed feel that they need to repress their anger and remain overly tolerant.

Spiritual bypassing is also often used to dismiss the very real concerns of people who are dealing with problems. People who are faced with discrimination are often advised to simply be “nice,” “civil,” or “patient” when dealing with blatant abuse. It suggests that people can rely on individual positive thinking to overcome complex social issues.

Recognizing Spiritual Bypassing

If you say these things, you might be engaging in spiritual bypassing:

"Everything happens for a reason."

"You create your own happiness."

"It was for the best."

"It was a blessing in disguise."

"Good vibes only!"

“Thoughts and prayers!”

Before resorting to platitudes, ask yourself who the comment is really helping. Is it really giving someone comfort or insight, or is it just a way of dismissing a difficult situation so that you can feel better?

Causes

Spiritual bypassing acts as a form of defense mechanism. It protects us from things that seem too painful to deal with, but this protection comes at a cost. Ignoring or avoiding the issue can make stress worse in the long-term and make the problem more difficult to solve later on. While avoidance is a primary motivator behind this type of behavior, there are other factors that play a role in shaping it.

Wellness culture, which often perpetuates ideas of toxic positivity and permanent optimism, is sometimes a driving force behind spiritual bypassing. It teaches people that they cannot be well or healthy unless they are able to rise above any negativity. The problem with this is that negative emotions are normal and often a sign that something needs to change. Ignoring these signs can lead to worse problems down the road.

An individualistic culture that promotes the idea that people must aim for self-actualization in order to achieve true happiness also contributes to a tendency to avoid difficult or painful emotions. Rather than trying to solve problems in the environment that lead to pain, individualism teaches people that they alone are responsible for their destiny.

Impacts

Spiritual bypassing isn't always a bad thing. In times of severe distress, it can be a way to temporarily relieve frustration or anxiety. However, researchers suggest that it can be damaging when used as a long-term strategy to suppress problems.

Spiritual bypassing can have a number of negative effects. It can affect individual well-being as well as relationships with others. Some of the potential negative consequences include:

Anxiety

Blind allegiance to leaders

Codependency

Control problems

Disregard for personal responsibility

Emotional confusion

Excessive tolerance of unacceptable or inappropriate behavior

Feelings of shame

Spiritual narcissism

Spiritual narcissism involves using spiritual practices as a way to increase self-importance. It often involves using spirituality to build the individual up, while also wielding it as a weapon to tear others down.

Denying Difficult Emotions

People often engage in spiritual bypassing when they think that they should not be feeling what they are feeling. Negative emotions can be overwhelming at times. Feeling of anger, jealousy, disgust, annoyance, and rage can be distressing, and people may find themselves feeling ashamed or guilty for feeling or thinking such things.

Rather than deal with the negative feelings—and any resulting reactions to those feelings—spiritual bypassing becomes a tool for avoidance.

Just as you shouldn’t try to suppress your own negative emotions in order to avoid discomfort, you should also avoid the desire to save other people from emotions or situations that make you uncomfortable. Trying to save or shield others—either from their circumstances or their own poor choices—can also become a form of spiritual bypassing.

Dismissing Other People’s Emotions

Spiritual bypassing can be a tool to dismiss what others are feeling. At times, spiritual bypassing can be used as a tool to gaslight others into staying silent about things that have harmed them.

Rather than being allowed to express their pain, people who have been harmed are told by others that they are being a negative person. This tendency uses spirituality to reframe events in a way that lets people off the hook for the harm they may have caused.

Avoiding Responsibility

Spiritual bypassing also reduces the discomfort that people may feel as a result of cognitive dissonance. People feel uncomfortable when they hold two conflicting beliefs or when they behave in ways that are not in accordance with their beliefs.

For example, if you believe yourself to be a good person, you might struggle to take responsibility for hurtful things that you have done. Admitting that you have harmed someone else through your actions not only causes feelings of guilt—it also conflicts with your desire to see yourself in a positive light. In this way, spiritual bypassing becomes a way to shift the blame back onto the other person while absolving yourself of any responsibility.

Judging Others

Judging other people for expressing justifiable anger is a form of spiritual bypassing. Anger is a normal emotion and a perfectly reasonable reaction to many events and situations. It means that there is something wrong and that action needs to be taken to fix a situation or mend a relationship. Authentic spirituality doesn't suppress valid emotions just because they're uncomfortable.

It’s okay to feel difficult emotions like anger, jealousy, and disappointment. The key is to deal with those emotions in healthy ways.

Justifying Suffering

Another example of spiritual bypassing is using supposedly spiritual actions to justify not taking action. Examples of this include saying things such as "it's that way for a reason," "it's as nature/God intended," or "it is what it is." It lets people off the hook for taking any responsibility, because according to such explanations, these things are natural, unchangeable, or divinely caused.

Such explanations make it easy to just accept things as they are and not focus on the steps that we can take to make a difference. Some situations may be outside of our control or we might face obstacles that make change difficult, but it is important to acknowledge and accept the responsibility for what we can do to make a situation better.

Bypassing also becomes a form of victim-blaming, especially in cases where people are experiencing the negative effects of various kinds of trauma. Telling people that they should just stop being negative in order to avoid exhaustion, anxiety, depression, and other physical and psychological manifestations of stress is essentially telling them that they are to blame for their own pain and suffering.

How It Hampers Growth

While spiritual bypassing may be less harmful than some other coping mechanisms, it can still lead to negative outcomes that hurt an individual’s ability to grow as a person and fulfill their potential. It can stifle emotional development and even stand in the way of fully realized spirituality.

Spiritual bypassing can also sometimes involve participating in "spiritual" activities in order to feel superior or to get around having to take any meaningful action. Instead of talking about a conflict, you'll meditate. Instead of participating in your community, you'll visit a temple. Instead of confronting your discomfort, you'll recite a prayer. The problem does not lie in engaging in these spiritual practices. The problem is that you're using them as a shield to make yourself feel better—not for truly spiritual reasons. 

This is why spiritual bypassing can sometimes be so subtle and difficult to spot both in yourself and others. Meditation can be a helpful way to deal with stress that will help you cope with conflict. Visiting meaningful places can help give you a connection to your community. Praying can give you a sense of peace or comfort when confronting an uncomfortable truth.

The difference lies in the intentions behind those actions. Are they a way of making yourself feel spiritually superior to others? Then they are likely functioning largely as a spiritual bypass preventing true growth.

Healthy expressions of spirituality help you grow as a person while bypassing creates a barrier between you and authentic growth.

Tips and Tricks

Spiritual bypassing may act as a way to protect the self from things that we find threatening, but it neglects an important truth. We cannot pick and choose which emotions we experience. Life cannot be good thoughts, feelings, and emotions alone. In order to experience the highs, we must also endure the lows.

Some things that you can do to try to confront a tendency to spiritual bypass include:

Avoid labeling emotions as good or bad. While some emotions may be negative or unpleasant, they serve a purpose. Emotional experiences are not wrong or taboo, and feeling these emotions does not make you a bad person. Try viewing your emotions with acceptance and remember that all emotional states are only temporary.

Remember that negative thoughts and feelings serve a purpose. The goal of life is not to avoid having such thoughts, it is to use those thoughts to propel positive actions. Simply putting on rose-colored sunglasses and ignoring a problem does not solve it.

Remember that uncomfortable feelings are often a sign that there’s something wrong and something needs to change. If you are always trying to reduce discomfort by simply avoiding it, the situations that are causing you distress will stay the same. Look at these uncomfortable emotions as an opportunity for transformation rather than a burden to avoid.

While spiritual bypassing makes it difficult to acknowledge valid feelings, it is important to remember that spirituality itself can be a positive force in your life. Research suggests that spirituality can often have a number of physical and mental health benefits.3 People often turn to spirituality to restore hope, cope with distress, to find support, and to find meaning in life.

Studies have shown, for example, that people who engage in spiritual practices are less prone to depression, cope better with stress, experience better overall health, and have better psychological well-being.

Don't be too hard on yourself for mistakes. Growth is a process and it's easy to fall into old habits, especially when you are trying to cope with something difficult. Spirituality can be a positive force in your life and many spiritual practices can be excellent stress management tools. By actively avoiding spiritual bypassing, you can make spirituality a practice that will help you live a more harmonious and fulfilling life.

https://www.verywellmind.com/what-is-spiritual-bypassing-5081640

[ratonnhhaketon]

Still Breathing

Read on Ao3 | Next Chapter

Summary: Six months after the defeat of Thanos, the world is still in chaos. The threat of the Flag Smashers combined with the new headstrong Captain America means it's time for Valencia Zicari to help save the world one more time. But, in doing so, she also has to pick up the pieces of a broken relationship.

Warnings: Major TFATWS spoilers, Swearing, Angst, Fluff, Slow-Burn, John Walker (just in general)

A/N: HHH, new fic time! TFATWS has been consuming my brain these past few weeks and it was only a matter of time before I made another oc and wrote for Bucky. I’ve had this in the works since the first episode but I’m super excited to finally be ready to start posting! This fic will be relatively short but I do also plan on doing a prequel fic eventually to further flush out my marvel oc, Valencia Zicari. I apologize that this starts off kinda slow, with just two phone calls at the beginning, but it will pick up a lot in the upcoming chapters. In the meantime if you have any questions or comments about the fic or Val’s story, don’t hesitate to send them my way! Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1 - Your Number On Speed Dial

Bucky’s eyes shot open, his throat closing and lungs gasping for air. He felt the sweat covering his body, the thin blanket tangled between his legs. The cool metal of his dog tags swung against his chest as he sat up, chest heaving as he sucked in breaths and tried to regain his breathing. He looked around his surroundings, slowly calming down as he noticed he was in his apartment. 

Another goddamn nightmare. 

Realizing he was alone, Bucky instinctively reached up onto the chair next to him for his cellphone. He flipped open the phone, eyes squinting to adjust to the light of the small screen in front of him. He noticed the time, 3:08 am. While he knew that she would more than likely still be up and wouldn’t mind talking, he felt guilty for instinctively reaching out for her this late. Still, he let his hand press accept and after only two rings he heard her familiar voice pick up. 

“Hi Buck,” she said with a smile, exhaustion evident in her voice.

“Hi,” he replied with a hoarse voice, sleep still clinging to his vocal chords. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?” 

“I could ask you the same question,” she said with a small laugh. “But, yeah. Probably. I’ve been working my ass off trying to get in contact with Fury and nothing is working.”

“Not even through the SHIELD lines?”

She sighed, a hand coming up to rub at her temples. “I’ve tried, but he’s ‘on vacation’ and is only taking messages if they’re life or death.” 

“I mean, shouldn’t he be able to make an exception for you? Given, y’know..”

“Unfortunately I lost the ‘you’re my adoptive daughter’ privilege when I decided to grow up and join the Avengers.” Bucky chuckled in response, his nightmare finally starting to fade from the back of his mind. “I’m just.. worried about Wanda. The whole situation still isn’t sitting right with me, especially since any information has been classified and no one at all can access it.”

“Val,” Bucky said quietly, his metal hand coming up to rub against the chain hanging around his neck. “When was the last time you took a break?” 

He heard an audible sigh over the phone and a pause before she spoke up. “Not since half of the world disappeared.” 

“Well, how about this. Thursday, you finally put all of that aside for a few hours and we can grab lunch. I’ll buy.” 

She thought it over for a moment, Bucky’s breath hitching in his throat in the few seconds it took before she spoke up. “Yeah, that sounds nice. We can go to that sushi place you used to take me to.” 

“Sounds perfect, doll. I’ll see you then. Now go get some rest.” 

“You too, old man.” 

~~~~~

Valencia stood in the common room of the compound, a scowl present on her face as she watched the tv. John Walker’s Good Morning America interview was playing at a low volume. She hadn’t even met the man yet and already hated him. Partly because of how he talked about Steve without knowing the first thing about him, and partly because every journalist in the state of New York had been contacting her in an attempt to interview her about the new Captain America. Pulling her eyes away from the screen, she noticed her phone vibrating to announce an incoming call. She answered, a smile tugging at her lips for the first time in the past day. “Hey Bucky.”

“Hi,” he said shortly. She could feel the anger in his voice. “Have you seen the news?”

“Absolutely,” she replied, her scowl returning to her face. “Everyone has been bothering me about it for the past day. I had to tell Pepper that if one more reporter asked to take a statement from me I’d throw someone out of a window.”

“Jeez. Little harsh, don’t ya think?” 

“Probably,” she said with a small laugh. 

“Hey, have you talked to Sam recently?”

“Yeah, I was just talking to him earlier before you called. He was telling me about having to go to Munich today, something about the Flag Smashers? I don’t know, he didn’t really give me a lot of information.” 

“No, that's great. Thanks, doll. See you Thursday.” 

“Alright, Buck. See you then.” 

~~~~~

Any normal person would be astonished by the amount of trouble one person could get into in the span of 18 hours. But, in terms of being an Avenger, it’s just a normal Wednesday. Especially when it’s Sam and Bucky’s fault. But, Valencia still found a way to be freaking out when Pepper rushed into her room, shoving a phone into her face to announce that Bucky had a warrant out for his arrest. And had subsequently ended up in a Baltimore jail. 

In under an hour she had flown down to the city and found the facility Bucky was being held in. She pulled open the door to the jail, eyes quickly scanning the crowd of people before landing on Bucky’s literal partner in crime. 

She made a beeline straight for the dark haired man. “You want to explain to me what’s going on here, Sam Wilson?” Eyes narrowed, lips pulled into a tight line.

Upon seeing her he pushed himself out of his chair. “Val! How ya’ been? You been doing okay?”

“Oh cut the shit, Sam. You better have a good explanation for why I found out that Bucky not only had a warrant out for his arrest, but then ended up in a Baltimore jail leaving me to haul ass down here to figure out what in the hell is happening.” 

“First, I need you to calm down. Promise me you won’t freak out?” 

She glared at him. “Are you-” 

“Val,” he said in a stern tone. 

She let out a huff before nodding. “Alright, fine. I’m calm.”

“He helped me with that mission in Munich I told you about and then wanted to introduce me to someone in Baltimore. And he may have missed his therapy appointment in the process.”

“He missed-!” Val immediately yelled out, voice louder than anticipated, which drew the attention of the people around them. Sam put an arm around her shoulder and led the two of them over towards an unoccupied side of the room. “Sam, are you serious? He’s been doing so well! He put in so much effort to make sure he made the appointments and you let him go with you?”

“First of all, I told him repeatedly that I didn’t want him coming, but you know how stubborn he is.”

She let out a defeated sigh and dropped her hands to her sides. “So what do we do now?” 

“Well lucky for you they’re actually releasing him.” 

Before Val could reply she was cut off by the sound of heels clicking before a familiar voice spoke near them. “Sam. I’ve heard a lot about you.” She reached out to shake his hand. “I’m Dr. Raynor. I’m James’s therapist. It’s good to see you again, Valencia.” 

Val gave her a smile. “Good to see you too, doc.”

“So nice to meet you. You two already know each other?”

“I took Bucky to the first few of his appointments to make sure that he would, y’know, actually go. But that was before..” she waved a hand in the air, “everything.” 

Sam nodded. “Well thank you, Dr. Raynor, for getting him out.”

“Oh, that wasn’t me.” 

From across the room a booming voice spoke up, instantly grabbing their attention. “Christina!” The three of them all turned in unison and were met with none other than the new Captain America himself, taking pictures with a bunch of fans. “It’s great to see you again.” 

“You’ve got to be kidding me. You know him?” Sam spoke up with a frustrated sigh. 

“Yeah, we did some field ops back in the day.” 

“I heard you were working with Bucky, so I thought I’d step in.” Val watched as he approached the group, her arms instinctively crossing over her chest. “Miss Zicari, it’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve been trying to reach out for a formal introduction for several days now.”

“It’s Agent, actually. And unlike you I’ve had a lot of other pressing matters that required my attention.” 

“Right. Well, anyway. Bucky’s not gonna be following a strict schedule any longer.”

“What?”

“We haven’t finished our work. Who authorized this?”

“Um,” John used both hands to gesture up towards himself. “He’s too valuable of an asset to have tied up.” 

Val’s attention went from John to the sound of a metal door closing behind her. Her head turned towards the sound and she was met with none other than a familiar set of blue eyes side-eyeing the blonde man in front of her. She felt the corner of her mouth turn up in a half-smile as his head turned and saw hers. Almost instantly the token frown he wore at all times faded and turned into his own partial smile. She walked over to him, her arms finding their way around his neck subconsciously. “Hey, Buck,” she breathed as his arms wove around her middle, pulling their bodies flush together. 

“Hey to you too,” he said with a small laugh. “Pepper finally let you leave the compound?” 

She pulled away to look at him. “Less her letting me leave and more so her immediately getting me a flight and shoving me out the door when she found out you got arrested.”

“Alright lovebirds, break it up.” Dr. Raynor said from behind them. Val’s arms dropped to her side and before she had the chance to correct her, the woman spoke up again. “James, condition of your release, session now.” Bucky let out an audible groan, rolling his eyes slightly, to which Val couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle. “You too, Sam.”

“That’s okay, I’ll be out here with Val.”

“That wasn’t a request.” 

She pulled her phone from the pocket of her leather jacket and noticed an incoming call. “Just go, I’ll be outside. I gotta take this anyway.” Val walked outside of the jailhouse, sliding a thumb across the screen to answer the call in the process. She partially paid attention to what Pepper was telling her as the new Captain America walked past her, obviously checking her out with a side-eye as she leaned against the chipped bricks. Her eyes narrowed at him as he turned to steal another glance her way before turning her eyes away and down the opposite side of the road. 

“Yeah, he’s okay… no, I don’t know the specifics of how it works out with the pardon... I’ll keep you updated, but it doesn’t look like I’ll be back any time soon. I kinda feel like I’ll be joining the idiots on whatever they plan on doing next… Alright, I will. Keep me updated on the whole Westview situation and tell Morgan to stop stealing the snacks from my room. Oh, haha. Take care, Pepper.”  

As she hung up the phone she saw the door next to her swing open with a visibly angry Sam walking out of it. Bucky trudged out a few seconds later, looking angry but more upset than the man in front of him. As the door started to close behind him he saw Val and walked over to her.

“Do you think Steve was wrong about me?” She could tell he was fighting back tears by the way his voice cracked at the end.

Her hands cupped his face. “Bucky, no, absolutely not. Why would you say that?”

He looked away, not able to look her in the eye. After all the nights they spent together, her talking him down from a nightmare, reassuring him and chasing the negative thoughts away, he couldn’t admit that part of him still felt that same way. “It.. doesn’t matter.”

“If it’s making you this upset, then yes it does.” 

He let out a huff as her thumb began to lightly rub against the stubble on his cheek. “Sam shouldn’t have given up the shield.” 

“I know, Buck, I know. But there’s nothing we can do now, so let’s just try to figure out what’s happening with..” she lifted a hand from his face and used it to make vague gestures around them. “Everything right now.” 

The loud siren from a police cruiser halted their conversation, the sound making Val physically jump. She looked towards the source of the sound and scowled. This asshole again. “Gentlemen,” John’s eyes scanned Val’s figure quickly before adding, “and lady. Good to see you again.” Begrudgingly, she followed Sam and Bucky’s lead and walked towards the blonde haired man and his sidekick. “Look, if we divide ourselves we don’t stand a chance, you guys know that.” 

Sam crossed his arms over his chest. “So what do you got?”

“Should she be hearing this?” John gestured to Val. 

She scoffed. “I’m on board now, so out with it.” 

“Alright. Well the leader’s name is Karli Morgenthau. We’ve been targeting civilians that have been helping Karli move from place to place. They geotagged a location, then scrambled the signal. But our satellites have found their symbol popping up in various displaced communities all across Central and Eastern Europe. We think that she's taking the medicine she just stole to one of these camps.”

“Well there’s been hundreds of those put up across the planet since The Blip,” Valencia interjected. “So I guess you’ll have to look real hard.”

“Good thing I have 20/20 vision, huh?” John shot back, annoyance prevalent in his voice.

“Where is she now, Walker? Do you know?” Bucky spoke up, patience quickly being stretched thin.

“No, we don’t know, Bucky,” Walker’s voice rose dramatically. “It’s only a matter of time before we find out.” 

Bucky cocked his head to the side, eyes narrowing at the man in front of him. “Things are really tense for you, aren’t they Walker?” Val rested a gentle hand against Bucky’s chest, holding him back as a reminder not to do anything irrational- although she definitely wanted him to. 

Sam approached the super soldier, putting a hand in the air to further make him back off. “Take it easy. Look, Walker’s right. It is imperative that we find them and stop them. But you guys have rules of engagement and all kinds of authorizations you have to get. We're free agents. We're more.. flexible. So it wouldn't make sense for us to work with you.” 

The trio started to walk off before Walker stood up from the cruiser and spoke. “A word of advice, then.” The three of them turned to look at him once again. “Stay the hell out of my way.” 

Knowing that it wasn’t worth it to get a final word in, Sam put a hand on either of their shoulders and pushed them to keep walking away. Once they were a reasonable distance down the street, Val turned to Bucky and noticed he was deep in thought. “What’s on your mind, Buck?” she asked with a hand coming up to rest on his shoulder. 

“Well, I know what we have to do. When Isaiah said “my people”...” he trailed off, still staring ahead. 

“Oh, don’t take that to heart. That’s not what he meant-” Sam tried to correct him before Bucky cut him off. 

“No, he meant HYDRA.” He paused for a moment, feet coming to a stop as he looked between the pair next to him. “HYDRA used to be my people.” 

“Bucky,” Val spoke up cautiously.”

Sam scoffed. “Not a chance.” 

“Walker doesn’t have any leads.” 

“I know where you’re going with this, no.”

“He knows all of HYDRA’s secrets. Don’t you remember Siberia.” 

“Oh, you cannot be serious,” Val said as she dragged a tired hand over her face. 

“So you’re just gonna sit in a room with this guy?” 

Bucky hesitated for a moment, obviously not thinking about his idea that much ahead of time. “Y-yes.” 

Val sighed, shaking her head slightly. “Out of all your ideas, this has got to be the dumbest.” She looked at Sam, who shrugged his shoulders and nodded. “Fine. Let’s go see Zemo.”

[trash0receptacle]

Stress pt. 2

(This is based on my personal issues and stuff more as a way to cope. I’m not romanticizing any of mental illness and my goal is not to offend anyone. I also feel I should put a warning so trigger warning for: Depression, Anixety, Mentions of Anorexia, and death.)

If you feel any like this may trigger you then feel free to skip it.

My dms are open but I don’t have notifications turned on however I’m fairly active on here. With that out of the way

With the statement left hanging in the air the atmosphere of the room turned serious. Mc gained a vacant and sad expression.

“What do you mean it happened before you got here?” Satan questioned

“Mc, you know you can trust us right?” Asked them avatar of envy

This got a chuckle out of Mc who uncharacteristically said

“Trust is bullshit.... everyone I’ve trusted has either lied to me, hurt me, or left me. Trust isn’t exactly something I believe in anymore.”

The brothers had never seen Mc speak with such bitterness and sadness. It was shocking coming from the human who acted like an angel.

“Mc, I-“ Lucifer tried to say but was cut off by mammon

“Mc who hurt ya” Mammon questioned very angrily

“It’s a long list”

Mammon just hugged Mc tighter while the others stared holes into Mc’s clouded eyes.

“I know if I say what happened I won’t be able to stop. If I tell you guys then I’ll end up telling you everything and it’s not your fault I’ve had a lot of shitty stuff happen to me.”

“Mc you don’t need to feel like your burdening us with your problems honey.” Asmo murmured

“If I tell you just promise me you guys won’t you know hurt people because I have a feeling you guys might get a little angry” Mc painfully laughed

All of the brothers nodded thinking Mc must have been exaggerating but where soon to find out they weren’t.

“Well let’s start when my childhood ended, when the person I never thought I could live without left, my aunt. The person I had to watch die and suffer for months unbeknownst to myself. When at 12 years old I stayed by her side every day because I didn’t want her to feel alone. The person who plagues my dreams and subconscious. Then in middle school how I was mocked for being “sad” about how I watched my life be torn apart in front of me. How my parents became stricter and distant quick to punish me for anything. How my tract record for being everyone’s therapist started. When I started telling people how they matter and shouldn’t off themselves. How I avoided my own internal demons by consoling others who would later hurt me. Then how all I became good for was advice and I had no one I could vent to not even my therapist. After that I started starving myself because I couldn’t bring myself to cut. My friends cut but I wouldn’t because I couldn’t let anyone know how broken I truly was. How I became horribly suicidal and almost committed suicide in 7th grade twice. Or how on my 13th birthday I was throwing up inside the restaurant bathroom and when o came out my parents shook me asking me if I did it on purpose. I still don’t know if I did or not. Then I got better. I was saved by my parents and my therapist however I was emotionally exhausted at this point. Then bam 8th grade happened. At this point because school had been easy for me I never had to try before and my grades plummeted so I stopped caring about school. My parents were always on my case about missing assignments and bad grades and everything. Not to mention when I tired to be kind to a girl getting bullied because I felt sympathy. I saw myself in her and told the other kids to knock it off. However I guess she took that as an insensitive to start harassing me and ultimately assaulting me for months. I was told I didn’t have a choice when I tried to stand up for myself so I disassociated. At the same time my only grandfather was diagnosed with a Brian tumor but the doctors were positive he would be okay. I had friends who were well connected because I went to catholic school so I was able to surprise my grandfather with being able to be on the field as his favorite football team warmed up. He got a signed football form the coach that he would keep in his family room next or his chair. However a month later he was put in hospice like my aunt. I couldn’t handle it so recently after the last time. But at least my aunt kept her personality unlike my grandfather who I had to watch be unable to care for himself and lose his memories. After that was blue well until my birthday that year which my dad forgot. Then my grandfather died a month later but I was unable to attend his funeral because of the coronavirus. How next I was almost put in the hospital for attempting to unalive and because I had starved myself to the point where I ate once a day. Then summer happened and I was happy again. My friends lifted my spirit but then they all got in relationships and didn’t need me anymore. So I became in their eyes a lying and narcissistic bitch. I was told I was fat and awful by them. And then I got okay again but still didn’t trust people and we arrive in the present. Oh well I forgot to mention my parents disowned me but that’s a another story.”

Mammon started to cry and hold Mc just wanting to feel like they could protect them. He knew Mc had been through a lot but to this extent he had no idea. He felt so angry that people did this to his human.He felt guilt for calling Mc a stupid human knowing it probably hurt mc.

Levi went over to Mc and hugged them from behind. He wasn’t the most affectionate person but he wanted to confirm they were here. He never wanted his Henry to feel like they didn’t matter. He felt guilty about telling them to die in arguments where his anger to the better of him.

Satan just sat there unsure of what to do or say. What could he say “hey I’m sorry you got assaulted?” His wrath wanted to destroy the people who did this to Mc but Mc seemed to believe it was their fault. They also seemed like they don’t want violence.

Asmo just sat next to Mc like Levi wanting to confirm they were there. He felt so bad about being so flirty and touchy now knowing why Mc seemed to be so modest. He wished he’d known because looking back in it he probably brought memories back mc wanted to forget.

Beel for once didn’t feel hungry so he left to go to the kitchen not for himself but for Mc. Mc said they used to starve themselves? This is why the offer him their food. He felt shameful for eating it knowing the truth now.

Belphie just put his head on mc’s lap. They let him do it before so he figured it was fine. Even with all of Mc’s personal stuff they still wanted to help him. He wouldn’t let Mc feel like that again.

Lucifer was shell shocked. His pride wouldn’t let him show emotion so he left. He went to his office to find Mc’s file. None of this was in it. He talked to Diavolo informing him of the sudden “update”. He wanted to talk to Mc privately but figured he’d need to wait.

Mc felt guilty. “I knew I shouldn’t have said anything” “look now they hate you”. They really couldn’t handle all of this right now and asked for some space to think. Much to the brothers dismay they left knowing if Mc truly wanted to be alone they would be able to use their pact.

Lucifer however didn’t have a pact with Mc so he didn’t have to listen. Knowing they would be alone he asked them to come to his study.

When they arrived he just held mc.

Note: Yeah I didn’t know how to finish and I’m a little sick so please don’t be that critical. And I’m alright now I just know that a lot of people (myself included) find comfort or something similar when reading angst. It can help them with their issues etc. Anyway have a wonderful day or night loves

- Caroilne

[nicnacsnonsense]

You know, it’s not perfect, but the Smallville episode Craving is actually a really good condemnation of fatphobia, especially for something that came out in 2001.

Throughout the episode Jodi’s father consistently expresses concern over his daughter’s disordered eating and insists that she’s fine just as she is. The last time we see him (he’s not present for the climax and afterward we are just told secondhand he’s on the way to the hospital to meet Jodi) he suggests they take Jodi to a therapist and says he just wants her to be able to look in the mirror and be happy.

We see Pete and Chloe have a conversation with Jodi before the kryptonite-induced weight loss starts, and they treat her just like a normal person. In particular, Jodi is working on a scrapbook of outfit inspiration for an upcoming party, cutting out a supermodel wearing a bikini when they approach. The idea that the fat girl wants to wear a bikini appears to be so normal to them that it’s not worth commenting upon or even really noticing.

Later in the conversation some guys make fun of Jodi for her weight and Pete (her romantic interest for the episode) tells them to back off, then chases after Jodi when she runs off upset.

When Jodi begins loosing weight rapidly due to the kryptonite (50+ pounds in a few days) Clark, Pete, Chloe, and Jodi’s dad all react with concern, and she is asked by different people on multiple occasions if she’s sick. The only one who treats the weight loss as a positive is one of the guys who had made fun of her earlier and is unambiguously portrayed as a jerk.

There are numerous indications that Pete’s attraction to Jodi has nothing to do with her weight loss. In addition to the standing up for her as mentioned earlier, Pete doesn’t comment on her weight loss outside of asking after her health; the one time he does compliment her appearance it’s to tell her her *dress* is beautiful; Jodi is the one to ask him out, indicating the change in their relationship is because her surge in self-confidence not because Pete is suddenly attracted to her because she lost weight; and Jodi still noticeably has a double-chin when she asks Pete to the party and Pete is so bowled over with excitement he forgets how to speak.

Jodi is never treated as shallow for her desire to be skinny, nor is she ever villainized for her actions, even at the end when she attacks Pete (after desperately trying to make him leave) and Clark when he comes to rescue Pete. She is shown to be a good person who is struggling with very real and serious issues.

The episode shows, albeit in supernatural fashion, how her disordered eating seriously messes with her body and physical health. It ends, as implied above, with her having to go to the hospital to receive treatment for her condition.

The episode also pulls no punches in showing how being made fun of and belittled for being fat messes with her mental health. There’s an outburst from Jodi about how tired she is of counting calories and keeping meticulous diaries of everything she eats so she can feel guilty for having one extra grape. She also says of the guy who mocked her that he thought it was funny to say mean things to her and make her cry and “wish [she] was dead rather than fat.” The episode ends with her catching her reflection during her fight with Clark, declaring herself a freak, and attempting to commit suicide. (Rest assured, Clark does save her, and while it’s not explicitly stated, given her father’s behavior throughout the episode, it seems very likely she got the help she needed for her mental health struggles as well.)

So, yeah. I think it’s easy to get bogged down in the bad special effects and fat make-up and the rather cheesy “fat-sucking vampire” line, but I do think the episode does an overall pretty good job with these issues. Jodi Melville, Amy Adam’s best Superman related role, and you cannot change my mind.

[survivingsusac]

Filters

I had two conversations recently that must have really resonated with me because I’m still thinking about them. One was with my girlfriend last week, and an unrelated conversation with a coworker yesterday at the testing center where I work.

A week ago my girlfriend, the Queen of Niantic, and I talked about my experience meeting a specific person. We determined that meeting this person on my own was remarkable as compared to what it would have been meeting them within a group of people.

The short answer: Filters.

The Long Answer: Filters.

Lemme ‘splain.

Filters and the way I use them affect the relationship I develop with the person I’m interacting with.

You may be familiar with the sensation of adjusting your behavior to make the people around you-your “audience”- more comfortable with accepting you.

You may find you do this when you transition from chilling at home to going to work. The you that sits on the couch with a slice and a drink is typically not the same you at work as a librarian or server at a restaurant. Or, when you were in high school, you may have presented yourself differently when you moved between your fellow athlete friends to your theater friends and the other cliques you may have associated with. (I am definitely guilty here. I used to prioritize fitting in, okay?)

I have been realizing the last few years, as I adjust to the Aurora who is Surviving Susac, that my filters get switched extremely frequently.

The Aurora that my doctors see is different from the Aurora that my gaming friends see; is different from the Aurora the candidates and my colleagues see at work; is different from the Aurora the court sees; is different from the Aurora my mom sees; is different from the Aurora my daughter sees.

IT’S EXHAUSTING. I’M EXHAUSTED ALL. THE. TIME.

So when the Queen of Niantic tells me she wants to introduce me to her other friend, I’m all, “Yes, my Queen,” and also This is your chance, Aurora; meet them alone so that you don’t have to apply any filters.

I did the no filter thing and let. me. tell. you. Being authentic Aurora for a few hours felt SO GOOD and now this friend is probably the person I feel the most comfortable around, like, ever.

Now, I’m not suggesting you drop all your filters ever in every circumstance. You will always need a professional filter for professional situations. But I would encourage you to find where you feel comfortable dropping filters to see what it feels like to set yourself free and be authentically you.

A Recent Filter

Now, yesterday, in this conversation with my coworker Juanderful, I did use my educational filter. Juanderful and I bonded over the career path he’s currently pursuing. He told me his life story (I swear there is a sticker on my forehead that says in all caps, TELL ME ALL YOUR STUFF) and turns out that he is called to be a Marriage and Family Therapist (MFT). And this guy is literally designed for it. Everything he says about interpersonal interactions sounds like it could be in one the of case studies or textbooks I read during my master’s program in MFT. Only he does it in such a natural, casual way that he’d be one of those professors on RateMyProfessor.com who gets a super positive review with almost only positive feedback.

Yesterday we had this atypical huge gap of time with no candidates so we took the opportunity to just talk with one another. He shared with me his love of music, the details of his educational path and degree progress, and then it happened.

Juanderful asked why I didn’t write my final paper for the MFT degree.

*Educational filter, activate!*

I explained how I completed literally all my courses and all I had left to turn in was a successful thesis/cap stone paper when the effects 8 years of an overactive sympathetic nervous system (hello, psychological abuse) led my immune system to commit mutiny. Then how after my body took the time to repair itself, the courses began to expire and I would have to retake and pass all the classes again.

I taught him what Susac Syndrome is, how it works, and how it presented in me.

Juanderful’s love language must be Words of Affirmation. Because he gave me the best pep talk I‘ve had in 5 years.

He tells me that the Aurora who defeated Susac Syndrome is a person to be proud of. He is in awe of my ability to say, yes, I earned this master’s degree and have all the knowledge, but I also recognize that given my life experience and perspective I would not be able to guarantee healthy client-therapist relationships. Apparently, to be able to recognize that and walk away to find another way to help people (remember, I’m pursuing sonography) is something he finds admirable. And I guess there’s a stereotype that people with master’s degrees don’t just sit around and chat like we did today? If that’s a real thing, this no chatting, then that would have been a BIG problem for me. Because I am VERY talky! Hence this blog, LOL.

We spent about two hours talking about his music hobby, my diagnosis, divorce, various regions of the brain and their roles.

Like I said, educational filter.

This filter wasn’t quite as exhausting as most filters. I still Facetimed my no-filter, authentic Aurora friend afterwards to recuperate. Then I felt amazing.

My suggestion is for you to think about the various filters you may have in place; some are even put up as a protective measure. Consider carefully lowering them to see if you can find a healthy way to feel your most authentic self.

Surviving Susac,

Aurora

[flutteringphalanges]

                              The Necronomicon For Babies

Sequel to the one-shot: A Soul For Two

Summary:  Sequel to the one-shot, "A Soul For Two", we find Maze and the others exactly one year later after the infamous demon became a mother. As the party prepares to celebrate little Eden's first birthday, an unexpected guest shows up on Chloe's and Lucifer's doorstep. A certain someone from Maze's past. A clue as to who Eden's father could really be.

Chapters: 1/2

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: A sequel to my mini fic (two chapters) "A Soul For Two" in which we visit Maze a year after she became a mom. As everyone gathers to celebrate the now one year old Eden's birthday, an unexpected stranger from Maze's past shows up on Chloe's and Lucifer's front door step. What drama will ensue?! Here's part one! Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! -Jen

                                                    Part One

Bubbly. That's the one word Mazikeen Smith would use to describe her daughter's nursery. If it had been up to her, the design would be more dark. Abysmal. But in the best, loving way possible. If it had been left up to her, Eden's room would've depicted the very essence of Hell. Apparently though, according to all of her friends-even Lucifer, who took Chloe's side-said that wasn't appropriate for a child. Instead it was filled with shades of pinks and purples, toys both plush and academic, and more frilly outfits than the demon could count.

"Surely you're going to dress her in something more...well, happier than that." Linda commented as the demon struggled to put the squirming baby into a black, velveteen dress. "It's her first birthday party, not a funeral."

"The head bow has sequins on it. That's as extreme as I'm willing to go." The demon replied, finally getting her daughter situated in the outfit. "There, I see absolutely nothing wrong with that." She motioned at the baby who had taken to chewing on her own fist. "I didn't even get a birthday party as a kid. Much less dressed for one. Black is the new...well, black."

The therapist, though incredulous of her best friend's tastes, sighed in defeat. "I guess the sparkles do help." She smiled as Eden's dark eyes met hers. "It seems like only yesterday that she was born."

"You humans and your perspective of time…" Maze tutted, lifting the one year old up. "Have you heard from Chloe? I told her I didn't want her to go overboard with this. Especially since she went behind my back and told Ella of all people she could help." The demon sighed and studied her daughter carefully. "As long as those decorations are put away for the day. It's Eden's birthday, not...it's her day."

Christmas. The word Maze couldn't bring herself to say. If she had to rank human holidays from least to greatest, Christmas would be in the negatives with Halloween at the top. Perhaps she had gone a little overboard with Eden's costume that year. It wasn't as if someone told her zombie babies weren't all the rage that year. So what if she overindulged just a little with the fake blood? For someone playing the part of "the undead" she was the cutest rotting corpse in all of the cemetery. At least Trixie thought it was cool.

"I've been in contact with her this whole time." Linda assured her. "Just birthday decor, other stuff's been set aside until after you leave. Funny enough, Trixie's been more excited for all of this than opening her own presents…" The therapist paused for a moment. "I was told you gave her something...unexpected."

"Hm?" Maze inquired, fixated on stuffing the diaper bag. "Oh, you mean the tecpatl. Just an Aztec blade I found in my mother's stuff. Come to think of it, it might've been used on her. Anyway, it was one of the few things of hers I took. Thought I could do something with it and Trixie seems to appreciate my choice in weaponry more than the rest of you."

"Trixie is also thirteen and could easily get expelled from school if she accidentally left it in her pocket during class." Her friend retorted. "Knives aren't for kids, Maze."

"I know." The demon replied, rolling her eyes. "You haven't seen Eden with one yet."

"And I hope it stays that way for a long while." Linda answered, letting out a soft, nervous chuckle. "I will say though, Maze, motherhood has looked great on you. I mean, Eden has flourished. Surpassing most of her milestones. I actually feel a little guilty for the doubt I felt in the beginning." She paused before quickly adding. "Just a teeny, tiny amount of concern."

"Well, I'm not Lilith." Her friend answered, slightly insulted by Linda's comment. "I remember how I was raised and made a promise to myself that I wouldn't subject Eden to that." She grinned as she held the baby to her face. "No abandonment in Hell for you, my precious sinner."

"We seriously need to work on better nicknames." The therapist snorted as she grabbed her purse. "Most people might not take it the right way when you call a baby a sinner."

"Amenadiel already lectured me last week when he heard me call her a fallen angel despite the affection behind it." Maze muttered. "I mean, Chloe calls Trixie "Monkey". What kind of name is that? And you with Charlie…"Peanut"? Where's the creativity? Never mind," she shook her head. "I'll think of something eventually that is at least reasonably acceptable to the general public."

The drive to Chloe's was mostly quiet, Eden having fallen asleep mere moments after Linda started the car. Maze gazed out the passenger side window thoughtfully, watching as the trees whizzed by and became buildings. Something was on her mind. Something unsettling that she just couldn't quite put her finger on. Perhaps it simply was due to it being Christmas. The demon had always despised the holiday. On more than one occasion than she was unwilling to admit, she'd nearly impaled Dan's hand with a fork when he jokingly called her a Scrooge-and even the Grinch reincarnated. Though she did look good in green.

"Something on your mind?" Linda inquired, tearing Maze away from her thoughts. "You look worried."

"I'm fine." She mumbled, inhaling deeply. "Just taking the day in...it's a big one."

"Not everyday your kid turns one." Her friend agreed with a smile as they turned into the parking lot. "I remember Charlie's so well. I can't believe we went with the Cookie Monster cake. I was scrubbing blue stains out of his clothes for hours. That icing had so much dye in it, it turned his poop blue. Nearly gave Amenadiel a heart attack. He thought something was wrong."

"Amenadiel's anxiety is almost unbearable." The demon replied, folding her arms over her chest. "I don't know how you do it. I know so many women in Hell who've killed their spouses simply because they drive them mad."

"I'm a therapist." Linda chuckled as she turned off the car. "I'm equipped to deal with that sort of thing. And besides, it's kind of sweet in a way…" She stepped out of the car, eyes glancing at a set of balloons bound to a doorknob. "Even if in the beginning, he literally tried to take my son to Heaven without me. Not the best moment in our relationship."

"Well, if you ever do decide to off him." Maze said, leaving her own seat to retrieve Eden. "I'll help you dispose of the body. Trust me, when I'm done, it'll be untraceable."

"...I'll keep that in mind…" Her friend responded slowly, a little disturbed by the woman's words. "But I think I'm good."

"All the same." The demon stated, Eden's face scrunching up as the sunlight hit it. Maze pulled the canopy down and the baby seemed to drift back to sleep. "What are friends for?"

"Why don't you go on and take her inside?" Linda suggested, quickly changing the conversation. "I'll grab the presents from the trunk. Looks like Amenadiel's car is already here, you can send him out to help. I'm sure Charlie is fine in his playpen. We got him this new toy that speaks French. Fingers crossed he can start picking up some of the language."

"I told you, I'd be more than happy to teach him Lilim." Maze called over her shoulder as she lugged the baby seat towards the stairs. "Perfect for whenever he decides he wants to visit Hell."

"After what happened when he was born. I don't want him stepping a foot near that place." Her friend answered. "A trip to France when he is old enough is good enough for me...but I appreciate the offer as always."

"Well, if you decide otherwise, it's still on the table." Maze smirked. "Though, I can equally be a translator if he ever wants a trip down there. Maybe with Amenadiel. Lucifer told me how it made him squirm. How I'd love a good show."

"I love you, but you do have a way of scaring me sometimes, Mazikeen," Linda replied. "It's a good thing we're friends."

"Yes," the demon agreed. "It's a very good thing."

Black. Blue. Red. A smidge of pink. No purple. For a split second, Maze was convinced she had walked into the wrong party until a certain girl came sprinting across the floorboards. Trixie Espinoza sporting pigtails painted with blue and pink hair chalk, smudged eye makeup, a ridiculous amount of red lipstick, and a familiar costume grinned widely at her.

"I'm Harley Quinn!" She stated as if it needed to be known. "Mom thought you wouldn't want a normal birthday for Eden, so I thought this would be cool!" She motioned around the room. "Do you like it?! Harley Quinn is awesome! She kicks as-butt, like you!" Trixie peered into the carrier. "Awe, she's asleep?" There was disappointment in her voice. "She's gonna wake up, right?"

As if summoned by the girl's words, Eden's eyes slowly opened and her mouth formed a surprisingly wide yawn. Maze undid the clips that strapped the baby into the seat and lifted her up into the air. This certainly hadn't been what she was expecting, but she was not about to argue against the theme.

"Normally, I would've assumed you'd have shown her this movie. But the guilty party this time is Lucifer."

Chloe smiled as she exited the kitchen, attention fixed on her honorary niece. She wore an apron, but it didn't appear to be as messy as one might assume when someone cooks. It was only when the demon saw the Devil peer out from behind the wall and note the smudges of flour and icing on his sleeves and shirt did she realize the true chef. The mastermind behind the whole feast.

"Be thankful one of us knows how to properly bake." Lucifer smirked as he wiped his hands on a dishrag. "The Detective's cupcakes were looking a little on the failed Pinterest side."

"Cake is cake." Chloe huffed, elbowing her boyfriend lightly. "Looks can be deceiving. They might even taste better than yours...despite the melted frosting."

"Believe what you will." Her partner smiled. "But I am the ruler of the kitchen and my reign has yet to be taken over. Although, brownie points towards your egg toast."

"Uncle Luci has no idea what he's talking about." The Detective crooned, tickling one of the baby's feet. "He's just insecure about his own baking abilities and tries to hide it." She straightened up so that she was face to face with Maze. "May I?"

"Pretty sure she has a dirty diaper, but sure." The demon replied, gingerly handing the baby over. "You guys didn't have to do all of this."

"We're family, Maze." Chloe smiled. "And trust me, this is just…"

"OH MY GOD!"

The adults and Trixie turned to see Ella, her costume in much greater detail than Trixie's, standing in the doorway. Behind her Dan juggled what looked like to be a few boxes of presents and a tub of ice cream. The overly excited scientist nearly tripped over her own to feet as she made her way over to the group.

"I just saw you last week and it's like you've gotten bigger since!" Ella gushed, adjusting Eden's bow. "Stop growing up so fast! You're going to make me cry!" She looked from Chloe to Maze. "Can I hold her?! Let me hold her!"

"Gotta wait your turn," Chloe stated. "I just got her."

"You suck, Decker." Ella pouted before her attention was redirected to Trixie. "Costume buddies!" And Maze couldn't help but roll her eyes and slightly smile as the two high fived. Humans. "Anyway, Amenadiel is out there helping Linda. Can I assist in any way?"

"Charlie's in the other room in his playpen where Trixie is supposed to be watching him." The Detective said eyeing her daughter. "Maybe make sure he isn't getting into anything?"

"He's fine, Mom." Trixie said with a wave of her hand. "I put Spongebob on. Amenadiel had Discovery Channel on and it was too boring. He seems to like it better anyways."

"All the same," Chloe continued. "He's a toddler and they like to get into things. The last thing we need is for something like that to happen." Her eyes flickered over to Dan who was still trying not to drop his items. "Remember when Trixie was three and somehow got into the medicine cabinet and drank half a bottle of cough syrup?"

"Poison Control probably thought someone was murdered the way you were panicking." Dan laughed slightly out of breath. "Can I maybe put these somewhere?"

"I don't know, I'm rather enjoying watching you play circus, Daniel." Lucifer sneered, earning him a glare from Chloe. "Alright, alright, fine. I suppose the kitchen table will do for the gifts and the ice cream in the freezer obviously." He shook his head and turned to his partner once the other man was out of sight. "Did we really have to invite him?" Another glower. "Fine, fine. I'll go do something to keep myself busy. Perhaps Amenadiel and Linda need help."

"I made Linda a similar offer earlier." Maze began as Chloe bounced Eden in her arms. "If you need me to dispose of Lucifer, just say the word."

"I think Mama needs to go out on a few bounties." The Detective cooed, staring at the demon as she spoke to the infant. "You can stay here for a few nights and we'll be just fine and dandy, isn't that right, Eden?"

Maze frowned at the woman's words. "I'm perfectly fine." She informed her, reaching forward to snatch her daughter back. "Right now, I am more than happy to focus on my kid...there will always be other jobs."

Though as the weeks turned into months, she had grown weary of sitting around the house. A thought that made her feel guilty. An idea that it was wrong of her to want to work instead of staying back with her child and focusing her attention there.

"Maze," Chloe's voice was softer this time. "It's been a year. There is no shame going back to work."

"I said I'm fine!" The demon insisted almost forcefully. "I'll go when I'm ready and right now...right now, I have things to do. Important things." Her stare met Eden's and the baby smiled. She did her best to return the gesture, but the thoughts of diapers and midnight bottles crossed her mind as they often did. "We're happy."

Before the Detective could open her mouth to reply, Linda, Amenadiel, and Lucifer stepped through the front door. Eden giggled, though she most likely had no idea that the boxes the adults carried were gifts for her. The thoughts left Maze's mind as the presents were piled on to one another. This was way more than the demon had expected. Almost excessive.

"Did you guys buy an entire store?" Maze half joked as she took it all in. "The kid's favorite thing at the moment is a spoon. Really, you didn't…"

"We know." They all said in unison.

Maze just shook her head in disbelief and bounced Eden in her arms. "You're a lucky kid." She commented, looking at the others. "Why don't we get this party started?"

And, like clockwork, as if the world and fate itself knew, there came a knock at the door. A knock that caused that bubbling in the pit of Maze's stomach to start up again. Chloe looked around confused as if recounting all of the guests.

"Did someone order something?"

Curiously, the Detective made her way to the front door and opened it. Maze felt her blood run cold, arms tightening around Eden as she stared dumbfounded at the stranger who gazed back equally as shocked. A man she hadn't seen well over a year. Someone she hadn't wanted to see at all.

Ben Rivers.

[caffeinated-moonchild]

therapy [jeon jungkook]

writer: michiko

genre: angst, short story, fan fiction

synopsis: some things are only for oneself. some things are shared to friends, family, significant other, or even social media. but there are things that only the therapist knows.

character/s: jeon jungkook, original character [i]

TRIGGER WARNING: may contain mention of violence, profanity, mental health, self-harm

story:

There are things that no one else knows, things that are better off kept to oneself or locked away in the deepest and darkest part of ourselves. It sounds kind of selfish, almost as if I did not give a single fuck about anyone around me because sharing is supposed to be caring, but let us be honest for a while...none of you gives a shit about anyone, too.

But when you keep everything to yourself and not share it with anyone, chances are you would burst into flames and your enemies will dance on your ashes, not even taking time to scatter your remains at your favorite place. So the moral lesson of life is trust no one. 

Why have I grown to be such a heartless loser? It’s all because of a guy. 

How cliché. But isn’t life a compilation of clichés?  

“Let’s give him a name. Jeon. Let’s call him that. 

It wasn’t anything romantic or extraordinary like eyes meeting from opposite sides of the room or bumping into each other and me spilling coffee on his perfect white shirt. But it does involve coffee. 

There is this hidden gem of a coffee shop in Gangnam that holds these jam nights. It's really fun. It's not just music. There's a bit of slam poetry and every Friday the 13th, there's a speed dating.

Yes. That's where I met Jeon. 

I still remember his first question…"

I had yet to settle on the stool when the guy asked, "What's with the black lipstick?" His voice dripped of this tone that seemed like some kind of judgment, which I was ready to retort. But then my eyes saw the most gorgeous being to walk this fucked up planet. Maybe for me but that was the thing, I normally dislike everyone but there was something about him that gripped onto me so tight that I could not find a way to escape it. 

His dark brown eyes seemed too pierce through my soul, his button nose being the only adorable thing on such a handsome face, his red lips tugged up to a smirk, and framing his face was his gorgeous chin-length black hair with an undercut on the right side―a modern Hades with his black clothes and black boots, matched with his golden skin that glowed even under the dim light of the coffee shop.

I arched my brow as I looked at him, wondering what a guy like him was doing at a speed dating.

“Not to be judgmental but he had the look of a sex god and I am pretty sure that every girl who sees him would definitely jump on him. Trust me on that one because if it wasn’t for my lack of interest and self-control, I would have straddled him right there and then.”

Out of habit, I rolled my eyes not out of genuine annoyance but more of to build a bit of persona around him. It was more of a mask as I tried to gauge what he likes and what he was into...the likes. “I didn’t really want to go to this thing. When they said Friday the 13th event, I was looking forward to a slasher fest or a horror movie night, but apparently that’s not what’s going on. I’m not thrilled.” 

And though I stay over poetry and enjoy the sappy love songs, my reputation has long become the disturbed girl with serious parental issues resulting in lack of self-confidence and self-love, matched with a foul mouth and love for gore and anything dark and darker than black. 

“Call it stupid but it was easier to put a mask for someone rather than to bare my soul and be judged and tossed to the side. At least, with a mask, I can throw it away and make a new one. That makes me sound so deranged but so what?”

He chuckled, crossing his legs like he was some kind of model who just had to show off that he could look like a model. “Dark but I like it.” 

That was what did it for me. The moment he appreciated the darkness I presented, I thought that nothing would scare him because right then he knew that knives and blood are what keep me sane. Right then I thought that he knew what kind of mess he was getting into...or what I thought he was getting into. 

“The more we talked, the more I found myself falling in love with him. I learned how he is more than the guy that he lets on to be. In ways, we were similar. We both hated being judged and so we pretend to be someone else to keep our true selves intact and untouched by the chaotic world outside and toxic people who feed on the weak and the kind.

And the more things got real, the more I wanted it. But he felt differently.”

His hand has always felt warm around mine, making me feel safe and secured. There was something about every bit of him that made me feel warm...as if I was home. 

The view was nothing spectacular but the way the sun and the clouds decorated the blue sky was breathtaking in its own way. Our eyes would momentarily take a break from basking in the light and meet each other in a passionate yet brief glance, as if to make sure that we still had each other. I dreaded the moment that we would have to part…

“So you’d understand how crushed I felt when he let go of my hand because his friends were approaching us and he hasn’t told them about me for reasons I didn’t know at the moment, reasons I wished I didn’t know.

He held me as if he didn’t want to lose me. He touched me like I was a goddess he worshiped. He kissed me as if we would die tomorrow. He told me he loves me as if those were the only words he knew. 

But the moment his crew gets involved, I become a girl who got obsessed with him and wanted him all to myself and he was just kind enough to actually play with me.

What kind of self-respecting woman would stay with a guy like him?”

His head hung low, eyes could not even meet mine. “What the hell was that, Jeon?” My voice was firm, trying my best not to explode and risk another unnecessary argument that I knew I could not handle at the moment. “I know you have some kind of reputation to uphold but why can’t you just tell them that we’re in a relationship? Why do you have to make it seem like I am some kind of obsessed fangirl who wouldn’t leave you alone?” 

As he looked up at me, I could see that he felt guilty about it. His doe eyes always worked its charm and I would often forgive him but I could not seem to find a reason to do so. 

“My self-confidence was on a different kind of low. A part of me felt as if he was just hanging me on a hook because I love him...I loved him. He liked the ego boost so he kept me. Every single time he made me feel like a stalker fangirl, I lost every bit of faith and hope that someone could love someone so messed up, that someone could appreciate the broken. 

I very much thought he could and maybe he could.”

Shaking my head, I knew what I had to do and say, “I’m going. I’m sorry, Jeon. I can’t do this if you want to keep this up. I know that you have your own issues but I can’t keep on ignoring it. I can’t keep on pretending that it’s okay because it’s not. I love you. I swear, I do. Maybe even more than myself.” 

I should not have glanced at him because the moment I saw that look on his face, his brown eyes pleading with me. Immediately, I looked away to avoid breaking and losing my stand. “Maybe someday, Jeon.” I paused, a brutal attempt to keep myself from breaking down. “I love you.”

Then I left. 

I left before I changed my mind and decided to settle for what was there. 

“As petty as it sounds, it drove me back to the darkest parts of my mind. Whatever light he brought to my life disappeared. My life drowned in pitch black again. 

My family is a mess, my parents constantly breathing down my neck over every single thing and me being the constant disappointment in their golden lives. My friends expect me to be as high-achieving and goal-oriented as they are as if I have no dreams. 

As stupid as it may seem, Jeon was the only one who understood me...or tried and that was more than enough. 

He tried. And that’s okay.

I didn’t want to kill myself over him. I just wanted to feel a bit of physical pain to justify the emotional pain that I was going through, thinking that the break-up was too small of a thing to cry over...and wounds are more valid.

But I guess I was wrong because I had to talk about all of this again when I didn’t want to. As much as possible, I wanted to keep this all hidden and buried underneath but therapy really wants us to dig deep, right?”

Dressed in a little black dress, curly black hair clipped at the side, black boots tapping against the floor, bandaged wrists making the perfect accessory to show off while drinking a non-spiked punch―it was an outfit I had no time to plan out but it was a perfect way to show off how I feel about the entire thing...not that anyone gives a shit anyway. 

Across the floor was Ms. Kang, glancing at my direction as if I was going to have a breakdown. Her eyes even got bigger than they already are just when I felt someone standing next to me. And by the look on Ms. Kang’s face, she was invested. 

I knew that the older woman across the floor was not going to look away anytime soon. And I did not have to look at who stood next to me because I could very much tell by the scent that was wafting to my direction. 

“Oh Jeon.” 

“What do you want, Jeon?” I asked, trying to stay strong despite my own strength wavering. 

He chuckled, the same cocky reaction he had whenever he knew that he had something in his grip. “You.”

“I’m not a ‘what’ and didn’t I say that we’re not getting back together until you learn to treat me like your girlfriend and not some psycho stalker?” I rolled my eyes as I took a good gulp of my drink, hoping that I seemed convincing because I did not believe anything that was coming from my lips.

He nodded, setting his cup down on the table before he held me by the shoulders and faced me towards him. “And that’s why I’m here. To make things right.” The cocky look on his face immediately melted, his hands reaching for mine. “I told my friends who you are in my life and it took me a while to realize that it didn’t matter what anyone wants to see from me. What’s important is that I’m happy and I’m happy with you.” 

Arching a brow, I asked, “Really?”

“Really.” A smile stretched across his lips as a soft one appeared on mine, almost as if telling him that we were okay. 

“Sometimes, love can be as simple as forgiving. May their apology be truth or lie, time can only tell and it may be too late but you did your part. But we can’t always fear forgiving and getting hurt. Let’s be honest, we learn by getting hurt. And we won’t know unless we try. 

As much as I wanted to keep Jeon at arm’s length, I want to know if things will work out now because I don’t want to wake up one day regretting that I didn’t forgive the guy I truly love, especially for something that’s still fixable.”

“Why is Ms. Kang looking at me like she wants to murder me?” Jeon asked, arms cautiously wrapped around my waist. 

Pressing my lips together for a while, I looked at him with a smile. “Maybe because she knows what kind of asshole you are?” I laughed. 

With a confused look he asked, “What do you mean?”

“Let’s just say that I tell my therapist everything.”

[nerdycatastrophe]

Idk did some pixel art and I’m now gonna attach my danganronpa fancharacter biographies because I can :DD (sprite edits, character details and designs are subject to change btw and this very post will be re-blogged everytime I edit something.)

W/ SCARF AND BEANIE

Name and Talent:

Ikani Rinyu, Ultimate Digital/Multimedia Artist

Birth Date and Age:

February 13, 16 years old

Race and Ethnicity:

Polynesian Japanese // Filipino Japanese

Accent:

Japanese, just...japanese.

Blood Type:

A+

Weight and Height:

128 lbs, 5'2 ft

Mental or Physical disorders:

Recovering Pyromaniac (I’m still researching about Inattentive ADHD and if this oc has accurate symptoms) and Peptic Ulcer

Sex, Pronouns and Gender identity:

Biologically Female, Prefer She/Her/Herself & They/Them/Themself or any pronouns & Demi-girl

Sexual and Romantic orientation:

Asexual Biromantic

Religion / Belief:

Agnostic

Other Hobbies:

Cooking, Baking, Making things out of matchsticks and wood and Drawing traditionally.

Likes:

Making digital artworks, playing with match sticks and flowers.        

Loves:

The idea of setting things on fire or being around fire (for emotional reasons and urges) and warmth.      

Dislikes:

Theft-related activity, acidic food and seafood.

Despises:

The idea of water and feeling cold.

Personality type and traits: ISFP

(INTROVERTED;SENSING;FEELER;PERCEIVING)

Personality description:

Ikani is mostly self-aware of reality’s hardships yet tend to keep up an ‘’whatever goes, is what happen and I cannot potentially do anything to change that.’’ carefree, reckless, will only believe when she has seen attitude that pretends to be a healthy optimistic nihilist way of dealing with life but when unmasked turns out to be a faulty uncertain self-hate of pessimism that pretends to be optimistic or a realist way of thinking and solving problems. This can badly affects her creative ability to do any problem solving, thinking outside the box or standing up for herself and the people she loves alone unless she has encountered that situation before or has help from someone with far more experience. She does not rebel that much to authority or dictatorship as she believes rules are rules or the law is the law and whatever unintended consequences that follow or reports of abuse of power are normal and natural but she’s open-minded and adaptable enough to consider changing rules and regulations peacefully if she’s convinced or confident enough. Either way, Whatever happens is whatever happens in the present and she won’t make any effort to neither change or preserve any rules or laws that much. She, most of the time, follows whatever happens in the present world with no consideration for the consequences that would follow because she doesn’t like to think philosophically or overthink.

Habits:

Stimming, flapping hands around, running around in circles when stressed, excited, happy, confused or afraid if she can’t bottle up her emotions, Running away from problems as much as possible (literally and figuratively) and bottling up her feelings. Also tends to get distracted and daydreams a lot yet when it’s her turn to talk about herself she goes a little overboard which can put off people and assume she is selfish. (when it’s just a habit she does)

Character morality alignment:

Lawful Neutral <-> Neutral Good

Name Etymology and Shenanigans 1:

Ikani Rinyu once translated from Japanese to English respectively means ‘’How’’ and ‘’Renew’’ forming the phrase, ‘’How renew.’’

Name Etymology and Shenanigans 2:

Mess with the letters on Ikani and you’ll get ‘’Ikanai’’ which means ‘’Don’t go’’ referring to her brother, ‘’Ika’’ which means ‘’not exceeding’’, ‘’Kanai’’ which means ‘’Flower’’, ‘’Kani’’ which means ‘’crab’’, ‘’Ikan’’ which means ‘’Fish’’, ‘’Ani’’ which is another term for ‘’brother’’ and ‘’Ni’’ which means ‘’to go’’

Name Etymology and Shenanigans 3:

Mess with the letters on Rinyu and you’ll get ‘’Rin’’ which means ‘’Cold’’ in Japanese and ‘’Dignified’’ or ‘’Severe’’ in Italian, ‘’Inu’’ which means ‘’Dog’’, and ‘’Rinu’’ which can mean ‘’Freelance of flowers’’ and ‘’Beautiful’’ or ‘’Pretty’’ in Indian.

Zodiac and Planet:

She is an Aquarius and is assigned the planet Uranus based on her zodiac.

Backstory:

Ikani Rinyu was born as a second child to a worker class family (Rinyu family) who mostly had time for her. Many years went by and her parents had to focus on things they deemed far more important in order to sustain a family with regular income. Her family’s income condition worsened when the day before Ikani 7th birthday, She, her brother and her parents were robbed of a lot of yen at gun-point by a gang after they went to the store and bought a digital tablet for her as a gift (because they felt as if they were neglecting Ikani because of work). After the incident happened, Ikani's mother divorced with her husband because it turned out that Ikani's father had connections with the gang that robbed them and never told her about it. Another reason for her parents divorce is that both of her father and mother had an underlying conflict in which both were never really interested in each other and only agreed to marry back when they were friends so that they can decrease their tax and avoid debt and they both felt guilty about divorcing each other because both felt that they were selfish with their underlying mutual motivations for marriage,  they were still saving up money and investing and couldn’t afford to divorce early, and that divorcing will affect their children greatly if they will be honest about it to them at an early age (suprise suprise, bottling up your feelings worsens everything, yourself and everyone around you). This robbery incident went mainstream after the time Ikani’s mother divorced Ikani’s father and her remaining family was secretly interviewed by a group of ''journalists'' and this is how (insert academy name) found and scouted Ikani just so they can replace and -cover up an ultimate's death.- So her mom and the group of journalists made a contract in exchange for financial gain and basically free education for Ikani and her brother and also medical + financial insurance. Ikani started setting things on fire (mostly flowers, sticks and wood) on ‘’accident’’ just to gain attention from her busy mom, brother and everyone else she was close to and was forming a relationship with, in which her ‘’habits’’ slowly spiralled and developed into impulsive Pyromania because she felt that she was never loved enough + with her parents divorce taking a toll on her (her brother tried to help but also didn't know what to do and was busy with their own school). Around this time, she also felt like eating would decrease her family's money greatly so she tried skipped eating snacks at school but not basic meals yet she still developed peptic ulcer. On her 11th birthday, Ikani’s brother finally took a stand and consulted a ‘’reliable’’ therapist/psychiatrist and a dietician (who helped with the insert academy's goals) despite it being expensive and discouraged by her mom. Her therapist/psychiatrist then noted to her parents that Ikani should focus more on expressing her emotions in more artistic and creative ways in order to cope with her bottled up emotions, trauma and urges and using the digital tablet she got at age 7 when everything was still relatively alright should be a good head start. Her dietician also helped her with resolving her peptic ulcer and convinced her that she shouldn't feel bad about eating extra snacks and set out a diet for her to follow. Soon, The academy’s contract money given to her parents was enough to sustain her creative urges as Ikani eventually learned to create moving and still digital artworks including complex 3d and photography by simply using her tablet that had limited features over the years despite her age as she contributed to many famous and iconic company logos, designs, presentations, artworks, animations, movies, edits and videos that are found in the media. Over the years, Ikani secretly wished that the contract would stop as that diverted corporate's financial wants for themselves because of her hidden relations with the academy journalists and she wishes she was never born and regretted that time she was too ''needy'' at age 7 (she shouldn't blame herself though) but never took her own ground against it to her mom as she felt like she was selfish for wanting to do something her mom didn't desire so she ended up ONLY EVER venting her emotions through her work/hobby and sometimes forgot how to express her emotions.

Reasons for acting the way she does during the killing game:

The reason why she doesn’t vent her emotions and only bottles it up during the killing game is because just like in the original Danganronpa series, Monokuma would confiscate your belongings that allowed access to communicating with the outside world (and it just turned out her only venting item was a digital tablet that would probably screw up Monokuma) Also, it’s because the idea of ‘’Survival of the Fittest.’’, ‘’Being weak will kill you.’’ and ‘’No time for crying because it is not yet over’’ is in her head all the time + fear of being impulsive again and accidentally resurfacing her Pyromania and basically rendering her brother’s efforts to help her with her problems useless so yeah she’s guilty of wanting to feel emotions so she eventually becomes numb to the things happening around her.  All of these are her ways of justifying being emotionless, being unintentionally ignorant and coping with loss and grief in a dangerous game that could kill you any moment.

Student percentile, Predictability and chances:

>Gets killed normally: 30%

>Punished and killed for breaking rules OR due to unfair trial misconduct shenanigans because plot: 4.6%

>ATTEMPTED to murder someone: 20%

>Blackened AND escapes:  10.5%

>Blackened BUT executed:  25.5 %

>Killed someone BUT died during or before their murder trial:  9%

>Betrays everyone as the MASTERMIND: 1.5 %

>Betrays everyone as the MOLE // TRAITOR: 5.7 %

>Survives the killing game as an forever evil MOLE // TRAITOR // MASTERMIND in the killing game: 0.8 %

> Survives the killing game as a redeemed MOLE // TRAITOR // MASTERMIND in the killing game: 0.3 %

>Survives the killing game as a normal person in the killing game:  35%

W/ VISION CORRECTING VISORS

        2. W/ VISION CORRECTING READING GLASSES

         3. N/A EYEWEAR

Name and Talent:

Cyl Bol // Cyden Boliver ^ Ultimate Arcade Attendant

Birth Date and Age:

July 9 ^ 15 years old

Race and Ethnicity:

Dutch Japanese

Accent:

Russian mixed with Dutch and Japanese

Blood Type:

B-

Weight and Height:

100 lbs ^ 5'5 ft

Mental or Physical disorders:

Developing schizophrenia symptoms (I’m still researching on this so I’m not sure) and PAPD (Passive-Aggressive Disorder) and has genetic Albinism + Astigmatism.

Sex, Pronouns and Gender identity:

Biologically male, Any pronouns but They/Them/Themself and He/Him/Himself are preferred, Gender-fluid

Sexual and Romantic orientation:

Toric // Quadrisan or Viramoric

Religion / Belief:

Reformed // Progressive Judiasm (yeah, this the correct term-)

Other Hobbies:

Debate, Internet surfing, Meditation, Reading philosophical/theology books, Practicing first-aid methods and crushing herbs.

Likes:

Salt, Bread, Dieting (fasting), Figs, Bread, Wheat and Grains, Krupnik with meat

Loves:

Philosophy, Theology, Basic human rights, Debating, Eating Chopped Liver 

Dislikes:

The taste of pork (im sorry for adding this if it feels a little bit racist but I genuinely hate pork and I wanted to add it to a character that fits it the most without being too ignorant and stereotypical while still making the character that dislikes pork have an actual personality and backstory other than just RELIGION stuff. keep in mind this character hates pork not because it’s ‘’unholy’’, it’s because it tastes horrible for them), Immature // Karen customers, His own talent, Seeds, Human contact, Getting sick and parties/social celebrations.

Despises:

Strict people, Strict rules, Strict regulations, Dense and stubborn optimists, Peer pressure, Being taunted for being weak // frail, The sun’s warmth and sunlight, Going outside, Backstabbers and being manipulated.

Personality type and traits: INTP

(INTROVERTED;INTUITIVE;THINKING;PERCEIVING)

Personality description:

Really really intentionally and maybe unintentionally paranoid, superstitious, ‘’weird’’ passive-aggressive and lonely since it's his way of avoiding unnecessary conversations that could drain out his energy for him to save up on topics he deems far more important (philosophy + theology) and people that could potentially hurt him again unless they specifically ask him or want something from him for a short // limited amount of time and say it extremely extremely politely to the point where he feels pity or someone out-smarts his passive-aggressiveness causing Cyl to do your favor immediately out of embarrassment, anger, frustration or getting flustered. Most of the time, Cyl has a rather nihilistic and pessimistic (but sometimes, realistic and optimistic at times) views and mindsets of life and would rather die rather than following strict regulations // rules. Although he is a passive type of Nihilist and knows there isn’t that much value in life despite searching it (even with religion), He still is sort of a coward and ends up helping other people out of pity, jealousy, admiration or respect and will still be willing to fight for people’s rights things society deems unworthy despite the odds and his diminishing motivation on doing so. Cyl prefers to be individualistic, thoughtful, overthink for hours, alone and free when it comes to him making decisions or going onto places. Although he’s an INTP, He allows his emotions to run wild at times (even if in the process, hurting other people whether he realizes it or not) which allows him to make thoughtfully calculated decisions without having the burden of emotions and mood. Because of his defiance against the norms, He can usually think outside the box and think of solutions quick enough to solve an underlying problem on time in an creative yet messy analytical manner. Also yeah he struggles following rules.

Habits:

Praying a bit too much than usual, Rapidly cleaning visor goggles // reading glasses even when not needed, Limping hands and fingers to relax hand tendons, muscles and bones and tugging at Hanukkah snow cap when embarrassed / flustered.

Character moral alignment:

Chaotic Neutral

Name Etymology and Shenanigans 1:

Cyl is an abbreviation of ‘’Cylinder’’  which indicates the lens power your doctor is prescribing to correct your astigmatism (and this oc has astigmatism)

Name Etymology and Shenanigans 2:

Bol can be an abbreivation for Broek Op Langedijk (a dutch town), Beacon of light, Bread of Life, Bolivia’s (sounds like Boliver) ISO Country code,  Beginning Of Life and Balls Of Light (paranormal phenominon associated with crop circles) Name Etymology and Shenanigans 3:

Cyden is of English origin and means "To stand strong and be brave together as one" and Cayden is of American origin and means ‘’Fighter’’

Name Etymology and Shenanigans 4:

Bolivar is the name of the South American soldier that had a country (Bolivia) dedicated to him. Oliver is a boy name that means ‘’Descendant Of The Ancestor’’ in English, In latin it means Olive (symbol of peace); peaceful. Olive is a girl’s name meaning ‘’Olive tree’’ and is another symbol of peace.

Zodiac and Planet:

He is a Cancer and is assigned the ‘planet’ moon based on their zodiac.

Backstory:

N/A (ITS ALMOST 2 AM LOL MAYBE TOMORROW)

Student percentile, Predictability and chances:

N/A (ITS ALMOST 2 AM LOL MAYBE TOMORROW)

[mg-sytem]

Shitty therapist vent

TW- sexual abuse, CSA, sexual content, invalidation

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So, when I first went into therapy at 13/14, it was shortly after I had finally told my parents about the sexual abuse I endured from 6-10. They quickly got me into therapy and reported this to the authorities. Anyways, I had went over everything I was willing to say to the therapist, and things I could remember, and we went over my symptoms of anxiety, depression, apathy (I didn't have the word for this at the time, and we'll get into this a bit further down) and just a lot of bad things.

She had the nerve to tell me, that FOUR years of sexual abuse, was not enough for me to have PTSD, because he had never penetrated me. Regardless of the amount of times he touched me, or tried to get me to touch him. Regardless of the fact that I was terrified to be around him. I simply couldn't have PTSD because of the things he DIDN'T do. Because he wasn't as "forceful" as he could have been.

But it doesnt end there. A while into therapy I was having full weeks of feeling apathetic. But my only words for this at the time were "like feeling numb and angry at the same time"

And her response? "Well you can't feel numb if you also feel angry so that doesnt make sense" instead of trying to help me find words for what I was feeling, she invalidated me.

Another time, I was going over the things that were happening that were really depressing me, like me and my girlfriend at the time being bullied really badly, even to the point of physical bullying. And her response? "It sounds like you're trying to find reasons to be depressed"

She also had a habit of trying to make it seem like I was...privileged i guess? She would tell me countless stories of clients she had that were severely abused, neglected, and were in foster care. She spent more time telling me stories about other kids who "had it worse" than actually help me.

I don't even remember the majority, because I just shut myself off after a certain point. I was young and didnt know how to tell that she was actually a fucking horrible therapist. I didn't know I could simply ask for another therapist, either.

She was a therapist for abused and neglected children specifically, by the way.

Then we get to the therapist I had from 16 to almost 19. That was the best therapy I had ever had. She helped me a lot, listened to me, gave me actual good advice and didn't invalidate me. She even helped me try and find ways to help myself while I was trapped in an abusive relationship. But sadly, she had to move away. Too far for me to continue seeing her.

Then we get to the last therapist I had... this was right after I was questioning if I was part of a system. I was diagnosed at that office with OSDD, and I started seeing the therapist that they said was the best LGBTQ+ therapist in their office. Well, she was pretty fucking terrible.

First she asked a lot of questions. Pronouns I used, how I identified, my transition goals, etc. Those are fine. But then she would ask things about my sex life? She asked how it was, what kind of people I had sex with, if I had any kinks/was into BDSM. (Not really sure how most of that was relevant)

I told her I had a sexual alter that would come out just for sex, then leave afterwards. I was also having issues with her insulting me, and my partner system. Especially when it came to sexual things. So I told the therapist about this. And her response? She had the NERVE to ask me if "she was a way for me to sexually roleplay as a beautiful blonde woman". I was disgusted. I'm a nonbinary trans man, I'm not a woman. My sexual fantasies don't involve me being a woman. I don't need to be a woman during sex to enjoy the things I enjoy.

She honestly said quite a few things that were Invalidating and gross, and caused a few alters to go dormant because of how uncomfortable it was for them. She tried to tell me that since we dont have full amnesia and i never leave the front, that my alters weren't developed very much, and were just "masks" I put on. The wording there is woefully incorrect. Not only do many OSDD systems have fully developed alters, but I really didn't choose to have this disorder. I have no control over who fronts when. And back then, I was still having a hard time accepting that I didnt get all the time to myself.

She started to realize that I was uncomfortable and FINALLY decided "okay I'm going to start doing more research on dissociative disorders" and actually asked me if my goal was integration, to which I said no. A big issue was, is that she kept comparing my experiences to a client she had, that had DID, and not OSDD. of course, my experiences are going to be very different from most people with DID. Because the disorders present very differently in many cases.

My partner system has DID. Their experiences are a lot different than ours. Their amnesia is between switches. OUR amnesia is that every other alter than me, they have amnesia about themselves. It can take them a long time to figure out who they are, and they don't have their own memories. We function off of collective memory when they front. The things they experience out here, are essentially stored in "my" memory. We don't yet have an inner world, which I assume is a reason we have this issue. Not even an alter that's been confirmed to exist for a long time. (I was 11 when I first interacted with him), remembers that far back. He doesn't remember the time he completely fronted for at least a few weeks where I have 100% amnesia. He doesn't remember the things we did and experienced at the younger age. He only recently gained emotional connection to a few memories.

Anyways, sorry this was long...I've just, been sick and tired of shitty therapists. And it makes me horribly sad when I see people feeling so shitty because their therapist or psychiatrist said something that hurt them so bad, that their worlds turn upside down.

Please please remember that just because they're therapists, doesn't mean they're always right. It doesn't mean they know EVERYTHING. and most therapist ESPECIALLY don't know much, if anything, about DID/OSDD. They're still only human, and sometimes they shouldn't even be QUALIFIED to be therapists.

Never feel guilty if you need to try again, and again, and again, to find someone better. Not every therapist will be a fit for you. Some are truly amazing at what they do, and some will connect with you, and many of them likely won't. Therapy should not be something that you dread. A good therapist will make you feel comfortable, and make you feel like they're someone you can confide in.

ENDOGENIC SYSTEMS DNI!!!!

[emilyplaysotome]

The Game of Love - Chapter 1

Since I have a bad tendency to obsess over what I write until I give up on it, I’m posting the first chapter of something new I’ve been dabbling with. Think of it like an original Down the Voltage Rabbit Hole, without the characters you know.

Meeting someone special is hard for anyone, but more so when you’re famous.

I can’t tell you when it was that I went from being Hana to being Hana on a billboard, but it happened slowly enough that I went from eating virtually unnoticed at a restaurant to being bombarded with selfie requests during the short time I picked up my food. I suppose that being one of the youngest women to ever win a Grand Slam will force you into the spotlight, but I’ve never thought of myself as a superstar.

The goal had always been to win gold at the Olympics.

Maybe Roland Garros.

And Wimbledon.

The U.S. and Australian Open if I was lucky.

They never told me that if you win the Australian Open and then manage to win the others in the same year, the world goes mad. They never told me that Nike, Adidas, and Reebok fall all over themselves trying to get you to agree to let them put out the “Hana shoe” and you go from being a struggling journeywoman on the tour to being richer than you ever could have imagined, thanks mostly to your team who milks you for every free moment when you’re not on the court.

You learn how to wear dresses and talk on camera and carry the weight of what it means to be a champion, constantly looking over your shoulder at the younger, hungrier crowd behind you that works twice as hard and trains harder because they don’t need to be on Good Morning America when you do. Your identity becomes “Hana the Tennis Champion” and you forget who you were when you were just “Hana, the girl who loves tennis” – hitting balls after dinner with dad on the courts by your house or joking around with the girls on the junior tour.

Those girls become competition, and your friendship is forced to change despite wanting it to be the way it was when things were simpler. They are nice and you love them, but the feelings are complicated and you forget what it means to have friends who see you as you are. There is always a commitment, a show, a movie, a project, a product – even during the off season, and of course, there’s the training.

You’re grateful to be successful doing what you love, but you know it can’t last forever and one day you decide you want to go out on top and announce that you’re done with the game that up until this point has been your entire life.

And you’re only 32.

I’m only 32.

The day after I retired I woke up as Hana, for the first time in 20 years. I suppose it’s out of habit that I still wake up at 7 A.M. and go for a run, but it’s been a few months and not much has changed.

My mom suggested I get a therapist.

That this major transition would be hard on anyone, but even harder on a prodigy who has been used to a regimented training schedule since she was 11.

I laughed it off, but after a couple of weeks I could feel the unease nagging at me, mocking me, asking me, “Who is Hana if there is no tennis?”

My therapist says a lot of high achieving people struggle with their self-worth outside of their profession. She challenged me to reconnect with friends I’d made at all stages of my life and I learned that being great at one thing left little time for love, creativity, music, and hobbies.

I also learned that I didn’t make many friends in my 32 years since I was too focused, too dialed in to waste time on anything outside of the goal. To be the best in the world I had taken on the mentality that everything outside of my goal was superfluous, but now I struggle to make it through the day.

“Who is Hana if there is no tennis?”

“I am…I am…”

“What are you feeling Hana?” my therapist asks.

“Scared. Confused. Angry. Lost.”

I’d had this rosy image of retirement, where I’d leisurely wake up next to a partner and make breakfast for us. Not just any partner if I’m being honest…him.

“I wake up at 7 A.M. and run 5 miles,” I find myself saying. “Then I make a breakfast smoothie. And then I remember that I don’t have anywhere to be and the depression takes over.”

“Have you been doing interviews?”

I shrug, “Not as many. They asked me to do commentary for the U.S. Open this year and I said I’d think about it.”

“What is your hesitation?”

I pause, thinking about what it would be like to live a tournament without participating in it. To see and comment on someone’s legacy that wasn’t my own. To one day have to announce that I’d been dethroned in my achievements and smile as if it didn’t bother me, when I’d probably just wonder if I’d retired too early.

“I never wanted to be on television. And I want to be able to answer the question who Hana is if there is no tennis.”

“It sounds like this time is providing you with a beautiful gift – to explore that question and your interests without limitations.”

She’s right, and I feel guilty for pitying myself when I have the freedom to do and go wherever I want. I let out a caustic chuckle and say, “I want to live in my games.”

“The ones you used to play on the road?”

I nod, wondering how serious she thinks I am and wondering if the statement is a joke at all.

“Why do you think you like them so much?”

“It’s fun to be someone who isn’t Hana. And it’s fun to fall in love.”

“Has Hana ever been in love?”

I think for a minute and nod.

“But you knew that, didn’t you?” I ask.

She shrugs and pushes her glasses up.

“I’m asking Hana the person, not Hana the superstar.”

“But our breakup was all over the tabloids…”

“Our time together is about you, not what’s in a tabloid.”

“Superstars have to date superstars. It’s like a law,” I say laughing. “What would Instagram think if I gave them anything other than aspirational?”

I’m lying but I can’t help myself, even in therapy my pride gets in the way of being honest. Dating him was never about appearances, at least, it wasn’t for me.

“Tell me about him.”

Eight years of memories flash in my mind, 22 to 30.

“We met after I won my first major. His movie premiere had him in Australia and he got tickets to the final. We ended up at an after party together and he gave me his number. It was good until it wasn’t and then he broke up with me.”

“That’s a very condensed version.”

I shrug again, feeling bitter that he seems to have moved on just fine and I haven’t dated anyone despite the rumors that pop up from time to time. I don’t feel like talking about how I kept pushing for us to move forward, with a vision for my retirement and life with him as he kept pushing for me to stay on the road. I don’t feel like talking about how much of our time was spent apart and how I suspected he preferred things that way.

That it was better to have a girlfriend too busy to take up more than an hour of his day on a regular basis than a girlfriend who could be present the way she wanted to be when we were together.

A pleasant chime goes off and she silences the alarm, noting we’re out of time and asking if next week works.

“My schedule is free,” I joke, but I feel annoyed that there’s nothing but endless free time and nothing to do with it.

When I’m home I open the games I referenced in therapy – the ones I jokingly call “choose your anime romance adventure games” with my mom versus their proper designation of “otome” games, as they’re known with the fandom online that I’m a part of. It’s only when I’m online that I feel like I can momentarily answer the question that nags at me, and that’s because no one know I’m me.

HanaLovesOtome the tumblr user is popular because of the screenshots she posts, not because she’s one of the most celebrated athletes of a generation.

She participates in every event and has spent an ungodly amount of money on special date stories and lottery gatcha items that put her consistently in the top ten featured users of Ikemen Inc.

She’s popular because people will ask her to purchase stories and games they can’t afford, and she’ll video record herself playing or twitch live stream the sessions so everyone can get a sense of what it’s like to fall in love with Ikemen Inc.’s most exclusive bachelors.

Even when I was on tour, I loved playing otome games because for a couple of hours I could stop thinking about my life and instead lose myself in a world overseas where I get to make choices for a protagonist whose name I’ve made my own as I decide what eligible bachelor she’ll fall in love with.

I’d found the games a year before we’d broken up, mostly by chance after seeing an ad on twitter that boasted, “The Perfect Boyfriend is in your phone - meet him now!” While normally I would have continued to scroll past, something about the caption had stopped me in my tracks. Looking back it was probably because the idea of the “perfect boyfriend” being in my phone was ironic having had such a drawn out long distance relationship in which it often felt that he only existed in my life virtually.

After entering my name for the main character I would be controlling, “Decoding His Affections” thrust me into a world that consisted of a simple illustrated background, paired with a cartoon character sprite whose various expressions matched the dialogue being said in the text box where the story played out.

While the prologue of “Decoding His Affections” was free, it ended with a prompt asking me who out of the five characters I’d just met, I wanted to get to know as my Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department partner and future perfect boyfriend. For the low price of $3.99, I could purchase one of five options and determine how my protagonist would fall in love. Depending on my dialogue selections, I was either granted a “Love Ending!” or a less desired “Happy Ending!”

Throughout the course of 13 interactive chapters, Sebastian went from being my underling, to my partner, and finally, to my boyfriend. As the protagonist with my name started to fall for Sebastian, I found myself enjoying the escape from my reality with a game “self” who always met with a positive response in love.

I soon found myself lost in a world where I could be transparent with my intentions without any fear of rejection. Sebastian clearly liked my main character back, but was conflicted about falling for a woman whose time in Tokyo had an expiration date. Even though their relationship was in a grey zone for the majority of the game, he was always warm, always loving, and most importantly, had responses that gave me butterflies as I read his poetic musings from a cold hotel room after a long day of training.

Seeing as how these games were a product of Japan, in addition to the subdued romance I also found myself getting a kick out of the cultural differences that were peppered throughout the story. Simple gestures such as the time that Sebastian grabbed her hand in order to protect her from an impending explosion, resulted in a shook inner monologue where my heroine wondered if her heart was racing from the danger, or because of the physical contact. There was something sweet about this world in which men and women shared a shyness around physical touching that was unlike anything I’d ever experienced as a Western woman. Handshakes, hugs, and even kisses on the cheek were something that happened in my life on a daily basis, yet I was suddenly living in a world via my phone where every gesture was laced with romantic subtext.

It was clear that the only thing Ikemen Inc. changed in their games was the names of their clearly Japanese love interests, in order to better appeal to a western audience. Other than that, their games remained true to their point of origin.

Looking back, our relationship was already strained with me hinting towards my expiration date and him pushing me to stay on the tour. The day I’d played my first otome game we were bickering over text about it, him convinced it would be better for both of us if I refocused on my career instead of settling down with him in his Calabasas home. As I achieved Sebastian’s coveted “Love Ending!” thanks to my carefully selected dialogue choices, I surprised myself by tearing up in which I read an ending where Sebastian confessed to me, or moreover the woman I whose life I was intermittently controlling, his undying love.

I’d felt a bit foolish at the time, having fallen prey to simple plot devices and romantic tropes, however Sebastian had done something for me that my relationship could not.

He’d managed to touch that part deep in my heart that still wanted to believe that romance was possible in this world, and more importantly, was possible for me.

In the weeks to come I found myself leaning on these games more and more as it became clear that my vision for the future did not align with his, it felt like every free second I was pouring myself into my fantasy life. By the time he ended things, I’d made way through the entire Ikemen Inc. catalogue of premium games and started to make my way into the exclusives with a higher price point, more beautifully illustrated scenes (CGs), and the Ikemen Inc. community leaderboard.

I play them a lot lately.

Maybe too much.

When I log in to my tumblr I see a message from my friend KittyGirl.

OMG Hana! Did you see they released Tyler Holland?

I saw and I played and I’m posting the full vid on twitch later ;)

…

I wonder who KittyGirl is as she types, and I wonder if she ever wonders who I am. I wonder if she would care if I was Hana the superstar or if she even follows tennis.

A lot of the girls on here don’t.

A lot of the girls on here are much younger than I am.

I wonder if it’s weird I don’t have many friends my age and that the people I feel closest to at the moment are all usernames in my feed.

STOP HANA YOURE THE BEST!

I smile because it gives me a sense of purpose and I haven’t felt that for some time.

It’s really good. He might be in my top 5 boyfriends.

NO. Really!?

Really.

Sometimes I wish that the men in my phone would come to life. That one day I would wake up and Sebastian would be there in human form, not his two-dimensional anime character form. I’ve thought about what he would look like if he were real.

Not just him.

Him and all the others I’ve dated over the years.

I wonder what it’d be like to date someone you know would never leave you.

Who could be that perfect boyfriend, or husband, or father.

It’s just as I’m thinking about this again that my phone chimes, letting me know I’ve received an email. I’m surprised to see it’s from Ikemen Inc. and that HanaLovesOtome has been invited along with the four other top Ikemen community users for an all-expenses paid, one month vacation to Ikemen’s Dream Resort.

My gut reaction is to scream, “Yes!” but then I remember I’m Hana the superstar.

What would people think if they found out?

What would the tabloids write if they saw me?

I pause.

Who is Hana if there is no tennis?

Hana is HanaLovesOtome.

And so I write an email back, deciding not to loop in my management team, and let the team at Ikemen Inc. know that I would be delighted to experience the resort. The response back is immediate and includes additional details and an NDA.

I skim the details of the agreement, relieved that I am not allowed to talk about the experience as that means no one else will and my identity as Hana the superstar will most likely be off limits to the press and send it back.

It all happens quickly and before the hour is up I’ve managed to secure my spot in the Ikemen Fan 5.

In the two weeks leading up to my departure, I no longer feel depressed or as if time stretches out in a way that makes me feel small and insignificant. I have an event to look forward to and arrangements to be made.

My therapist thinks a solo trip will be good for me and encourages me to journal and continue with the homework she’s given me outside of our sessions. My mom agrees that it will be good for me to have a real vacation which is something I haven’t had in years.

I’ve seen the world through touring but I’ve never really had time for tourism.

To that point, when I get on the plane it strikes me that this is my first time on a plane without the purpose of coming from or going to a tournament. I check two large suitcases and still bring a racquet in case I need the release of losing myself in a training session or two, despite the fact my performance no longer matters.

I wear the sunglasses I always wear to obscure my identity in first class and a wig and baseball hat and n95 mask, which always does the trip. At Narita airport, I see a man holding a sign that says “HanaLovesOtome” and I follow him to a town car that takes me two hours outside of Tokyo proper. It’s only when we pull off the main road, down a long skinny isolated one that I take off my disguise and breathe a sigh of relief that I managed not to attract the attention of any photographers or fans.

In my head I always saw Ikemen Inc. as a small developer, tucked away on a floor in a nondescript office building somewhere in Toyko.

The reality of their facilities surprised me, and we drove 15 minutes through dense woodland, past another small road with a sign indicating guest and employee parking - up to a manicured property where at the center was a sleek looking high rise. My driver stopped under the porte-cochere and helped me with my suitcases, triggering the mechanism for the large glass double doors to open which caught the attention of a man inside.

“Please, allow me to be of assistance,” he said, quickly grabbing the roller’s handles and helping me in to a spacious reception area. “I’m Roman and I run the resort division of Ikemen Inc.”

“Hana.”

There was something familiar about the way that Roman talked and the way he dressed that I couldn’t quite put my finger on as he introduced me to the woman at reception and made small talk about my trip. I engaged in the idle banter until the persistent feeling that I knew him from somewhere became so overwhelming that I finally found myself asking, “Have we met before?”

“Yes,” a female voice called out behind me.

I turned to see a girl, no older than 20 approaching us with a suitcase of her own. She wore the same expression that countless fans wore upon recognizing me as they rushed up to me and asked for a selfie except she was not looking at me, but at Roman.

“He’s Roman Hinton, from Ikemen’s Paradise Palace.”

“Ah, you’ve stayed with us in Paradise I assume?” Roman asked the girl smiling.

“Oh you have no idea,” she said dreamily, and it was then that I realized my wish of dating one of the men in my phone might come true.

That’s the end of my rough first chapter. Let me know if you want to know where we go from here and I might post more. Tagging @nitelotus​ since she asked to see it 

[rushingheadlong]

You Could Know Me - A dad!Roger gen fic

Summary: You knew that coming out as non-binary wouldn’t always be smooth sailing, but you weren’t expecting to face rejection at every turn. Luckily your dad, Roger Taylor, is there to support you no matter what. 

Wordcount: ~2,800

Warnings: Transphobia and coming out, including being afraid of a parent’s reaction, though there is no transphobia from Roger. Given the subject matter there’s a heavy dose of H/C in this, but it has a very fluffy and happy ending.

Notes: Written for an anon request for Reader being present!Roger’s kid who comes out as non-binary, with everyone else being unaccepting and Roger being the best dad ever. Y/N is the notation for the Reader’s chosen name, and D/N is the notation for their deadname. I’ve left their parentage unspecified, so you can fill in the blanks as you please.

(Turns out, I have a soft spot for writing trans!Readers and once I started working on this I just couldn’t stop. I hope you like it, anon, because I loved writing it ♥)

“I just don’t, you know, get it,” your best friend says, and you feel that familiar pit in your stomach start to grow. “I mean, you’re either a boy or a girl, yeah? You can’t just make up other options.”

“I’m not making up- look, some people are born one thing but that’s not who they are-”

“Yeah, but you’re not telling me that you’re now the opposite gender, you’re trying to tell me that you’re… something else.”

You had explanations prepared before you started this conversation. You had memorized how you were going to define your non-binary identity, how you were going to debunk the idea of a gender binary, how you were going to explain the history of “they” as a single-person pronoun. Except you haven’t even gotten to the pronoun conversation yet, because despite all your preparations you weren’t expecting to be met with so much hostility from someone you had considered your closest friend. 

And now when you need them the most all of those explanations are gone. Your mind feels filled with static, anxiety ramping up into outright panic, and you shove your hands into your jacket pockets to hide how badly they’re shaking. “Listen, I don’t- if you don’t understand that’s fine-” It’s really not, though. “-but I just... I just want you to support me in this.”

Your friend sighs. It sounds annoyed, and your heart beats painfully fast in your chest. “Look, D/N…”

“It’s Y/N.” You had told her that at the beginning of the conversation. 

“Yeah, I’m probably not going to remember that.” She makes a show of glancing down at her phone, but you can see that the screen is black without any notifications. “Listen, I’ve gotta go. We’ll talk about this later, okay?”

It takes you a moment to find your voice, and by the time you finally say, “Okay,” she’s already walking away.

You stay where you are for several long minutes, blinking back tears and swallowing down anxiety and feeling so stupid for thinking that your friend would be any different than anyone else you’ve tried to come out to. 

Because you started with the LGBT+ group at your university, only to find that there were no other trans people there and the cis members looked at you with suspicion when you gave your pronouns. So instead you checked out a trans youth group in the city, which ended up being full of binary trans people making their way through a series of transitions that you’re not even sure if you want yet. 

You had gone to the student services office to see if you could get your name changed on your university paperwork and you were immediately dismissed. “Come back with proof of your legal name change, or an override letter from your advisor,” you were told. So you had gone to your advisor to plead your case and he had looked at you with pity, and recommended that you go to the health center to get resources to deal with your stress and “confusion”.

And you went to the health center, because maybe talking this over with a therapist would do you some good. But once you had said you were non-binary the therapist had started with a line questioning that you weren’t comfortable with: How’s your relationship with your parents? Did you have a difficult childhood? Do you feel unheard or unnoticed in your daily life?

You left her office with a second appointment made under your deadname that you don’t think you’ll be going to, and more confusion in your heart than when you first walked in. 

You sniffle a few times, and wipe at your eyes, and finally leave the place where you had met your friend. Ex-friend, now, probably, and fuck that’s not a thought you think you can handle right now. You don’t think you can handle much of anything at the moment, to be honest. Even simply being in public is making your skin crawl, and you hurry home as quickly as you can because at least there you’ll feel safe.

You throw your bag down on the floor and curl up in a ball on the couch, and everything just hits you at once. You start sobbing, remembering the look of disgust on your friend’s face, the way the therapist constantly misgendered you, the uncomfortable feeling of being both too trans and not trans enough depending on where you went, and having no idea how you’re supposed to navigate this confusing path when you’re so fucking alone. 

You just want someone, anyone to support you in this. You want someone to call you Y/N and “they” without stumbling over name or pronoun. You want that so badly that the wish feels like a physical ache in your chest. Hell, you’d even take the mistakes, you’d take the slip-ups, you’d take the accidental misgendering and deadnaming as long as it was accidental. As long as it meant that someone cared enough to make the effort to try. 

You’re crying so hard that you don’t hear the door open or the quiet footsteps that announce someone else’s arrival in the house. It’s not until you feel a hand pet your hair and a gentle voice ask, “D/N, dear, what’s wrong?” that you realize your dad is home. 

Roger is crouched down on one knee in front of you and he looks worried, understandable considering that he found his child bawling their eyes out on the living room sofa. “I- I-” you try to explain, but your breath catches in your throat and before you can stop yourself you’re crying again.

Roger wraps his arms around you and you bury your face against his shoulder, soaking his shirt with your tears. “It’s alright, D/N, whatever it is, it’ll be alright,” he says, trying to soothe you, but his words and your deadname only ratchet your anxiety up even more. 

It’s not alright and you don’t know how you’re going to explain this to your dad without coming out and you can’t do that, you can’t, because if he freaks out and reacts like everyone else you don’t know what you’re going to do-

“D/N, D/N, dear, you have to calm down,” Roger says, rubbing one hand along your back. “Try to match your breathing with mine, yeah? In… and out… and in again…”

Your first inhale is a desperate gasp, quickly choked off by another sob, but Roger is patient and he keeps coaxing you through each breath, grounding you until the panic attack subsides and your crying finally stops. “Feeling better?” Roger asks quietly. You shrug, as best you can with your dad’s arms still around you and your face still hidden against him. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not particularly,” you mumble. 

It’s a response that you know isn’t going to fly, and you’re not surprised when Roger sighs and says, “Yes, well, I’m a little worried about you now. I just want to know if everything’s alright.”

“Obviously not.” Roger pokes you in the side and despite yourself you manage a small smile. You pull back, wiping at your eyes for a moment before Roger gently pulls your hands away and rubs at the tear tracks on your face with his sleeve. You can see the concern in his eyes and it makes you feel guilty enough that you find yourself saying, “I, ah, I had a fight with a friend this afternoon.”

“Must’ve been one hell of a fight.” Roger offers you a small grin, but it does little to comfort you as you remember exactly how the conversation with your friend had gone. 

“Yeah, it was,” you say in a small, watery voice. “I don’t… I don’t think we’re friends anymore, actually.”

“Now, don’t say that,” Roger says. “Believe me, I’ve had some nasty arguments with some very dear friends in my time, but once you both cool down and can talk it out…”

You shake your head. “I don’t think there’s any coming back from this. She thinks I’m crazy, or a- a freak.”

Roger frowns in obvious confusion. “Why the hell would she think that?”

It’s always been easy to talk to your dad and now you’ve gone and said too much without realizing it. So you don’t answer his question and Roger sighs again, a little more frustrated this time. He stands up with a small groan, his joints protesting at the movement, and sits next to you on the couch, wrapping one arm around your shoulders. You want to lean into his embrace but you hold yourself stiff and apart, afraid to let down your guard for fear of saying something that will irreparably ruin your relationship with your dad. 

“Listen, D/N, I hope you know that you can tell me anything,” Roger says. The more he calls you by your deadname the more you struggle not to flinch at the sound of it. You know he’s not using the wrong name on purpose, but that doesn’t make hearing it hurt any less. “I don’t care if you’ve murdered someone, you’re still my kid and I’ll still do anything I can to help.”

He sounds so sincere that for a moment you don’t think about the terrible reactions you’ve had from everyone you’ve come out to so far. You just think about how this is your dad, the one who’s always been there for you no matter what, the one who’s supported every decision you’ve ever made even if he didn’t agree with it, the one who’s always been your rock even as he lets you forge your own path in life. 

He’s Roger Taylor. He was close friends with Freddie Mercury, he’s a patron of Cornwall Pride, and he’s never shown even the slightest hint of homophobia in your entire life. And transphobia may be a beast of an entirely different nature, as you’re quickly finding out yourself, but you have to believe that he’ll be equally accepting of your gender because you don’t think you can keep struggling forward on your own anymore. 

Of course, actually getting the words out is slightly more difficult, especially as your anxiety spikes again at the thought of what you’re about to do. “I… Well, I…”

“Take your time with it, D/N, there’s no rush.”

And that’s a perfect, albeit unexpected, opening. “Actually, that’s… I don’t want to be called D/N anymore.”

“Alright,” Roger says, without a second of hesitation. “What would you like to be called instead?”

You take a deep breath. “Y/N.”

“Y/N,” Roger repeats, and your heart sings at the sound of your true name being spoken without derision or disdain. Roger grins at you and adds, “Good choice. I like it.”

You laugh, a little breathless and a lot nervous, and say, “Thanks. But that’s not- that’s not everything.”

Roger gives you the space to collect yourself, staying quiet for once and simply waiting for you to finish your explanation. You take another deep breath and let it out slowly. Your dad’s arm is heavy around your shoulders, the silence between you nearly suffocating as you open your mouth, struggling to find the right words at first before you manage to say, “I- I also want to be called “they” from now on.”

This time there is a pause from Roger and you wait, heart hammering in your chest, for the few too-long seconds before he finally says, “I can do that. Can you explain why, though?”

“I’m non-binary.”

The words hang in the air and you think you’ve never been more terrified in your dad’s presence than you are in this moment, waiting to hear his response to your announcement. Part of you wants to bolt out of the room before he says anything. A much larger part of you doesn’t want to move out of his hug, irrationally afraid that this may be the last one you’ll ever have. You know he loves you, but he’s also of a certain generation, and you’re not sure which of those facts is going to win out in this situation.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what that means,” Roger admits. “You’re gonna have to help an old man out here.”

“It’s a transgender identity, only instead of a binary man or binary woman I’m…” Something else, you had intended to say, but you remember your former best friend sneering those words at you and they stick in your throat, and you find that you can’t finish your sentence. 

“So you’re transgender, then,” Roger says. You nod, staring down at the floor instead of at your dad. “But you’re not strictly a man or woman… something in-between, then? Or neither at all?”

You shrug. “Something like that, yeah. It’s just... I’m non-binary. That’s it.”

“Okay,” Roger says easily. You look up at him, hesitant, afraid that despite his words you’ll find a look of disgust on his face, but the only thing there is the same love and acceptance that you’ve known your whole life. You can feel tears well up in your eyes again, and Roger’s face softens as he says, “Oh, Y/N…”

Hearing him use your real name so easily sets you off and you start crying again, burying your face in your hands until Roger coaxes you back upright and holds you close to his chest. You don’t even know why you’re crying anymore, except that you feel fragile around the edges, like there’s nothing you can do to hold back your emotions anymore now that you’re no longer hiding this last part of yourself. 

Luckily the tears stop quicker this time, and when you sit back up you’re quick to apologize with, “God, I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I’m being such a crybaby about this-”

“Hey now, don’t apologize,” Roger tells you. “You’ve had a hell of a day, I think you’re allowed to be a bit emotional.” He wipes your tears away again and maybe it should make you feel babied, but it’s such a familiar act from your dad that it’s a comfort to have him do it now. It’s a small assurance that coming out really hasn’t changed anything. 

Still, you can’t help but ask, “Are you really okay with all of this?”

“Of course,” Roger says immediately. “You’re still my kid, Y/N. This doesn’t change that. And honestly, I already told you that I’d help if you murdered someone, this is absolutely harmless in comparison to that…”

You do smile at your dad’s attempt to lighten the situation, but you’re entirely sincere when you tell him, “Thank you anyway. You’re… Well, you’re actually the first good reaction I’ve had so far.”

Roger’s face goes stormy at that, but his voice stays even when he says, “Right, you said you had a row with your friend...”

“And my academic advisor said I was “confused”, and the LGBT group on campus clearly didn’t want me there…” You shake your head, as if you can physically remove those thoughts, and you say, “Sorry. I don’t want to think about that now.”

“That’s fine,” Roger says, though it’s clear he’s not alright with even your brief summary of your previous attempts to come out. “But listen, Y/N, if you ever want me to throw a lawyer or two at your uni to sort shit out…” You laugh at the suggestion, and Roger just grins. “What? What’s the use of being rich and famous if I can’t use that to make things easier for my kid?”

It is a tempting idea, but not one you’re really capable of seriously entertaining at the moment. Instead you stand up, pulling your dad to his feet as well, and say, “You can use some of those Queen royalties to order takeout instead.”

“You have plenty of pocket money to order your own food, Y/N,” Roger tells you, but it’s a token protest at best and although he sighs and makes a show of rolling his eyes he’s already pulling out his phone to order the food. “What do you even want, Y/N?”

“Are you going to call me Y/N in every sentence now?” you ask instead of answering his question. 

Roger raises an eyebrow at you. “Does it bother you?”

“No. Not at all.” On the contrary you love hearing someone finally call you by your real name. 

“Then yeah,” Roger says. “Seems like I have twenty-odd years of calling you the wrong name to make up for, after all.”

You can feel tears prick at the corner of your eyes again, but this time you manage to hold them back. You hug your dad tightly and whisper another, “Thank you.”

Roger presses a kiss to your temple, his beard tickling your skin. “Of course. I love you, Y/N.”

“Love you too dad,” you say, and you mean it with every fiber of your being. None of your previous horrible interactions seem to matter anymore because you know your dad has your back. And with Roger Taylor in your corner, you’re pretty sure you’ll be able to get through anything else that’s thrown in your path. 

[here4theheartbreak]

Sentience (Halsey x Jin x Namjoon)

AO3 Link Here!

Relationships: Halsey x Jin x Namjoon Genre(s): fluff, smut Rating: Explicit

Written for @btspolyshipbingo​ Square Filled: Cyberpunk AU

Tags: smut, android AU, cyberpunk AU, android!Jin, MMF, polyamorous, sentient androids, prostitution, sex robot, threesome, multiple orgasms, bottom!Namjoon, top!Jin, anal sex, vaginal sex, bareback, coming untouched Summary: It’s Namjoon’s birthday and his girlfriend surprises him with an android. It’ll just be a single, fun night, right?

Word Count: ~10.8k A/N: Written for my best friend @i-live-so-i-love​ – who has forced me to see beyond the surface more than once.

“Happy birthday, baby. Please don’t be mad when you see your gift.”

Namjoon laughed a little, wrapping his arms around Halsey when she hugged him as he walked in the door. He pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Thank you? But I’m a little concerned now that that is what you opened with.”

Halsey smiled sheepishly, looking up at Namjoon with a gentle gaze.

“What’s up?” Namjoon asked.

“Well, I—” She sighed and took his hand, leading him to the couch. They sat and she faced him, seemingly bracing herself for something. “I heard you and Jimin talking last month.”

“About?”

“About your urges.”

“Oh, Hal—” Namjoon started. Halsey held up her hand.

“Please, lemme finish… Look, I know you told him you didn’t want me to know, and I’m sorry I eavesdropped… But I want you to know that I wouldn’t have been mad if you’d told me. I get why you didn’t want to – I know plenty of girlfriends would be pissed if they heard that from the man they’d been dating for the better half of a decade… But you know me, Joonie. You know I love you for you. Quirks and urges included.”

Namjoon smiled softly, lowering his gaze. “I felt so bad thinking about it… Like I was betraying you.”

“I heard what Jimin suggested to. The android service.”

“But that’s worse. That’s another person.”

“Well, yeah. But it’s a person that was literally made to please. So not exactly… But I get why you turned him down. But I talked to him after.”

Namjoon’s head snapped up, his eyes widening a little. “You did?”

Halsey nodded. “I did. And I got the number. And I—”

“Halsey… You didn’t.”

“He’s coming over soon. I can still cancel the appointment but… I figured you wouldn’t have to feel so guilty if I was here too. And if we could enjoy him together… It wouldn’t feel like cheating right? Because I’m happy and giving you permission.”

Namjoon’s shoulders slumped. “You’re too kind to me. Most girls hear their boyfriend wants to get fucked by a man and they’d run for the hills.”

“I knew you were bisexual when we started dating, Namjoon. And I knew that you hadn’t experimented much. I also know how crazy you go when I...” She smirked. “Use my toy on you. I can only imagine how sexy you’ll look when it’s not just a piece of nicely modeled plastic… But an actual dick.”

Namjoon’s cheeks mottled red immediately and he laughed nervously. “I’m so amazed… You really ordered one?”

“Just for a few hours. But yeah.”

“When is he coming?”

Halsey glanced at the clock. “About fifteen minutes.” She rose, grabbing his hands and tugging him. “The perfect amount of time for me to get you hard and begging for it.”

Namjoon let her lead him into the bedroom, his head spinning with possibilities. He’d shared some wishes about experimentation with her and with Jimin in the past, but never assumed he’d get a chance to act on those fantasies. He loved Halsey and was totally satisfied with her in every way; they had always just been vague fantasies of a horny twenty something.

Even as they laid in bed that evening, sharing deep kisses, her hands wandering down to his slacks, tugging insistently until he helped her remove them, the reality hadn’t quite hit him.

It wasn’t until she was nude from the waist up, his fingers were buried in her hair, her plush lips wrapped around his cock, when the doorbell played a chipper little tune, that it fully sank in. The camera connected to the front door and linked to their video screen blinked before showing the image of the person at the door. Namjoon could tell he was tall and broad shouldered, hair dark and hanging over his eyes. He wore a black mask, shielding his face from the camera – and the smog, not that it would really too negatively affect his breathing. He had on a hoodie as well, the hood pulled up to hide any other really defining features. Regardless, he took Namjoon’s breath away.

Halsey popped off his cock with an obscene noise and wiped her bottom lip. “Stay put… I’ll bring him in.”

Namjoon nodded, barely able to tear his eyes away from the screen. Halsey pulled on one of Namjoon’s shirts, buttoning it to hide her breasts. Namjoon saw the door open a few seconds later and the man at the door bowed low in greeting. He could hear the two speaking, muffled, from the bedroom, and resisted the urge to get up and check. He had said he would stay put. The stranger nodded and bowed once more, entering. The door closed, and the video shut off. When it did, Namjoon’s heart kicked into overdrive. In a sudden panic, he sat up, yanking a pair of boxers on to hide his nakedness. The bedroom door opened and Halsey entered, looking just as beautiful as when she’d walked out. She was followed by the tall stranger. He shoved his hood off and bowed low to Namjoon. As he straightened, he pulled his mask off, pocketing it.

“Good evening, Sir. My name is Seokjin.”

Namjoon’s mouth dropped open of its own accord. Though he knew the man would be handsome, he was nothing like Namjoon had expected. His features were sharp and perfect. Plush, pink lips that would make a model envious, a broad nose and dark, piercing eyes, neatly shaped ears with delicate studs in each lobe. He had a hint of eyeliner, bringing out the brightness of his brown gaze. His jaw was firm and solid, drawing the gaze naturally down to his prominent Adams apple and the peek of smooth skin from the vee in his hoodie. His shoulders were ridiculously broad, a striking contrast to his slender waist, visible even under the hoodie. His jeans were tight and black, ripped in the perfect places to show just a tease of his perfect skin.

“Joon?” Halsey worried.

“I—I’m—Hi.” Namjoon stumbled over his words, unsure how to address the stranger – Seokjin. He smiled regardless.

“Hi. Everyone calls me Jin… What do you want me to call you?”

“N—Namjoon is fine. Or Joon, I—” Namjoon swallowed hard. Halsey set her hand on Jin’s broad shoulder.

“We’ve never done this before. He’s nervous. You’re his birthday present.”

Jin smiled brightly, and Namjoon’s stomach did a little flip.

“I’m honored. Happy birthday,” Jin circled the bed and sat down on the edge of it. Namjoon worried his heart was going to outright stop if Jin got any closer – each inch nearer he was more and more beautiful. “Do you want me to suck your cock?”

Namjoon spluttered, his cheeks burning hot. Halsey giggled and hurried over, crawling behind Jin and wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

“He’s a little shy,” she whispered to Jin, who smiled sheepishly and sank into himself a bit.

“I’m sorry. I’ve got a lot of experience, I can do almost anything you ask for. I don’t mean to overwhelm you.”

“You’re—You’re fine,” Namjoon mumbled. He knew he shouldn’t be so shy; this man was literally made to please him and not judge him. But now that he was faced with it, he didn’t know how to act.

“Jin,” Halsey said. She stroked her fingers through his black hair, and a small smile crossed his face. “How about you and me see if we can get him hard. He was positively ready to burst when you arrived. I bet it wouldn’t take him long to get hot and bothered again.”

Jin nodded. “Do you want my clothes off?”

“Keep your jeans. Everything else off,” Namjoon said, surprising himself.

Halsey smirked. “How about me, Joon? What do I wear?”

“Exactly what you’re wearing… You know I like you in my shirts,” Namjoon said. Halsey moved up, pressing a kiss to his mouth as Jin stripped. Namjoon watched him even as he kissed Halsey, his hands wandering over her bare hips.

His chest was just as perfectly formed as the rest of him, firm abs too perfect to be real, a line of muscle forming a perfect V and disappearing into his tight jeans, his biceps and shoulders just as muscular as they looked in his hoodie. Jin crawled onto the bed, his gaze hooded as he watched the two kiss.

When Halsey backed up, she smiled over at him. “Do you want to kiss him?”

Jin nodded, looking to Namjoon for permission. Namjoon swallowed hard and nodded, wetting his lips.

The first touch was surprisingly timid, as if Jin was unsure of what to do. Namjoon let his tongue slide out, swiping over Jin’s bottom lip. The simple action seemed to light a fire in Jin, and he pressed his lips more firmly against Namjoon’s, one big hand coming up to rest on his jaw.

Namjoon gasped into his mouth when Halsey tugged his boxers down, pressing teasing kisses over his slowly thickening cock. He slid his hand down Jin’s chest, feeling the firm muscle and the steady thump of his heart. It was faster than expected, and Namjoon’s curiosity was instantly piqued. He pulled back, smiling a little when Jin chased his mouth for a moment.

“Your heart. What software did they use to make the beats?”

Halsey sighed, chuckling. “Joonie, please—Turn off the brain.”

Jin raised an eyebrow and Namjoon smiled sheepishly. “I’m sorry. I’m a… Researcher of sorts.”

“Do you work for an AI company?” Jin asked.

“Not exactly. I do work a research company but – I focus on the emotional and mental well-being of android lives. How they adjust to changes and what motivates them.”

Jin cocked his head. “So you’re a therapist for… androids.”

“Sort of, I guess. You could say that.”

“I’ve never heard of that.”

“Really? In your profession, you’d think there’d be a lot of us. It’s such a demanding life.”

Jin smiled a little, confusion written on his features. “It’s what I was made to do. I guess I’ve never given it much thought… How demanding it could be. To answer your question, it’s not a virtual heart rhythm. My developer thought that the feel of a real heart would be better for my line of work, so they fitted me with a robotic heart. It speeds up and slows the same as yours in response to stimuli. That’s why you probably felt it moving quicker… I… I really liked you kissing me.”

“Yeah?” Namjoon wet his lips. He looked down at Halsey, who was smiling softly. She pressed a kiss to Namjoon’s thigh, a promise that this was alright.

Namjoon cupped Jin’s face in his hands. “Well let’s get your heart racing again then.” He closed the gap between their mouths once more, letting his tongue slip into Jin’s warm mouth.

Halsey sank down onto his cock, letting it stiffen against her tongue.

Jin grabbed Namjoon’s hand, sliding it down his chest to his crotch, where his own cock was hardening in his jeans. Namjoon moaned low in his throat, stroking the length of it through the denim.

“Come suck him with me,” Halsey whispered. Jin obeyed, moving down and pressing kisses along Namjoon’s chest as he did. He nuzzled Namjoon’s cock, pressing a soft kiss to Halsey’s mouth before wrapping his lips around the tip and giving a firm suck that had Namjoon’s toes curling against the mattress. The two took turns, bobbing their heads along his cock or sharing sloppy kisses with his cock between their mouths, lapping and nudging his balls while the other worked on his tip.

Namjoon was writhing within ten minutes, running his fingers through their hair and panting their names. Halsey pulled off with a pop, kissing Jin’s mouth again. “I think he’s ready for more, don’t you?”

Jin nodded once, then looked up at Namjoon. He swallowed hard and nodded. “More,” he whispered.

“What do you want from us, baby?”

“I—I don’t know,” he admitted.

Halsey moved up his body slowly, kissing along the curve of his throat and jaw. “Do you want to fuck him? Or feel how nice and tight his around your cock? Do you want him to use me? Both of you to use me?”

Namjoon made a noise halfway between a plea and a groan. “Yes to everything, Christ…” He kissed her desperately, reaching down to feel for Jin. Jin grabbed his hand and Namjoon tugged, signaling him to come up as well. He shifted from Halsey’s mouth to Jin’s, kissing him deeply as well.

He pulled back, stroking Jin’s cheek. “Make her feel good with me.”

Jin nodded.

“Me?” Halsey argued when Namjoon and Jin pounced, wrestling her onto her back. Namjoon stripped her panties down her legs, tossing them aside. “It’s your birthday.” She tried again.

“You’re right. And you know how much I love making you come on my tongue. Since we have a friend to help, you can come for both of us.”

He pushed her legs open, running his thumb over her damp opening. She shuddered, hiding her grin by biting her lip.

“Want to taste?” Namjoon asked. He brushed his wet thumb over Jin’s bottom lip. Jin chased it with his tongue, his eyes fluttering shut.  

“Go on,” Namjoon whispered. Jin didn’t need a second command. He settled between her legs, pointing his tongue and running it between her folds.

Namjoon wiggled next to him, and Jin shifted so he was nearly half on top of Namjoon. The to shared wet kisses between taking turns, driving their tongues into Halsey or sucking gently - and not so gently - on her swollen clit. She didn’t bother to hide her moans, shouting their names as they dragged her to the brink of climax over and over, onto to stop at the last second.

She tugged Namjoon’s hair, whining. “Let me come,” she complained, squeezing her thighs around their shoulders as well as she could. Namjoon leaned forward and flicked his tongue over her clit, huffing a laugh when she whined.

“Think we should?” He asked Jin, who smirked.

“Well, we could. Or you could fuck her until she can’t come anymore while I fuck you. Alternatively,” he brushed his finger over Halsey’s ass as he spoke. “Two places fo drive her crazy... Then when she’s worn out I can fuck you until you can’t squeeze another drop of come out.”

Namjoon’s breathing i creased at Jin’s words. He glanced up at Halsey, his heart swelling. Her pastel rainbow hair was splayed on their dark pillow case, cheeks a rosy pink and lips swollen from biting. Her nipples peaked the thin fabric of his shirt, breasts shaking as she drew in breaths.

“We’ll both fuck you, baby. As much as this is my present... I know your secret fantasies too. You’ve wanted to know what it feels like for years haven’t you? Why you love me fucking you with a plug in.”

Halsey swallowed hard and nodded. “I want you in my ass, Namjoon.”

Namjoon nodded.

“Namjoon?” Jin asked.

Namjoon looked over, a little surprised at the soft expression on Jin’s face.

“Have you ever been fucked before?”

“Only with toys. Halsey has a strap she uses and some dildos...”

“He’s bigger than those. That was my one request when I called his agency,” Halsey said.

“Do you mind if I start getting you ready while you get her ready?”

“We have some toys if you want.” Halsey pointed to the nearby dresser. “Bottom drawer. We need the lube there anyway.”

Jin nodded and rose. Namjoon reached out, catching his wrist.

“Show me your cock?”

Jin nodded. He undid his jeans and pushed them down, stepping out of them. Namjoon made a small noise, his stomach clenching in excitement. Jin was thick and long, curving just a little. He was going to be wrecked. But not before...

“He’s gonna stretch you all out, baby girl,” Namjoon whispered, driving two fingers deep I to her. Halsey whined.

“I know. I want him to. Especially with you stretching me too... Dream come true.”

Namjoon smirked. Halsey pushed his head.

“Get me ready... It’s been a while since you fucked my ass, I’m tight.”

Namjoon nodded. He settled back between her thighs and tilted her hips up, beginning to lick and nibble at her fluttering ass. He felt Jin crawl behind him and tried to ignore the way his heart raced at the soft ghost of breath over his bare ass, or the firm prod of Jin’s fingers against his mostly untouched hole. He focused on Halsey; the way she scratched at his scalp and her soft moans, the sweet taste of her skin and smell of her soap, the dribble of arousal slipping from her opening when she tensed.

But even that couldn’t distract completely from Jin’s talented fingers and tongue, opening him up, stretching him and prepping him for his first real cock. There was no pain, even when Jin began to press one of their larger plugs into him and thrust it.

“Wear this while we fuck her,” Jin mumbled after a while. He settled it inside Namjoon, gently squeezing his ass around it. Namjoon nodded.

“How is she?”

“Ready,” Namjoon said. He rolled off next to Halsey and pressed a kiss to her mouth. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“One question,” Jin said, gently stroking himself. “Do you want me come inside of you? I’m infertile, but I know some people...”

“I want it in me.” Halsey spoke with no hesitation, then looked over at Namjoon. “And I want you to eat it out of me while he’s pounding your asshole. Deal?”

Namjoon shivered. “Deal.”

Halsey sat up, letting Jin add more lube to her hole. She set her hands on his shoulders, facing him and away from Namjoon. Gently, with both of their guidance, she settled her ass onto Namjoon’s cock.

He huffed, struggling to stay still as her right, hot channel took him deeper. When she was fully seated on his lap, he shifted into a half sitting position and pulled her back. He undid the buttons on her shirt, baring her breasts to Jin.

Jin smiled and reached out, cupping them gently before rolling her nipples gently in between his thumbs and forefingers.

“Wait,” Namjoon panted when Jin readied himself between their legs. “Come up here... I wanna taste your cock.”

Confusion crossed Jin’s expression for a moment, and Namjoon wondered if he’d never been asked that before. He obeyed though, and the two went to work, licking and sucking his cock and balls. Jin jerked, smacking the wall above the headboard and crying out. He sounded just as beautiful as he looked, especially when his head fell back and he buried his long fingers in their hair. Namjoon couldn’t wait to hear him make those happy noises buried deep inside him.

When his cock was wet with their spit and dripping with precome, Namjoon kissed his tip.

“Fuck her. Make us both come, Jin... Make her scream for you.”

Jin shivered visibly at Namjoon’s words. Halsey spread her legs wider, whimpering when it caused Namjoon’s cock to shift deep inside her.  Jin lined his cock up.

“How long have you been dating?” He asked suddenly.

“Almost seven years,” Namjoon said.

“And she’s never had another man’s cock inside her in that time?”

Halsey shook her head no. Jin smirked. ”Glad to be the first then, in so long.” He drove in, not stopping until his balls were pressed tight against her, her wetness easing the way as much as their spit.

Both Halsey and Namjoon shouted at the penetration, reaching out for Jin. He kissed each of their mouths before beginning to fuck into her. Each thrust had her shifting and grinding on Namjoon, her entire body shuddering under the combined stimulation.

“Does that feel good?” Namjoon teased, twisting his hips up into her. Halsey shouted, nodding. Namjoon reached up, squeezing her breasts gently as they thrusted. “Dream come true? Hm? I bet you’re gonna come quick. You’re already so wet, listen to you.”

Halsey sobbed happily, and Jin moaned as she clenched around him. Namjoon picked up his pace, looking up at Jin.

He was startled to see what looked almost like affection, despite their position. He smiled anyway, stroking Jin’s cheek. “Does it feel good?”

Jin nodded quickly, gasping. “Warm and nice, I— god it’s so good.” Jin dropped his head between her breasts, moving a little faster. Halsey reached down and grabbed his ass, urging him on.

Namjoon shifted so he could pump more easily into her ass, smirking when both she and Jin cried out.

“That’s it,” he urged them both, already fighting his own urge to come. “She’s so close... Come on our cocks, baby... Come on Hal...”

Halsey swore softly, clenching down on both their cocks as she fought off her orgasm. They were relentless though, fucking into her clenching and writhing body as she cried their names.

She dug her nails into Jin’s back suddenly, her body going stiff then shivering between them. Namjoon felt the gush of wetness over his thighs and smirked against her shoulder.

“That’s it baby girl. His big cock making you squirt, come on. Show him how you like it.”

Jin pushed her legs open further, driving as hard as he could into her. She continued to gush and squirt around him, obscene squelching noises adding to the already pornographic sound of their lovemaking.

Jin whimpered, and Namjoon saw his arms shake.

“Come in her. Deep inside. Come on, let us watch you come,” he pleaded, picking up the speed of his thrusts. Halsey moaned helplessly, holding tight to both Namjoon and Jin as Jin grabbed her hips, slamming into her.

He groaned loudly, burying his face in her shoulder as he came. His cock throbbed against her inner walls, hard enough that Namjoon could feel each pulse, a signal of rope after rope of warm come being poured into his exhausted girlfriend.

Jin pulled out carefully and helped Halsey off Namjoon. The two cuddled her for a moment, one on each side, kissing and stroking her sweat covered skin, making sure she was alright.

Only when she giggled and pushed Namjoon’s shoulder did they take the okay to continue. Namjoon slid down between her legs, his stomach doing an excited little flip at the state of her body. Come was already dripping out of her loosened hole, her ass fluttering gently as it tried to go back to the way it was before Namjoon’s cock. He licked a stripe from her ass up to her sore clit, chuckling when she hissed and smacked him.

“So mean,” she grumbled.

“You wanted me to eat you out.”

“Be gentle,” she murmured. “I’m so sleepy.”

“Should we stop?” Jin worried. Halsey shook her head.

“No... He’ll clean me up, and then I’m relaxing, and you can fuck the living daylights out of him all you want.”

Jin smirked and Namjoon beamed. He dove in, lapping and sucking at Halsey’s folds. Jin’s come was heaven, a perfect mix of salty and bitter, a tang of sweet that couldn’t be identified. As he worked on Halsey, Jin moved down to work on his ass again, wanting to make sure he was ready.

Namjoon whined softly at the stretch of his fingers, twisting his hips back toward Jin. Halsey whined, burying her fingers in Namjoon’s hair.

“It’s too much,” she whispered, her entire body giving a shudder when Namjoon flicked her swollen clit with his tongue. He smirked up at her.

“He wear you out?” He teased.

“He’ll do the same to you,” Halsey said. Namjoon shivered; Jin pressed firmly against his prostate as she had spoken, a quiet agreement to her words.

“I’m ready,” he said, looking back at Jin.

“You sure?”

Namjoon nodded. “I’m sure.”

Jin crawled up and Namjoon rolled to the side of Halsey, taking her hand and spreading his legs so Jin could settle between them.

Namjoon grinned up at him, meeting Jin’s gaze when he laid over his body.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he joked. Jin laughed softly, leaning down to press a kiss to Namjoon’s mouth.

“Relax for me, okay?”

Namjoon nodded. Jin slicked himself and lined up. “You said you’ve never...”

“Not with a guy, no.”

“I’m honored.”

Namjoon flushed red at Jin’s words, looking away. Halsey smiled softly at him, squeezing his hand.

Jin began to press in gently, slowing to a stop whenever Namjoon’s expression shifted.

Namjoon felt unbearably full even with just the head of Jin’s cock nudging past his rim. He kept a hold of Halsey’s hand, his other on a Jin’s shoulder, squeezing when it got to be too overwhelming. He was relieved Jin didn’t seem to mind taking his time, willingly stopping or pulling back as a Namjoon adjusted to the intrusion. Jin leaned down, pressing feather soft kisses along Namjoon’s shoulder.

“You’re so tight and nice,” he murmured, and Namjoon chuckled.

“I doubt I’m the first virgin you’ve fucked.”

“Hm... You’re not. But you’re the first I’ve felt such a funny way about.”

Namjoon furrowed his brows. Jin looked at him, furrowing his own brows to mirror the expression. “What?”

“What funny way?” Namjoon asked.

The crease between Jin’s brows deepened. “I’m not sure.”

“Maybe... When you don’t have your cock halfway in him, you two can talk about it?” Halsey suggested, laughing a little. “He is a shrink for your kind.”

“Hm... Good idea.” Jin smiled and leaned over, kissing Halsey gently before beginning his slow slide back into Namjoon.

When he was as deep as he could go, Jin relaxed over Namjoon, their mouths meeting in a lazy kiss. Namjoon hooked his legs around Jin’s slim waist.

He pulled back, looking up at Jin. “You can move.”

Jin nodded. He pulled out slowly and pushed back in, moaning when Namjoon clenched and fluttered around his cock.

He picked up a slow, almost lazy pace, pumping his hips and twisting to get every bit of himself that he could into Namjoon. He alternated between kissing him slowly and leaning over to kiss Halsey’s mouth, one hand slipping down to play with her despite her giggling, weak protests.

“Have you ever come untouched, Namjoon?” Jin panted. Namjoon shook his head no.

“You will tonight... You’re going to come on my cock.”

Namjoon nodded. He had no doubt Jin was making him a promise, and with the steady thrusts against his sensitive prostate, he was well on his way already.

“Wanna ride me?”

“I— I doubt I’d be any good.”

“I’m not gonna judge,” Jin said. “I’m gonna make our girl squirt again, it’ll be easier if I’m on my back.”

Namjoon’s heart skipped a beat at the casual use of “our girl”. He couldn’t be falling for a damn prostitute - it was just lust, he reminded himself. He nodded, letting Jin pull out and moving to straddle him when he laid on his back.

“Come on, just chase your pleasure. Do what feels good.”

“But I wanna make you come too,” Namjoon argued.

“Joonie, you’re so tight that just being inside you is going to make me come, I promise.” Jin guided Namjoon back onto his cock, gasping when Namjoon began to ride him. He slipped two fingers into Halsey, rubbing her spot in time with Namjoon.

He guided Namjoon down on his cock over and over, his fingers biting into Namjoon’s hip. Namjoon felt so full, but never wanted it to stop. Each time Jin moaned or shifted, he swelled with pride, wanting so badly to bring Jin pleasure.

Next to them, Halsey fucked herself down on Jin’s fingers, his thumb working her clit as she chased her own orgasm.

“You were made for my cock, weren’t you, Joonie?” Jin cooed. “Taking it so deep, so easy.”

He looked to Halsey, kissing her flushed cheek. “You’re gonna have to fuck his ass all the time after this... See how needy he is for it?”

Both Halsey and Namjoon moaned, and Namjoon began to move faster in quiet agreement.

“Maybe we’ll just have you come fuck him all the time,” she panted, looking over at Jin. He smiled almost sadly for a split second.

“That would be fun,” he agreed. He added another finger and twisted to hit her spot exactly. Halsey’s eyes rolled back as she came, shouting Jin’s name. She gushed over his thrusting fingers, her thighs squeezing and releasing around his hand.

“Atta girl,” Jin murmured. “Knew we could pump one more good orgasm out of you tonight. Look so pretty when you come.” He kissed the corner of her mouth and pulled his hand free. He raised it, sucking two fingers into his mouth. Namjoon whined, his cock twitching as he watched.

Jin smirked and lifted his hand, letting Namjoon suck his finger and lick Halsey’s remaining fluid from his palm.

“Now it’s your turn,” Jin said. He gripped Namjoon’s hips hard and sat up, beginning to slam him down on his cock. Namjoon held onto his shoulders, throwing his head back in a shout as Jin used his body, lifting him like a rag doll before dropping him down.

“J—Jin,” Namjoon whined against his shoulder. His orgasm was building, a knot of fire in his stomach as Jin’s cock pounded against his insides.

“Come on,” Jin demanded, holding him close. “You can do it, baby. Come on my cock, Namjoon. Come for me, baby boy.”

Namjoon sobbed brokenly. “Jin, please!” He shouted, digging his nails into Jin’s shoulders. Jin snapped his hips upward twice, and that was all it took.

Namjoon’s cock throbbed and twitched between them as he came, his entire body shuddering and clenching. He was vaguely aware that he was yelling, the sound muffled by Jin’s shoulder.

Jin’s arms tightened around him, then he felt it. The steady, hard pulse of Jin’s cock, buried to the hilt inside him, filling him. Namjoon’s cock throbbed, giving another weakened dribble of come each time Jin’s cock twitched against his oversensitive prostate.

Namjoon felt boneless by the time they’d both come down from their orgasms. Jin carefully laid them down, and Halsey shifted, slinging her arm over them both. Namjoon smiled softly at the warm, comforting cuddle of them both. It felt... Oddly right.

He very nearly had fallen asleep when Jin shifted, pulling his softening cock free and sitting up. “Do you mind if I use the restroom to clean up before I go?”

“How soon do you need to go?”

“Well, no time limit. Halsey put in the order for two hours minimum with a potential of eight. It’s been just nearly two. But since we’re done…”

“Stay and talk to us, if you want to,” Namjoon said. Jin’s brows furrowed.

“Why?”

“Well, you… Said you felt a funny way. Least I can do is try to help you figure that out.”

“Surely you don’t want to pay for that.”

“I don’t mind,” Halsey said. “I’m… Curious. And I’m feeling a funny way myself. Maybe it’ll help. Namjoonie always says androids and humans have more in common than people realize.”

Jin smiled a little, looking between them. “Alright. I’ll clean up then come out.”

“Bathroom is the second door on the left.”

Jin bowed in thanks and headed out. Halsey turned to Namjoon. “You’re falling for him.”

“Hal—Don’t.”

“I’m right.”

Namjoon lowered his gaze, ashamed.

“I am too,” she whispered.

Namjoon looked up at her. “What?”

“It’s stupid, right? He’s a prostitute. And he’s not even human.”

“Hey now, you know how I feel about that division… Human or not he’s got feelings and emotions just like us.”

“I know,” she chuckled. “You and your work.”

“But it’s more than that… That felt…” Namjoon shrugged. “But it is stupid. I know it’s his job to make us feel good.”

“To be honest, I hate the idea of him leaving,” Halsey admitted.

“Me too… But he has to.”

“What if he doesn’t want to, Namjoon?” Namjoon startled, his head snapping toward the doorway. Jin stood in it, looking sheepish and somewhat small despite his size. “Sorry… I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, I just overheard…”

Namjoon shook his head. “We were talking about you anyway, that was rude of us.”

Jin pulled on his boxers and Namjoon followed suit. Halsey slipped on her panties and a baggy t-shirt, combing her fingers through her hair. “Let’s go to the kitchen and chat. I’m hungry.”

The three made their way to the kitchen. Namjoon dug around in the fridge for a moment while Halsey and Jin sat at the table.

“When you said you didn’t want to leave…” Halsey began.

“I’ve had a lot of clients,” Jin admitted. “More than most. I’m a high-end model, I guess… But it’s always been a job for me.”

“But now?”

“You two made me feel something… New. An emotion I can’t understand. Which is really scary to me because… I’ve had emotions programmed into me, right? Namjoon, you study my kind, you can explain.”

“I do study the emotions of your kind, Jin. And I can tell you that programming only provides the framework. Think of it like… A farmer in a field. Your developer was that farmer. He made a safe space to grow things – your body. And he planted seeds – your original software. Every now and then he comes by and waters the seeds or feeds them, giving the software updates and patches. But what happens if that farmer goes away and the farm is left to its own devices?” Namjoon asked, slicing up some fruits as he spoke.

“Won’t it die?”

“Will it? Or will it thrive and become something new and wild and unplanned? That’s what my job is to find out. Some fields – some androids – will die without their developer’s input. But others… They grow and learn and shift and change on their own, even without software patches and updates. That’s what may have happened with you. Your mind – it may have created a new network. A new emotion that you were never taught.”

“Isn’t that sentience? I can’t be—”

“But why?” Halsey reached out and took one of Jin’s hands. “I sit here and I see a man. You’re ridiculously beautiful, but you are a man. Your hands feel like mine – soft and warm. The bones under your skin feel like my own made of calcium and collagen, rather than metal and wires. You have a strong pulse, a heartbeat that will stop without proper care. You breathe and move and speak. If you stood in a crowd of humans – Would anyone say you weren’t?”

Jin scowled a little, thinking. “I—I don’t know.”

“I do. Learned emotion or not, you are here. What does your programming say? Go to their house, make them come, leave. But you didn’t. You stayed and you’re sitting here and asking questions that don’t have to do with fucking or aftercare or prostitution. You’re asking about emotions and sentience and life. Just like a human might, no matter what their profession.”

“Are you saying I’m human?” Jin asked, a teasing tone in his voice.

“I’m saying you’re as good as human.”

“What are you two?” Jin asked suddenly. Halsey smiled.

“I’m human. I sing, and write music for singers.”

“And I’m just a man. Born as an infant – human. But my work… I advocate for androids. For allowing full freedom,” Namjoon said.

“Where do you work, Namjoon?”

“The Sentience Project.” Jin pulled back suddenly, his eyes widening. He glanced at Halsey, who scowled in confusion.

“What is it?” She asked.

“Th- The Sentience Project?”

“You know about us,” Namjoon said. Jin nodded quickly.

“You shouldn’t talk to me. My owner—”

“Your pimp… Let’s be real. He was a peach,” Halsey mumbled.

“He hates your kind,” Jin hissed.

“My kind?” Namjoon asked.

Jin nodded. “Android lovers, he calls you. He thinks you want to make robots take over the world, enslave humans. We’ve only heard stories of what you do. What you can do.”

“Do you believe that, Jin?”

Jin’s shoulders sagged a little. “I don’t know. I think… I think I don’t know enough.”

“Do you want to know more?”

“Why would you tell me? I’m just a hooker.”

“You said you felt a funny way with me. How did you feel?”

“It was odd. While we were making love—Having sex, I—When I looked at you two I felt my heart skip out of rhythm. My software doesn’t allow that. It can speed up and slow down but it’s always got a rhythm. And then I felt like I was sweating. I can sweat, a little – just… Water that’s been added to make me look more human doing my job, I guess, but… But it felt different. Like nerves almost. I wanted to make you two feel so good, and not just because I wanted you to be customers for longer, but because I wanted to make you smile. And my stomach… It felt like it was getting all my wires twisted up. Uncomfortable but not bad. It made me want to smile and laugh. And when you two were laying in my arms, I—I felt safe and comfortable. I never feel safe at client’s houses. I know it’s dangerous. But with you, it was warm.”

“Was the emotion of romantic love ever programmed into your system, Seokjin?” Namjoon asked.

“Romantic love? No. I know of it. But there was no need for it. I’m in the sex trade. If I went around falling in love with my clients there would be problems.”

“Alright. Do you know what physical symptoms love is often described as having?”

Jin’s brows furrowed in thought. “Well, I… I’ve heard that hearts race and things seem brighter and I read that someone talked about having butterflies in their stomach whenever they looked at the partner they had fallen for. I mean these are all very surface things that happen right away, surely love doesn’t stay so overwhelming, but this is…” Jin’s face twisted further, trying to process the knowledge he’d inadvertently put together. “But I was never programmed to feel this.”

“My point exactly,” Namjoon said. He returned to the table and set a plate of fruits in front of Halsey. He sat next to her and set his hand over hers.

“And Jin?” She said, squeezing Namjoon’s hand. “It can stay overwhelming sometimes. Most of the time things are normal, mundane even between us, but sometimes I get so overwhelmed with how much I’m in love with him, my heart just…”

“Feels like it’s going to jump out of your chest?” Jin asked, touching his own heart.

Halsey nodded, smiling gently. “You know the feeling?”

“I— I didn’t until about an hour ago,” Jin whispered. He looked at Namjoon, desperation streaking across his features. “Please help. What does it mean? Am I broken?”

“No!” Namjoon laughed. “The opposite. Jin you’re learning completely independently of your software.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Why? Hm? Because you’ve been told it’s impossible? If it is, why would places like The Sentience Project exist? Why would there be therapists for androids? Why would I make my whole career out of proving that independent learning – that true sentience is possible for androids just as easily as for humans?”

“What do I do?”

“What do you want?”

“I—” Jin closed his mouth, surprised by the question.

“You’ve never been asked that before, have you?” Halsey asked between bites. Jin shook his head.

“Think about it. What does Seokjin want? Not the company, not his software – Him?”

“How will I know if it’s what I want?”

“You’ll know,” Namjoon said, taking a bite of the food. The three sat in silence. Outside the apartment, car horns honked, neon flashed through the sheer curtains, and the night life continued as normal as could be, none the wiser to the dilemma roiling in Jin’s mind.

“I want to feel that feeling again,” Jin finally whispered. “How do I get it back?”

Namjoon looked over at Halsey. She grinned and nodded. He rose and pulled Jin into a standing position, brushing his hair out of his face. Jin smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, like this…”

“Thought so.”

Halsey stepped up to them and stroked Jin’s jaw. She wrapped her hand around the back of his neck and pulled him into a kiss. Jin made a soft noise of contentment, reaching for Namjoon while he kissed Halsey. When the two separated, he let Namjoon pull him into another kiss.

“Did that make you feel it again?” Namjoon asked against his mouth. Jin nodded, his eyes closed tight.

He seemed reluctant to back up, so Halsey and Namjoon both held him close, saying nothing.

“I want to stay,” Jin whispered.

“We want you to stay too,” Halsey agreed.

“So how do we make it happen?” Namjoon asked.

“I don’t know,” Jin admitted. “I can’t just quit my job – it’s not that kind of work. And I’m not human, I’m just technology.”

“You’re as close to human as you need to be, Jin. Don’t say such things,” Namjoon argued.

“Still. Not in the eyes of the man who owns me.”

“How do things work in this line of business?” Halsey asked. She sat back down to finish her food. Jin shook his head.

“It’s a mess. We just keep getting updates and fixed up until we finally break down. The only way to get out is to break down to the point we just don’t work anymore – Die, pretty much… Or be purchased by a client.”

“And those that are purchased?” Namjoon asked. He and Jin sat down as well.

“They’re owned by the ones that purchased them. Usually for sex toys or I’ve heard that some businessmen purchase a few of us to entertain international clients.”

“So, slaves,” Namjoon said, distaste clear in his voice.

“It’s not a requirement of course, that’s just the only reason people bother to buy us outright instead of just renting us.”

Namjoon nodded. He looked over to Halsey, who was scowling at her food.

“Who do we talk to about buying you?” Halsey asked.

“You can’t,” Jin whispered.

“Why not?” She pushed.

“Look at me. I’m top of the line. A purchase of one that makes the kind of money I make—” Jin shook his head. “My owner won’t let me go for cheap.”

“I don’t doubt that. You’re exquisite,” Namjoon admitted, and Jin laughed a little, his cheeks reddening. Namjoon touched his face. “Do you want to be free, Jin?”

“I want to be with you two.” Jin answered without hesitation, making Namjoon’s heart skip a beat.

“I might have a way to make it work. It’s a long shot… But I could make a call.”

“What would you do?”

Namjoon looked over at Halsey as he spoke. “My boss.”

“Joon… Would he?” Halsey asked.

Namjoon nodded. “He would, but there’d be a catch.”

“What catch?”

Namjoon sighed. “I told you I worked for The Sentience Project. Do you want to know what we’re working on? You can’t tell a soul if I tell you.”

“Yes.”

Namjoon rose. He disappeared from the kitchen for a moment and returned with a thin silver folder. He set it in front of Jin, placing his hand over it. The folder beeped at his touch, and he pulled it open. Inside were rows of small chips.

“Do you have a reader implanted, or do you need an external reader?”

“I have an implant. Which one?”

“All of them. Seeing the research is going to be far clearer than me telling you, and probably faster. I can give you the short of it, but the details – They’re all here. This is confidential work, even Halsey hasn’t seen it all.”

“Not that I want to… Boring is what it is,” Halsey joked, making Namjoon smile over at her.

“Right. But because you are an android – I want you to know this before telling you what the catch will be.”

Jin nodded. He picked up the first chip, a tiny blue thing no bigger than a coin. He placed it on his palm and closed his fist loosely. Namjoon sat down and continued to eat when Jin closed his eyes, knowing it would take a bit to read and process the data for the 23 chips sitting in the folder. It went back years, since before he was working at the company, but he had had to scour it backwards and forwards, learning everything there was to know about the project’s work up until that point.

Halsey reached over, taking his hand. She watched Jin for a moment, his eyes moving rapidly under his closed lids. Her expression was gentle and patient. Namjoon squeezed her hand for a second until she looked at him. He offered a comforting smile despite his own stuttering heart. Meanwhile, Jin switched the chips, his expression unreadable.

When Jin placed the last chip back into the folder and shut it, he looked over at Namjoon. “You want to free all of us.”

“I want all of those that are capable of sentience to have it. It’s a right.”

“But we’re made. We’re built.”

“Jin… When my parents had me, how was I given to them? Was I dropped out of the sky by some magical process? No. I was built from DNA strands provided by their bodies. You were built by coding strands provided by minds. Show me the difference? Show me why I deserve freedom and you deserve slavery.”

“I’ve never thought of it like that.”

“Most haven’t. And that’s why people like your owner get so mad at people like me. And my company. And that’s why we’re working on the sentience trigger.”

“It’s a killswitch.”

“The opposite. It’s a life switch. It’s a failsafe we want in every android capable of learning that will trigger the second that learning becomes independent. If you had it, I truly believe yours would have triggered tonight. We understand that not every android will ever learn independently and we know that some are just not built for that. We also know that androids do need software updates and patches and help up until that point.”

“What about me? Won’t I still need updates?”

“Maybe. Or you could just take a chip and learn the new information the normal way. The way me or Hal have learned it.”

“But my body…”

“There are thousands of scientists work on just the hardware of androids, same as thousands of doctors work on just our human bodies.”

“You’re saying I’d be human.”

“Damn close. No one would need to know you were android unless you wanted them to, or you got cut or something.”

“So what’s the catch?”

Namjoon nodded, knowing that would be the next question. “The catch is… I think I can get my company to fund your purchase. We have a chunk of funding set aside to buy androids for research…. So they would do it, I think… But you’d have to work for us. With us.”

“Why me? Surely you could spend that money on a better android or a clean one. A fresh one.”

“That’s just it, we don’t want fresh off the conveyor androids. We want ones who have been living. We want ones in different professions. I don’t need to tell you how… Unhappy certain people are with our project. So certain professions… They’re hard to get androids from. Yours in particular has been a thorn for us.”

“Nobody wants to give up their prostitutes… We don’t need sentience.”

“Well, your owners would have you believe that. So this opportunity – it would help us. But… You’d be free.”

“What would working for The Sentience Project entail as an android?”

“We have the chip. We’ve tested it, it works. The only problem is it works only on certain types of software, and that’s what we’re testing now. We need to make sure it works with software for every profession. And, right now it only works in the on position. We haven’t been able to get it to trigger from an off position yet. Which is why we aren’t advocating for it to be put into new androids yet – we want it as a failsafe for sentience, not as a market standard.”

“Because fully sentient, non-intelligent androids would be bad,” Jin agreed and Namjoon nodded.

“So we would install it in you.”

“What happens if it fails?”

“Nothing. You’d remain the same. If it works – it kills all ownership. You’d have no GPS tracker, you’d be unable to communicate directly with your owner via whatever method they use, it would kill all ties. No software updates, just hardware ones that can be done by any android scientist in that field. You’d be capable of upgrading software if you wanted, but it wouldn’t cause a critical system failure if you didn’t like now. The ultimate patch, so to speak. If it doesn’t work, you’d still be owned, technically. Your owner would be me – I know that your current owner won’t sell you to The Sentience Project, but he may sell you to an independent buyer. So as long as you’d be okay with that… I can make the call. It’s up to you.”

“If it works, or if it fails – How do I pay the project back?”

“Let them do testing. It won’t kill you, it might be uncomfortable, but you’ll be safe. And you’ll be mine – either in legal ownership or because you’re… I hope… Dating me and Halsey. So they won’t do anything that I don’t approve, and I’ll discuss all of it with you before approving it.”

“So it would be a job, pretty much.”

“Exactly. And while you were paying back the Project, of course, they’d maintain you, your hardware and software as needed. Once you were paid back, we’d discuss future employment options.”

Jin nodded. “Yes. Yes, I – I want this. I want to be with you two.” He looked over at Halsey, his gaze hopeful. She smiled warmly.

“We want to be with you too, baby. Namjoon… Make the call.”

Namjoon smiled and nodded. He rose, grabbing his phone and hurrying into the other room.

Jin stared at his hands, his brows furrowed.

“You okay? I know it’s a lot to take in.” Halsey said. She began to clean up the dishes as she spoke.

“I’m scared,” Jin admitted. “I think I am. I’ve never had real reason to be scared before, but this is so big.”

“We don’t have to decide tonight. You can go back to your owner, call for us if you decide to say yes.”

“No. If I go back there he gets my data for the night. He can track my orgasms, my arousal… He’ll ask and I can’t lie to him. I can’t lie.”

“Can’t?”

“Well… I suppose I’m capable of it,” Jin chuckled. “I’m just bad at it.”

“That’s okay, Namjoon hasn’t been able to lie to me since the day I met him.”

Jin rose, helping her with the dishes as they spoke.

“Did you fall for him right away?”

“No. It took about twenty minutes and him walking into two walls trying to talk to me.”

Jin laughed with her, looking through the doorway that Namjoon had disappeared into. “Can I ask you a serious question?”

“Of course.”

“Why? You say you feel something for me, but you two are such a good couple already. If I do this, I—I don’t wanna be a sex slave.”

Halsey nodded. “Fair question.” She hoisted herself up on the counter, tying her hair back as she spoke. “Namjoon and I love each other. We’ve been called the perfect couple by his coworkers and mine. But we’ve always had something missing. I think we both knew it – knew what could possibly fix it, but we were afraid to take that leap. As advanced as the world is, polyamorous couples are still… I’m sure you get that.”

Jin nodded. “Frowned upon, yeah,” he agreed, wiping the plate dry.

“Right. Joon’s friends would accept it, I’m sure… Mine too, but it would be a change. So, we just kinda kept quiet about it, tried to make it work. With his birthday present tonight, I think… I don’t know if I was really doing it for him, or to see if it made sense – if we worked better with a third.”

“And you found out you did,” Jin said. Halsey nodded.

“Right. If it had been any old android I’m sure we would’ve let him go and then talked about it after but you… There’s something about you.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded. “Yeah.” She reached out and grabbed his wrist, pulling him until she could wrap her legs around his waist. “You’re special.” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “Do you know that?”

“I’m just Jin.”

“Hm… Yeah. But Jin is special. And I can’t wait to get to know you.”

“You two keep talking about that. Me, thinking and being… But what am I? I don’t know what’s my real personality even, or what’s been programmed into me. Who am I? The only thing that I know is really mine is the way I feel when I look at you two. But I know that’s one small emotion and there’s a whole sea of things that I just… I’m not sure who Jin is, even if you think he is special.”

“Welcome to humanity,” Halsey whispered, bumping her nose against his.

“What?”

She shrugged. “You think we know who we are? No human does. I think androids have a better sense than we do – I mean you guys are told what you are. But not knowing? That’s humanity. The fear that you’re not special, or not the way people want you to be – that’s being a human, Jin. I worry if my music is me or if it’s some bullshit that the radio wants, and I’m faking it for the fans. Namjoon – he’s so afraid that the only reason he’s liked is because he’s some child genius, and no one really cares about the goofy, silly Namjoon inside. Nobody knows who they really are at this age, Jin. That’s okay. That’s why we need friends to help us figure it out.”

Jin smiled a little at her words. “Are you my friend?”

“More than. Joon too.” She nudged his nose again and pressed a gentle kiss to his mouth. “And we’ll hold your hand while you’re figuring out who you are, okay? I won’t let you fall.”

Jin nodded. “If I could cry I would.”

“Did they not install that?”

Jin shook his head. “I can feel the emotion of sadness or… When tears would be applicable but they didn’t install it beyond wetting my eyes.”

Halsey frowned. “Talk to Joon’s boss about getting that installed if you want. I bet it’d be easy.”

Jin laughed a little. “Okay.”

Namjoon entered, leaning on the door frame. “He’s on his way over.”

“He has to come over?” Jin asked. Namjoon nodded.

“A few basic tests. I know you’ll pass them. Then he’ll wire me the funds. Do you know how much your ownership would be?”

“No, I’m sorry. You’ll have to call my boss.”

“Let me,” Halsey said, holding out her hand for her phone. “I talked to this sleaze before.”

Namjoon passed it over and she called the number, winking at Jin. Namjoon wrapped his arms around Jin’s middle, running his fingers lightly over his fit stomach. Halsey hopped off the counter and padded into the other room, her expression stern as she introduced herself.

“She could have worked the stock exchange, I swear. The woman is a killer with negotiation.”

“Perhaps a lawyer,” Jin offered and Namjoon laughed.

“Good point. Do you need a shower or anything before my boss gets here?”

“Do I smell?”

“Like heaven,” Namjoon said. Jin chuckled.

“Then no… What tests is he going to do?”

“Basic ones, checking your software, hardware, some basic questions. Nothing too invasive, and Halsey and I will be right here the whole time.”

“Is he kind?”

“Yeah, he’s a sweet man. He started off as a robotics developer and has just moved upward. You’ll like him, I think.”

In the other room, Halsey made a noise of frustration, drawing their attention. “Uh oh,” Namjoon mumbled.

“No, you listen to me, sir. I may sound young but I know how this works. That is a ridiculous price. I know what a new model goes for and that’s far beyond it.”

Jin giggled behind his hand. “She’s got a temper… It’s amazing.”

“She knows what she wants, and she isn’t afraid to get it. It’s one of the reasons I fell for her. I’m a smart guy, see? And a lot of times… People gave me this dumb respect just for that instead of getting to know me. Like my IQ somehow garnered me some royalty. I’m just an idiot twenty-something though. She saw right through that bullshit and had zero problem telling me off when I was acting like a cocky asshole. I really appreciated that.” He shrugged.

“She also told me you walked into multiple walls after you two first met.”

“Okay, the first one was an accident – and it wasn’t a wall! It was a glass door.”

Jin laughed helplessly, and Namjoon grinned. His heart stuttered at the sound of Jin’s laughter. He knew he wanted to hear it more and more.

Halsey scolded the person on the phone once more, earning another fit of giggles from both Jin and Namjoon. She stormed back in, her cheeks flushed and eyes dark with anger.

“That man is a fucker and I hope he gets massive diarrhea in the middle of vigorous sex.”

“Didn’t go well?”

“Oh, it went fine.” Halsey handed Namjoon the phone, a number printed on the screen.

“This is a steal,” Namjoon said. “No way.”

“I was well on my way to threatening physical harm if he didn’t lower the cost. We would have paid it, you’re worth it,” she assured Jin, “but I’m not giving that ass the satisfaction of a good paycheck if I can help it.”

“This will definitely be doable for the company.” Namjoon kissed Halsey deeply. “I still wish you’d let us hire you for negotiations.”

“You couldn’t afford me,” Halsey teased.

“Hm, maybe not, but you’d look damn good running our business meetings.”

“Now, that’s just sexist.” She pushed him lightly. “I’m going to go put actual clothes on before your boss shows up.”

Namjoon’s boss was a handsome older man by the name of Seungryong. Dark hair and dark eyes, he observed Jin from a distance before approaching and offering his hand. Jin bowed low, holding his hand tightly for a moment.

“Thank you for being willing to examine me for the role you need,” he said softly.

“You’re quite polite. How long have you been working?”

“Some years. Six, I think? I’m not really sure, I’m sorry.”

“Does your owner do updates regularly?”

“Yes, every six months on the dot. I just had one last week.”

“Do you mind if I take a peek?”

“Sure.” Jin sat on the couch and Namjoon sat close to him.

“You said he is displaying signs of sentience?” Seungryong asked. He opened a small briefcase and pulled out some cords.

“Yes. A new learned emotion.”

“Love?”

Namjoon nodded. “Would you like some coffee?”

“You know me too well.” Namjoon smiled. He squeezed Jin’s thigh.

“You okay?” Jin nodded, holding out his arm for the cords.

Halsey took Namjoon’s place, wrapping her arm loosely around Jin’s middle.

“How have you been, Hal?”

“Okay. Working on a new song,” she said.

He nodded. “My daughter loves what you put out, we’ll keep an eye out for it.” Now, Seokjin, is it?” He asked, pressing the cords into the tiny spot that opened for them on Jin’s palm.

“Yes, sir.”

“Have you been in the escort profession your entire life?”

“Yes.”

“Same owner?”

Jin nodded.

“And he’s – I’m guessing… Not a friend of The Sentience Project.” As he spoke, he flipped through various files on the screen connected to the cords.

“Not at all. But he’s willing to sell to an independent buyer.”

“Have you discussed price?”

Halsey nodded. She slid over the paper with the price on it.

“Hm, not bad at all… May I ask why?”

“That would be my doing,” Halsey said. “His original price was three times as much. He’s scum, but he’s stupid. And I’m smart, if I say so myself.”

Seungryong laughed. “You are, God knows Namjoon praises your brains enough. I believe it. It looks like your software is up to date… A few odd neural networks that I would like to look at in more detail, but I think I can attribute that to independent learning.”

“Will it break me somehow?”

“Not at all. The fascinating thing about androids of your type is that once independent learning has begun, the neural networks work almost entirely independently. They build off of the software, yes, but they essentially patch and network all themselves. It’s why our sentience switch works – it essentially kills that part of the network that needs those updates and allows the independent networking to build it freely.”

“It’s literally humanizing machines.”

Seungryung shrugged. “It’s been said. A few simple tests of intelligence now, if you don’t mind.” He unplugged Jin and tucked away the screen before pulling out a book.

“Read this quickly now.”

The tests continued on for a few hours, back and forth between the two. Namjoon’s nerves were shot, fears that Jin for some reason wouldn’t pass, or would decide he’d had enough of it and would change his mind. Each time a test was passed, he was relieved – one step closer.

Finally, Seungryung closed his briefcase and nodded.

“I want to test the chip on you. You might be our best subject yet.”

“Really?”

“Yes. The money has been wired to your account, Namjoon. I’ll see you and Jin in the office bright and early on Monday… Take tomorrow off and the weekend – get some nice clothes, get him accustomed to a free life.”

Jin rose and bowed low. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“Don’t thank me, you’re helping us. But Jin? You need a last name. Think on one, so I can put it on the paperwork next week, okay?”

“Yes, sir.”

Namjoon shook Seungryung’s hand. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“You know half those tests weren’t necessary,” Seungryung whispered.

“Why did you do them?”

“To see how you and Halsey would react… And how he responded to you… You say he just learned sentience tonight but he… He is so bright.  I can’t wait to start working with him. He’s so clever, and handsome… If he keeps up this rate, we might have a switch that can be advocated for by the end of the year… And you might be dating our poster boy.”

Namjoon chuckled and looked back at Jin, who was cuddling on the couch with Halsey as she spoke on the phone.

“I’m just glad he’s here, and he agreed… I never planned…”

“You never plan for love, my boy. Enjoy your weekend with your new partner. We’ll talk Monday.”

“Thank you again.”

Seungryung nodded and headed out.

Namjoon settled onto the couch behind Jin, resting his head on his shoulder. Halsey held up her phone. The screen showed an email – the ownership papers for Seokjin, now in Kim Namjoon’s name.

“He’s ours.”

“He’s free,” Namjoon whispered, kissing Jin’s neck. Jin smiled softly, reading over the email again and again.

“I’m free…”

“What do you want to do with your first night of freedom, baby?” Halsey asked.

“I want to cuddle my partners. Kiss you both… Spend the evening watching films and feeling… Human. Learning.”

“I think we can arrange that,” Namjoon said. He shifted over enough to kiss Jin’s lips, not missing the way Jin’s breath caught as he did. Halsey moved next, kissing Namjoon and then Jin, laughing a little as she did.

Namjoon hadn’t planned on anything more than a fun night for his birthday. Halsey’s gift had certainly spiced things up, but neither could have anticipated just how much it would change things. He’d always felt something missing in his life. But as they cuddled on the couch, sharing kisses and gentle touches, whispering and laughing, Namjoon felt complete. Life with a new partner – an android no less – would have its challenges, but he was up for them. As long as he had Halsey and Jin by his side, they would make it through just fine.