#Amaris needs therapy

[amaris-d-akagami]

Erica: Captain. You stay positive, You always believe that everything is going to work out. How do you do it??

Amaris: well! I'll tell you my secret my friend!

Erica: Yes..?

Amaris: I lie to myself.

Amaris: Every morning when I wake up, I say everything's gonna be okay! But I'm lying.

Amaris grabs Erica's shoulders: and I don't know how much longer I can do it.

Amaris: Have a swellnight, Erica! :D

Erica: 😟

[13leaguestories]

This came randomly to me after I understood all the characters and their personalities and stuff, buuutttt, how would they react if they went through the dream Roe had at the beginning of S1? The one they told the therapist? And how would they look or respond to Roe after being told that’s what happened to them?

I’m mostly curious about the main crew like Chris, Sydero, Bradley, Rahim etc.

(Absolutely loving superstition and your writing and I’m sitting here waiting for the rewrite like a child waiting to play games with their parent)

It's chugging along, Anon. Hopefully I can share more soon.

So, Chris actually knows about the dream. As he obviously knows why Roe is going to therapy. So canon is Chris does just think it's a dream and agrees with the therapist where they always say it was just a way to explain the trauma in a more child-like manner.

Going through it, Chris wouldn't have told anybody. He'd be traumatized to hell and back but he would have kept it all to himself and tried to rationalize it away.

I'm trying to remember if Sydero knows but I think she knows the gist but not all of it. Either way, she'd probably be able to understand Roe the best since going through her own childhood trauma in Hell with "The Box." Going through it I think she'd come out like how she came out of her own ordeal, traumatized and that trauma is absorbed into her personality.

Not doing Zillah cos he knows what happened and it's kind of hard to transfer someone who knows what happened to a T into something.

Interesting enough, Rahim didn't go through childhood trauma, not in the same way as Syd and Roe so I do think if he did go through Roe's dream then he'd be different but my gosh I can't even imagine how. As he is very much a momma's boy so what would her death + the horror of it do to him. Like, would he be more Sydero coded??

If Roe told him I think he'd try and give them some bullshit excuse or some sentiment that means nothing, mostly because of the angel's hand in everything. He's not good when it hits too close too home.

Amari is a good one because she would 100% be horrified if Roe told her and she would just be speechless. I think she would be horrified of shades after that and she would definitely start asking the important questions like "do all the reaper hybrid kids go through that" and "what would have happened if it worked out like it was supposed too."

She wouldn't survive it I think. I think if Amari lost her mother the same way as Roe, she would not be anything like she is now. She would be so much more of a shell, no bubbly personality or positive outlook.

Chanara doesn't know, doesn't even have an idea of what happens for the reaper hybrids. She knows they exist and Death needs them but that's about it. So, I do think if Chanara knew she would start questioning leadership. She's a good soldier but she's not great at hiding her thoughts when she doesn't agree with something, which is why she mostly tries to mind her own business.

If she went through it I think it would be similar to Roe but mix a bit of Winchester spirit in there. Chanara wouldn't have just chalked it up to a dream and would have doubted the "true story" until she learned of the supernatural and went on a revenge journey.

And lastly, Bradley would probably be like "damn, you too." I might even try to incorporate Roe telling him because I think that at the very least the OG crew (Syd, Chris, and Bradley) should know about it. If Bradley went through it then just add shades too the list of the beings he detests. If Bradley was Roe, Zillah wouldn't have made it because Bradley would have done everything he could too flip the tables and make Zillah pay and wipe him off the face of the planet.

[ittybittybattyart]

Finally beat everything from Pokemon scarlet and I’m hyperfixating on it haha, I’ve always loved Pokemon and I’m so glad I got to play this, the last gen I played was 7 (moon(Guzma my beloved)

There’s a lot of characters I like from this game that I’m hoping to draw (Rika, Geeta, Jacq, Hassel, Brassius, Ryme, Carmine, Drayton, Amarys, Giacomo, Eri) but I thought I’d start with one of my absolute faves Kieran! (Tied with Arven)

I really resonated with Kieran and Arven, it’s so cool to see the improvement in the storytelling/character writing with Pokemon, I hope they keep it up and keep improving too!

Semi personal rambling of why I relate to this dude under the cut

If this game had come out when I was a tween/teen I would’ve resonated even more with Kieran than I do now, since I was dealing with a lot of similar stuff at that time.

I’ve gotten to a much better place with myself and situation in the last five or so years, most of these unless otherwise said aren’t things I really struggle with anymore but I was so reminded of my younger self while playing through Kierans story

The self esteem problems and wanting to prove others wrong about what they think of me, the passive and overt bullying from others, the need of validation from others, especially those I admired/envied. Additionally the constant setbacks in life and trying to achieve my goals despite it and the envy of other people’s lives that seemed easier than mine

… also some of the obsessive tendencies just like generally, I'm extremely monotropic so its VERY difficult to get me to focus on something I'm not fixated on already, I will talk about it without even realizing and do it for days/weeks/months its still something that really effects me, I'll fixate so hard i dont sleep much for weeks and forget to eat/drink kind of levels, I've always been like this (AuDHD)(I'm working on taking breaks and self care in this regard tho)

Therapy really helped/helps (Kieran please go to therapy lol)

[dinitride-art]

Au fics that i think are neat and that i want to compile into a list because im trying to figure out how to comment on a chapter of a fic but i need time to sort out my thoughts (usually for fic recs i try to rec fics with less kudos/engagement because reasons but im just gonna throw everything in this list. probably multiple fics by the same author in the same universe because thats the one im trying to sort out my thoughts on.)

the strawberries are dying by eggowlss - historical fiction and very interesting character relationships and also character exploration within the time period. I really like this one because the pacing and tone are very gentle. There’s a srt of ebb and flow to the story that makes both the time period and the characters really fit into it. idk how to describe it i just like it a lot.

in the quiet of the night (acswy ao3 series) - they’re putting those characters in situations. It’s a very good time. 10/10 do recommend. If you haven't heard of this one though, it’s basically a modern au where everyone works at a summer camp and Mike and Will cause problems for themselves, each other, and usually everyone else around them. 

si vis amari, ama by perexcri - demons and angels and heaven and hell and its honestly just one hell of a story. like ive got vivid images in my head of scenes i imagined when reading this. 

you start to kiss (and the record skips) by eclipseadventure - this is a band au with a side of a secret relationship and im a sucker for secret relationships. a bit of drama/high stakes in here too which is always pretty fun. 

End Racism on the OTW! - you and me and the horrible teenaged ghost who keeps eviscerating himself in our apartment makes three by TheWrongKindOfPC - i am also a sucker for buzzfeed unsolved aus. buzzfeed unsolved, hauntings, ghosts, yknow the fun stuff. 

into the daylight by andiwriteordie - THIS IS NOT THE FIRST ONE, it’s just the first one that came up in my bookmarks. anyways, this is the second fic in a fantasy au series. The worldbuilding is really cool and there’s magic and history and politics and i like it a lot. the most recent chapter is spinning around in my mind.

the heartbreak prince by andiwriteordie - THIS IS THE FIRST ONE. 

beneath these boughs, my devotion blooms by perexcri - this is the fic that nearly killed me. i literally cant summarize it because im still recovering from what happened to me when i read it. Did i read it in april? Maybe. Listen, it had me asking questions about things i had never considered before. its 11k but im pretty sure it took me a good few hours to read because it made me think about it so much. again, ive got a bunch of visuals running through my head. its just... so much.

sweetheart, you're so cruel by perexcri - Mike’s in a band, Will’s a music snob, they’re both contemplating their life choices. very fun, very interesting, also made me think about some things. 

keep it hush by wiseatom - theres an amusement park and the horrors of customer service. and some other stuff but basically its pretty bright (the visuals of the fic in my head are bright- like sun glinting off metal- and idk how else to describe it)

the start of an age by delusionaltogether (Whyyyyy) - this ones funny and serious at times and its got Max in it. fantasy au with prince will and knight mike and a secret relationship and a small scheme between three parties that involves a fake (ish) marriage. 

superhero therapy by silverluminoqity - spiderman au with a side of trauma and healing? it’s complicated theres stuff happening, i had a good time reading it. 

you've got this spell on me by andiwriteordie - this one was really fun. basically its a fantasy au theres magic and mike gets himself hit with a spell that makes him fall in love with will and will freaks out about it for a while.

Daydream by disaster_energy - i really really liked this fic. its a fantasy au and its got gods and stuff and will gets chosen by the moon goddess because hes Will and everyone is like... woah.

takes one to know one by andiwriteordie - i also liked this one a lot, its a superhero au and its got ironic (like... dramatic irony- i think is what im talking about? maybe? but like fun irony) secret identities. 

Love goes 'round by evil_ontheinside - conversations in a laundry mat. mikes flopping (as in, flopping around like a fish) around a bit and this was pretty cute. 

my promise could be your fiend (could be the smallest of signs) by s0ld_it - spider man au, theres a bookstore involved and a lot of stuff. ive read this fic twice and greatly enjoyed it both times. 

Tip-toeing on Lily-pads by cherryisgone - very very fun, fantasy au and... mike gets cursed to be a frog. can only be un-cursed with a kiss. 

filling in the blanks as we go by delusionaltogether (Whyyyyy) - bookstore meetcute

there’s more but i spent all day painting my room and i am tired. Ive also got way too many bookmarks to go through and i have decided to stop here. still haven't figured out how to write that comment (but i am working on it because i love the fi(s) and ive been thinking about one specific thing that came up in a new chapter for so long). anyways, i hope someone enjoys this list of au fics from my bookmarks. 

[dipplinduo]

Kieran: You guys know what we all need?

Crispin: Food?

Carmine, Juliana, & Drayton simultaneously: Self-esteem?

Lacey: Attention?

Amarys: Emotions?

Kieran: ….

Kieran: Therapy.

Kieran: We all need therapy.

Oddly self-aware Kieran moment LOL

[wildissylupus]

With those abilities that that person made, for all Mirrorwatch characters fighting their normal selves one on one, how do you think it would go? Regular vs mirror for Mercy, Doomfist, DVa, Genji, Amelie, Sombra, Bastion, Echo, Reinhardt, Orisa, Hanzo, Kiriko, Symmetra, Zarya, Zenyatta, Tracer, Ana, and Brigitte

Ok so the thing is when it comes to one on one, it's a lot easier for same characters rather then others to decide, if we're doing teams then that also complicates things. You also have to consider that fighting styles in general would change due to stories also changing. So I'll explain that when I need to.

Mercy vs. Vengeance

This ones simple, in a one on one, Vengeance wins, mainly because she has the most offensive abilities.

Doomfist vs. Strike Commander Ogundimu

This ones hard but in a one on one but I have to say that Doomfist would win this one. He has abilities more focused on these types of fights while Strike Commander Ogundimu is a lot more team focused. Though that does mean in a team fight Doomfist would loose.

DVa vs. Junker D.Va

We don't actually have a kit for Junker D.Va (and for the life of me I can't find the poster where I talked about it) but I do think D.Va would win specifically because she's professionally trained and is constantly fighting the Gwishin.

Genji vs. Junker Genji

Genji wins, mainly because he got therapy and won't be entirely impulsive about the situation, but in general I could see Genji just being more skilled then his Mirrorwatch counterpart.

Widowmaker vs. Captain Lacroix

Captain Lacroix wins, I've already gone into detail as to why Widowmakers combat style in lore is flawed and doesn't work with her skill set, and I can guarantee that isn't the case for Captain Lacroix.

Sombra vs. Agent Colomar

Sombra wins for the same reason Doomfist does, her abilities are more focused on her then her allies, though that does also mean that Agent Colomar would win in a team fight.

Bastion vs. Gwishin

Bastion wins, purely because of his turret form, nothing against what they did with Gwishin but his kit would not work well against Bastion.

Echo vs. Stealth

Echo wins purely on adaptability, from what it looks like and how Stealth's kit works, it looks like she was made specifically to be at peak performance of her own abilities, while Echo was made to adapt.

Reinhardt vs. Fallen Knight

Reinhardt wins, though it is close. My main reasoning for this is Rein not only has free will, he's also not permanently blinded by rage, like how Fallen Knight is.

Orisa vs. OR-UNIT

Orisa wins for the same reason Echo does, with the added bonus of Orisa was made to be better then the OR-units in canon.

Hanzo vs. Hashimoto Hanzo

Another one we don't really have a solid case for but I am going to have to say Hashimoto Hanzo would win, mainly due to the fact I think he'd be a lot more ruthless when he fights and a lot more inclined to do close range combat.

Kiriko vs. Hashimoto Kiriko

Hashimoto Kiriko wins with the same reasoning with Hanzo.

Symmetra vs. Junker Symmetra

Junker Sym wins mainly because she has the freedom to explore what she's capable of, she's also a bit more chaotic the regular Sym which I think would throw her off her game.

Zarya vs. Talon Zarya

Talon Zarya wins, but she cheats cause she's got enhancements that she doesn't really need.

Zenyatta vs. Z-3N Destroyer

Z-3N Destroyer wins due to him being more combat focused then Zen in general.

Tracer vs. Operative Oxton

Tracer wins due to her chronal accelerator being a lot more stable and not causing her damage when in use. There is also the fact that I think Tracer would be more strategic about the fight in general.

Ana vs. Arch-Commandant Amari

Arch-Commandant Amari wins, this isn't really about skill and more on their outlook on combat. Basically, Ana doesn't really kill anymore and Arch-Commandant Amari can do headshots.

Brigitte vs. Talon Brigitte

Brigitte wins specifically because she has had more personalized training while Talon Brigitte was likely only trained by Talon agents. Brig has had more time with her own abelites to grow and is likely more capable in a one on one fight.

[bingbongbugtime]

I agree, let's look at this from an efficiency point of view.

Issue: You, and likely many others, are experiencing negative emotions to a degree which is affecting your ability to pursue your goals.

Solution 1 (Team Galactic's version): Cease attempting to pursue those goals altogether to pursue a different, far more difficult goal all while still experiencing the negative emotions which were mentioned prior. There is no historical evidence of this having worked before, you will break multiple laws in its pursuit, and the odds of betrayal from Team leadership are high.

Solution 2: Seek individualized professional help to process these emotions and learn to deal with them. Gain the ability to pursue your goals again. There are many, many, documented instances of this method succeeding in solving the above stated issue and the risks to your health and future are nonexistent.

Therapy is the efficient option. Joining a death team is not.

-Amarys @elite-amarys

It isn't to pursue a different goal, it's a step in making my own goals more obtainable. And the therapy thing is just unreasonable. All the counselors are mandated reporters, the good ones are on the mainland, even if I did get therapy I am taking away resources from people that actually need it, not paying for plane tickets when I can just take a nap and sleep it off.

Additionally since when did you give a shit? You dropped me just like everyone else in the damn school the second I wasn't part of the Elite four.

[psn-stalling]

Cherry and Plum

Special focus on the Plum.

-@elite-amarys

HELP?!?!

Also no I do not need therapy. Nothing about me is in need of therapy. I'm the most normal person on this entire site thank you very much. But thanks for the suggestion...?

[succubus-interactivefiction]

Estrid Erling (Symbiosis RO)

Name: Estrid Erling

Alias: N/A

Age: 19

Nationality: South African/Norwegian

Power Set: N/A

Status: Civilian

Born in Norway to her loving parents Estrid became an orphan at the age of thirteen when her parents were collateral damage in a battle between a hero and villain. With her only living relative being her aunt, Estrid was forced to move to Canada to live with the relative she had not seen in years. Her aunt, Amari, dove into being a parent head first and did everything she could to provide for her niece, but for the first few years Estrid kept her distance, doing her best to push away anyone who showed her even a little affection. In her mind she was protecting herself from losing more loved ones. However her aunt was tenacious and eventually got Estrid to open up to her. This led to Estrid agreeing to therapy and she finally began to heal.

While Estrid always had high grades in school she chose to find a job immediately after graduation in order to help her aunt who had struggled to provide her with a life since she moved to Canada to live with Amari, despite her aunt's protests. Estrid still lives with her aunt in their small house in a bad part of Aeon Falls where she has a pair of german shepherds named Kiki and Bruno who she dotes on and anyone who wants to pursue a relationship with her will need to accept the dogs are a part of the package. They will also need to get past Amari who is very protective of the niece she has come to consider her own daughter.

Estrid is a huge geek and adores playing tabletop games, watching anime, reading, and when she has a free moment writing short stories. When someone is willing to listen she can go on for hours about her favorite games, shows, and books, she's even willing to read her stories to people she cares about.

Appearance: Unlike both her parents Estrid is fairly short, coming only to 5’3` and is a little chubby. It’s not her dark brown hair or gorgeous brown eyes that draw people’s attention though, it’s her smile. Her smile is capable of lightening anyone's day and making things seem just a bit better.

Abilities Vast knowledge of anime and various tabletop games Seemingly unlimited energy Can make anyone feel better, no matter the situation

[dawnthefox24]

Cole:*Is out on a balcony smoking away, while looking down hear a few white and static noises run through his head as his mind wanders far off to the deep end *

Zenyatta: thats a far drop you know Cassidy.

Cole:*gets startled out of fright* FUC!- Zen please don't scare a man like that...

Zenyatta: Cole are you okay?

Cole:*looks down again before putting his cigar out*....Just lettin my mind wander ya know....I'm just....Tuckered Out....

Zenyatta: in what ways my friend?

Cole: ...Look I ain't gonna sugar coat it but I'm just All-overish...Being back here again.....

Zenyatta: all-overish?....

Cole: It mean I'm uncomfortable.....I just......Look Zen see miss Amari and Morssion alive is like a slap in the face to me!....

Zenyatta: I see....So how does that make you feel?

Cole: Pissed!...Worst of all seeing Morrision alive makes me madder than an Old Wet Hen!!

Zenyatta:*stays quiet and lets Cole vent to him*

Cole: *soon starts to cry* I was at their graves!...I had to bury them!....I was abandoned...I was alone....I was frighten ya know...I was lost....I lost my parents...Ana..Jack...Gabe...

Zenyatta:*Places a harmony orb around Cole making it feel like the sun was hugging him*

Cole: w-when things were going okay with Overwatch taken me in...I had a family....Now I just butt heads with Morrison now and Ana has her own issues with Fareeha....

Zenyatta: I'm so sorry Cole, you grew up too fast in an environment and seeing the past hurts....It was like that with Genji.

Cole: Genji grew ya know...I thank ya for helping him...

Zenyatta: Indeed has but Cole if you want you can always come to me for advice no matter what. A friend of genji is a friend of mine.

Cole:*Smiles softly and chuckles* how did genji fine a wonderful teacher like you.

Zenyatta: I Think I found him instead and he's a wonderful student...now please come back inside I saw you leave and wanted to make sure you were okay.

Cole:*Takes in a deep breath and exhaled slowly * I'm fine now thank ya zen.

Zenyatta: *nods a bit before heading back inside* Remember I'm always open for a conversation so what ever problems you have I'm willing to listen.

Cole:*Nods and looks back down from the balcony for a few minutes before he heads back inside sighing pinching the bridge of his nose * ...Good lord I also need some therapy....

[bb-elite-stellar-carmine]

you need therapy. you really need it. or to talk to amarys.

What?? Are you trying to call me crazy?..

I don't need any of this "therapy!!" I'm fine!

[elite-amarys]

oh my GLOB

Amarys there's still hope for the fourth sad boy

He had therapy when he was ten we can do this

We can Fix Him

We do not need to "fix" him. This terminology is insulting. He does not need fixing he needs healing.

Additionally. I do not think the therapy he received as a 10 year old is likely to be relevant to his current issues.

[narastories]

Tell us how unhinged you are about your favorite old man: E. Hendricks

I will assume this is for that unhinged character bingo:

I'll try to put a cut here after I post for spoiler reasons but:

*incoherent sobbing*: I miss him. I want him back. Please, Luke? I get why it had to happen but :'( I enjoyed his parts so much in the first two books and now it's like... :(

ANGST: what can I say here? We have Coda-flavored angst, angst about Fetch, angst about the Chimera, general morality angst, betrayal angst, trying to destroy something you once loved angst, and many more.

LET THEM BE HAPPY: in direct contrast to that I want lots of fluff for Hendricks and Fetch and Amari where nothing hurts and they are all happy

I torture them... correction: I should torture him more because I love him

GO TO FUCKING THERAPY: seriously. My man, you need some professional help and I say that with love

WHY are they like this???!!! *insert more sobbing*

*puts him in a Sunder City-shaped snow globe and shakes aggressively*

Crying and punching the wall. Lance. Chimera. So many dead. What the fuck.

I need to dissect them under a microscope: for real tho. I truly love Hendricks, but every time I re-read the books more red flags pop up and more skeletons fall out of the closet.

I hope this helps lol

[tabbasum62]

The Best Spas in Dhaka: A Guide to Luxurious Wellness and Relaxation

Amid the vibrant energy of Dhaka, Bangladesh's bustling capital, lies a collection of exclusive spas where relaxation and luxury come together to create a haven for wellness enthusiasts. With options ranging from luxurious five-star hotel spas to more intimate wellness retreats, Dhaka's spa scene caters to diverse needs and offers respite from the city’s fast-paced life. In this guide, we explore some of the best spas in Dhaka, each offering unique services that provide a rejuvenating experience and an escape from the daily grind.

1. Heavenly Spa by Westin Dhaka

Located in the heart of Dhaka’s affluent Gulshan area, Heavenly Spa at The Westin Dhaka is renowned for its luxurious and tranquil ambiance. As one of the city’s most exclusive spa destinations, Heavenly Spa offers an extensive menu of treatments inspired by both Eastern and Western traditions. From Swedish and deep-tissue massages to hot stone therapy, each treatment is carefully designed to promote relaxation, improve circulation, and alleviate muscle tension.

One of their signature treatments, the “Heavenly Hot Stone Massage,” combines smooth, heated stones and gentle strokes to melt away stress and tension, leaving guests feeling deeply rejuvenated. The spa also offers facials, body scrubs, and aromatherapy sessions that use high-quality essential oils. Many guests praise the professionalism and attentiveness of the therapists, who ensure each treatment is tailored to individual needs. The spa facilities, including a sauna and steam room, add to the experience, making Heavenly Spa an ideal destination for anyone looking to indulge in top-tier wellness treatments.

2. Pan Pacific Sonargaon Dhaka Spa

Another luxury option, the Pan Pacific Sonargaon Dhaka Spa offers a serene escape with a focus on holistic wellness. Known for its inviting ambiance and dedicated service, this spa provides a wide variety of massages, including Thai, Balinese, and deep-tissue massages that target tension points, improve flexibility, and enhance relaxation.

A standout option here is the “Pacific Rejuvenation” package, which combines a full-body massage, body wrap, and facial to revitalize and refresh the entire body. Using high-quality, natural ingredients, the treatments not only offer relaxation but also provide nourishing benefits to the skin. Guests can also enjoy additional facilities such as a steam room and sauna, which help to detoxify the body. With its elegant interior and highly skilled therapists, Pan Pacific Sonargaon’s spa is a top choice for those looking to unwind and recharge.

3. Amari Dhaka Breeze Spa

Breeze Spa at Amari Dhaka, located in Gulshan, is a contemporary spa that emphasizes wellness through relaxation and fun. Known for its cheerful and welcoming atmosphere, Breeze Spa offers a range of treatments that blend traditional techniques with modern wellness practices. Each treatment package is designed to uplift the spirit and rejuvenate the body, with massages like “Dreamy Aromatherapy” and “Revitalizing Body Scrub” being guest favorites.

The spa’s signature “Mood Massages” cater to different preferences, allowing guests to select a treatment based on how they want to feel afterward – whether that’s relaxed, revitalized, or energized. Breeze Spa also offers facials, foot massages, and body wraps using high-quality, natural ingredients that enhance both skin health and mental well-being. The spa’s lighthearted approach to wellness makes it a refreshing option for individuals looking to combine relaxation with a little fun.

4. Satori Medispa

Located in Dhanmondi, Satori Medispa stands out as one of Dhaka’s premier medical spas, offering a combination of clinical-grade skincare treatments and wellness therapies. Satori Medispa is ideal for clients seeking specialized skincare services such as chemical peels, microdermabrasion, and laser treatments that provide long-lasting results. The spa also offers traditional massage therapies, body wraps, and detox treatments for a holistic approach to wellness.

Satori’s signature treatments include the “Detox Body Wrap,” which uses organic ingredients to cleanse and hydrate the skin, and the “Anti-Aging Facial,” which incorporates advanced skincare technology to reduce fine lines and rejuvenate the skin. With licensed estheticians and certified therapists on staff, Satori Medispa provides a high standard of care, making it an excellent choice for those who prioritize both relaxation and skincare results.

5. BD Thai Spa

For those seeking an authentic Thai massage experience, BD Thai Spa in Gulshan is a popular destination. Known for its traditional Thai massage techniques, this spa offers a therapeutic experience that combines stretching, acupressure, and rhythmic compression to promote flexibility, alleviate tension, and stimulate blood circulation.

In addition to Thai massages, BD Thai Spa offers aromatherapy, reflexology, and foot massages in a calm and inviting atmosphere. The staff are highly skilled in the art of Thai massage, and many clients appreciate the personalized care and affordable prices. For a classic spa experience that stays true to the roots of Thai wellness traditions, BD Thai Spa provides a serene environment and effective treatments.

6. Spa at Radisson Blu Dhaka Water Garden

Radisson Blu Dhaka’s spa is set within a lush, resort-like setting, offering guests an oasis of calm in the city. The spa provides a range of luxurious treatments, including deep-tissue massages, aromatherapy, and facials, all of which incorporate natural and high-quality ingredients. With options for both short treatments and longer wellness packages, this spa caters to both quick relaxation needs and extended wellness experiences.

One of the spa’s unique features is its outdoor pool and surrounding gardens, where guests can relax and enjoy a tranquil environment before or after their treatments. The spa’s elegant design and high level of service make it an excellent choice for guests looking to combine a luxurious experience with natural surroundings. Radisson Blu Dhaka’s spa is a wonderful choice for those looking to escape the city’s hustle and bustle while staying close to the heart of Dhaka.

Why Visit a Spa in Dhaka?

Dhaka’s vibrant lifestyle can often be overwhelming, making self-care essential for maintaining a balanced and healthy lifestyle. A visit to a spa offers an opportunity to disconnect, rejuvenate, and take a break from the city’s fast pace. Spa treatments provide numerous health benefits, such as reduced stress, improved circulation, muscle relief, and better sleep quality. Additionally, a spa environment promotes mindfulness, helping individuals reconnect with themselves and focus on their well-being.

Choosing the Right Spa Experience

With a variety of spa options available in Dhaka, choosing the right spa depends on personal preferences and wellness goals. For those seeking luxury, the spas at The Westin, Radisson Blu, and Pan Pacific Sonargaon offer premium amenities and high-end treatments. Amari Dhaka’s Breeze Spa brings a fun and modern twist to the spa experience, while Satori Medispa provides specialized skincare treatments. For an authentic Thai massage, BD Thai Spa offers quality and affordability in a peaceful setting.

In conclusion, Dhaka’s spas present an inviting escape where relaxation meets luxury. Whether you’re interested in a traditional massage, a facial treatment, or a complete wellness package, these top spas offer a chance to recharge and refresh. Taking time to visit a spa is more than a luxury – it’s an investment in well-being, providing the rejuvenation needed to thrive amid the demands of city life.

[amarisbella21]

CHIP Health Insurance: Ensuring Comprehensive Coverage For Kids And Teens

The Children’s Health Insurance Program (CHIP) is a lifeline for families across the United States, providing affordable and comprehensive health coverage for children and teens who fall just above the Medicaid income threshold. Administered jointly by federal and state governments, CHIP was established to make healthcare accessible for millions of kids, reducing financial barriers and ensuring that essential health services are within reach for families of varied income levels. Let’s delve into how CHIP works, its benefits, and why it remains a cornerstone for children’s healthcare in the U.S.

What is CHIP?

CHIP is designed to cover children and, in some cases, pregnant women who do not qualify for Medicaid but cannot afford private health insurance. It targets families with incomes up to around 300% of the federal poverty level, although this varies by state. CHIP has been instrumental in closing the healthcare gap by offering a range of benefits that ensure young people have access to preventive, emergency, and routine care. By alleviating financial burdens, CHIP promotes the well-being of children and teens, allowing them to grow up healthy and strong.

Key Benefits of CHIP Coverage

CHIP offers a wide range of essential services tailored to the unique health needs of children and teenagers. Some of the major benefits include:

Preventive Care

CHIP emphasizes preventive care, which includes regular check-ups, immunizations, and screenings. These services are vital for early detection of health issues, helping to prevent serious illnesses and maintain overall health. By covering these services, CHIP ensures that health issues are identified and managed early, reducing the risk of more severe conditions later on.

Doctor Visits and Hospital Care

With CHIP, families have access to affordable primary and specialist visits. This means children can see a physician when they need to, without worrying about the high costs associated with healthcare. Additionally, CHIP covers emergency services and hospital stays, offering a safety net when unexpected medical situations arise.

Vision and Dental Services

CHIP is unique in its inclusion of vision and dental care. Vision services, including eye exams and glasses, are covered to ensure that children’s sight issues are addressed, a critical factor for their academic and personal development. Similarly, CHIP covers preventive dental care like cleanings and fillings, which are vital for maintaining good oral health and preventing tooth decay.

Behavioral and Mental Health Services

Recognizing the importance of mental health, CHIP includes behavioral and mental health services. Children and teens have access to counseling, therapy, and other mental health services. This coverage is crucial for addressing issues like anxiety, depression, and behavioral disorders, ensuring that children receive the support they need during their formative years.

Prescription Medications

CHIP also covers prescription medications, which allows children to access necessary medications for chronic or acute conditions. This reduces out-of-pocket costs for families, making treatments more accessible and ensuring children adhere to prescribed therapies.

Why CHIP Matters Today

The importance of CHIP extends beyond healthcare access—it significantly impacts child development and family stability. Studies show that children with consistent healthcare coverage perform better in school and have fewer behavioral problems. CHIP’s role in supporting both physical and mental health leads to better educational outcomes, healthier family dynamics, and a more productive society.

Furthermore, CHIP reduces financial strain on families, allowing parents to focus on other essential aspects of their lives, like housing, education, and career growth, instead of worrying about unexpected medical bills.

How to Apply for CHIP

Applying for CHIP is straightforward and typically done through a state’s health department or a centralized online portal. Each state sets its income limits, eligibility criteria, and specific benefits, so families should check their state’s guidelines to determine if they qualify. Many states provide enrollment assistance to guide families through the process.

In Conclusion

CHIP stands as a testament to the value of investing in children’s health. By ensuring that essential services are accessible, CHIP application in PA promotes a future where every child can lead a healthy, fulfilling life, regardless of their family’s financial situation. This program remains a vital resource for American families, protecting the health of millions of children and offering peace of mind to parents nationwide.

[embossross]

From His Mind to Yours

Chapter 3 >> Chapter 4 >> masterlist

✣ Pairing: Hanma x AFAB fem!Reader

✣ Warning: 18+, minors DNI; unhealthy relationships & dark content

✣ Chapter CW: stalking, throwaway reference to child abuse and murder, dirty talk (masturbation, exhibitionism, degradation) and just general nsfw

✣ Story CWs: patient/doctor relationships; smut (oral, ptv, pta, etc.), degradation, stalking, torture (not of y/n), murder, discussions of trauma and abuse, drug use, and more

✣ Synopsis: Forced into therapy, Hanma expects to waste his time and yours, but you’re not about to let the chance of a high-profile and higher paying patient slip through your grasp. The fact that you’re both attracted to each other doesn’t hurt either.

✣ Word Count: ~10k

You wake up to a cold bed.

Sometime before the sun rose, your boyfriend – Amari Takashi – must have woken, dressed, and left your shared apartment. The rigidity of his schedule always impresses you. Short of a fever, Takashi rises before the sun to greet the work of the day. Takashi is leading a major project for his firm, something he can’t discuss with you, so his hours are more severe than ever.

For the past month, you could set your watch by Takashi’s habits. He wakes around 4 AM to an alarm that doesn’t pierce through your heavy REM cycle; he spends no more than half an hour preparing for the day before braving the commute to the office. He will be seated at his desk by 6 AM. You receive one text update around lunchtime and a five-minute phone call at 6 PM. Next you hear from your boyfriend is no sooner than 10 PM, when he stumbles exhausted into the apartment, eats leftovers standing over the kitchen sink, and then collapses into bed. Rinse and repeat.

If you had a confidante, you might confess that your current lifestyle is rather lonely.

Loneliness is not the worst of your problems by a longshot.

In the days since you last saw Hanma, you have obsessively replayed the events of your session. Everything from the gruesome murder to the street race to when he pressed his body tantalizingly close. It is the latter that is ruining your life.

You are ten percent woman and 90 percent desire at this point, pent up from a month of sexual neglect. Before Hanma, you didn’t much mind the dry spell, turning to your vibrator in times of trouble. But now…every time you are about to cum, Hanma ruins it for you. His smirking face will appear right at the critical moment and your hand will freeze even as your body begs to continue. The line remains uncrossed, your orgasm remains denied, and you have run out of good will towards your patient.

A week of edging changes the way you walk, the way you interact with the world. You wear only skirts because the press of pants is distracting. You are nibbling the tips of pens, unthinkingly caressing your inner arms, seeing innuendo in every skyline.

Today is the day of your third session with Hanma, in-office this time, and you admit you need a game plan. On the train ride to your office, you stare out the window and reflect on your situation. You do what you would recommend to your clients and create a mental safe space, free of judgment and repression, where everything is on the table.

Truth #1 – You want to fuck Hanma. There is something cliché about the danger that draws you in, yes, but it is the back-and-forth that your mind summons in your dirty dreams, the way he banters back that leaves you hyper-present in your body.

Truth #2 – Repressing your desire is not working. Your swollen, edged cunt is evidence enough.

Truth #3 – You are terrified. You are terrified of the professional consequences of exploring this desire. Terrified of the power exchange if Hanma sniffs out the intensity of your desire and weaponizes it against you. Terrified of the moral implications of seeing a man commit murder and wanting to jump him hours later.

You sigh so loudly that a passenger beside you sends a concerned look your way. The hypocrisy surprises even you. You are supposed to help Hanma learn to control his impulses and consider the long-term consequences of his actions. Meanwhile, you are suffering an out of character risk-taking streak.

To jump or not to jump…

You arrive before your receptionist, flipping on the lights to the four-room office your rent for your practice: waiting area, bathroom, storage closet, and office. The rent is exorbitant given the size of the leased space because of its proximity to Ueno Station, but that’s why you chose it. You figured the moneyed elite and overworked masses alike would look for convenience and find your practice. That investment has paid off four-fold. After paying your overhead, you bring home more than you would make working in someone else’s practice.

The waiting area is cramped, but you have always found your office spacious. A twelve-tatami mat room, which is plenty for one-on-one talk therapy. When you want to create closeness with patients, you draw their chair nearer your desk. When you want to enforce boundaries, you sit behind your desk and allow its imposing weight to shield you.

The tacky yellow sofa now taking up the east half of the room makes the room feel significantly smaller.

Three days earlier, two non-descript men barged into your office, arms loaded with boxes. They demanded to know which room you used to see patients, and when answered, set to work unboxing and building the sofa then and there. They wouldn’t answer your questions, but something in the width of their shoulders warned you shouldn’t try to stop them.

You know damn well who is behind the unwanted gift. Like Hanma’s face floating before your mind’s eye before you can cum, it is an intrusion. An unwanted one.

The hours pass swiftly as you debate how to present yourself to Hanma when he arrives. You decide the most important thing is to conceal your conflict of interest. You cannot let him suspect what plagues you.

Would forced casualness throw him off the scent of your desire? Going on the aggressive? What if he baits you with sexual overtures again? What would an unaffected person do in response?

At the exact strike of 4 PM, your receptionist informs you that Hanma has arrived for his appointment. He walks into your office, and you can’t resist a quick glance up and down to take in the full breadth of him. He is breathtakingly tall.

Hanma confirms every one of your suspicions when he disregards the chair reserved for patients and lays down on the sofa. Annoyed, you momentarily forget why you find him attractive in the first place.

“You really don’t have to lay down, Hanma-san. It makes no difference,” you say.

“It makes every difference. It’s helping me get into the mood. And hello to you, too, Doc,” Hanma purrs.

“Well, your comfort is most important,” you grit out.

“Exactly!”

In just a few words, Hanma twists your entire life’s work into a big joke that exists for his pleasure. Years of self-restraint are all that prevent you from scowling at him, from chasing him from the room under a hail of paper cuts.

The session kicks off easily at first with the typical exchange of pleasantries. He is playing nice, and you almost wish he wouldn’t, so you had an excuse to take your temper out on him.

After some thought and research, you have concluded that cognitive behavioral therapy is the best fit for Hanma’s issues. Common to address struggles with depression and anxiety, there is research that suggests it can also be effective for patients with ASPD. The general concept is that problems can be traced back to inciting patterns of behavior. If the patient can learn to recognize those patterns as they are occurring, the patient will be able to write new patterns over time that are more helpful to daily life.

To start, you instruct Hanma to walk you through his day so far with a focus on any times he was atypically bored or engaged.

“Got up at six, went to the gym and then the dojo for a bit. No one was there to spar, but I kept myself busy. I’m never bored really when I’m exercising or fighting, even if I do wish for a better opponent. Took a shower, got dressed, ate breakfast. Standard stuff. Boring, but didn’t want to blow my brains out,” Hanma explains.

Not so different from how you would answer the same question.

You follow up, “What do you think about while getting ready?”

“Well, I jerked off in the shower,” Hanma sneers, and you visibly recoil. All your mental coaching did not prepare you for the brutal impact of hearing those words said aloud, “But then mostly the itinerary for the day.”

“Do you think to yourself, ‘this is going to be a boring day,’ as you think through your plains?” you ask.

“How could I not? Though I did have some hopes for a problem I went out to address in Ginza.”

“Tell me about it.”

The joke of lounging on the couch like a talk-therapy patient in the movies does not last long. Hanma is a surprisingly engaged conversationalist. With each question and answer, he slowly angles his body more towards you, liking to make eye contact as he speaks. By the time he begins to tell his story about Ginza, he is seated upright and leant towards you with his elbows balanced on sharp knees.

“First thing is to understand that we have the racket all over the city, including Ginza, but it’s trickier there. Too many billion-dollar multinationals: Balenciaga, Louis Vuitton, Nike. Even the local stores get a better-than-thou attitude, so sometimes they resent paying for protection, think they can handle themselves without paying their mikajimeryo, and we have to remind them of the dangers of going it alone in this hard world.”

“So, you needed to threaten some shop owners,” you summarize.

“Not quite. You’ve gotten be patient,” Hanma scolds. “The last few years, we’ve run into fewer problems in Ginza because of the gaijin swarming the district. Used to be Ginza was a classy place, but the foreigners bring money, and the money brings out the touts. You can’t spit at night without hitting one tout or another. The business owners in the area don’t care for that, so many have started paying extra for us to take care of the problem and keep their clientele to a high standard.”

“Businesses pay you to scare away people they don’t consider good enough?” you ask, surprised you can be surprised.

“Oh yeah, big global names. See, the police can’t do anything because it’s not a crime to stand on the sidewalk. We do everyone a favor and keep the streets clean.”

“Wouldn’t a squad of yakuza enforcers be worse than the touts?” you ask skeptically.

“Some of our guys clean up nice. Anyway, Doc, stay on topic. I know the criminal underbelly is interesting to your virgin ears, but this is my therapy.”

Chastened, you gesture for Hanma to continue.

“Last few weeks, some of the touts have been organizing. We’re getting reports that they’re armed and putting up a fight when our guys try to send them packing. There’s a new generation of kids coming up in Shinjuku, probably one percent our size, but they’ve got promise and have yet to bend the knee. Thought this might be an early power grab from them and wanted to investigate. So, I went out to Ginza to crack some heads,” Hanma says.

“And?”

“And nothing. Just some drunk idiots trying to make a dollar and not realizing who they were messing with. No evidence that the Shinjuku brats are involved, let alone making a play against us.”

“Smart of them to not challenge the Tokyo Manji gang,” you comment.

“Smart but dull. There was a time in the early days, when we were vying for the crown, where there was a new contender every month: Terano, the Haitanis, Senju, not to mention all the older families we had to displace to carve out our spot. It’s probably been three years since there was any real challenge domestically,” Hanma says.

“When you realized that the Shinjuku gang wasn’t involved, did you do anything in frustration? What happened to the touts you were interrogating?”

Hanma has unsettling eyes. A light brown that almost looks yellow through the reflection of his glasses. Right now, they are equal parts predatory and playful, almost feline as he sizes you up.

“There was a moment, when I contemplated making my turf war happen. I could head to Shinjuku, find some of their upper-mid-level guys and break their spines. Send a message. Get them angry enough that they forget caution and come at us with everything they have. I was halfway to my car when I decided against it,” Hanma says.

“What stopped you?”

“I would have missed our appointment.”

You can hear the drip of the fountain in your waiting room. There are high school boys walking on strong legs, unparalyzed today, because Hanma wanted to see you. There is an awful power that thrums through your veins. You uncross your legs because the slight pressure against your pubis is suddenly overpowering.

“And the touts? Are they still walking free?” you ask to diffuse the tension.

“They’re all on Toman’s payroll now. Did us the favor of unionizing, so an easy matter to swoop in and take ownership.”

“So what? You’ll put them to use in another part of town?”

There is no professional basis for this question. You are speaking to Hanma like this is a casual chat between friends. Your curiosity is pinged, and now you simply want to know what comes next.

“You’re very innocent, you know that?” Hanma says, and he sounds both amused and disdainful. “No, they’ll keep working in Ginza. Send people through to our establishments.”

“But the stores are paying you to keep the touts out,” you protest.

“And they’ll keep paying. The touts become a double revenue stream. They drive business to our businesses. Then, we pretend to drive them out just enough to collect our fee. Millions of yen go to Koko, and the yakuza keeps on turning,” Hanma explains.

Always so strange to consider the second world that operated just below the surface. How often do you visit a bar or walk down a street and the signs of the yakuza are plain to see for someone in the know, yet you continue on none the wiser? When your time with Hanma inevitably comes to a permanent end, will you be able to go back to your previous ignorance? Or will you always see the stain of organized crime on your city? Maybe you should move to Kyoto.

“I’ve asked you to walk me through a time you were bored before, what you felt, what you did. Because my hypothesis is that you react impulsively when bored, you…lash out for a lack of a better term. I want to narrow in on what exactly triggers you, but I’d also like to better understand what ‘lashing out’ looks like for you. What’s something you do that you later regret?”

Hanma folds his hands in front of his chin, crossing the fingers together and sliding them back and forth. The movement draws attention to those terrible tattoos.

“Depends on what you mean by ‘lashing out.’ If it’s by my standards, by Kisaki’s, or by society’s.”

“Your entire lifestyle is unacceptable by society’s standards, and I’ve spoken to Kisaki-san at length,” you say dryly. Perversely, Kisaki is largely unbothered by Hanma’s violent outbursts so long as he punches down in their organization or against civilians. He is most bothered by Hanma’s tardiness from important meetings and sloppiness with crime scenes. You continue, “I know his concerns. I want to know yours.”

“See, that’s the thing, doc. I don’t regret anything I do. Yeah, I don’t always think a thing through before I do it, but I never feel guilty about it afterward. It’s just something I did.”

You narrow your eyes in displeasure. It’s a straightforward answer in line with the research, yes, but you think he ought to feel a tad guilty for what he has reduced you to. A little shame for ruining your nights. So, a hint of malice colors your professionalism at the next question.

“Have you ever wanted to learn a skill? Something that you can’t learn in a few hours, something you have to actually study for?”

“I learned to fight.”

“As an adult.”

“I hope you’re not suggesting I learn to code. Hoping I switch careers?”

“I wonder if you could learn to code, even if you wanted to,” you say, too combative. “It requires that you sit down and focus on one thing for hours at a time, that you have the discipline to return to it day after day, even if it gets boring. Do you think you could do that?”

The hollows of Hanma’s cheeks grow stark as his face sours. His mouth twists and then opens, teeth bared. The mien of an animal.

“Think you’re smarter than me? Got yourself a degree and a second-rate office, and you think that makes you any more than one of a hundred other prissy graduates just like you?”

Dry enough to hurt, you try to will saliva back into your mouth. The insults bounce right off, but the intensity! Hanma’s body arcs from the couch, primed as if to lunge for your throat at any moment. Those white teeth are menacing when on display, when focused on you. A slight misstep, and you think he might actually hurt you.

He might actually want to hurt you.

Fear seizes you up, and you forget why you felt bitter towards him in the first place.

“I’m not trying to insult you, Hanma-san. I only want to help you reflect on what limitations you may experience because of the symptoms we’ve discussed,” you say.

It is a feat of self-control, the way you meet his amber eyes, almost yellow like a serpent. One by one, the coiled muscles unlock and sink back into the waiting couch. You are not relieved. His relaxation appears unnatural and forced. You know how quickly he can move.

“Contrary to how it may sound, I don’t think you have no self-control. I suspect that you actually exercise a great deal every single day. How many times a day are you bored or frustrated or want something and yet manage to stop yourself from ‘lashing out?’ Dozens? Hundreds? That doesn’t suggest someone with low self-control.”

Each word lands carefully, chosen so as not to provoke him further. Someone honks twice on the street below. It’s the only sound over the hum of the air conditioner and your forced steady breathing. The stubborn silence reminds you of your first session with him.

Gingerly, you attempt a return to questions. “All the times you do manage to stop yourself, how do you do it? What do you feel or think to yourself in those moments?”

“I’m done answering questions for nothing, doc. I’ll answer if you agree to play a game with me.”

Moments before you contemplated if Hanma would strange you where you sat. Alone in the office, it would be hours before your corpse was discovered. You should not be entertaining games.

“What kind of game?”

“Oh, a game you’ll like. I promise,” Hanma grins, too many teeth like a shark. “It’ll be a game of truth and deceit.”

You were a lonely child. Isolated from your neighbors by your mother’s erratic behavior and too studious to be popular in school. When the other children gathered to play oni gokko or juggle otedama, you typically sat out on the sidelines and watched. Your world was too cruel to embrace such light-hearted children’s games.

To this day, the prospect of a game makes your heart clench a little. That age old insecurity that you would not know the rules.

You nod your agreement.

“Yeah, I think about ‘lashing out’ all the time – cute term, by the way. Very euphemistic. When I don’t, well it could be for all sorts of reasons. Sometimes I’m tired or hungry, and I just can’t summon up the energy. Other times, it’s because I want something else more. I can play the long game when the prize is good enough,” Hanma says.

“Like when you spared those touts because you didn’t want to miss our session,” you say. A mistake.

Hanma purrs, “Exactly.”

You cross your legs at the ankle. Then, recross them at the knee. The band of your stocking pinches into your thigh. The long game sounds ominous.

“It gets boring for me, just answering your questions. I need a bit more of a challenge. So, here’s the game. It’s called two truths and a lie. Heard of it?” You nod, and Hanma continues. “I’m going to give you three answers to every question. One will be a lie, but you won’t know which one.”

“That’s not very conducive to your therapy,” you say.

“No, but it’s very conducive to my fun. Besides, we’ll both enjoy watching you struggle to sort fact from fiction. Maybe you’ll learn all my tells!”

When you interviewed Hakkai, he told you Hanma was one of the best gamblers in Toman. He excelled at poker, games where concealing your emotions and reading others’ were advantages. You know he’ll make it near impossible to read him. What he doesn’t know is that you are an excellent poker player yourself.”

“Alright, I’m sure you’ll make this interesting.” You are rewarded by Hanma’s smile, a little less mercenary than the last. Only now, with this concession of power, do you feel the threat of imminent harm fade away. “Are there any long-term goals that you would like to work toward but have struggled with because of your impulsivity?”

“Yes…no…I don’t know.”

Right, then.

“I’d like to know more about your attention span to things that you might find boring, and I have an idea. Kind of homework. Would be open to that if I gave you some?”

Hanma groans, the game temporarily forgotten. “Fuck, I’m still barely surviving the sexy doctor thing. You can’t go adding sexy teacher to the list, too. I’ll rub my dick raw.

Raw clit, tensed thighs, unsatiated need. You know exactly what he means.

“We’ll save the homework for before you leave…Why don’t you miss our sessions? Why aren’t they boring to you?”

“One, they are boring to me. Two, because I think you can make me better. Three, because I want to fuck you on that desk.”

The worst part of this game is that you can’t afford to take your eyes off him for a moment, no matter what degrading, ugly, exhilarating words drawl from that red mouth. The lie is there, and you must study him as he studies you in turn. You should be flattered, either he thinks you’re excellent at your job, or he thinks you’re attractive. You are not so delusionally flattered as to believe the former.

You decide questions with brief answers are a waste of the game format.

“Share with me your two happiest memories from the past year that don’t involve any fighting, violence, drugs, or sex.”

A silver tongue may lie but concocting complete memories out of thin air is a stretch. Hanma’s brows pinch together as he thinks through this challenge, searching for truths and lies that can dupe you. You tell him to take his time, take out your phone, and pretend to scroll through your messages instead.

Your mid-day message from Takashi sits unread. He says his clients have finally confirmed when they’ll fly in to meet, a few months from now, but he wants to clear that he’ll have to stay at a hotel with them ahead of time. He is so considerate of your schedule.

“I went to the Sumida River Fireworks festival this year. Or, I didn’t go to the festival itself, didn’t even remember it was happening. I was on a boat out on the river. Sometimes we do business on boats because it’s easier to sweep for bugs. I was the last one onboard, just standing up on the deck, and then boom. The first firework took me completely by surprise. I thought it was a gunshot. I remember it was gold and purple. The colors of god’s power and a samurai’s strength. I used to pickpocket at the festival as a kid, but I never much enjoyed the fireworks. Too crowded. Out on the boat, the only person for miles, and I felt the meaning of the festival for the first time ever.”

“What meaning?”

Hanma bends closer again, avid. His voice as he describes the night is gentle, so deep you strain to hear the words. “It’s a celebration of death, isn’t it? All those fireworks to send off those that have passed. The magnitude of it! It’s how it feels to kill someone. I imagine it’s how it feels to die. And, we all stand looking death in the face by the million, celebrating it. I was…touched.”

The precursor to the Sumida River Fireworks festival, or the first depending on your perspective, was held to memorialize the victims of the Kyōhō famine. You attended the festival in July as well, though actively mingling among the street vendors, lovers, and gaping children. Takashi bought you dango like you were a little girl – not that your mother ever spoiled you with sweets – and you marveled at the pretty pyrotechnics in the sky. The connection to death and remembrance felt far away as life swirled all around you in the crowd.

A pretty idea, an even prettier picture: him in the boat, alone at night. A man drifting on a river lit up by fireworks. You want to believe it’s true, which makes you instantly doubt him.

“Or maybe, I’m lying,” Hanma says in a frank tone, and the pretty spell is broken altogether. “Who can really say?”

“Give me another story, Hanma-san,” you order.

“Hmm, well there is another great memory…I was indicted, what was that, eleven months ago now? Judge said I represented an exceptional circumstance and might destroy evidence or intimidate witnesses – no idea where he got that idea – and didn’t grant me bail. I spent the full twenty-three confinement period in jail. You want to talk about boring? There are only so many fights I could pick in the prison yard before even that lost its shine.”

Hanma’s voice sails above the story like the whole ordeal is beneath him, emphasizing a word here or there to play up some inside joke or humor about his situation. What strikes you is the distance between this voice and the one he used to describe the fireworks. Even his speech patterns have changed.

“It was a bullshit charge, and the prosecutors knew it. I mean, you can lock me up, but I have plenty of friends to destroy evidence and intimidate witnesses for me, so they had to drop the indictment. The best day was when they let me out. Doing all that boring old shit on the outside felt like rediscovering religion. Or pussy. Actually, I literally rediscovered pussy that day. But it was also the city, the bars, my own fucking bed. It was a damn fine day.”

You flip through your mental rolodex of interviews about Hanma. Kisaki vaguely mentioned that Hanma had been arrested while opining on how Hanma’s sloppiness was going to take down the lot of them. All before jumping to assure you that you needn’t fear criminal prosecution for your participation as they were more than proficient at making such nasty business disappear.

Once again, Hanma’s story paints him as an almost romantic figure.

“What was your charge?”

“Oh, DUI.”

“…A DUI?”

“Not easy to get a top Toman exec, so when they could put some bullshit on me, they did. I learned my lesson not to drink and motorbike, cross my heart and hope to die.”

There is something brown and dusty stuck to the bottom of Hanma’s shoe. The sole is flipped up toward you, and you can see it clinging there. Maybe it’s dog shit, just like what he is trying to sell you.

“Last one,” you venture.

“Last one,” Hanma agrees.

This time, his voice is almost flat, conversational by a normal person’s standards versus his typical goading. An actor who can take the shape of any character at a moment’s notice.

“Hakkai’s birthday is in September. Can’t remember the exact day, but he convinced a few of us to celebrate. His sister owns a hot spring up in Hokkaido, so we all traveled there for a few days to get away. I like a hot spring in theory, but there’s not much to actually do when you’re soaking. But, I like Hakkai well enough. He’s funny. And, his sister is exactly like him but tougher. It was the rainy season, so we had torrential rains most days and didn’t use the hot springs as often. But the air tasted like autumn itself, and we would stand under the umbrellas and look out at the town below, just talking for hours. What made it really special was when dinner came around though. I’ve never tasted such fatty salmon in my life. Every bite tasted better than the last: ikura, sashimi, grilled, mountains and mountains of delicious salmon. I plan to go back every September until I die.”

A sting and you realize you have been worrying your lip without realizing, such a rare tell for you. Meanwhile, Hanma remains inscrutable. His body language, posture, and voice transformed between each memory, but none read as falser than the other. He constantly shifts around during conversation, playacting different identities and abandoning them a moment later. The truest moments with him have felt defined by their intensity rather than any specific behaviors on his part.

Unsettling to realize even those moments with him where reality came into sharp relief may have been nothing but illusions.

“Well, what do you say? Did you spot the lie?” Hanma asks.

Guarded, you drink slowly from your water bottle. Your lips are still dry from the abrupt terror you experienced earlier. Hanma watches you, but you look elsewhere, not so obvious as to signal your discomfort, just to the blank patch of plaster above his right ear. It is a welcome break to be able to look at something other than him for a few moments. When you watch him closely, it feels like the world shrinks around you until he encompasses the entirety of the universe.

And, just like the universe itself, he is unfathomable.

“I never agreed to share my guesses,” you say.

Hanma tuts. “That’s no fun. I put so much thought and effort into our game. You should reward me for it.”

“You should reward yourself by just telling me the real answer. Your treatment will be helped by honesty.”

There isn’t much time left in your session if your internal clock is to be believed, and you shouldn’t waste these final minutes arguing. Yet, you hesitate to just answer the damn question.

“How about we make one more deal?” Hanma offers. You doubt there will ever be an end to deals and bets and games and tricks with him. “You tell me your guess, and you agree to give me two truths and a lie to a question of my choice. In exchange, I’ll tell you honestly if you’re right or wrong.”

Another timewaster, but he wants it badly. You can see the kinetic energy in his hands as they gesture around the room. Those long arms sweeping stale air in your direction.

You suppose there isn’t much time left if he’s going to insist on this dramatic two truths and a lie format anyway.

“The first one. You’re lying about the first one.”

“Interesting. Why do you think that?”

Because a sick romantic part of you wants the first to be true.

“Because it doesn’t make sense that you’re the only one on the boat. Why didn’t you get off with your colleagues? Whose boat is it? Why are you driving? Too many unanswered questions.”

“Technicalities,” Hanma waves off.

“Does that mean I’m wrong?” you insist.

“’Fraid you lost. Try again next time,” Hanma says.

Talking to Hanma always sends your limbic system into a tailspin. Often accompanied by twinges throughout your body. A pain in your chest when he threatens you. A swirl of nausea when he hurts someone else. A shameful, secret pulse between your legs when he…well, it doesn’t take much. This is the first time you feel something around your heart, light and airy.

Your eyes are open to the office in front of you, yet your brain focuses on the imagined image of Hanma on that boat. Hair windswept to the side. Sky lit up by falling stars. Black water lapping the edges of the boat. Awe on his face? No, tenderness. So much tenderness.

“Tell me the three dirtiest, kinkiest, nastiest things you’ve ever done in the history of your prissy sex life.”

You were delusional to ever think the words ‘tenderness’ and ‘Hanma’ together.

“Absolutely not!”

“You know it’s getting boring, reminding you every time that you have to play fair. I’ve kept my end of the bargain, and now you need to keep yours,” Hanma goads.

“Why does my end of the bargain always cost my dignity? “you snap back.

Hanma appears to really think about it for a moment, and then, “Learn to negotiate better.”

“Learn to take no for an answer,” you shoot back.

“You know, I like this part. The part where you put up a little fight, like you don’t want to follow my orders like a good girl –”. Shame, hot cunt, and swollen pride – “It’s adorable. But you know, doc, I don’t think you’re strong when you put up a fight. Nothing strong about resisting what you want. The weak cower. The strong take.”

A couple hours on transference in a seminar your fourth year of school did not prepare you for this moment. The guidebooks did not detail so sophisticated a trap. To play along would be to submit to his whims, to cede professional distance. To deny now would be to accept the label of weakness, to cede power. (And yes, to deny what you yourself want.) You don’t think you could convince him otherwise.

Less than a quarter hour left in your session. In half an hour, you will be locking up and boarding the train home. You might stop in at a bar a few blocks from your apartment. The clientele is friendly, and you always feel a little less lonely after drinking up the conversation around you for an hour. Then, it will be an empty apartment, a few papers on recent medical studies, cooking an elaborate meal that will go mostly uneaten just to fill the time. There will be no distracting you from replaying this session with Hanma on repeat until the moment your brain slows to a sleep tonight.

Usually straight-backed, you make a show of slumping into your own seat, matching his posture – minus, naturally, the spread legs – and smile.

“Right out of university, I had a roommate, a year older than me. She had this boyfriend, who was constantly coming over. Sometimes I caught him looking at me, and I liked it. I encouraged it a little. It felt dangerous but turns out they both liked it, too. They would invite me to join them sometimes, and I would,” you say.

Hanma smiles so big you could drown in it. “Oh yeah, and what would you do? Kiss your little girlfriend all over?” You nod. “Hmm, and then you’d let her boyfriend take turns on your pussies, too?” Again, you nod. “Now, that’s a damn good girlfriend. Think most girls would be too jealous to share a pretty slut like you. Too worried that he wouldn’t be able to give that pussy up.”

You blink rapidly. You cling to your conviction, pretending that you are offended even as your body is on fire. It is criminal that Hanma is gifted with a voice deep enough to penetrate every barrier you erect, foul enough to wilt your self-control.

Pretty little slut.

“Then, during university, money was so tight. My mom didn’t have any savings left, so I was responsible for rent, food, prescriptions, and tuition. I had a job working as a receptionist at the campus clinic, but that wasn’t enough to cover everything. And, I needed something with evening hours to work around my school schedule,” you say, voice dipped low as if the struggles of a student were something forbidden. “I got lucky with a job as a phone sex operator. A couple hours a night, and the calls weren’t nonstop, so I was able to study in between them. Then, just fifteen minutes telling a lonely man on the other line how bad I wanted him, how hot he sounds through the phone, how hot he makes me. The money was good.”

“Oh, that I could see – hear. You have the voice for it alright, all husky and slow. Bet you still have a mouth on you. Did you like hearing all those men touching themselves just to the sound of you? Did you ever play cutesy for them, little girl voice and ‘oh daddy, I want it?’”

The questions come fast, stream of conscious. But, you are more focused on Hanma’s hand. It grips his left thigh, only a few centimeters above the knee. The fingers are spread wide and press into the stiff fabric of his suit. Subtly, you place your palm on your own thigh in the same spot, dig in just a little like his hands might when they grip you. The position is low enough, not too unprofessional to give you away, but the feeling! Your nipples harden, almost sore with the desire to be plucked.

There is a hard bar just visible along his left thigh. The tailored pants work well to conceal it, but you can tell it’s long.

“The money was good,” you repeat just a little breathless. “Lastly, I sometimes go out with my boyfriend for dinner. He likes fancy places. I’ll dress up a little for it, and I’ll put a…a little vibrator in my panties before we leave. He’ll take the remote at the restaurant and just tease me with it all through dinner. Get me worked up, so that I can’t wait to get home.”

Hanma whistles, and for the first time you understand why it’s called a ‘wolf whistle’ in English. “You can’t be that worked up if you wait to get home. Never gets you so hot that you can’t wait. You could sit on the same side of the table, lead his fingers under your skirt, or take him to the bathroom and get railed then and there. Give me that remote, baby, and I’d make you cum three times there at the table for anyone to see. When you can’t take it anymore, I’d have your small hand on me under the table, my fingers stretching you open. Mmhmm, yeah, I can just picture it.”

You can picture it, too. This is nearly the hottest you have ever been in your life. You blame the week of edging. Just the idea of cumming three times makes your cunt clench, a sorely missed pleasure. He’s surely all bluster, but what if…

“That’s a…quite the imagination you have, Hanma-san. But now you have to tell me the lie,” you manage, and your voice is a thousand times stronger than your treacherous body.

It is Hanma’s turn to consider you at length, eyes affixed to your body and expressions. His attention is far less clinical, far more lecherous. Resisting the urge to squirm, you pretend to check the time on your phone.

“The last one,” Hanma says. “Your boring boyfriend who gets you off sometimes but not always? No fucking way.”

Ah, and here is the moment you hoped for before your libido spiked and took over your mental faculties. A cruel little smirk twists your lips.

“Wrong.”

“Wrong?”

“That’s not the lie.”

Only a moment or two passes before Hanma is laughing and smacking his knee like you are the funniest joke he has ever heard. “Not the lie! Oh, you naughty little cheater!”

Your smirk deepens. It feels like a victory even if he did make you in only a moment. And that victory feels just as good as the slick that collected in your panties.

“Three lies just to get me hard as a rock. Where did you learn to be such a sneaky liar? Such a bad sport?”

“You shouldn’t overstep a lady’s boundaries,” you say.

If you had to guess – and after his performance earlier, you realize all you have are guesses – you would warrant Hanma is delighted at your deceit. He repeatedly shakes his head like he can’t believe your gall, but the smile is only thirty percent shark now, and the rest appears to be genuine humor.

“I get it. I get it. You like to top, too, doc,” Hanma giggles. “But cheaters do need to be punished. Can’t have you lying to me. Therapy is built on trust after all.”

“Good luck with that.”

“Ah, I don’t need luck because you may like being a disobedient brat to rile me up, but you love being told what to do even more.” Hanma’s voice deepens, that unhinged giggle replaced by pure man, and you no longer remember what was funny in the first place. “I’ll forgive you, baby. All you gotta do is rub that little pussy for me every night. Want you to think about me taking you out to dinner with a vibrator taped to your clit, just like you fantasized. Want you to know I’d be merciless with it, until you’re crying and shaking at the table. You can picture whatever you like from there. If I take you to a secluded corner and use your mouth, or I bounce you on my cock right there for all those scandalized eyes, drinking up your ruined little body. Mmmm, whatever makes you cum for me, baby. Do that every night until our next session, and I’ll call us even, okay?”

Goosebumps rise on your arms, and for one moment, you forget yourself, clutching at your own elbows for warmth. The room is so cold, but your body is a furnace. The conflicting feelings suffocate all reason. He is giving you permission to do what you have wanted all week. To cum. To cum to the thought of him and his unpredictable, powerful, menacing, masculine presence.

In that moment you know you are lost.

“Good luck with that,” you say, so coldly but only because your chest is pinched tight. You won’t be able to stop. You won’t be able to stop. You won’t be able to stop. “That’s a good reminder though that I promised you homework.”

He smirks, so confident that he has you.

Happy for the excuse to escape that knowing look, you search your desk. Returning to your seat, you present Hanma with a translated copy of Crime and Punishment. At an intimidating 600+ pages, the book is heavy with crinkled, curling pages, the result of being turned time and again in your own rereads.

“Try to read this before our next session. It’s good practice at sticking to something for a long period, even if it bores you. And, I think you’ll enjoy the subject matter. It might spark some interesting ideas for discussion,” you explain.

Hanma opens the front cover and wrinkles his nose at the first several pages of tiny type. “What the fuck?”

“I told you it would be homework.”

Those yellow eyes drift up and down your body, considering. Maybe weighing if you will complete your own special homework if he does the same. They are not the same at all.

“Got anything a bit shorter?” Hanma finally asks.

You shake your head. “I thought you’d be interested given your tattoos.”

“What?”

“Your hands,” you say, gesturing to the over-sized kanji inked on both hands. The choice of sin and punishment struck you as unexpectedly literary, a piece of dramatic irony for Hanma to snicker over as he beats his victims, like Hisao.

Eyes filled with pus. The mournful death gurgle. That smell of iron and sick. And no no no no no no no.

You don’t think of Hisao.

The almost panic attack passes unobserved as you deploy your best techniques for disassociating from ugly things. The tried-and-true tricks that helped you survive your mother’s house. There, Hanma is in front of you, studying his own hands, and there is no danger here. None at all.

“Huh? I’m a dropout but not a complete idiot. I’ve heard of Dostoyevsky. But these,” Hanma gestures at his tattoos, “I got these because of that Nintendo game.”

“A video game?”

“Yeah, one of those shoot-em-up games, player versus alien. Used to play it in elementary school. I was really good at it. It was called Sin & Punishment,” Hanma laughs.

“So, you aren’t tatted up for one of the Russian literary giants?” you tease.

“Maybe if I like the book, I’ll start saying that’s what it’s for,” Hanma banters back.

Your evening will go much as you expected after this session ends. The train ride back will be cramped and miserable as rush hour strikes. The press of the crowd will sweep you up into that sense of community that comes with living in a city. Hopefully no one will grope you, a marked success.

At the bar near your apartment, it will be busy and you’ll sit at the counter nursing a bottle of beer for the better part of an hour. There will be another football game on TV, and you will join in the chatter about the Tokyo Blues’ success so far this season and speculate about how hosting the 2020 Olympics will impact the city, weigh the cons of increased foreign direct investment versus the frustration of tourists flooding the city.

At home, you will make soba noodles and fry a few bowls of veggies, hungry for salt. The ritual will be steadying, and you will almost manage not to think about Hanma – the voice, the eyes, the hands that promise discipline and pleasure in turn – but he will be there in the back of your mind as you move between stove burners, as you plate your side dishes, as you pour a glass of wine.

The game you are playing is a dangerous one. You are manipulating him as surely as he is you. For profit or sexual gratification, it does not matter. There is something sick inside you, broken, for you to even entertain this quid pro quo.

And what awaits you at the end? Because surely there is an end. Something violent or humiliating to greet you when you make your inevitable fall.

Those considerations feel close yet small in the face of Hanma’s words. He is going to read the book. He is going to read the book because you asked him, and that makes you feel more alive than the last thirty years of your life combined.

Maybe once the dishes are done, and the night stretches long before you, you will download the ebook for Crime and Punishment onto your phone. You are overdue for a reread.

You wonder what Hanma will think of it. Wonder if he’ll tell you.

 ---

When he was a young boy, Hanma would stare up at the sun, like a test. He would count how many seconds he could stand to keep his eyes wide against the blinding glare. His longest count was thirty-six seconds before the burning was so intense his body betrayed him. Afterward, he would close his eyes tight, watch the little ball of cloned light that remained behind his eyelid. There is a pleasure in discomfort, almost as sweet as the pleasure in pain if you know how to look for it.

The discomfort of an oak and projector board room, however, yields no pleasure.

Hanma takes up two seats in the stuffy board room of Toman execs, ankles propped on the second. Anything to bring a little impropriety into the monotonous affair. Inupi sits opposite him, looking for all the world, like he belongs in this environment, scar be damned.

Seated around the long table, only Hakkai looks out of place. Something about his too long neck and perpetually stupid face. Kokonoi, Kisaki, Inupi, Muto, they all look born for it. Mikey would strain and buck against the pretend civility if he were here, too.

Damn, does he miss Mikey some days.

In the last six months, all the last vestiges of Mikey’s Toman have been eliminated. Gone are the little boys playing at gangsters that clung to Toman’s coattails for a decade. Draken and Hayashida are in prison with no hope of a release in this lifetime. They’ll join in death Mitsuya, Kawata, Matsuno, and Hayashi. The only relic of the old admin is Muto, and then only because his viciousness proved an inspiration even to Kisaki.

“We have confirmation that the Kagns will be sending an envoy on December 7th. We’ll be hosting them for the final negotiations. Every detail should be decided beforehand, but we’ll need to concede at least one point for them to feel they’ve gotten a good deal,” Kisaki says to the table of men.

“And they’ll need to give us two concessions in turn,” Kokonoi laughs.

“Exactly,” Kisaki says with the dark pride that practically oozes off his skin at any reminder of his successes. “They are sending their number two, Kang On Sing, so their security is going to be immense. We cannot afford to let anything happen to our honored guests in our territory.”

“Any signs yet of how they’re going to try to screw us?” Inupi asks.

Kisaki shakes his head. “Hanma is interrogating any potential leaks but no evidence that the HJK have infiltrated us so far.”

“Only a matter of time,” Inupi says, sounding far too pleased at the prospect.

“We’re going to need a few new fronts. That money is going to be hot and lots of it. I have a few ideas,” Kokonoi chimes in.

Hanma tries to listen as Kokonoi begins to drone on about crypto and offshore accounts, but it’s like his brain can’t hook onto the words enough to retain them. The flick of a switch blade between his fingers grounds him, and he swings the knife leisurely between his knuckles as the others plot.

Hanma thinks back to his disappointment after your session. He so hoped that you would be unable to resist dropping your panties and petting that pretty pussy after all his teasing. Immediately after he had exited your office, he had pulled up the app on his phone connected to the listening device hidden in that hideous yellow couch – how naïve of you not to check for bugs, sweet girl you are – and listened as you puttered around the office.

Maybe you are the quietest masturbator in history, but Hanma pegs you as a loud bitch when really riled. You are too quiet in your professional guise for anything else.

There had been nothing, and now, he berates himself for not pushing just a bit further until you broke into a wet puddle for him. Maybe if he had stroked your cheek all soft and tender, like you are something precious to him? He bets you would gag for someone to treat you softly between slaps.

Maybe you waited to get home?

Hanma texts Sendo instructions to stake out your office tomorrow, find your address. He needs to bug your apartment, too. Hearing your bland boyfriend sex won’t be good for more than a laugh, but he wants to know if you are following his orders.

“The Kangs suggested we host them in the Ritz Carlton in Roppongi,” Muto says. “Need to make sure we can secure that building down before we accept. It’s tall, which is a bitch, and the Haitanis still have a grip on that part of the city, so we should be extra cautious.”

Mention of the Haitanis gets Hanma’s attention.

“The Haitanis are a relic. They’re not a threat to us,” Inupi snorts.

“The Haitanis alone, yeah, they’re losers. But the Haitanis plus the HJK? That’s what I’m worried about,” Muto insists.

“Hanma and Hakkai will look into it and make a recommendation,” Kisaki interrupts, always with the seemingly snap judgments that conceal he has thought long and hard about the issue before you even broached it.

Now, that’s an assignment Hanma won’t reject. The little Haitani is a decent martial artist in his own right, and the two together can put up a fight worthy of him. If they need to be neutralized to ensure business goes smoothly, Hanma is more than happy to oblige.

Another hour of discussion follows as they discuss revenue streams, liabilities, and personnel decisions. Except for when Kokonoi blathers on, Hanma manages to follow all of it without drowning himself in a pit of boredom. He is almost proud of himself when the meeting wraps up.

“Hanma, stay back,” Kisaki orders.

As the other execs file by in an unofficial runway of Prada and Comme des Garçons, they shoot him sympathetic or vindictive looks. Like he’s a child held back for a scolding by the teacher.

Tetta – his oldest but never quite friend – pours two fingers of whiskey into a glass and pushes it across the table in Hanma’s direction. He pours himself a much smaller portion and sips at it daintily. Time has not been kind to Kisaki, but he doesn’t realize it yet. While maturity smoothed out his awkwardness, all that youthful intensity streamlined into sleek elegance, there is already something of the old man in his face. A squint and Hanma can see how Kisaki will look in thirty years. How sad to live that long.

“This deal with the HJK is big for us. Very big,” Kisaki tells him, like they haven’t discussed nothing else for the past six months. “We finalize this, and we will have a complete monopoly on all drugs smuggled not just into Tokyo but Japan. And, we’ll have it on the cheap. We can’t afford anything to go wrong.”

“Sure, sure,” Hanma says agreeably.

“You’ve been going to therapy for what, three weeks now? How’s your progress?”

Hanma just wouldn’t be Hanma if he didn’t play a little. “Major progress. Hypnosis has helped me remember all those times the babysitter gave me the bad touch. I feel myself becoming stronger every day.”

“You fuck this up for me, and it will be a bullet in the back of the head,” Kisaki says.

Not the first time Kisaki has threatened to kill him, probably not the last. Hanma pretends to care because people get upset when they confront how little he values his own life. Nods along. The whiskey is too smooth, pleasant oak dripping down his throat. He prefers the cheaper selections that burn.

“A war with the HJK would be painful for Toman. While we would have home field advantage, they are in every way our equal in power. I know the…temptation this presents for you. If you stay my loyal dog for just a little longer, just until this deal passes, I’ll give you the gift of a lifetime. You just need to control yourself until then. That’s why I want you seeing that woman. Need you to be able to look out for your own best interests,” Kisaki says.

“Woof woof.”

Kisaki offers him a cigar, real chummy like a couple of regular gentleman. Hanma prefers being his dog but accepts the cigar anyway. It tastes better than the whiskey. The smell clogs up the room, black pepper and cinnamon seeping into the wooden table to linger for hours to come.

“Don’t fuck around with me on this one. Is the woman helping you or not?” Kisaki demands.

A long drag on the Padrón as Hanma considers if you have “helped” him so far. He thinks of your little game today, how you had looked shell shocked at his happy memories, like you couldn’t believe him to be so sentimental. Yet you had still fallen for his act. Silly bitch. It had never occurred to you that he could lie about all of his memories just as easily as you did. You acted so cautious, but you were too trusting despite yourself.

Fucking around during your sessions is one of his favorite pastimes of the moment, a real highlight of his week. He delights in watching you maneuver around the obstacles he throws at you, how your brain spins behind that cold exterior to keep up with. Somehow you repeatedly surprise him, and somehow you repeatedly play directly into his hands. The unpredictability is fun.

Staying on schedule and following orders is always easiest on the days before your sessions. He doesn’t want to risk missing your little dates. Hanma supposes that counts as improvement.

He started on your homework already, too. Just twenty-four pages into the behemoth you call a classic. The main guy is a pussy, and Hanma is already sick of being trapped in his miserable head, but he thinks the way the city is described is interesting, the poverty, the whores and drunks and screaming kids, the smell. All of it could describe the slums of Tokyo today as well as the St. Petersburg of the 1860s.

He is a little embarrassed that he found himself checking his phone every other minute – scrolling internet porn and downloading music – as if you were right about his attention span. Still, he is reading. Maybe that counts for something.

He isn’t going to tell Kisaki that though.

“I’ve gone to three sessions now. That’s two more sessions than you thought, right?” Hanma says instead.

Kisaki’s eyes narrow a little in understanding. “She did have nice legs.”

“And nice tits, too. What does it matter? It’s a distraction to keep me busy, and so far, it’s working,” Hanma counters.

“A distraction to keep you busy…” Kisaki murmurs the words.

Hanma figures Kisaki should understand. After all, he dedicated his entire life to a skinny little girl on a pedestal of his own making. Women have a way of wrapping a man’s brain up in knots that can only be untied by a taste of their cunt. So long as you keep him thirsty and wanting, he’ll keep coming back for more.

The glass is empty, Hanma realizes as he tips it back again. He wishes he had more, eyes the decanter by Kisaki’s briefcase.

“Do your job and play with your distraction because, Shuji, if you can do this, if you can stick with us and not betray me one last time…”

Hanma’s stomach flips before Kisaki can finish the sentence. Whiskey sloshes around in his belly. Somehow, he knows that whatever he hears next will change everything.

“Stick with me this one last time, and I’ll tell you where you can find Mikey-kun.”

Peals of celebratory laughter echo down the halls to the elevators as Hanma embraces this last wonderful promise of fun. Yes, yes, yes! Find Mikey. Kill Mikey. Die by Mikey’s hand. Oh, how wonderful.

Kisaki did always promise to keep him entertained.