#this story is for all the systems with doll alters!

[patchworkcuddlebug]

The Doll In My Brain

Allison wakes up, feeling well rested. She's still in the doll's uniform, a simple yet elegant maid outfit, as she finds herself politely sat at the edge of her bed. It's perfectly made, and the rest of her room looks immaculately tidied as well.

She stands and stretches her body as her grogginess slowly fades, and as the first part of her morning routine, checks the whiteboard on her desk. "This one has finished our chores earlier than expected, Miss." it writes in a handwriting much better than hers. "It has decided to spend the rest of the night still, to rest our body. It hopes that is acceptable."

Allison grabs the nearby marker, erasing the message with the wipe that the doll so graciously provided. "Thanks again for all your hard work! I feel great this morning. You're a very good doll."

Wishing her doll nothing but satisfaction, Allison begins to change into something much more befitting of a person. Once it tried asking the doll to select outfits for her as part of its nightly routine, but the poor thing doesn't seem to understand fashion all too well if it isn't playing a game of dress-up.

. . . . .

Allison inspects the cucumber closely. She's already collected everything on her list, and is now filling out the doll's list. It took the poor thing a while to build the courage to ask for food, and she wants to do her best to make it happy. She just isn't sure what counts as a "good cucumber" or not.

It's been a conversation in the past. Dolls aren't really supposed to feel hunger, they usually just subsist on tea and magic and the will of their witch. But while constrained to her body, her doll feels the need to care for it as it would a witch, and that includes preparing meals for her. While Allison usually makes herself something best described as "sufficiently caloric", her doll enjoys the act of service too much to simply fuel her rather than nourish her.

"Excuse me, do you work here?"

Allison turns to see an older man, supporting himself on the handle of his cart. She looks down and notices she's wearing a colour a bit too similar to the employee's apron. He continues before she can speak up, asking "I'm having trouble finding the instant mashed potatoes."

He turns and leaves, packets in hand.

Allison blinks, looking around. She's in a completely different aisle. She shakes her head, trying to free herself from the remnants of her haze of docile obedience. Nobody's looking at her, so it seems like the doll didn't do anything a person shouldn't do. It even remembered not to leave her... their? Purse in the cart that time. What a good doll, she thinks to herself, promising to add an extra thank-you to the whiteboard.

. . . . .

Allison sighs as she places her second, and last, grocery bag on the kitchen counter. It wasn't unmanageable, but lugging the food up to her complex's top floor never got easier. Maybe once the temperature wasn't such an issue, she could leave it in her car and ask the doll to fetch it for her... but that would require her body to venture outside, with the doll's uniform and mannerisms. Even under the cover of night, the idea was mortifying.

As she unpacks, her train of thought continues. She wonders if the doll feels the same way about her, if it ever finds itself concerned with how she acts in its body. She's sure it couldn't mind, she couldn't imagine a doll that would dare. Well, now she just hopes the poor thing doesn't feel to bad about borrowing her body...

She's been standing in the kitchen for a while, borrowing the doll's stillness. The food has been put away some time ago.

Regardless, Allison feels the need to check. Sure enough, everything is filed away with an almost mechanical consistence, including the canned soup being alphabetized.

Thank you, doll, she thinks to herself, just in case it can hear her. Part of her laments not doing the work herself, but she cuts herself off before getting caught in the weeds of defining what constitutes 'herself' considering the circumstances.

As a habit, having regained control, she checks the doll's chore list. As reliable as it is, it can forget to keep track of chores it does when it's 'off the clock' during the day. She crosses off "Organizing" and shuffles to the couch, eager to relax.

. . . . .

Allison slowly drifts awake. She looks down at the floor, past the doll's outfit, and sees tea spilled on the kitchen's tile. She quickly figures that she must have passed out on the couch... and that her doll must have felt so emotional about spilling its drink it had to take a break. She can still feel the anxiety in her body, the seizing of muscles and the hastened breathing.

The first thing she does is retreat into her room, grabbing a marker and sticky note. Returning to the scene, she places it on the cabinet just next to the spill, somewhere the doll would surely see it. "It's okay, don't feel bad!" she writes. "It was just a mistake, everyone makes them. I'm more than happy to help out."

There, only now can she risk starting to clean. She places the unharmed mug on the counter, getting on her knees to wipe the spill with a nearby rag. It isn't long before that familiar fade starts to threaten to overtake her, the soothing repetition of her task lulling her to sleep and coaxing the doll back into place.

Her last act for the night, with what willpower her personality had the presence to muster, was to smile as bright as she could. Hopefully, when the doll came back, it would be just a little happier.

[knickynoo]

Well, I was sufficiently enabled for the idea, so here it is: ✨Alex P. Keaton's Top Neurodivergent Moments✨

The funny thing is that the amount of time I put into scrolling through my encyclopedic mental inventory of Family Ties scenes, compiling these moments in a list, making gifs, and finding past gifsets/analysis to link back to makes creating this post one of my most neurodivergent moments. Good for me.

These will be organized by season (easier for me than trying to rank on a scale) and are in no way ALL of the moments. I'd need like...15 posts for that. Also, tumblr only allows 30 images/gifs per post, so I'm going to include links to past posts when possible.

ENJOY!

• Alex gets his first-ever failing grade and immediately decides to quit school

Exactly what it says. Alex strolls into college all bright-eyed and confident and ends up a broken shell of a guy just a week or so later. The prototypical Gifted Kid from the moment he learned to speak, Alex cannot handle anything less than perfection. Getting the first F of his life shatters his entire self-image, and he wants to drop out of college entirely.

• Alex's friend Doug announces he's getting married, and Alex spirals into despair. As one does.

The entirety of the "Best Man" episode is one big Alex displaying neurodivergent behaviors moment, honestly. There are a whole lot of Alex-centered plots that are set into motion because A Change happens, and he just cannot deal with it, and this is one of the best examples. Alex is so distraught at the suddenly altered dynamic that he wanders the house like a lost soul—sad and confused and needy. He walks in on Steven's shower just to give him a hug, offers to go shopping with Mal and play dolls with Jen, and also draws up a seven-year contract for his other friends to sign to ensure they stick to their regularly scheduled card games, lest they also run off to get married and destroy his life.

• Alex P. Keaton: child development expert

When faced with the news of another sibling on the way, Alex has some very nurturing advice at the ready for when the baby is crying.

• The Keatons all laugh at a funny story. Alex is not amused.

This is one of my favorite Alex scenes of the series. Uncle Rob shares a memory of the time Steven was young and got in trouble because he started rebelling against the system and refused to write his name in the designated spot on his school test papers. The family shares a hearty laugh. Alex, king of black-and-white thinking and lover of rules, is deeply upset.

I love him so much. He genuinely cannot see how they're enjoying such a story. The Name Spot is for names. And his father dared to write in the Not For Names Spot?? Jail for Steven.

He's so ridiculously autistic.

• Alex's favorite childhood toy

It was a cardboard box. I can't quite put into words why this sets off my ND radar, but it does. Maybe it's the being attached to unusual items thing that's common with autism? The intense fixations that make other people go ????

The Alex and Ba-ba plotline provides some wonderful Alex Lore.

• Mr. Mustache

Yeah, those intense fixations? In the "Fool for Love" episode, Alex grows a mustache and legitimately cannot speak about anything else for the several days that follow. He's asked to present a speech at Mallory's homecoming dance and centers his entire speech around his mustache. He's unable to have a conversation that doesn't involve mustaches. It's incredible.

• Everything in "Matchmaker"

Alex is so sweet in this one. After Mallory comes home crying after a bad date, Alex promises to help her find a great guy. Unfortunately, putting someone who struggles socially and with processing emotions in charge of your love life isn't exactly a great fit. Alex uses the power of science to craft a formula to find Mallory's perfect match (he isn't), then tags along on their date and helps foster a very natural environment (it isn't) for the relationship to flourish (it doesn't).

The episode ends with a great scene between Alex and Mallory that shows just how well Mal understands the inner-workings of her big brother's head.

• Divorce is tough. Alex has some advice.

The Keaton kids are shocked to learn that their Uncle Rob is divorcing their Aunt Maureen. As Jen and Mallory reel from the information, Alex helps to reframe things.

He then pulls out the Special Interest Card and compares the divorce of their aunt and uncle to a "failed merger, not unlike the breakup of the phone company—although obviously less emotional. Nothing more than a natural fluctuation in the marketplace of love and marriage."

And the thing is, he IS impacted by the news. He just hasn't the slightest clue how to actually process it. So, a simple failed merger it is!

• You had one job

Mallory needs some croissants for a fancy get-together she's having with her poetry class. Alex helpfully offers to go pick them up.

Now, I debated about this one because there's part of me that's like, "Hmm, did Alex purposely do this to annoy Mallory?" Is this just a jerk move? But you know what? It stays on the list because the whole "I personally don't like this thing and struggle to see how anyone else could. Therefore, I will get the thing I like" is (for me) a relatable aspect of being ND.

• Every single second of "A, My Name is Alex"

For real, though. This episode is a deep dive into how Alex became the person he is, and it is FILLED with "flashbacks" of an intensely neurodivergent child whose issues were made worse by the people around him. (Mostly teachers and peers. Steven and Elyse did their best with him, but I do also have some critiques of the way they parented him). Anyway, he represses his emotions to the point of a meltdown

And then there's this

Full coin gifset here. Also, I made posts on the full episode, which can be found here and here.

• "Alex has a weird body"

That's Mallory's explanation to Andy as to why Alex can't help her when she needs someone to model one of her latest clothing creations. She says Alex's head is too big for his body, and those words, unfortunately, find their way back to him. In a mini plot reminiscent of the mustache one, Alex proceeds to obsess over the comment.

And I mean, I think being told your head is too big for your body would make anyone insecure, but it's the way Alex handles it. He's unable to have regular conversations for a while because he can't stop fixating on the size of his noggin'.

Both of the "Read it and Weep" episodes fit in this list, to be honest

• An accurate statement by Lauren

I've got to include this because it really does neatly condense a lot of who Alex is

So true, bestie.

And then, to wrap this whole thing up, there's all of this

And this is just what I can fit in this here post without going over the limit lol. Obsessed with the way MJF played Alex.

Thanks for reading ✌️

This is me with Alex, btw

[antinous-of-ithaca-but-cuter]

“still not gonna be king.”

OOC UNDER THE CUT, PLEASE READ @maggiemelodies09

Mod here, Maggie, hun, darling, doll, whatever the fuck you want to be called. I tried to type this all out once but like 10 minutes in my Tumblr crashed and I lost all of my progress so I'm going to give you a summary.

I am asking you as politely as I can to please stop interacting with my Antinous blog due to three things;

He is based more off of the homeric epic than epic the musical and even then he is taken extremely out of character for being an Antinous

You have reblogged the same post on this blog 4 different times where an alter of mine told you to submit the same ask again so he could take the roleplay more seriously, but instead you reblogged it four times over the span of multiple days instead of listening to him and resubmitting the ask and that made me weirdly uncomfortable

And finally, I don't blame you for this one because I have to redo the intro posts on all but about one or two of my blogs, but I don't feel particularly comfortable roleplaying with OCs on this blog because of how I play Antinous on this roleplay blog and what he is based off of

I am primarily asking you to stop interacting with this blog because I am growing increasingly frustrated, uncomfortable, and annoyed with the interactions with this blog from you and I honestly cannot tell you why.

Also as it says in the intro post of my main blog, I am an OSDD system, there are basically multiple people inside of my body if that makes sense. Sometimes I can't control who's in control and who's not, I really don't want one of my alters to lash out at you and you not knowing who you're actually talking to and ending up getting hurt or upset by the words said.

Also to be quite frank with you I'm trying to take this blog from mostly silly roleplay to some more serious scenes and stories.

If you still want to interact with me or other roleplay blogs heres a list of all the different blogs for you that I think you would enjoy;

@bright-side-of-the-moon-tele -> My Telemachus blog that's mentored by both Artemis and Athena, please try to stay mostly serious over there

@lethia-not-athena -> An Athena blog where Athena loses her memories and is stripped of her divinity after God Games, Penelope and Telemachus take her in and she now considers them family

@king-of-the-fish -> A Poseidon roleplay blog ran by our friend CC who does oc roleplay whenever their asks are on, they also have the master list for this specific roleplay blog circle pinned to their blog

@4mph1r1t3 -> Poseidon's wife, best boy in the entire roleplay blog circle runs this blog /silly

@1ceyanonhasarrived -> An oc roleplay blog ran by my best friend in the circle

@best-dressed-on-mt-olympus -> A really funny Hermes blog ran by one of my friends

@apollo-the-god-of-the-sun -> Another blog ran by another friend who doesn't get enough love

@asclepius-god-of-healing -> Apollo's son's blog, ran by me as well

@bigidiotenergytm sometimes does roleplay if they aren't drawing but it's like 5 paragraphs minimum with images mixed in and I'm scared to roleplay with that honestly (this is slander, I'm still waiting for them to reply to my Antinous roleplay), they also draw amazing art

@messymoonmad and @the-cross-girl don't really do roleplay, I've seen them so something similar to it sometimes though. They mainly just draw some pretty epic art though (pun intended)

@l-l-l-l-legendary -> They run the Telemachii and banned me from my own Telemachus blog because I said 'hear me out' to duvetbox's shirtless Odysseus from Love in Paradise (love you too mod)

@captaindirtymax is an irl friend, he doesn't run a roleplay blog but I am calling him out for flooding the notifications for my main blog occasionally lol

I couldn't think of any Zeus' so have two; @lightning-wielder and @king-of-the-gods-zeus

@hera-of-peacocks -> really fun Hera blog I got to draw the pfp for

Here's all of the blogs for the teenage traitors au/titan monarchy au -> @teen-hades @teenage-poseidon @wisdom-lightning-protection @hestia-demeter, that's all the blogs for that au I know about

And then lastly there's my anon oc Cotton/Candy over on my main blog, I don't use her often, she's mainly just here for to annoy my friends and occasionally roleplay with CC or Amph's blogs

I really hope you take none of this the wrong way, I'm not mad, I'm just simply asking you to stop roleplaying with this specific Antinous blog as I'm not really comfortable with oc interactions on this blog, though my friends would love to meet you and roleplay with you!!

None of this is meant to be mean, ugly, nasty, or rude, just me getting this off my chest in the most crystal clear way I know how to.

Sincerely, Antinous' mod @cotton-candy-anon

[honeybeewhereartthee]

PINK KKOMAS 175

Spoiler for my stories.

...

In the world of pink KKOMAS. There's a hole that appear,it appeared a few days ago, it's not gaining attention as people watch thing happening in that au from that hole.

Doll: why does ritsu of that world doesn't do anything at all?

He saw how the event in the world turn into putting ritsu Sakuma life in line if the protagonist doesn't do what the system want. But the person who's life in line is just sleeping in another part of the dungeon.

Ritsu( sheep), opening one eye to look directly at doll: death is the last thing I would dislike.

Doll, who suddenly realize he was heard by the sheep:?????

Sheep, smiles like a gentleman and said In a very gentle tone: someone who just watches and cannot do anything to be any worth an air he breath in this worded space. What stand do you have to speak to me?

He then proceed to show a middle finger and turn around to sleep comfortably.

Doll, surprised and flabbergasted by the rude words of this ritsu who seems to not have boundary on what he said: H-HUH

Sheep: your voice irritated me. And it's saying something as I can't "hear" you at all.

It seems that sheep have some malice toward doll. No actually he malice toward anyone who tell him what to do.

He doesn't know what's the big deal of him sleeping and doing nothing as his so called master protagonist is busy dealing with system and storyline till that pink speak, he use his sweet skill to know the Wikipedia of this alter and he knows what is before and what to come to such character.

That so called "doll" better not start with him or his going to ground him down to what level his zone with his so called owner.

Doll who doesn't know what trigger the rude behavior of sheep can only frown and glare at the other. But somehow he seems to not able to have negative prospective toward such person.

Not realizing he have succumb into one of skills of sheep.

[ Trustworthy and honorable Knight ( active)

- everyone and anyone will never have negative emotion toward you ✨

- so comfortable to even tell you sweet and darkness secrets. 😋 ]

[cantsayidont]

January 1996. Before it became a Harley Quinn thing, BIRDS OF PREY was Barbara Gordon's (barely) crypto-lesbian crimefighting polycule. After Babs was shot by the Joker and summarily discarded by the Bat-books, John Ostrander and Kim Yale reinvented the former Batgirl as Oracle, a computer hacker and information broker who for a while was Amanda Waller's second-in-command of the Suicide Squad. In 1995, Oracle became the costar of the leading homoerotic team-up franchise of the '90s, recruiting Black Canary and later various other superheroines for what was nominally a CHARLIE'S ANGELS type adventure series with Oracle as Charlie.

What's memorable about this initial special, aside from its horny Gary Frank art, is that Black Canary doesn't know who Oracle is except by reputation and as an electronically altered voice on the telephone. However, Dinah is going through a rough patch, so when she comes home to find an answering machine message from Oracle saying she has a dangerous job for her and has already bought her a first-class ticket to Gotham, Dinah decides she has nothing better to do but play out the string. Oracle has gotten her a fancy rental car and a swanky hotel suite, in which there's a throat mic and tiny transceiver that will let Oracle communicate with her (and surveil her, although Oracle already knows everything about her, from her recent breakup with Oliver Queen to her poor credit rating) 24/7:

So, Babs not only wants Dinah to do some legwork for her, but also dresses her up like a doll, watches her every move, and is a voice in her ear basically at all times. (The early BIRDS OF PREY stories often have scenes of Babs talking to Dinah from the bath or the hot tub, because that's the kind of series this is.) Rather than being creeped out by this weird stalker/control-freak behavior from an anonymous woman, Dinah says, "Sure, why not?" and decides to just go with it, even after Oracle starts bringing other women into the mix. (It seems pretty clear that when Dinah asks, "Are these your personal taste?" she's asking whether they're what Oracle wants to see Dinah in — which Dinah evidently doesn't have a problem with — rather than whether they're something Oracle herself would wear.)

This being a '90s comic book by right-wing homophobe Chuck Dixon, there are of course various no-homo evasions throughout, but I'm not sure how one is supposed to not read this as kind of gay. The second BIRDS OF PREY story, which teams Black Canary and Lois Lane (and is written not by Dixon, but by Jordan B. Gorfinkel, the editor of the initial special), has this little aside:

There's no way anyone writing something like this in 1995–96 wouldn't know how people were likely to read this. (Dinah does know that Oracle is a woman even in their first adventure, and while Babs typically distorts her voice when communicating with people as Oracle, it doesn't appear that she does that with Dinah.)

After a while, Dinah does become curious to know more about Oracle, but Babs refuses to let Dinah actually see her. Eventually, though, circumstances force the issue in BIRDS OF PREY #21:

Dixon's script for this issue contained the following note for artist Butch Guice:

The more drama you can squeeze from this the better. We’re going for The Pieta as opposed to anything that HINTS of the sexual. This scene is apparently RIPE for misinterpretation (or OVERinterpretation.) by some of our readers.

Mission accomplished — no lesbian implications here, boss!

So, as you can see, they have the "be gay" part down pretty well, and you may also be assured that Babs spends this series doing crimes. As a hacker, she of course commits computer fraud on the regular, breaking into restricted and classified systems (she's hacked the military GPS constellation so she can track Dinah, for instance), but she also routinely steals as much money as she needs to finance whatever equipment she needs and keep her girlfriend partner and their ever-growing list of attractive female cohorts in hot cars and fancy underwear. Vigilante superheroes generally take a pretty selective attitude about the law, but the number of felonies this once rather prim policeman's daughter and one-time congresswoman perpetrates honestly puts Catwoman to shame. The stories are frustratingly stupid and the art only gets hornier as it goes on, but what a good series this could have been if it were actually good.

[granulesofsand]

Subspace with Programming

🗝️🏷️ RAMCOA/OEA, CSA, ACSA, sexual themes, references to EEGs.

TL;DR We’re looking for a way to build healthy relationships with alters who have no base of safe-enough. We think subspace, sexually and not, will help.

We went to a presentation about altered states in BDSM, and they pulled up an EEG of the drop into subspace. This specific one was of a person suspended by piercings, showing the brain activity going up for rigging and suspension, and then dropping from tall yellow to short red as they slipped into the fuzzy subby state.

The presenters talked about a spike a while after the change, and that for this person it was a moment of processing. They had been using their subspace to grieve, and that was the moment they ran a list of important people they’d lost.

We got to talk to the researchers when they finished presenting, and we asked about altered states in people with already atypical states (age regression, developmental delays, systems).

BDSM in Healing

The author of one of the only recovery books about OEA talks about why their CDD clients shouldn’t participate in BDSM, and we’ve taken issue with that for a while. Similar to how autistic people do well with proper BDSM, traumatized systems also benefit from learning negotiation and safer sexual practices.

We’ve spoken to our therapist about the grey areas where it might be better to stay away (if a system has poor communication, if system members will take on sex or pain as a job, if there isn’t control over switching during scenes), and we agreed that there was no one-size-fits-all for approaching sexuality.

Most systems have an absolute boundary of no sexual interaction for littlies. In the book, there were two contrary opinions about that. One was that any sexual encounter resembling what the young ones survived was bad, because there was no way to prevent leakage from whoever was doing it. That was the author, Alison Miller’s.

The other was that sexual NPCs had allowed the young ones to meet their sexual needs from trauma, and the children could then continue their age-appropriate development. That was a survivor story, and they created the NPCs to give safe-enough touch that eventually led into safe touch (with no sexual component).

And I still come at it from a harm reduction standpoint; letting inside kids participate in sexual activities shouldn’t be the first step, or the second or the third, but there’s only so many angles some systems can try before that’s the best option.

After this point, orange paragraphs are details of abuse.

Harm Reduction

Our left sidesystem doesn’t have many obvious littlies. The group we came from didn’t find value in children outside of exploitation, and we were assigned adult identities. It takes several layers of peeling to find the childlike states in most of us, so we didn’t have as much fear of accidentally getting a child in front for sex stuff.

The Left still has programming, but ours is more focused on external presentation (amnesia, silence, reporting), and the traumatized insiders are hidden away.

The right side, however, is child-heavy. They also appear to be adults, but they know their actual ages are younger. The right is where our ‘good’ alters were placed, and that refers to the trafficked and ritually abused kids. The ones who respond to cues, who fit perfectly into the role the perps wanted.

Some of the young ones on the right are the sexualized pets, dancers, royalty. Also worth noting are the clumps of shattered fragments; the organs, the rotting body parts, the broken dolls. The majority of the Horrors (tm) happened to people on this side, and they’re all so heavily programmed that they continue responding when called.

Cues and Triggers

The ‘perfect’ ones, who weren’t shattered, show up at front for themes of bestiality, CSEM, and torturous sex. Since building trust, we’ve discovered who comes out for what (there’s a curtain of mist or smoke when people are hiding). We don’t try to expose them to any of those things, but there are situations that draw them out by similarity.

One of the most shameful events we’ve made front-accessible is when our family brought home the dog they have now. We were maybe 12 when it happened, in our bedroom, and we have the memory because a left-side alter wasn’t fully kicked from front. The dog was a puppy, he jumped on everything before he learned better. He was big enough for our size, and he hit a pressure point that cued out a younger alter. They got into position, expecting there to be adults with cameras to guide the encounter.

We were fully clothed for that, nobody else in the room, and the puppy wasn’t trained to do anything about it. The littlie was confused, the puppy was confused, the left alter was confused, and that was it. The puppy was immediately distracted by a noise outside, so we opened the bedroom door and he took off.

This happens with the littlies we can’t talk to unless they’re in the fronting realm, and who can only stay in the fronting realm while they have an active trigger. We have interventions, but those are focused on the safety of the ones we find. We don’t have a reliable means of encouraging alters to remain safe and work on their behaviors.

We’ve gotten better at having notecards and alarms that redirect them to notebooks and apps, and we have them learn how to summon a few creature alters to talk. More and more of the people on the right are working with us, talking to others and banding together.

Before BDSM

Once they start deprogramming, we look for the structures and controls that prevent them from moving around. After that, we bring them to a safe subrealm of wherever they were, have them decide what changes they want (while the older ones look into what changes they need), and rebuild their area. Sometimes we have to move them elsewhere because of environmental risks or other alters trying to reprogram in their area.

Movement is the easiest for us because we don’t have many low-level alters who care to stay as they were. Once we demonstrate safe communication, they pick it up on their own time.

It comes back to sexuality and trauma. We don’t make anyone do trauma work before they want to (or aren’t resistant to the idea), and that leaves some of us with programmed urges. There are rules specific to every area, which is why some of them are still actively violent, and try to herd people into healthier mindsets for every iteration.

It’s hard. We’ve tried forcing people into therapy (which went badly with every plan we’ve implemented), having them talk with a mediator (it’s apparently subcultural), banning violence (worked temporarily until they found workarounds), and restraining people (we can do it if they allow it, otherwise Big No).

Why We’re Considering It

Some of us (not just the young ones) seek out unhealthy dynamics, or have problems we can’t solve before each person is ready. Once we start, it looks like doing system therapy for that alter’s subsystem, and sometimes for the nested subsystems — which is the same process but on a plane none of us see.

We need genuine cooperation, or at least benevolent deceit. So we’ve been thinking about what that BDSM research would do for us, internally interpersonally and with NPCs. It would be the most developmentally appropriate alters first, seeing how altered states bode with our subsystem switching (I don’t think we can accidentally summon the littlies to internal places), maybe trying to use the university’s EEG equipment.

Then, if that goes well, trying the NPCs with safe-enough versions of what the older ones were doing (aiming to avoid sexual exposure beyond the environmental cues they already know).

There’s so many of us. Probably all of us have young self-states, and there are at least a few hundred actual littlies. The idea is to get the altered state that helps processing, led by another insider (or NPC). It’s harm reduction compared to how they are when we find them and how they remain before heavy healing. This might be a road to recovery without the same pits of previous diversions. Then we can get to the phase of actually educating them and showing them choices in states where they really get to choose.

Thinking feels like catching eels, so I’m gonna end this here. Point is, subspace sounds cool and we want to try it sexually for adults and nonsexually for children. We’ve had progress with pseudo-sexual methods with sexual alters before. Wish us luck.

[midnightshade]

The Lost Potential of Mimiko and Nanako Hasaba

Spoilers for Jujutsu Kaisen Manga

I have very little issue with Jujutsu Kaisen and how it's written. It's a solid series and Akutami is clearly a competent writer, but one of my few issues with the series is how Mimiko and Nanako were handled.

I'm of the opinion that they were the biggest example of wasted potential.

Similarly to Geto Suguru himself, they suffer from being prequel characters. They were introduced in the prequel story and were attached primarily to Geto, which therefore did not offer many opportunities to develop them. This problem can be seen with the rest of Geto's family, but if anyone should have been developed in relation to Geto, it should have been them.

One of the many running themes in Jujutsu Kaisen is how non-Shaman treat Shaman; how society is stacked in a way that favors non-Shaman over Shaman. One of the most explicit and cruel examples of this we see comes from Mimiko and Nanako!

They weren't simply bullied or ostracized for being Shaman, they were flat-out tortured for it. They were sentenced to death and their parents were murdered. Out of everyone in the story, they had the most raw and real experience facing Shaman oppression, and yet this is never explored further!

People argue that Geto groomed them into hating non-Shaman, but not only is that factually incorrect (even Gege disproves this in a QnA) it ignores the very real trauma they suffered at the hands of an oppressive group. It removes their agency in how they reacted to their trauma. They had every reason to distrust non-Shaman after that.

We never get to see them discuss their beliefs with anyone. Never with Geto, never with each other, and never with the primary characters in the story. In JJK0, Yūta even argues that Geto, "Might be right, " and that he has no way of knowing if he is or not. The fact that we don't even let characters like Yūta or Yūji even get to experience the other side of the debate from two people who experienced the worst of it is so frustrating!

How much better would it have been if Mimiko and Nanako had to interact with the others? If they could share why they held their beliefs. If those said beliefs could make characters like Yūta or Yūji stop to question the system and Shaman oppression.

The point doesn't have to be black or white or wrong vs. right, the point is that there should have been more of an opportunity for a dialogue between these differing points, with both sides continuing the conversation!

Mimiko and Nanako were Geto's heirs, his adopted daughters who shared his views. Compare them to characters like Megumi or the other students who would then carry Gojo's ideals. Just like the ideological battle between Gojo and Geto, the younger generation should have been able to continue that conversation.

Speaking of Megumi, I always hoped that the Twins might act as a foil to him. All three have similar situations: they were taken in by the strongest under unique situations. Megumi was raised to be a Sorcerer, thus working within the system, while Mimiko and Nanako were raised outside of the system.

We see Megumi grow and change over the story. We see him train and how his relationship with Gojo is explored, but we never get that with Mimiko and Nanako. We never see them develop in their ideals. Never see them train, and we get very little in terms of their relationship with Geto.

We never even see their Techniques or learn how they work. All we know is that Mimiko can manipulate her doll and rope while Nanako can alter images. Nothing beyond that is ever explored.

All of that potential for the story, what they could have offered in terms of viewpoints, and increasing the main characters' worldview is erased the minute Sukuna kills them. And for what? What was the point, legitimately, other than shock? To show Sukuna is cruel? We already knew that.

None of those characters even care or mention them after their deaths. They're just gone, a complete and utter waste of potential storytelling from two characters that offered so much. Their deaths have impacted me the most, just because of what could have been.

[fraugwinska]

Chapter 4 - Alteration

Alteration (noun) a change in appearance, character, or structure of something

Tags & Warnings: Mentions of Torture, Mentions of Drugs, Blood & Gore

Your mind felt like it was hollowed out. This week had been nothing less than exhausting.

After your first day of 'training', as Alastor had decided to call it, and the heavy aftermath that came with it, he was more transparent, yet no less harsh, in preparing you. Him and you had a long talk the morning after, and while he explained his position in hell and the scarily high number of his very powerful enemies, you sat, listened and most importantly - thought.

Hell's politics were complicated, and moreover, they were filled with violence, manipulation and bloodlust. You've gathered that much from the books you read, but listening to Alastors stories and explanations made it feel less abstract and way more real and tangible. Any serving souls actively running around the pride ring for an influential master were a probable target for kidnapping and torture, to get information, intel or just a little rise out of an opponent. And from what you heard, Alastor had pissed of many more powerful overlords than made friends with them over the decades he was in hell, above all three overlords thay sinners called the V's. You knew them well, you read about them in the Infernal Times Today all the time, they were omnipresent. Especially Vox, the TV demon, had a long standing, intense rivalry with your master, and together with his close allies, he dominated the pride ring in it's social core – influencing every aspect of media and commercial business, except for Radio of course.

“As I intent to have you as my personal assistant, you'll be in far more danger to be the target of unsavory attacks than any other souls I own.”, Alastor explained much less jovial than you felt comfortable with.

The next 'training sessions', as he named them, were similar to your first day, although Alastor always told you what you had to do and expect. You had a feeling that because he was so upfront with your trials now, they might've been less effective, and you had finally accumulated the courage to voice your opinion after the third day at dinner. Alastor had chuckled at your remark, his eyes curiously scanning you, before answering. ”Maybe, my dear kitten, but I'd better be safe than sorry – it would be no use to have a doll being broken before it even got out of the box.”

As weird as it felt, you didn't mind being referred to something resembling to a toy – you went into Alastor's services knowing full well you were a servant, not an employee. You prepared for it. You basically engraved it into your soul he owned. You just hated the feeling of not being trusted to prevail. You had huffed in frustration, but kept your opinions to yourself, basically swallowing your grilled crawfish in one big bite, painfully aware of the bruises from your training still on your face. Interrogation training had been not only physically, but visibly, taken a toll on you. Despite Rosie's best efforts, some cuts and bruises wouldn't heal as quick as you wanted. Every evening she would stop by, tending to your newest injuries and inquiring about your mental well-being, reminding you to use your notebook if things got too tough. You knew it was meant as a consolation, and you should've been more than grateful, but it stung to be seen as a so... weak. You wanted to be seen as stronger than. Every night, you processed the days events, the horrible, arduous, painful things you heard, endured and/or experienced. Alastor's shadows were ruthless beings full of malice and feral brutality, even the more sentient ones. Sometimes, when the mansion was quiet and the shades weren't creeping in the edges of your room you would allow yourself to cry silent tears, just to flush the impending pressure out of your system. Or you would begrudgingly take Rosie's advice and use the red notebook to write your emerging feelings down the way you often did when you were still alive: in poems, aphorisms, statements or sketches. Sometimes, you did both. It helped though, you could face each morning with an emptied mind and the indifferent expression you had made your own.

On day six you had dark, prominent circles under your eyes when you came down for breakfast. You were, again, earlier than usual, the events of yesterday had kept you wide awake. It had been the most exhausting experience since day one. No physical harm, but mental. Alastor had invaded your mind, flipped through it like a picture book, in search of a specific memory he told you to hide away, the memory of the night in the cabin. He had told you it was his weakest and most experimental ability, but it felt like he was at a mastery. Hours went down, with you fleeing with your entrusted memory from the invader, like a child running from a feral dog. Your head felt like it was slowly split open by a dull axe. He bulldozed every wall you put up with ease, ripped off any barricade in order to find you. It was a painful, draining game of hide and seek. In the process, he brought up vulnerable, messy, hurtful memories you once stored away in the depths of your mind.

Moms panicked face before she locked you out of the house and the sound of hinges breaking. Dark, rusty stains on the obituary of your birth father. You, singing, sitting on a cliff, overseeing the ocean, a diary in your hand. Your twelve year old self burying a dead blue jay in the woods with her bare hands, crying.

You entered the kitchen and found Alastor, leaning against the counter, arms crossed and staring out of the windows. It was a sunny, windy morning in hell. Cold, but bright.

“Good morning.”

“And a good morning to you, kitten.”

Unusual short greeting for him. Huh. You eyed him, then turned to see the french press and his crimson coffee mug untouched in the cupboard.

“Should I prepare your coffee, ...Alastor?” He didn't answer. You started to worry... silent Alastor was frightening to you, unlike chatty Alastor. You opened your mouth to cautiously ask again, when he broke the silence.

“There is something I'd like to ask about yesterday, my dear, if you don't mind.”

You owlishly blinked at him. “I don't.”

He still didn't move, resembling a chiseled statue, hell's sun illuminating his face and silhouette with the pinkish hue of morning dawn.

“What was that sweet tune you were singing? On the cliff, I mean.”, He turned his head in your direction, his grin loose and twitching and his eyes.. tired? He still wasn't looking at you, not directly anyway.

His question was... random. Unexpected. You took a moment to sort your thoughts, struggling for a second to hold your composure.

“It was a song from a musical I starred in, ''Hadestown”... Flowers, it's called.”

Alastor nodded, lost in thought. “It sounded lovely.”

You had no idea what to say to that. You just stared at him, unsure why he even brought it up in the first place... You knew why this memory was so painful impactful to you, but... to him, it must have seemed like a normal, uninteresting one. Why this one? He sighed, then snapped his fingers. His magic, or whatever it was that he could do, never ceased to amaze and surprise you. Instantly, the breakfast table was set. His coffee mug was on the table, full to the brim with fresh coffee, as well as a plate for you with some cut up fruits, a cup of tea and a silver tray with milk and sugar. He sat down, taking a sip, his eyes roaming over to you expectantly. You raise a brow at this sudden change of the atmosphere but sit down too, picking up a fork and beginning to munch on your breakfast. Better not question too much, you were too exhausted anyway. The fruits were tart, sour and stinging, a little bitter and a hint sweet.

“We'll move into the hotel today, kitten.”

You stopped chewing, eyeing you master with erect ears, who chuckled at your sight.

“I think you are adequately prepared now, at least for the area around the hotel. But we have to establish some ground rules.” Alastor lifted a finger, wagging it with a smug smile. “I can't have my little lynx out and about doing whatever she wants, I still have a reputation to uphold.”

“I'll do as you say, Alastor.”

He gave you a pitiful smile. “Of that I have little doubt, my dear, but see, I find myself in a jiffy with you.” He folded his hands, leaning on the breakfast table, and put his chin on top, blinking lazily at you. “The inhabitants of the hotel are very... skeptical of me. They most rightfully mistrust me. And by proxy, they will most likely mistrust you.” He tilted his head. “I need you to keep a more... friendly front, I'm afraid. More human, as ironic as it may seem. To help lessen the... lingering animosity against myself.”

You gulped the rest of your fruit platter down, blinking at him like he was speaking cantonese.

“I'm not... human enough?”, you carefully ask, reaching for your teacup. Something to hold onto because... the audacity.

“You do come off as a bit... robotic, kitten.”, Alastor laughed into his cup. “As charming as it is, it does tend to offset other people. And I need those people to believe they can trust me. What better way than to have a loyal, charming, likable sinner assistant, who seems to just love working for me?”

You were brooding in your thoughts. Being likable... what the fuck does that mean?

“How should I... what should I do then?”, you voiced your thoughts, your expression crumbling. You had perfected the mask, the act of having your act together. You were stone, a front nothing could penetrate, a golem, ready for the will of your master. Just as you willed yourself to be, as a result of your deal.

“Well, for example, you could do what I do and smile more, darling~!”, Alastor exclaimed, suddenly lively and enthused. “A smile goes a long way, it's the sword and the shield of the educated mind! Take it from me, A-HA!”

You absent-mindedly took a few sips of your tea. It was perfectly steeped, not too sweet, creamy. And yet, it didn't really warm you. Smile, he said. The more you thought about it, the more laughable it became to you. How horrid would your forced smile look like – definitely not likable or maintainable in the long run. You felt safe behind your frown. Your unmoving face was your only defense, a strict, but necessary line of defense – your fragile rest of humanity, the part of you that made you weak and vulnerable was only shielded by your stone-hard indifference.

Alastor studied your face, his eyebrows raised high into his red bangs.

“Although, you don't seem too keen on that, if I may say so.”, he stated, he grinned and took another gulp of hot coffee. His voice sounded too overly smooth and nonchalant, you felt a bit like he was disappointed. “Maybe we'll find another tactic that suits you more.”

He tapped his chin, his long, slender, claw-like fingers looked like daggers against the morning sun.

“Well, then, maybe, try to show more of your personality darling. Converse more about your personal likes and dislikes, show interest and sympathy in the inhabitants. Listen closely, and know when to share, and when not to.”

You nodded. You were relieved, he had interpreted your thoughtful eyes and hesitation right, and even offered you an alternative. It wasn't ideal, but workable. You furrowed your brows. Alastor sat in front of the kitchen window, his never-ending smile wide and full of curious expectancy. The morning light illuminated his silhouette like a halo, yet there was an aura of darkness around him. So strange. And in a way, so... sad.

“I'll do my best. I promise.”

“I am most certain you will.”, he chuckled darkly, batting his dark lashes as he gave you a sly smile. “And kitten, I almost forgot the most important rule – You'll tell no one about our deal.”

Packing felt uneasy. The few things you had were quickly gathered together and put in a simple leather travel bag that sat readily on your bed. In a way, you would miss your room. It was small, but it was one of the few constants since you woke up in hell. You hadn't really bothered with decorating – with what? And more importantly – what for? But you had the feeling Alastor had equipped this room more like your own taste than his – a slight variation of his style, melded to fit more you.

As soon as you had entered the room, you wrote down the rules in your notebook.

You packed the diary to your clothes and toiletries, and closed the straps of the black bag with a sigh. From the corner of your eyes, you could see one of Alastor's shadows lurking in the corner, watching you. You glared at it, but left it be. You couldn't drive it away anyway. As you bent over to close your window, your hand pushed down on your pillow and a crisp sound cut the silence of the room, so loud you nearly choked on a wail. The photo of your mother! You hastily grabbed it from under your pillow. It had a new crease, but was still intact. You stared at it, wondering why you had almost forgotten your most precious memento.

Mom. She was so beautiful, did she really look like that? Your memory was strangely fuzzy for a moment. What would she look like now? How was her life, with ...Frank dead, his money in her account? Free to do as she pleases, no chain on the ankle, no daughter to sacrifice her future for, the heavy anchor drowning her youth and aspirations? Was she happy? You hoped so. When you were alive, you had her eyes. But you remembered that she was taller than you, more slender, not as curvy as you. Graceful. Talented. Tears. Oh shit. Tears! You were crying.

With a bit more force than you wanted you wiped the small drops from your cheek, taking a deep breath. You opened your bag again, ruffled till you found the little red book, and put the photo in the crease on the last page. You couldn't afford sentimentalities. What's done was done.

Alastor's shadow hummed.

“I will kill him! Charlie – let go, this time I'm REALLY gonna kill him!”

“Get new batteries for 'ya vibrator and STOP BITCHING! I. FUCKING. ASKED!”

“FOR A COKE!”

“This IS coke!”

Alastor hummed as he threw open the front door for you, not acknowledging the ruckus and screams from the inside. You were hesitant, but scanned your face to make sure it was friendly. Well, -er.

The scene you walked into was movie-esque. A cute demon girl with long, flowy blonde hair and rosy cheeks had wrapped her arms around the waist of a slightly smaller, moth-like girl with a spear in her hands, struggling to keep her away from ...someone? Another, very small female demon with one eye in a petticoat dress pulled at the girls ankles in a very ineffective attempt on helping, manically laughing. The target of the oncoming spear attack, a tall, very thin arachnid-like... man? Woman? Held on something that looked like very dubious bags of white powder, while his... her? face was turning pink from screaming. Behind the scene on a hybrid of a concierge desk and a bar, a grumpy winged cat-demon held his ears down with one paw, the other held a large, neon-green bottle half full of a liquid that surely would have been labeled radioactive or highly toxic on earth... it glowed.

“Home sweet Home, my dear!”, Alastor exclaimed joyfully, and started walking towards the mess of limbs, screams and weapons. You followed behind him, cautiously.

“These are DRUGS, Angel. I thought you meant the SOFTDRINK!”, the girl with the spear hissed, still being held back by the two other women.

“I'm not at fault at what you think I meant, bitch, that's on you.”

“Guys, stop it!”, the blonde cried whining, finally wrangling the spear away from her friend.

“And Angel, that's not cool. You know we don't want drugs in the hotel.”

Alastor cleared his throat, and heads turned to you two. Your ears twitched slightly, you could've laughed at the picture before you in another life.

“My dear friends, I've brought the promised company. Meet Miss (Y/n), my lovely assistant.”

You bowed your head, then remembered to be more informal, and waved weakly.

“Hello, it's a pleasure to meet...”

“WELCOME TO THE HAZBIN HOTEL!”, the blonde girl squealed, almost hauling herself to you. The sheer force of her body weight made you take a steadying step back. She was a bit taller than you, in a feminine dressy suit. Her face was creamy white, with distinct round, rosy cheeks and a smile wide as that of Alastors, although much warmer and more genuine.

“I'm Charlie, and um.. yeah, sorry about...” she motioned with both hands to the fight scene, “aaaaall of this, it's not always like that.”

You just nodded, looking over her exited gestures to the other inhabitants. They were staring at you, some with curiosity, some with skepticism. The Spear-girl looked especially angry.

“Come in, come in! Gosh, you're a cutie, look at those eyes! Here, here, let me introduce you!”, Charlie pushed you nearer to the group. You felt stiff at her enthusiasm, and tried to breathe to relax more. Be likable.

“This”, Charlie grabbed the angry looking girl with the spear, “is my girlfriend Vaggie. She manages the hotel with me.”

“Hi.”, you just said. She snorted at you, looking from Alastor, who observed the spectacle from the side with offensive amusement, back to you in a way that said 'I don't like you at all'.

“Deer Daddy has an assistant? That's a new one. She got a stone face. Did 'ya get her to work late-nighters with 'ya, smiles?”, the one who was introduced to you as Angel Dust asked Alastor, wiggling his eyebrows and smiling in a lewd way.

Alastor finally came to your side, one hand on your shoulder, and waved his hand derogatory. “Bare him no mind, kitten, Angel has a very... childish sense of humor.”

“Fuck you, I am hilarious.”, Angel answered, giving you a condescending smile. “Weell, 'ya got nice tits, sweety, but I'd loose the granny pants. Not sexy at all.”

The smallest demon girl, the one with the one eye, circled you non stop, looking you up and down while talking like a waterfall. “Kitten? I thought her name was (Y/N), is it because of your ears? Or the tail? Anyway, you look not much like a cat, Husker is much more catlike no offense! I like your eyes, uuuh, they sparkle, I'm Niffty by the way. These shoes are amazing, so pretty. AH!” Nifty swatted a cockroach right by your tail. “Gotcha!”, she grinned, almost like a gremlin, baring her sharp teeth at the poor insect. Husk, the aforementioned cat-like demon behind the bar, gave you a distrustful look, taking a big gulp from his questionable bottle, but nodded at you. Your head swirled. They were... loud. Chaotic. Eccentric. A lot. All of these things.

You took a deep calming breath. “Thank you for letting me stay here. It's very nice to meet you all. I hope I can be of best assistance to everyone.”

Alastor laughed beside you, pressing you into his side, his smile extraordinary bright and ecstatic. “See, Charlie, I've told you, she's a gem! We'll have the best of times with her!” His background audience cheered and hollered.

Charlie looked a bit nervous, searching for your eyes. As if she was suspecting you to be more of a hostage than an assistant. “Riiiiiight. How about me and Vaggie show you to your room? It's newly renovated, and really pretty! In the meantime you could prepare dinner, Alastor?”

Alastor beamed deviously, pushing you into the demon princesses arms with enthusiasm.

“What a wonderful idea, Charlie. You show her the knicks and knacks, I'll make use of the kitchen! Who's in the mood for Jambalaya?”

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[delphientropy]

please read our DNI before interacting. thank you!

actually, i honestly wanted to talk about our innerworld and system functions in general for a while. so im gonna talk about my system experiences for once i guess

for as long as we realized we were a system (which must have been around a year or less now) we always doubted ourself because our system was just... weird. thats why i never talked about it. i was very afraid of being fakeclaimed.

we do split from stress and trauma, and some of us do have jobs, but oddly, so many of us dont have any jobs at all. it seems like i, the host, do almost everything and am the sole provider of the system, and if i went dormant, everything would probably just collapse.

our innerworld is SO fucking weird. we have no idea whwere our dormant alters go- or most alters, really, because not that many alters have any access or memory of any innerworld. the sections in the innerworld are categorized by source (oddly, source plays a huge part in our system functioning for whatever reason), and even then its all so fuzzy and messy and off.

it all looks like the incomplete worldbuilding of a kid. loopholes, unanswered questions, random splits and no roles, nothing is organized and everything is chaos- bad memory, basically only one alter is doing everything ever and hes fucking stressing out (and nothing we can do about it because he cant voluntarily leave), random islands in fucking space— what about the oxygen? it really just screams made up fantasy world some child made. like our entire system is run by some small imaginative kid whos obsession for fiction and fantasy and chaos and yet also control while being disorganized.

ive been told many times that our coping mechanism is to avoid. forget. distract. comfort. thats why we have a MILLION fictives. its like a machine in the back of our mind, always humming, always making more fragments that act like characters we know and find comfort in. nah they dont have a role theyre just. there. it doesn't make sense. theres no gatekeepers, rarely protectors, just fictives. fictives with no roles just fictives and fictives and more fictives. one day itll work. every problem will go away if we just make more fictives, the machine whispers. if we just have more comfort, all of it.

i guess it all ties into our kind of trauma and our other disorders which cause chaos and disarray. everything is unexplained. the random pain. dormancy. the entire innerworld itself. its seems complex and structured on the outside, and it sure is creative, but theres no structure. its a kid throwing multiple concepts together to make a really dumb world and a dumb story with it.

if i could make it organized and make it function, i would, but i can barely see it. i cant make up shit and suddenly our brain functions normally. i cant pretend like our innerworld doesnt have patches and holes and never answered questions. i cant trust anything and suddenly it all works. thats why i dont like a lot of the advice im given. "just trust that your alters wont fuck it up and youll switch more!" i do trust them. there are some i trust with my entire being. but i just cant switch. it wont let me leave. im that inner childs favorite character, favorite doll, that needs to be out of the toybox at all times.

im so scared to try and get diagnosed or just any kind of help. because im sure i sound absolutely bonkers when you read all of this. but its a frustratingly bad functioning system. and currently, the only option i have is to just stay in front and do everything. i initially thought i had PDID for this reason, actually. im like the ""main alter"" but i certainly dont have any control over our world. i dont know what to do. and with how therapists keep abandoning me, i wish i could just heal and figure it out by myself. but i cant.

[sketchesandnonesense]

I feel like hell so I'm having profoundly Selfish thoughts today like

"I wonder if any doll makers would want to do a make-a-wish for my pathetic cancer riddled ass and make me a doll just right to my specifications as some kinda charitable christmas miracle"

Like

A doll is a very time consuming thing to make. And expensive. Theres a reason sculptors n customizers are expensive.

It's stupid to even think about.

Like yeah I'm 2 years into dealing with cancer and things are not looking Great if I'm entirely honest but I dont have an expiration date on my forehead and given the circumstances with the people in my life I am incredibly lucky.

So like.

I feel like a bad person even thinking about it.

Yknow?

Idk. Putting a cut just bc maybe it'll make me feel like I have SOME shame about overthinking this if that makes sense.

But I can't get the thought out of my head. Like.

Maybe in some fucked up way it could be mutually beneficial if they were one of those youtuber types or even just a smaller maker.

Doing something like bringing a cancer patient's dream doll to life could turn heads. Would make one hell of a good youtube video, for sure. Lol.

Worst thing is though is just. My dream doll is BB. Theres details I could alter and concede on and things but for the most part I want her to be directly like my sketches. Cartoony and simple.

I feel like I'm like a loser telling a sob story on deviantart saying my mom's uncle's hamster died n the only thing to help is free art from a stranger. A shameless choose-y beggar with a sob story.

But if you'll let me be alil melodramatic for a minute just so I can get it out of my system.

But

I've loved dolls all my life. Not always seen myself as much of a collector, really, but I love them. And one thing I always wanted was a doll that was Mine. Made exactly how I wanted, just for me. No hangups, no skimping on things, no compromises. It was a pipe dream. I wanted to be a doll maker so badly. But I was never good with physical crafts. They never came out right (rarely even came out GOOD at that). I tried and tried everything I could. Making plushies, clay, customizing pre-existing dolls, anything. Nothing worked. I just am not cut out for doll making.

So, I accepted this was something I needed a professional to do for me. And over the years I've trusted people with my characters and while I do adore the work I've gotten. None of it's ever Done It. Because I was always having to make a dozen little sacrifices. Having to account for the artist's style. Sometimes the design had to change to be more feasible and so it didnt cost as much. Sometimes it just straight up didnt turn out.

I remember as a kid I got enough christmas money to commission an itty bitty plush of my sonic OC from an expensive plush artist. I was so excited. I thought it was finally happening.

It was awful. Quality was mediocre at best. It was maybe 3 inches tall. And the eyes were this weird stiff fabric piece that kinda jutted out from the felt and looked glued on.

V petty side tangent, i know, but just kinda the first example where I tried to fufill this dream and it just. Fell through.

Its always still stuck with me through the years, trying again and again to make a doll, but all I have to show is boxes of half-used supplies im too ashamed to even look at.

And now I'm here again. Thinking about it.

I've said it before, but my past two years have been awful. 2023 was entirely eaten up by my chemo and radiation and recovering from having my entire stomach removed. Thought I was cancer free and was starting to find normal again. Then in january scans and biopsies I was told it came back. Liver, this time. This entire year has been trying different chemo drugs and scans and things looking up only to crash back down again.

And I'm so tired.

I actually was (technically still am) trying to commission someone to make my doll. Pay an artist properly like you should. I saved up and I figured I deserved it with everything. Im 27, I'm an adult, i can make my own decisions.

She didnt disclose she'd just moved. To a rural area. And was still struggling to get internet and plumbing situated. Or that there was much of a queue infront of me. Its my fault for not looking into it more and finding the practically defunct social medias and untouched-for-months trello page. I was promised a turnaround time within a month. That was back in august.

Anytime I check in there's always something new going wrong. Broken tablet pen, power outages, family stuff. I dont think she's a scammer or trying to make excuses. She's sweet. But im exhausted of waiting.

Im sort of just accepting I'm never seeing that money back, or getting my doll. The paypal protection will still let me charge back, but I'm not about to put a woman in her situation in the red, especially when she's got a kid to feed. Maybe she'll get done eventually, but if I can be morbid and dramatic, i think by that point BB would have to be a grave decoration.

And I can't bring myself to save up again hoping that maybe I can find another artist who MIGHT be able to bring her to life in the exact right way and maybe finally. FINALLY I can have this one thing in my life.

I guess it'd help for people who dont know jack shit if I actually showed the character on partially Why she'd have to be a christmas miracle.

Its not overly complicated or a really old Beloved OC. She's honestly one of my newer babies. But I made her SPECIFICALLY with the idea of her being my dream doll. And its very. Very silly.

But. This is BB:

I tried to imagine a character thatd be in a cartoon I'd watch as a kid and be VIOLENTLY mad didnt have some sort of doll I could buy, lol. Retro anime, cute and round, robot girl.

To avoid an infodump: she's a little fighting robot. Think medabots or angelic layer. She has a human who she's best friends with and she fights other cute little robot dolls. She talks only in beeps and boops and is 11inches tall (without antannae) and she's silly and I love her.

And she's my dream.

Imagining in my head the anime that I would've adored as a kid, and a doll thats literally her plucked off the screen. Not a barbie in an outfit, not something close enough, but the simplistic cartoony lil goofball.

I know its really. Really silly. Its silly to be caught up in this kind of idea and its silly to get all bent out of shape over and its silly I'm even like.

Putting these thoughts into the world

Feeling like a kid writing a letter to Santa

But thats it. Thats my wish or my dream or whatever. Its selfish. Its so so so selfish to imagine not just putting someone through doll making but making such a weird hard-to-translate-to-3d-space design and potentially having to work with me abunch to make sure she's just right. Without like. Thousands in compensation, lol.

Like I said, im willing to work with and do some adjustments to make her more do-able (fiddle w/ proportions alil, figure out a way to do the joints in a way that still fits her style while being actually moveable, more engineering side than aesthetics obvi lol. I really would love her to be stupid posable).

But i dont think that really probably means much

Idk.

I feel silly and selfish even putting this into the world but hey. Can't hurt to wish on stars and hope for christmas miracles. Right? It's not like I'm gonna go knocking on doors asking for something this batshit, lol.

Like. I wouldnt survive the shame.

If they dont respond I'll die of anxiety n guilt. Getting turned down might hurt even worse because then I'd know for sure they'd read it and probably felt Really Fucking Uncomfortable.

If i was a kid or whatever then maybe it'd be atleast endearing to get that kinda message insteada Just Sad.

No winning. Lol.

Im tired out now and the post-chemo-day agonies are starting to rev up again so I think I'm gonna go lay down now.

[writing-plurals]

back to answer-,

yeah, its just the 2 of them in the system ^^

giving a bit of context of the universe- basically, every time a child wishes their toy was real, a new baby is born with the memories of that toy. most of them end up forgetting this before they're able to talk, but because of trauma, the mc's personality split between the doll she was (calling her Dolly because all characters are still unnamed) and the girl she would've been had she had a good childhood (Lea, again all characters are unnamed im thinking these on the spot XD)

Dolly knows about the system. she knows she's an alter, she knows she's sharing a body with Lea, and she remembers everything that happened to her in her doll life (Lea meanwhile doesn't know shit 💀). at school, Lea meets this one girl (Maya), and since they get close Dolly decides to talk to her (Lea doesn't know tho). Dolly tells Maya about her (doll) life, and asks her to tell Lea about Dolly. Maya does it gently at first, but since Lea is deep in denial, Maya (still with the best intention) kinda gets her to remember her trauma between accidentally and on purpose

and about the ending, Dolly's existence doesn't go too well, so she ends up disappearing- this makes sense as a system, that when an alter goes through a lot of crap they go dormant, but I'm afraid if a singlet reads this they think the only way a system can be happy and/or functional is by becoming only one person

thanks for answering<33

-✨kai✨

Here's my answer to this follow-up:

Cool stuff. I understand the background a little bit more now, and yeah, I can see where you are coming from.

You have a couple options regarding Dolly's departure from the story and system.

Option one: Stress that Dolly's departure was not something that Lea was actually happy with. Make them friends or even family, and make the departure full of regret. This is a sad ending, but not necessarily a bad one. You can bring Dolly back in a sequel, just know that whatever way you end your first volume, your readers will have expectations for future volumes.

Option two: Let Lea develop someone else in the process of the story. This person might act as a buffer to reduce the effect that Dolly leaving might have on the story or on Lea. I do not like this option personally, since it seems like a band-aid fix and Dolly is just being replaced.

Option three: Stress that Dolly is still alive, the dormancy is temporary, or that Lea is still a system in some way. Single-member systems are still systems. This is especially what you would want to do if you don’t want to write a tragedy.

Option four: Write what makes you happy and publish it— or don’t!—regardless of the consequences. There will always be haters, so as long as you feel your story is representing the right kind of people, you should be proud.

This list is non-exhaustive, so if anyone else has suggestions, feel free to hit reblog.

And to you, Kai, feel free to pick more than one option if you feel that works best for you.

-mod birdie

[ramblesandwrting]

Misfits and masked random hcs

okay so- this is just me rambling about my lethal company employee crew and a masked (Venice) and his army of converted freinds. Enjoy!

Crew: -Halt isn’t actually the strongest of the group, no that is Lucky. Lucky can hold up the highest amount of weight and be fine, but he can not swing a weapon at all, hence why Halt ended up being the battle master. 

-Watcher has a missing finger on his left hand. 

-Lucky can juggle and has used this strength as a way to distract hoarding bugs…and once a nutcracker. That nutcracker was very impressed by the juggling skills it just-kinda forgot it was gonna kill him. 

-Hoarding bugs really like newbie. Like-they will happily swarm around his feet and chitter with glee. None of them have figured out why. Lucky has taken to calling Newbie “The yippie king”.

-Halt once fist fought a braken- and won after like 20 minutes. -Newbie gets common night-terrors, and has woken up his crew at least 7 times by screaming.- it has been found the best way to comfort the shaken lad after one of these is for all four of them to make a blanket fort out of whatever materials they have at the time and tell either ghost stories (Horror is oddly calming to him) or funny stories about silly workplace shenanigans. 

-Halt actually loves the sound of the jester’s music box, as she has always enjoyed music boxes since she was a little girl.

-Watcher gives the best hugs, followed closely by lucky, then newbie, and finally halt. Not to say hugs from halt aren’t nice- but she has popped many backs on accident before. 

-the ghost girl loves screwing around with newbie. She has yet to cause him any harm...but she has on multiple occasions given him a heart attack because she was close enough he could pat her head.

-Baboon hawks are terrified of halt- even in groups, she just gives off the bad vibes to them. 

-Masked…Masked are just-drawn to Halt. She-She’s a friend, she’s Their friend- but she’s broken, she’s hurt- they can fix her! They can save her!! She just needs to stop fighting Back!! It’s just like- it’s just a hug! Please- Please just let us help you….you can hear us, you hear our tongue while it normally falls on deaf ears, why won’t you Listen??? ________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Venice and his Masquerade: -First off: The idea for a group of masked being called a masquerade came from (This Post) and I loved it so I added it into my vocabulary. 

-Venice- has been called “A clever bastard” more times than he can count- a few times in languages he didn’t recognize but the tone was similar enough he knew what it meant. 

-A masked’s host body has been altered to be able to refill it’s body weight and height with blood for it to use as defense and creating new friends. This added with the death of the host nervous system is part of why these are so hard to take down. -Masked have a silent, perhaps telepathic, link to one another that counts as their language. Words and emotions are the same thing to them, touch and tone have the same meaning…and masked whisper to the employees, trying to explain to them that this was not death, not erasing of their minds, but instead freedom from stress, and hurt, and worry- and a welcomed embrace to warmth, company, happiness- Love.  

-Venice was originally a normal masked- but through the years he’s changed into a larger and more “Stable” masked. This change is thought to have happened due to the constant supply of new resources he was able to intact, which stopped the decaying process of killing the body and let his nervous system fully replace the one of his host, altering not just the blood and blood production, but the flesh itself. 

-Venice loves, LOVES hugs. Short hugs, side hugs, big hugs, bear hugs, sleepy hugs, cuddling- all forms of hugs and he will happily cling onto the body that offers it. 

-Venice loves dressing up and dolling up his new friends. Their little personal moon must have either been the home to a very fancy person or maybe a place where theater was performed, because the amount of clothing is extreme. After their conversion, Venice will lead his new friends to the back and help them pick out accessories that they enjoy, just as a way to give them all a bit of flavor. Those suits all the employee’s wear are so boring and bland….and it honestly makes him a bit sad to see how dehumanized they are in those things.

-Venice and his family have fully taken over their moon, slaying all the creatures around them, be it hoarding bugs to Giants, all have fallen at his command. 

-with just about a masquerade of 150- and growing!- Venice has made one of the large rooms of their manor home into a “Nesting” location, where all the soft furniture like couches, beds, pillows, blankets, ect. Have been moved and set up. Every night, the group moves into that room and pairs up with at least 2 other masked to snuggle and cuddle with as they slip off to sleep. -Venice is a brilliant mind- and realized that why the employee’s even come down to the moon for scrap, and the more scrap there is, the more people will show up, the more friends he can make. And as such, Venice will wait until their is either no one on the ship or that person has been turned, have two or three of the other masks hold onto one of the remaining crew while turning the rest, and stealing whatever that crew had off their ship, adding it to the ever increasing pile of net worth this planet has. 

-Venice doesn’t like it when new friends escape- that isn’t how this was supposed to go, they were supposed to become a part of their family! To join the cuddle piles at night, to be hugged and nuzzled and dressed up…

-Venice feels like he has so many loving, wonderful friends, and most of the rest of his masquerade is perfectly happy with the numbers they have…..but he just- he wants more. He wants more friends, he yearns for more one sided hugs that they try to wiggle away from, he wants more slow realizations of how bad their situation is to cross the eyes of the employee unlucky enough to find them first….he wants to feel the tension leave each new friends shoulders as the mask takes away their pain and regret, leaving them soft and warm and happy….Why stop when there are always so many new friends to make out there?

[blackfairy312]

If they were a character from inside out, who would each be? Have any of them had an anxiety attack before? (If you watched the movie, it’s good) (Fnac)

🍷/ gooood morning :3 i got donuts and coffee

i first watched inside out a loooooong time ago, and all i can remember is that i didn't like it that much. it wasn't a BAD movie, i just personally didn't think it was great. i didn't like Joy. however, i enjoyed the idea of how the "mind" looked it. it's a little similar to how innerworld in DID/OSDD systems work (some of them), honestly i think the idea of Inside Out would work better as a story if it was about alters/parts working together instead of being about emotions. limiting the characters to one singular emotion can make it difficult to make characters interesting. if they were alters/parts instead, then they'd have the creative freedom to make some of them fleshed-out characters and some of them two-dimensional, as sometimes alters/parts won't have fully developed personalities. i dunno. again, i haven't seen the first Inside Out in a long time, and i haven't seen the sequel yet. i might only watch it for Maya Hawk, to be honest 🤭

(sorry for the rambling 😢😢 back to answering the questions)

who would they be from Inside Out:

🐀Toni - Anger

🐱 Richie - Riley's Dad

🎭 Vincent - Joy

🎁 Vinnie - Sadness

🎹 Komi - Disgust

have any of them ever had an anxiety attack:

🎹Komi already has PTSD. She's had an exhausting amount of anxiety attacks that were triggered by the paranoia of something bad happening to her again. Being an immortal non-human doll/snake reincarnation doesn't make her immune from mental breakdowns. She's got an incredibly fragile mind, and she copes with it in the worst ways (alchohol/weed/impulsive actions). She REFUSES to let herself break down in front of other people. If she knows she's about to crumble, she just excuses herself and goes somewhere else to try to calm down. Music actually helps her a LOT. So she'll sing to herself to relax.

🐀Toni has had few anxiety attacks throughout his life. Instead, he's had very violent mood swings, due to his childhood being the way that it was. He's got a lot of anger issues as a result. His anxiety is triggered by the thought of children, or people he cares about, getting physically hurt. (How ironic, considering what the Rat animatronic has done.) Though, instead of having an anxiety attack, Toni reacts to his anxiety by attacking whatever triggered it if it's in the room with him and his hands are free. Think again of Mike Schmidt beating up that guy in the mall because he thought the man was kidnapping a small boy who reminded Mike of his little brother, Garret.

🐱 Richie probably hasn't had an anxiety attack in his life. He doesn't understand those kinds of things. He's the type of guy to respond to someone saying they have depression with, "Then just go outside." He's not ableist, he's just ignorant. He'd point at someone if they had a visible disability or uncommon physical trait(missing limb, wheelchair, scar, etc) It's 1961. Do you know who was president in the United States at that time? John F. Kennedy.

🎭Vincent is the exact same as Richie except he CHOOSES to be ignorant. Anxiety isn't something that Vincent struggles with. He doesn't have an anxiety disorder. He sees emotional instability as a sign of weakness in someone. Ironic, considering that he himself is very emotionally unstable. They called mental health hospitals and treatment centers "looney bins" during this time period, by the way.

[system-vent]

i have a couple vents about the same person from over the past week. they're also a system, these are all different stories. we have dyslexia so some words may be misspelled or i might forget words entirely. any and all names have been replaced with fake names for the sake of anonymity. the system in question will be referred to as 'yellow'.

first story. one of our innerworld managers is an introject from a new show. he was in front, he has an extremely short temper, and he can be a bit blunt. manager has specific opinions on interacting with out-of-sys sourcemates. he says that if they front of their own accord to say hello to a sourcemate, thats fine. he can tell them "cant talk right now, extremely angry and need some time, mind if we talk later?" and its done and dusted. he says its okay to ASK "oh we have a sourcemate of your introject, would your introject like to speak to our sourcemate" because if the inteoject isnt mentally stable, they can decline. but what this system did was send an alter into headspace to find managers sourcemate and send sourcemate to front. manager saw sourcemate speak and immediately removed himself from front in simplyplural (they have our sp) and when ghost told sourcemate "hey sorry manager isnt here he had to go back to headspace for a minute", sourcemate had a borderline meltdown. shouting "BRING HIM BAAAAAACK" and no amount of reasoning from anyone in front at the time could get him to calm down. his own system made no visible effort to stop him from demanding manager to come back to front if anything they enabled it. they have done this before. manager did end up coming back and just didnt add himself back to front in sp and immediately got nauseous and uncomfortable because sourcemate went "tell him i love and miss him <3". manager had never ever spoken to this sourcemate before.

story 2. yellow had recently gotten a new host during the time this story takes place. our frequent fronters are (in their own unique and distinct ways) very upbeat, friendly, easygoing, roll-with-the-flow, nothing bothers them, chill dudes. when these fronters started talking to yellow in their friendly calm way, yellow got mad at us and started being a pick-me by going "youre only friends with me because youre friends with my system. you dont want to be friends with me. im a handful. im a mess, im a terrible person." and frequent fronters naturally backed off and tried to act more cold and distant because, well, yellow isnt our friend apparently! and then for months after this he started complaining that we're drifting apart, that we dont talk anymore MOTHERFUCKER YOU PUSHED US AWAY. YOU TOLD US TO FUCK OFF AND THEN STARTED BEING A PICK-ME ABOUT IT.

3. yellow got mad at us and told us off for every alter immediately trying to be his friend, and then got mad at us because two of our sticky alters didnt want to talk to him and disnt trust him. ala he got mad because every alter wasn't immediately his friend.

3.2. to elaborate, disc and sword are at risk of getting solo frontstuck due to mental health issues they or the body may experience. if they get too anxious they will get frontstuck by themselves. yellow knows this. we told them. we asked them to be gentle with what they say while disc and sword are in front, theyve asked and expected the same of us and we obliged. disc refuses to speak anywhere or to anyone unles tea is involved in the conversation somehow or present during the convo. sword will only ever speak to or around herb, ferret, and HP. we told yellow that disc and sword will never ever be willing to speak around him due to trauma.

4. yellow called me a roseboy. femboy is a slur to transmascs as it was (and is) used to imply that they were not truely men (if i recall correctly) so no they didnt call me, an alter in a transmasculine body, they called me ROSEBOY because im a cisgender man who possesses an extremely feminine doll against my fucking will. i had met yellow earlier this month for about five minutes. i am not close with yellow. them calling me a roseboy really ticked me off because that is a joke that NO ONE is allowed to make about me. i dont even make that joke about myself. if a close friend made that joke about me, i could brush it off. i can excuse it and lightly go "hey could you not do that again" and then we move on. i am not fucking close with yellow i have so many fucking issues with yellow. he called me a roseboy to get my attention and get me to look at something he sent. i have in fact told him my backstory. he knows that i am not a fucking roseboy. and he called me a roseboy anyway.

5. they bashed on a character and claimed he "was the most basic stereotype for people with aspd" we have aspd. we hold that character close to our heart. he is a literal non human resin statue. of course he lacks empathy. we heavily relate to characters who are non-human and lack empathy. it helps us cope with our symptoms. character doesnt have aspd. HE IS A STATUE. IN A DEATH GAME. WHERE THE CONTESTANTS ARE AWARE THEY MAY DIE. they were bashing on him offing other characters and talking shit on his lack of empathy despite full well knowing both of these things. they celebrated when this character was killed off. this fucking hurt us deeply. we told him off for it, he guilted us over it.

6. (TW: EMETOPHOBIA, SUICIDE MENTIONS) YS in yellows system is a sticky alter and saw something that triggered his traumatic source memories and then proceeded to send it to us to vent about it. his cofronters did not stop him as they were panicking over something different. sword was still in front at this point, YS' vents about vomiting and the picture they saw and also sent triggered sword due to his traumatic source memories and made us nauseous because of the talk of vomit. i am a persecutor. i did not stand for this. i said "did you really have to send those? sword is nauseous, try to stop cofronters from doing that next time" and key argued back at us and tried to excuse it or something, idk i was running on pure adrenaline trying to protect swords emotional state. i gave up on telling them off because these broken records kept fucking repeating the same shit as if that makes any of it ok. i ended up saying something to the effect of "sorry for getting aggressive, im trying to protect my cofronter." they sent pretty much the same message back. i told them that i would be muting the chat so their notifs wouldnt trigger sword anymore, and then left them alone for five minutes. i come back, and YS is out of front, yellow says "goodbye, tell my boyfriend he'll move on" and caused sword to panic harder because that my friends, was a suicide note. i told them i was muting the the chat for the sake of my sticky cofronter and they sent me back a fucking suicide note. i know exactly what it was because last night they were venting about being straight up suicidal and said the exact words "if i killed myself, my boyfriend would move on". i refused to open that app for an hour straight and forced sword to look and think about other things in an effort to calm him down, he spoke to herb and ferret and HP and whatnot and got calm, i messaged yellow back and told them call a hotline and this motherfcuker said "oh i thought you muted the chat. i wasnt actually going to do it id chicken out anyway". were they hoping i was bluffing? were they trying to guilt me? wwre they expecting me to come back and apologize profusely for my crimes? for taking care of my sticky cofronters mental health?

its worth noting theyre also upset because me, Vex, and Bob werent instantly friendly with them. vex is an emotional protector, his job is to sit in front and absorb all our negative emotions and be numb to any abuse that comes our way and then sob and ugly cry about it once we are safe. vex is an extremely angry person and cries out of frusteration very easily. when he met yellow he told them he was angry and wouldnt be easy to get along with. he told them to just gently tell him if he steps out of line and he'll apologize and make up for it. they ignored it and screamed at him and us to the point where he sobbed three times in the same day for hours at a time. they never apologized.

yellow has let a raver front on multiple occaisional. a raver is an alter whos job is to be malicious and angry and mean and harmful on purpose intentionally knowing full well what theyre doing is very wrong. raver literally verbally attacked someone who had been a host at the time upon their first meeting after exchanging a single sentence. yellow has allowed this raver to guilt and manipulate and emotional harm alien to the point where alien will not front. alien does not come near front. alien sits depressed in his room all day. alien and raver have had multiple negative interactions that alien was blamed for.

yellow got mad at vex for telling off a Borderline Raver and telling BR to stay in their lane and fucking behave. we have had multiple interactions with BR. every single time has been damaging. vex was on his guard and protecting us despite knowing yellow hates him and has hated him and been hostile towards him from the moment he spoke.

we are the only person they ever vent to, even when we are mentally unstable and mute their notifications and we tell them we can not mentally handle vents right now. yellow has other friends. they do not shut up about their other friends. theyre matching icons with yellow hosts boyfriend. and yet they only vent to us. because they dont want to bother anyone.

i cannot bring any of this up to them. they have BPD. they might make an actual attempt if they think theyve ever upset us. they have stated this themselves. i have to pretend that everythings just fucking peachy! i still havent opened the conversation with them.

Sorry that this happened to you anon:( -🌐

[thecameronchronicles]

The Foster-Part Three

TW: hints at smut. Language. Angsty situations.

SUMMARY: Situations arise that being certain relationships to light, as well as desires and tensions….

WORD COUNT: 1700

*ORIGINAL CONCEPT*

The Foster Part 3

She was flawless in every way you picked yourself apart and it made your eyes narrow at her. It was the only action in which allowed Kiara to find something to like about you, a mutual loathing for the effortless beauty that was Sarah Cameron. Leaving a string of insecure girls and aroused men in her wake without the means or care of doing either. At least to everyone but John B, it seemed. 

"Haven't you done enough?" Kiara shot as she stood before John B, your eyes widened as JJ leaned over to you. 

"Sarah got our golden boy fired after he borrowed some scuba gear..." 

"Stole, you mean-"

"Doesn't matter. Just goes on to prove once again why you can't trust Kooks..." 

But if you happened to learn the details of their mutual disgust for her presence, nobody validated this more than Kiara. 

"Don't you have a boyfriend to irritate? Some friends to stab in the back?"

"This isn't about you Kiara." She tried to look back towards John B, resuming a conversation that didn't have a chance to begin. Her siren eyes flashing to you for only a moment before you looked at John B. 

"You shouldn't even be here." The girls continued to throw cruel remakes at one another before you recognized the fire behind Kiara's eyes. The one that would come just seconds before she would lunge, something you believed you knew well as you'd done the same. Many times. 

"It isn't worth it..." You explained before Sarah scoffed. 

"And who the hell are you supposed to be?"

"I don't know what's going on, but-"

"Stay out of this-"The way Sarah projected her hand to your face was enough to alter any potential kindness into an upset rivaling even Kiara's. 

"I think you're on the wrong side of the island, Barbie. Maybe you need to get back to whatever ken doll you've managed to victimize long enough to realize you're pretty dense otherwise-" You tapped her temple as she hit your hand away. 

"You think because you're new that your opinion matters. Hate to break it to you, sweetheart. You don't. You and whatever sob story you rode in on. Piece of advice, you might want to try putting a little effort in because whatever tragedy is responsible for the bags under your eyes will only make people feel bad for so long. Won't be enough for anyone to stay-" The very thing you tried to keep from happening to Kiara had now been what forced John B to wrap his arms around your waist to keep you from attacking Sarah. 

But from the second he pulled you away, you were able to feel every pull of each muscle as he took you into safe parameters. For Sarah's sake. When you were finally released, you repressed a pout as you found an odd comfort in his grasp. 

"Come on, Rocky..." He teased while taking you into his room within The Chateau. 

"If all Kooks are like that, I can see why you don't get along."

"Usually Sarah's actually manageable...Until recently, anyway."

"Yeah JJ told me about the scuba gear. Why did you take it?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you..." He confessed before looking over his shoulder. "And they'd kill me if I did "

"Well I have nothing but time and need something to calm myself down before I find out just how many hair extensions she has." 

"Damn, scrapper...okay...But just keep an open mind." And with this, John B began to tell you every detail that had transpired since before he was sent away into the system. Details of treasure and gold. A sunken Grady White and a dead body. An old compass and its connection to a clue that brought him unintentionally to now. But where he expected you to become even more inquisitive or even confused, you just laughed. 

"Fine then, don't tell me."

"I'm serious. My dad spent his entire life looking into it. Taking our rent money and just disappearing-" He was suddenly on his feet.

 "Come here..." He took you across the hall and into his dad's office. Walls littered with research of an old maritime vessel you pegged as "The Royal Merchant." Your fingers came to the collection of books, mostly too dusty to appreciate a lack of care for, until looking back at him. 

"He left this..." A tape recorder placed what had been a final message along with a map. The contents sending your mouth wide. 

"Shit..."

"And I was on my way to finding out more before being hijacked by the state-"

"What exactly are you after?"

"400 million..." Pope spoke in the doorway. 

"Don't get me wrong, I didn't ignore the fact you had my back with Sarah, but it doesn't mean I forgot you stole my clothes." Kie added.

"Actually, I gave them to her..." John B defended, his eyes reaching across the space to you rather slow climb as you adored the attention and defense for a moment. 

"Well still...I guess you're one of us now..."

"You should have seen the look on her face. I don't think I've ever seen a princess that pissed..." JJ finally entered. 

"She knows..." Pope explained, slightly disappointed. 

"Good because in case y'all haven't noticed, we aren't the best at keeping a low profile..." 

"Speaking of that..." John B suddenly alerted you all of the new and unwanted arrival. 

"JJ..." Kiara warned. 

"Swear to God wasn't me...I don't think..."

"J!"

John B collected your hand within his own. 

"I'm trusting you. Please don't make me regret it." He spoke into your ear, squeezing your hand just enough to leave an impression of the warmth he could allow. His body leaning down to you as if to tell you it would be alright. 

"If they see you, they'll take you both back!" Kiara reminded as everyone looked to one another before you and John B were ultimately left waiting for the other to offer some grand masterplan. 

"Closet. I'll take care of them..." Kiara spoke somewhat reluctantly before pushing you to the direction of his room. Before you could object, the bedroom door came closed. 

"If you felt better about it, I could probably squeeze under the bed-" You would allow him even a second before taking him within the closet, the sound of steps approaching having meant you escaped in the nick of time once again. 

"Maybe if I had you around the first time, I never would have been caught..." He spoke in a low whisper. .

"But then you never would have been blackmailed." You reminded, reading the tension of his torso as it was forced against you. The heavy exhales forced from shirt inhales making you well aware of just how close he was within the darkness. 

"You can trust me, John B." He scoffed. 

"Sarah said the same..."

"I'm not her..." You could feel his smile. 

"You definitely aren't..." The sudden sensation of his fingers against your knuckles pulled your own breath to quiet. Even though your heart hammered within your chest, you couldn't help but wonder if it was with intent. Because of this, you remained still. Growing more desperate by the second. 

"I'm glad you did."

"What?" 

"Blackmailed me. It wouldn't be nearly this much fun without you. Or entertaining..." You smirked to yourself. 

"Or..." He continued, his touch having now rested on your elbow as it made that stealthy climb. 

"Or?" Your voice was weak, truly consumed by the moment and the closing proximity that continued from adrenaline and apparent fate set you a part of. 

"Okay all-" JJ tore the doors open, revealing just how close you and John B had been. An unnecessary closeness that existed from your need to be close to one another. 

"Uh..."

"It's late." Kiara interrupted Pope's inability to formulate a sentence of any kind. 

"Yeah..." John B clenched his jaw in disappointment. 

Within a handful of minutes, Kiara returned home after following Pope to his father's borrowed truck to wish a good night, leaving JJ asleep on the couch, and you unsure of where you'd rest for the night. But one thing was for certain, you needed to wash the day off. Between running the night before and the near scuffle an hour prior, you were anxious for that cleansing feeling. 

"I don't think Kie left anything else, but you can borrow a shirt of mine..." 

"You sure?" He nodded. 

"Least I can do for how you defended us..." 

You nodded, slipping across the hall before starting the water. Testing the stream below, you turned to find John B's reflection in the mirror. His eyes trained on you in a way of regret for having been interrupted prior. Your lips pulled to a widening grin before you teased your fingers along the line of your shirt. But just before he would learn of your proclivity of white lace, you closed the door. 

The shower was uneventful yet sultry in theory. You imagined John B making his way into the steamed room, collecting the curtain in a forced pull, and joining you to enact the visions that contradicted your attempt to get clean. Yet the events of the night brought you to smirk at yourself in comparison. You hardly knew him. Even if he made your thighs press whenever he was close and offered some sense of safety you could explain. He was really no more than a stranger. 

With heartbreak eyes. Tempting lips. Muscles that could pull you effortlessly away from gravity. It was enough to bring a blush to his cheeks and your hand in a teasing descent before you remembered how close he had been. How his chest fell against yours. How his breath rested at your lips…

Because of this, you retracted any attempt to silence that need between your legs and finally exited from the shower. But once doing so, you became nervous on what you'd say when seeing him again after your near peep show seconds before shutting the door. After a moment's hesitation, you decided it was better to face the music, but found him looking at you instead. 

Without a word, just as your lips parted to speak, he moved into you. His hands at your hips as he walked you back into the sink. A final look for consent offered to you before he then surprised you with a soft kiss. But it was that instant collision that offered only a glimpse of the passion he was capable of. 

Passion you were soon to learn from this unexpected turn of events. 

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MASTERLIST

JOHN B ROUTLEDGE MASTERLIST

THE FOSTERS MASTERLIST

MARCH MADNESS MASTERLIST

[honeybeewhereartthee]

PINK KKOMAS KOHAKU OUKAWA 76

Spoiler for my stories

Reaper seating on the edge of the cliff staring at the beach side. He saw everyone having fun down in the sand, while his alone staring at them having fun with the new addition of their group.

Reaper held out his hand, a silver scythe cover with vines and flower engraving and symbols appear on his hands.

He spin it to his right to his left hand before he point at the side of him and flower bloom from unfertilized soil.

Sometimes he wonder about his friend group. It seems that from the four of them, other bee called him "4*" for a nicknames before.

Moving his scythe to poke his other side and making another plant sprout and bloom.

Reaper: I wonder if other bee think everyone is a card. σ(￣、￣〃) to say that.

His mismatched eyes stare at Bee who's making sandcastle with Blood and Sea.

Holding the scythe and tapping it's edge of the staff of the scythe to the ground in the edge of the cliff it suddenly blossom trees and he casually alter it's growth to be sides, before long his feet is no longer dangling over the edge as tree roots and branches form a safe hanging ground and he stand it with confidence.

Reaper: is bee a 5* then? Σ(-᷅_-᷄๑)

He wonder about Bee power level, since a day ago, Doll keep asking Blood about ranking system of the multiverse and blood casually ignoring the question.

Reaper: hmm. (ㆀ˘･з･˘) blood said bee can be any stat of other kohaku. But his initial is a 5*... Blood also letting Bee borrow his powers as he said before. So Bee should be strong...

While walking on the branches that form a stair case for him as he move around as he wave his scythe from left to write, the vines of grapes and roses bloom and soon as he went back to the cliff a gigantic tree and the roots have taken over the cliff.

He suddenly remember how often the fae says about being past tense.

Standing on top of his now created tree garden, he stare at the people in the beach again while making a curtain made of vines and leaves.

Reaper:... I Wonder why, that's the case then... If Bee is strong why does he keep dying then. (●´⌓`●) maybe his au is a dangerous place... (︶︹︺) I hope bee don't suffer that badly.

His eyes then saw doll who's holding a black cat full of bandage and angrily went to Blood and start to demand some stuff from the other who once again ignore him.

Reaper who can see who the cat is:... Σ(-᷅_-᷄๑) isn't that the other cat that catnap cat mc? Wonder why his leaking the stench of death.

Reaper watch as doll get was stopped by Bee who takes the wounded Kuma and his translucent wings become 6 feather like and he held the little guy who slowly healed up and the stench of death disappear with Bee going back to his usual attire and giving back the cat to Doll who seems quite glad the black cat is well again.

Reaper:... Isn't that like his other self ability. (●__●) Maybe they get along now to let him use that skill. Through wonder why would he use--

As he mumble that he sees you appearing beside Doll and looking in wonder at the healthy Kuma, he felt he understands now when you seems surprised And smile at Bee-- who flabbergasted and shyly blush before he cling to you and pulling you away from the group to somewhere.

Reaper who remember things:.. (• ▽ •;) oh. That's why.

The Reaper of Spring covered his face in embarrassment as he remembers some concerning memories he wish to not resurface at all.

Plop.

Suddenly he was boink by an apple from the tree, turn out it's an apple tree. The moment he stare at it, he saw the glossy fresh apple but he take a bite but would keep it to give it to blood later.

Surrounded by nature of spring, he sigh happily but suddenly realize something.

Reaper: ヘ（。□°）ヘ I ACCIDENTALLY MADE A GARDEN AGAIN.

he worriedly look around at his creation. He sigh hopelessly.

Reaper: blood and I seems to have similar type of skill... But his still better than me. (^～^;)ゞmaybe his a 5*.

Somehow he felt self conscious being around those version of himself that probably better than him. He always felt left out sometimes. He can never really have the same energy as Doll, Happy go lucky attitude of Blood, concerning lovesick personality of Bee or maybe the comforting silence of Sea.

His just That out of place kohaku. Among others. He wonder why if he belong with the group if his not as amazing as them.

He probably isn't categories as same as them. His not close with the 5 people they are close with from what they said Canon unit. His close with different people.

Hadey, eternity, frost, and Grave.

That was his set of friends other than his world MC and other spirit of winter cycle. His not close to Rinne Amagi, HiMERU, kaname, Madara Mikejima or even know a Niki Shiina.

He wonder why he seems so different from them. He can never assist Bee either as good Blood could or how Doll could.

His just him, who likes spring and flowers.

Leaves soon brush against his face as if wiping something, at that moment he realize how his vision is blurry as tears start to pour out.

Reaper: ... Am I really that sad to be different?

He suddenly went and hide himself from the view, leaning his back against the wall, he wipe his tears away.

Many memories and facts he refuse to remember resurfacing. His heart suddenly felt cold as if it's taken a frostbite of sadness.

Reaper: even the group of reapers ... I'm also the different one...

Maybe it's what he is. The oddball. To be different... Is this my form of eternity?

Doll:

-- HEY!!! KOHAKU THE REAPER!!(`ー´)

suddenly he heard someone calling out to him.

He quickly wipe his tears away and look where the voice are coming from.

Blood:

Reaper of Spring, can you let us come in to your beautiful tree house? ♡(ӦｖӦ｡)

He look the others who have come to the cliff side without him noticing and calling out his name. His heart suddenly felt warm and the cold from loneliness he felt suddenly subside.

Sea held two shells together and smacking it together to make noises:

TAP

TAP

TAP

TAP

TAP

TAP

(●´⌓`●)

Doll who knows Morse code:...

Doll: HE SAID HI BTW IF YOUR STUPID. σ(￣、￣〃)

Sea stared at Doll as if saying, his you too and your calling yourself stupid along the process: (c" ತ,_ತ)

Doll: fuck. I don't mop around crying on stupid things anyway. (`ー´)

It seems that doll notice what's wrong with him. Maybe doll is sensitive to emotions in his surrounding. Reaper wonder as quickly run downstairs toward his friends, when his finally out he saw everyone, even Bee who's holding the mofumofu moth stared at him with a soft smile.

Bee: can we come in, Reaper ? (◍•ᴗ•◍)

Reaper:...

Reaper tearing up: (´°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ω°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥｀) of course!

Doll:... Σ(-᷅_-᷄๑)

Bee: Σ(• ▽ •;)

Blood: oh my... (；^ω^）

Sea: Σ(¬︿¬)

Others soon approach Reaper and wipes his tears and try to comfort him and laugh his sadness away, but the moment they appear his emotion that bother him is gone and his just happy to see them approach him without him trying to stay on top of the floor of the group like he always do to not felt left out before.

When they ask what's making him cry he told them the truth they all look at him like his a dumb ass( more like it's doll) and sass him out about everyone is different and they are far different from what they are in canon. And being different make them original and unique. That they are not just that alternative but they are them. And each one of them are important like the other.

.