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#therapy I say perhaps you require it
breezy-cheezy · 1 year
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Febuwhump day 9: Voice Loss (un)Natural Disaster
So these are gonna be kinda late (and out of order) from here on out since it’s MARCH but hey some of these were solidly set up!! School just was A lot. Anyway.
@forwantofacalling wrote a Drabble and shared it in our discord about Cater Overblotting and Trey tracking him down after the fact. 12/10, painful concept, here’s a drawin.
Please do not tag this with shipping tags, this is meant to be portrayed as platonic, thanks!
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cuubism · 1 month
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more physical therapy au
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Dream comes to his next physical therapy appointment marginally--marginally--less apprehensive than before. When he'd first gone, he'd expected to be told he was being melodramatic. That he should just be grateful that the surgery was successful and he has some functioning. That he should just give up on his art, that it didn't matter, that it was hopeless.
He doesn't know why he thought that. It's been hard to have a charitable view of people, lately.
But Hob wasn't like what he feared. Hob was... kind. To him.
So he goes back.
He has, in fact, been doing the exercises that Hob gave him. It is not as though he has much else to do with his time. Other than setting up his new flat, where he now lives after fleeing what had once been his home. Even a few months later, the place is fairly... minimalist. Which is not Dream's style. But he'd left with little more than his art portfolio and the clothes he was wearing, deciding that it wasn't worth going back, and he hasn't had the energy to replace anything since.
Or the two functioning arms required to move things.
His flat is depressing enough that even the physical therapy office feels warm and welcoming by comparison. Hob gives him a big smile as he comes in. It's pathetic that it makes his heart flutter.
He goes over to Hob, setting the folder he brought on the table.
"You look cheerful," Hob notes. Dream highly, highly doubts that. But he is perhaps slightly less morose than last time. Nevertheless, he finds Hob's optimism... somewhat cheering. Normally, he would find such a thing annoying. But there is something very steady and reassuring about Hob. Not much in Dream's life has felt steady in some time.
"I have tried finger painting," Dream tells him. He takes the piece out of the folder and shows it to Hob.
It had been interesting, at least. Distracted him for a moment. Made him think about the way children make art, before becoming mired in theory and technique.
He had considered bringing one of his usual pieces to demonstrate to Hob what he's meant to be able to do, in case that would be helpful, but it's still painful to look at them.
Hob takes the painting and stares at it with wide eyes. "How is this actually good?"
Dream should probably be offended by his incredulity but instead he just finds it amusing. "I had lots of time to spend."
He has, once again, painted a bunch of cats, all different colors, cluttering the page. It's simple, and lets him avoid thinking about his more conceptual pieces he hasn't been able to work on.
"Wow," Hob says, propping the painting carefully against the wall by his computer. "Okay. Good work going above and beyond on the instructions, Dream."
That praise alone shouldn't make something in his chest start glowing. But it does.
"It did not hurt... much," he says tentatively, before Hob can ask. "However, with a brush..."
It is incredibly frustrating. It's like his body continually wishes to betray him. He's lost his home and everything he owns and now he cannot even have his art.
"Give it some time," Hob says, reasonably. He is much more patient, and optimistic, than Dream.
He makes Dream draw and write again. It's... perhaps marginally easier after the exercises Hob had given him. Still, he finds himself getting frustrated by the weakness of his grip. And the more frustrated he gets, the tighter he grips the pencil. He knows he shouldn't. But.
"Lighter," Hob tells him, and Dream glares at him. Hob raises his hands. "Not telling you how to do your art. Just telling you how not to hurt your hand."
Dream bites down on his annoyance, but loosens his grip.
He doesn't see very much progress, but Hob seems satisfied. He makes Dream run through some other strengthening exercises, which... don't hurt as much as Dream was expecting them to. He'd expected that this whole process would be nothing but gritting his teeth through agonizing pain, to minimal results. Perhaps Death is right, and he should be less pessimistic.
In any case, Hob seems proud of him at the end. Even if Dream doesn't think he's done anything to be proud of.
But he does leave, perhaps, slightly more hopeful than he entered. And he wants to come back. At least to see Hob again.
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Hob doesn't know if it's patronizing to be proud of Dream, but he is. Over the last few sessions, his grip has improved a lot. Dream doesn't seem to see it, but that's alright. Hob does. He's been keeping all of Dream's drawings. They are getting better.
Hob is pretty good at optimism. But even so, it somehow hadn't occurred to him that quiet and morose wasn't Dream's natural state. That is until he sees the joy that lights up in him the first time he's able to draw a cat without his hand shaking. Dream smiles so wide, like he isn't even aware Hob is still watching him, and Hob realizes that there is lightness to him. It's just been buried down.
The time after that, Dream even brings some of his old art to show. Hob's been dying to see it for ages, but hasn't pressed. And Dream's art is gorgeous. Hob can understand, now, why he'd been dissatisfied with those first cats he'd drawn, no matter how charming Hob had found them. His big pieces are so finely detailed, so precise. It's... possibly going to take a bit more time to get him back to that than Hob had thought. But he's determined.
But Dream seems happy to be sharing his art, doesn't fold in on himself this time just to mention it. He talks with enthusiasm about his process, the most words Hob's heard him say in... well, ever. Hob tells him that he's made enough progress to pick up painting--with brush, not fingers--again if he wants, but not to beat himself up if it doesn't look the same as his old ones. And for once, it seems like Dream actually accepts the instruction not to berate himself.
All of this is, most certainly, the reason Hob does the insane thing he does next.
He's organizing his records, having already walked Dream out, when he hears raised voices from out on the walkway. The front door is still open a crack, he realizes, so the sound carries.
"Come on, you're overreacting," says an unfamiliar, male voice. "I said I won't do it again, didn't I?"
"Do not," Dream replies, voice anxious, but determined, "follow me."
"Well if you'd just pick up your phone--"
Hob steps outside. An unfamiliar man--the ex-boyfriend, Hob assumes, he doesn't know his name, hasn't asked, doesn't care--has Dream cornered in the doorway. His posture doesn't immediately scream rage or aggression, which is more unnerving rather than less, considering this is the same person who'd snapped and broken Dream's hand.
And Dream looks scared. Under the mask of stoicism he likes to wear. Any cheer or hope he'd gained from today's session has evaporated, and he looks like he did before, when he'd first come to Hob's office, curled in on himself. It breaks Hob's heart. And makes him angry.
"Stop being selfish and just--" the ex-boyfriend continues. Hob means to cut in and diffuse the situation. Tell him to leave in a reasonably professional manner.
Instead he punches him in the face.
Ex-boyfriend's nose goes crunch in an extremely satisfying way, and he reels back with a shriek, hands going to his face. Dream startles back, hands clutched around his art portfolio.
"What the FUCK!" yells ex-boyfriend, voice nasally from the blood running down his face. "You can't just-- this is assault! I'll call the cops!"
Oh he wants to go there, does he? "You wanna talk about assault?" Hob says, voice rising in volume. Dream edges behind him, though Hob's not sure he's fully aware he's doing so. "You want to get police involved, that's really what you want?"
Ex-boyfriend looks from Hob to Dream and back, hesitating. That's fucking right, Hob thinks. Not so easy to kick someone around when there's consequences, huh?
It helps that Hob is visibly stronger than Dream, and spends all day physically moving people around. If ex-boyfriend tries anything he's going to get put on the ground.
Finally he retreats, though with a look of rage towards Hob. Once he's gone, Dream finally seems to relax, some of the tension easing from his shoulders.
"You did not need to," he murmurs.
Hob shakes his head. "No one gets to come and threaten you here. Particularly not that dickhead."
Dream huffs a small laugh. Then he picks up Hob's hand, studying it. Hob winces. It's certainly going to bruise.
"Now you will need physical therapy," Dream says, lips twitching. Hob's glad for the humor in his voice.
Hob laughs. "Worth it."
"No one has..." Dream starts, slowly, "done something like that. For me."
It hurts, to think that no one's stood up for him. Or even let him know that someone should stand up for him.
"If he comes back I'll do it again," Hob says, and gets a tentative smile from Dream.
Then asks, "Does he know where you live?"
Dream frowns. "I do not think so."
"Want me to walk you home?"
He doubts Dream's ex-boyfriend will come back to the office now that he knows Hob's willing to deck him, but that doesn't mean he won't try to corner Dream elsewhere.
Dream deliberates, then says, "Would you?"
"'Course, love. Just let me lock the place up."
He doesn't realize what he's said until he's already turned back to lock the door. Shit. Today has already gone so far beyond what he's supposed to do as Dream's physical therapist, and now...
In the end, Dream doesn't call him out on it. But he does stick close to Hob's side as they walk, and occasionally when Hob looks over at him, he catches a tiny smile on his face.
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thewayhavenchronicle · 11 months
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N Sewell's Big Secret - A Theory
So, I've been replaying N's route lately and an epiphany came to me last night when I was playing the end of Book 3.
It's in Book 2 I believe that you can ask Nate if he's ever killed someone while talking to him about how old he is. He frowns for a minute and says, "Not with my own hands, no."
Weird, right? After what we see in the mirror at the carnival, when he says he got turned at sea, it's clear that the image in the mirror was of that time right after he got turned. He's covered in blood, surrounded by bodies while wearing a British Royal Navy uniform.
Originally, since Falk declared N Not Guilty, I assumed that perhaps N had come to terms with the reaction they had to being a newly turned vampire. I thought maybe they'd lost control and slaughtered the men of the ship, or perhaps they'd been attacked and defended themself. A sort of Jekyll + Hyde situation where N doesn't consider their frenzied state to be truly Them.
BOOK 3 SPOILERS AHEAD
And then we get into Book 3, and it's really clear that N has not been to therapy enough to not blame themself if they'd killed that many people. They're overprotective and selfless to the point of self sacrifice for the slightest inconvenience and they blame themself for any little inconvenience that befalls MC. Clearly, they are not well-adjusted enough to separate something that happened in desperation and fear from who they truly are.
This put me on the back foot, trying to figure out what that could mean. If you are dating N, they tell you about their brother, M*lton, who was killed by vampires. They tell you about joining the Navy to seek revenge or to at least find out what happened to their brother. Makes sense.
The moment that made my theory CLICK in my head happens at the end of the book, if you ignore Rebecca's idea and go alone to the auction.
So, you get captured and the auctioneer person tries to sell you off for your blood. Just like the other 3 routes, N will come to rescue you at the auction, and they have a brief spat with someone in the audience who tries to outbid them.
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[ID included on screenshot.]
This moment I originally thought was a pheromone thing. It doesn't seem like just a threat, as Nate seems visibly shaken and weakened by whatever it is he did. Also, the strange way the supernatural responds seems to suggest some kind of influence.
And then it hit me --- "Not with my own hands, no."
N's power is some kind of mind control / suggestion ability.
They never killed anyone with their own hands because they told the pirates / vampires to kill each other or kill themselves.
The theme of control comes up several times in N's route. N prides themself on being very in control of their body and their emotions, keeps their wants hidden and their true feelings locked firmly away beyond anything that is pleasant or kind. It makes me wonder if, aside from being able to influence people on command, if they can accidentally influence people when they get too emotional.
I also think it might require touch to really make the power work. They constantly keep their hands in their pockets and, while this is a normal enough idle motion, the fact that they touched the supernatural here and often put their hands in their pockets / withdraw touch when having a disagreement with someone suggests it might have something to do with it.
The amount of trust that UB must have in N when they have a power like that is enormous. It also sheds new light on the arguments that N and A often get into, as it seems that if N really wanted to, they could get their way every time via this weird power.
It also sheds new light on Rebecca's concern for N and MC. The assumption that MC is immune to this ability is there, but there's always the chance that they aren't, and Rebecca being worried about N forcing MC into doing things via suggestion seems to be very real.
It also makes me wonder if N has ever tested out whether their suggestion works on MC, or if they've thought about it with something small. Makes me wonder if we are entirely immune or if there's going to be some caveat like with M and their pheromones causing MC pain.
EITHER WAY, I feel like I figured it out. I'm losing my mind with the implications of it all.
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mildlymicrobial · 3 months
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ATTENTION PHARMACY WORKERS/PRESCRIBERS/ASTHMA PATIENTS!!
If you have not seen the news about the incredible dangers of SINGULAIR/Montelukast please read up on it. Here are multiple articles for your consideration.
New York Times (you will need an account to access this one. DM me and I can send you images)
FDA (this one is more scientific and perhaps makes it less easy to comprehend the severity of the effects)
GoodRX (because GoodRX is a prescriptions saving group, they open this with where to get the cheapest price for this drug which is crazy to me. Anyway better than the FDA article, not as in depth as the NYT article)
JamaNet (a brief overview of a scientific study which finds that adverse neuropsychiatric effects are more likely on this medication and prescribers should exercise caution)
TLDR:
This drug causes vivid and disturbing hallucinations in children and has led to multiple cases of severe mental illness and even self-inflicted deaths. Long-term effects, such as whether coming off the medication once symptoms have begun will cause them to go away, are not known.
Similar effects have been observed in adults as well though very little proper studies have been done and the government has not received even a fraction of the reports of adverse effects that the company got from parents and patients.
I'd like to end the post by saying that this drug is extremely effective at treating asthma without using inhalants, which is part of why it's still widely used after the symptoms were first shared publicly on a larger scale around 2019-2020. HOWEVER, the current FDA regulations do not "require" but do "suggest" that because of the potential for serious symptoms this only be prescribed as a last resort when other therapies do not work.
IF you are on this medication and have recently experienced new neuropsychiatric symptoms or events (hearing/seeing concerning things, having disturbing dreams or nightmares, or experiencing uncomfortable/alarming thoughts about hurting yourself) PLEASE reach out to your prescriber and discuss other potential options or if this medication may be causing the symptoms.
IF you are giving this medication to a child or teenager, speaking openly about mental health symptoms with them is very important so that they feel they can come to you with concerns about the side effects. Informing older children/teens of some of these risks so they can identify them might also be a good step to take.
REMEMBER that I am not a prescriber, just a pharmacy worker on the internet. I'm probably not the best person to be making a post like this, but I have seen multiple personal accounts on this website of peoples' struggles with these side effects, each with at most about 40 notes, typically just 4, and these aren't reaching 99.99% of people in similar situations who could use that knowledge. I myself have had multiple neuropsychiatric events related to medications I was taking and know how quickly things can spiral out of control in situations like this, which is why I'm urging you, PLEASE be careful and watch out for any new symptoms.
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@imgonnagetkilledbynutstink thank you for the Tim Misny billboard image
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thesarcasticreader · 1 year
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PAC: EVERYTHING YOU NEED TO KNOW
These are general readings meant for entertainment purposes. You can partake in advice, but do not let it cloud your decision-making.
I do take paid readings. You can contact me for them. Make sure you have either Paypal or Gpay! DM for the price list!
(IMAGES ARE TAKEN FROM PINTEREST)
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PILE 1:
This is perhaps not something you were hoping to hear but your path to success is lonely. You will succeed in your pursuits but it will be by yourself. You will have to learn to be independent and not let your expectations ruin things for you. There is so much success waiting for you. Believe it, you have no idea. It is more than you could ever dream of.
However, you will have to make a lot of conscious changes in your life. "Changing friends groups" was a message that came through immediately. Your people may be toxic and are holding you back. Many of them do not want to see you succeed. You will have your justice when it concerns these people but it will be slow to come. You know how people move on with their lives without closure, and one day, they hear from a mutual friend that that person has received their just desserts for all the things they did. It is kind of like that. You are not going to be there but it will bring you peace. And not in a vengeful way but in a "finally, people know who this person is" way.
You will gain quite a bit of popularity in 1 year. Following it will be a stable job offer. Right now, many of you may be planning to start a business. Rest assured, it will bloom. But in the one-year timeframe, you might receive options to sell your business and take up a job offer or consultant thing and you are undecided between the two. While both things make you happy, you are hesitant to not leave your business but you also do not want to let this offer go by you.
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PILE 2:
There is something you have been avoiding for a long time. It requires some sort of sacrifice from you, like moving from your city, etc. Take as it may resonate, this is a general reading.
This is leading to stagnation. It is hindering your path. You are very near to your goals but your unwillingness to deal with the situation is hurting you. You are making excuses for it. You do know that it is time but you don't want to do it. For some reason, this is about relationships. If that doesn't resonate, please pick another pile.
Your person may be someone who is the same as you but you two have such different ideologies that you are afraid to think of a future with this person. You are required to make a decision between these paths. Why I say these paths and not two is because there are a lot of options surrounding you. Not just in relationships but in general. Say you can attend therapy with this person. If they refuse to attend therapy, you can put yourself there.
This will provide you with new perspectives and allow you to face your fears. You may not like living alone and maybe in this relationship because of the fear of being alone. Don't be possessive about things. It may also be harming your relationship. Too much possessiveness is a sign of insecurity and you can tackle it.
If you must know, you will receive a potential offer from an older man in about 8 months from now. This man is going to be very emotional. Do not involve yourself with two people at once. Do not make the situation more complicated that necessary because some of you are messy af.
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PILE 3:
Your lucky number is 3, funnily enough. So, you have made too many hasty decisions in the past. And many of you still are. It is time to pump the brakes. You have been partying too much, if not you are too much into other people's lives and have neglected yours. It comes with a price. There is a massive change coming your way. A tower moment.
Basically, it will bring you out to be a little harder and a little wiser. It doesn't mean don't have fun but have fun that doesn't cost you your long-term happiness.
Some of your actions have been affecting your long-term plans and that's why the tower moment is coming. This will result in an immediate change in your life. Like for the other piles, stuff was focused on the future. Like in a few months or a year.
But in this pile, it seems like you are already going through the changes but you do not recognise them. You are uncomfortable where you are but you don't know why. It is your intuition telling you that change is coming and you are required to change your views.
This pile is focused on the present. You are in the middle of a cycle and it is picking up pace. You can expect this cycle to end by October- December. Do not focus on your losses Be grateful for what you have. Gratefulness will keep your shop afloat. Change is never easy. However, your reading is giving points that if you go with the flow, it will be beneficial for you.
Do not try to assert old beliefs into situations that need transformation. It will be that much more harder. Do not be too impulsive with money, alcohol, and feelings.
IF YOU WANT MORE READINGS, YOU CAN CHECK MY INSTAGRAM: @A_sarcastic_Reader.
I HAVE POSTED A 'THE GOOD PLACE-THEMED' READING! CHECK IT OUT TO LET ME KNOW IF YOU LOVED IT!
(Links are attached for your reference!)
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mako-neexu · 4 days
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i love this chapter sooooooooo much but it didnt really... solve guda's mental illness?😂 i mean they beat cagliostro's malignant ass inside their head... but it didnt really address guda's trauma. like. i was expecting a therapy session but instead we just physically destroyed the remnants and "hard to scrub off" lingering regrets and stuff.
so like... the waste pit is still there and it will still continue to accumulate malignant information even as the avenger team did one last clean up before they cut themself off from chaldea with guda having discarded their flames to move forward. so its like... the trashcan is basically new now, but the HOLE IS STILL THERE which wouldnt help in the long run or in the future!!!!
like... i guess abigail, merlin, kama, oberon (maybe douman?? nnn??) and other dream servants could take dantes' place? but SECOM team was successful because of dantes' flames being able to burn it!!! dantes'!!!! flames!!!!!! and
now, how are they going to dispose of the malignant information? hacking at it away is... doesnt seem to work i guess? dantes did say that his flames were able to burn them until its nothing. it requires his flames specifically!!!!
hm. i guess we could get an event about oberon taking the lead role? but thats going to be a nasu event hmmm this is literally guda's wellbeing but man i really wish oberon was included but it would turn into a nasu chapter.... there were literally so many references to oberon helping abigail and dantes to clear guda's waste pit so like... this would have been a great opportunity to address that too considering DREAMS and all..... but if you consider oberon's attachment to them (VD and servafes 2.0) then that probably wouldnt bode well? perhaps? wwww ah i just realized its still the white day event... and guda did say oberon hid himself from everyone bc they would WANT to enact plays with him www but hmmm [dies from anxiety]
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yuri-is-online · 3 months
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Same Anon here that dropped that mess of an angst post lol. Maybe I should find some name for myself if this becomes a regular thing.
There are a lot of valid points there. For as lightly as the story treats everything, wow this would be messed up irl. But I digress, I personally can see this potentially taking a much darker route. I don’t know if you’re comfortable talking about this so TW: Brief mention of suicide
I imagine Yuu to just bottle everything up for the aforementioned reasons of being seen as weak for expressing any of their emotions only for it to all come out in one big mental breakdown. I think it would be quite poetic for Yuu’s breakdown to be more of a quiet self-destructive thing just to contrast the showy, outwardly destructive nature of the overblots. I always thought it could be some spur of the moment decision to just end it all out of sheer hopelessness and a thoroughly crushed sense of self-worth. I just can’t see a teenager handling a burden this heavy very well. Whether or not Yuu survives could be up to how dark you want to go.
Also if it isn’t too much, I would like to see that post about the boys’ individual reactions to Yuu running away sometime. But I’m aware you only write for a few at a time so…
previous post
You are more than welcome to give yourself a name! I don't have any named annons so you are free to choose anything you like, and make regular appearances if that is what you wish. While I try to only write for a few characters at a time, I don't mind doing a bullet point type post with my thoughts on the boys reacting to Yuu running away sometime, but I need to think as part of me wants to write something sappy and romantic, while the other part wants to focus more on Yuu and their character. I could do both I suppose ( ̄ω ̄;)
I'm fine with talking about suicide, but since it's a sensitive subject I am going to place my thoughts under read more and tag it so if it is something you, dear reader, are triggered by you needn't see more than you are comfortable with.
notes: they/them used for Yuu, discussions of suicide and depression, isolation, abandonment, and missing persons. This also kind of takes a trip into theory town I am so sorry annon. Please do not interact with the words below if you do not wish to think on such things.
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I want to start out by saying that when a person is depressed it is not always obvious, even if they are contemplating suicide. We don't have a complete understanding of what drives someone to kill themselves because we can't ask people who have. I do think there is an element of assuming that either the world or you will be better off if you are dead; which I would like to stress simply is not true, but you are not evil for struggling with that feeling even if people try to make you feel like you are.
Yuu's breakdown being "more of a quiet self-destructive thing," as you stated dear friend, would be extremely poetic. To me it highlights the disparity between Yuu and the overblot boys. They have power and are able to hurt others to try and make themselves feel better, Yuu has next to none and is only able to hurt themselves.
Crowley mentions that there is counseling available to all NRC students, assuming the school follows real life laws we can assume the Professors are mandatory reporters. If Yuu shows signs of depression or self-harm, they will be required to report that and recommend Yuu for counseling, but the thing about therapy is that it's not a one size fits all solution. The patient needs to accept that they have a problem and, perhaps more importantly, trust their therapist otherwise you won't benefit from the treatment.
That's assuming that a counselor would even understand how to treat Yuu in the first place, there's a lot going on with their situation and while I could see a good therapist taking it very seriously, there's only so much they can do, which brings me to my sort of sticking point with this and why it took me so long to answer your ask.
Why in the hell is Yuu in Twisted Wonderland in the first place??? "Because they're Alice" ok sure but what does that like actually mean. I don't want to derail this into theory town but I keep thinking about the translated lines Crowley mutters to himself when calling Yuu a beast tamer that doesn't appear in the text box... something about how they look more like they are meant to be eaten by the beast than tame it.
There is a part of me that feels like Crowley wants Yuu to feel isolated and despondent about their chances of getting home, like he needs them to be accepting of their death and convinced it's the only way they will be useful. Something to do with Grim and that big Chimera at the beginning of the game, in the light novel there is someone telling Yuuya to take their hand but they can't move to take it, all they can do is stare up at the big monster and it's evil grin (if i remember correctly)
Anyway all of that to say I can see two sorts of scenarios leading to Yuu trying to harm themselves.
Route A: Summer
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As was correctly pointed out in these tags on the original post, I think Summer would be the worst time for an actively depressed Yuu. If they have been seeing a counselor, they will likely not be available over the summer months, Crowley didn't take us on vacation with him the first time so there's no way he'll do it now, and everyone has their own families to get back to.
They only have Grim and the Ghosts. And while Yuu might love them, they technically belong here. Yuu does not. The lack of other friends bothering them means Yuu has time to think good and hard about where they are. And who they left behind.
I like to listen to Dateline while I work sometimes and one of the things that always gets to me is how little closure people feel when someone goes missing, even if they find out what happened to them. If Yuu is missing in their world and their family loves them... they just have next to no chance of ever finding that out. Ever.
If Yuu has a bad relationship with their family, or none at all, they probably start feeling like they are going insane. They have nothing worth going back to really, to the point that people would probably encourage them to see being in Twisted Wonderland as a good thing, a chance for a fresh start. But it has been anything but.
Summer would be a good time to run away, it's easier to be homeless in the Summer, plenty of places need part time help anyway, and Yuu can make a clean break from the school before anyone notices they're gone.
It's also a good time to decide you want to die. By the time your friends come back they will have already gotten used to life without you anyway.
.... i could see this making grim overblot tbh. He blames the school for taking Yuu from him and by the time everyone returns he is there. Waiting. The consequences of their actions given form.
A monument to all their sins.
Option B: Sacrifice
So back to theory tangent.
Grim and Yuu are one student. Crowley treats them as such, but what if he-
Or whoever the real final boss is
Need them to actually be one student.
So they approach Yuu, offer their sympathies. Tell them they know why Crowley cannot send Yuu home.
"Because you came here by dying, don't you remember? These events you have seen, all your misfortunes and troubles, they've all been like one big dream. What a terrible fate you've met... but no worries. I know how to set you free."
The strange masked man places his hand on your shoulder and guides you to the mirror. You see your reflection in it, for the first time you idly realize, hair spread out on the pavement with a halo of blood spatter about your sleeping head.
"You needn't be scared." the man's voice is calm, soothing even, so much so that you almost believe him when he says
"You've died once before, after all. You know exactly what it feels like, it will just be like going to sleep."
Sleep sounds good, even if you have just gotten done fighting to stay awake, so very good you nearly miss the creature's wicked grin spreading mockingly across the reflection of your peaceful face.
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gurugirl · 2 years
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Tales From the Modern Incubus Part IV
Summary: Harry has a meeting with his legion leader and realizes that perhaps you're going to be a bit more of a challenge than he bargained for, while you are still feeling the effects of your "dream" with Harry and questioning your sanity.
A/N: For supernatural characters, the first time their name is brought up I'll be linking to my new characters list for TFMI where you can find info on the type of demon/angel and see their face claim. I get my info from The Demonic Paradise Wiki which will be linked in the characters list if you’d like to get more info on demonology and spell/incantations.
Warnings: ⚠️ Read all warnings in the TFMI masterlist before continuing ⛔️ Introduction to a duke of hell (legion leader), mention of abortion, mentions of spells/charms/incantations, religious blasphemy, very very light smut (a small masturbation scene) but not enough to mark this part with a * in my opinion
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*you are not obligated to follow any of the links to make the story makes sense. It's only supplemental.
Part III
Part IV
Harry didn’t want to climb out of your bed and leave you but he had to. There were things to do and he’d wasted almost two full days next to you, watching you, breathing you in, and finding himself enchanted by you. He had to move away slowly so as not to wake you. He was wrapped around your frame tightly and so he did a simple sleep spell but as soon as he slipped his arm from under you, you moved and began to rouse.
He whispered the spell again, moved his limbs from yours slowly, and still, you were aware of movement. He couldn’t figure out why you seemed resistant to his incantation. So he used what had worked before, creating a veil of invisibility as he moved himself away from you in case you did open your eyes. You stirred and rolled over but never quite fully woke as far as Harry could tell.
Harry had a meeting with Aim, who was a political leader of sorts for Lucifer and The Almighty, known as the Duke of Hell, and Harry’s legion leader. Aim was of the original angels who joined ranks with the "evil" side.
Today was a required meeting. All of the meetings were almost like therapy for Harry. Aim was sort of like Harry’s advisor and friend all in one. It wasn’t a meeting he could skip this time, though. It normally wasn’t a requirement but given Harry’s timeline for creating a new heir was shrinking by the day, this meeting was obligatory. Aim needed an update so he could relay back to Lucifer and The Almighty of Harry’s progress.
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When Harry arrived, Aim was seated at his favorite spot at the little cafe where they always met.
“You smell like a woman. Have you found your mistress?” He stood to greet Harry, giving him a tight hug.
Harry laughed and wiped at his nose, one of a small handful of nervous ticks he picked up from humankind.
“Yeah, I did actually. But it’s a bit complicated. Working on her still.” Harry and Aim stood before one another, grins on their expressions, “How have you been, Aim?”
Aim and Harry took a seat as Aim responded, “Fine. Have been busy the last couple weeks but nothing unusual. My legions all seem to be in line. The Almighty and Lucifer feel things are well in balance these days. But that’s what brings us together today. Your progress. Tell me about the woman. Why is it complicated?” Aim leans back into his chair and crosses his arms over his chest.
Harry keeps eye contact with his old friend, “Because she’s a virgin. The daughter of a Christian pastor, and is a devout believer in the Bible. Has never even kissed anyone, well, technically I kissed her last night… but I’ve only just met her and my charm seems to already be working. She’s got a bit of a crush on me.”
“Well, you still have time. But there’s no need to wait for her to come around if that’s why you’re hesitant to move forward. If she’s a good Christian girl who gets pregnant miraculously,” he puts his fingers up in air quotes as he says miraculously, “she’ll certainly keep the child, so abortion won’t be an issue. Just make her believe she’s in a dream. You’ve done this before, Harry.” Aim picks up his mug of tea and takes a sip.
Harry shakes his head at the duke as the waitress arrives to take his order, “Just an Americano, black, extra hot, and a piece of lemon cake. Please.”
Aim lifts an eyebrow, “Lemon cake? Literally the first time in thousands of years that I’ve ever known you to order a lemon dessert.”
Harry realized this was probably true. After eating you out he was really craving to taste you again and there was the faintest taste of lemon and sugar on his tongue when he had his face dug into your wet pussy. And based on the one time he watched you eat, you ordered a lemon shake with your French fries and Harry could almost bet you liked lemon sweets so much and that was why you tasted of them.
“Mmm… just sounded good.” Harry shrugged, not willing to let Aim know how obsessed he was with you so soon.
Aim sighed and leaned in toward Harry, elbows spread on the table, “So, tell me what you’re waiting for with her. Why you don’t just make her feel she’s dreaming? It’d be easy.”
“Because I think I’ve already got her. It’ll happen soon. I just want the challenge of her giving herself to me. And also…” Harry paused to consider how he’d say this, “I don’t know how effective my spells are on her. I don’t know for sure that they don’t work but something seems different with her.”
Aim squinted and tilted his head, “More details about that, please. That’s concerning.”
Harry inhaled a deep breath and leaned his own elbows onto the table, “I first saw her as I was hidden, invisible to her and that was fine. She had no idea I was there. But then last night I came to her again, unseen, and then cast an illusion spell over her, for deception to make her feel in a dream. But she was a little more surprised by my presence than I have been used to in the past.”
Harry was interrupted briefly when the waitress arrived with his extra hot coffee and slice of lemon cake. Both demons nodded at the human as she walked away.
Harry leaned his elbows back onto the table to continue, “She questioned my sudden appearance at first, but she did let me fool around with her and she liked it. At one point I said I would get her pregnant, you know, just in the heat of the moment, and she was lucid enough to tell me she’d prefer being married before having sex. I mean, that all could still come from her dream mind but it’s unusual. Then when I was leaving her this morning…”
Aim scoffed before interrupting, “You stayed with her the night and you didn’t even have intercourse with her? How long have you gone, Harry?”
Harry blinked and sat straight in his chair, he knew this was coming, “Only last night without intercourse but I did release. The night before was when I met her and just before I’d been with someone I met at a club.”
Aim nodded, “Okay, don’t go too long. It’s detrimental to your health. If she doesn’t give in before the end of the week you will need to seek out another body for intercourse. Anyway, tell me about what happened this morning.” Aim was concerned for his friend. Incubi and succubi needed very regular intercourse, a simple self-assisted orgasm wouldn’t do.
Harry sighed and pursed his lips, “I tried leaving but my movement made her kind of wake up, so I cast a sleep spell but it didn’t work. She kept responding to my movements so I did it again and it was the same. She seemed unaffected by it.”
Harry took a sip of his hot coffee and felt the burn on his tongue as he watched Aim take it all in.
Aim scrunched his brows with a look of contemplation, “Be very careful, Harry. She could be a prophet, or a seer that is resistant to most mind control incantations. She could even be an angel or demon. Hmm…” Aim purses his lips to the side in thought, “I’ll send out some watchers to find out about her. Learn who she is, who her mother is, and who her father is, this pastor.”
Harry felt he would know if she were any of those things, and if she were wouldn’t she herself know? She hadn’t indicated any type of knowledge of a power beyond normal abilities.
“That’s fine but I doubt greatly that she is supernatural. She doesn’t display any powers or understanding of abilities if she is. What would the chances be that she wouldn’t be aware herself?”
Aim finished his tea as Harry plunged his fork into the cake for the first time, his mouth watering for a bite of the lemon sweet.
“It’s possible. I’ve seen it. With enough suppression and brain washing those abilities can lie dormant when not being confronted.”
Harry swallowed the soft delight and closed his eyes for just a moment. He nodded at the Duke and smiled, “Understood. When is the soonest you can find out anything?”
“Soon. Maybe by the end of this week. We will find what we need to unless there’s a higher power purposely hiding her true nature. In that case, we’ll have to do some real sleuthing that could take more time.”
Harry continued to eat the cake as he listened to Aim, “I hate to suggest this, but it might be in your best interest to find a different mistress. This one seems to be more than just a little complicated if my hunch is correct.”
Harry sat his fork down with a frown. You would be his mistress, even if he had to go through heaven and hell to have you.
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You spent your Monday lazy and lounging at home since you didn’t have a job. Your dad didn’t want you to work while you were still in college, even during the summer break. Your mom and dad had gone to the church for a few hours in the middle of the day which you promptly used to masturbate. You couldn’t stop thinking about your dream. It felt so real. Part of you wondered if you should let Miguel take things to the next level, find out if it really feels like that. But another part of you didn’t want Miguel to be the one doing it. You wanted Harry. But of course that wasn’t realistic. You’d only just met him and might never see him again.
With your fingers drenched and rubbing your clit you imagined Harry’s mouth was on you. His lips working you, and the way his long fingers entered inside of you and pushed into something never touched before.
“Mmm… yes… Hh… Haaarryy…” you panted into your bedroom.
You’d never masturbated so many days in a row before but it was like a switch had been turned on inside of you and it just felt so good, so natural in your body.
Suddenly you smelled him. His scent, just like the night before, lingered somehow, even after your shower.
You stopped what you were doing and sat up. There was no way you were really smelling him. It had to be in your mind. You got up from your bed and walked to the window, covering your naked frame in case anyone might see you from outside. You turned back toward your bed and laughed at yourself, feeling like you were losing your mind.
You gently placed your palms over the swell of each breast and squeezed, still hot and ready to get back to it. You kneed up to your bed and jumped when you felt something solid at your mid thigh. You stepped away from your bed quickly and looked around the room, then lifted your blanket to find nothing.
“Am I going mad?” You said to yourself in disbelief. You slowly moved back to the bed in silence, your senses in overdrive and fear beginning to leak into your skin.
Harry watched as you walked around your bed, holding your tits in your hands, with worry on your face. He had been close to the bed and leaned in at the moment you put your knee up and your thigh brushed against his arm. He didn’t expect it. Mostly because he wasn’t sure why you’d gotten up in the first place. He was moving out of the way and failed to move opposite you. It also didn’t help that his cock was out at the sight of what you were doing just moments prior, so he couldn’t move about as quickly as normal without making too much noise.
Had you sensed him somehow? You were masturbating one moment and the next you were sitting up then you moved to the window and laughed. Now you seemed very on edge, acutely aware.
You pulled your t-shirt over your head and slipped your panties back on. When you were a teenager you heard, from your youth leader John, that masturbating might invite demons into your bed and they could play with you during. You shuddered at the thought. Had you invited a demon in and now you were dealing with something evil?
You looked around your room and realized it still smelled heavy of the tall man with dark hair. It also felt like there was a presence. Like you weren’t alone but no one was there.
"Hh... Harry? Uhhh... I know you're not here." You shook your head as you spoke into the empty room.
You had his attention. He was surprised by you speaking his name into the room while you weren't masturbating. Did he appear to you on accident? He stood very still near your bed and watched you.
"This is so weird. I don't know what's going on. Is there something here? I can, like smell it. It smells like... Harry. What is going on?" You really felt like you were losing it. You were speaking to no one and smelling Harry very clearly. You didn't think you'd ever forget the way he smelled. And then whatever your thigh ran into on your bed?
You hugged your arms around yourself and walked to the other side of your bed again, closer to Harry and the smell grew. You closed your eyes and inhaled, "Yeah. That smells like, him. Huh..." and when you opened your eyes again you sighed at the empty room.
Harry was amazed. You could smell him? He wondered if you had enhanced senses somehow. Where you could smell things that others couldn't. Kind of like how Harry could. However, Harry couldn't just fuck around and stare at you while you were literally sniffing him out. He had to create a distraction of some kind to remove the the chance of this backfiring on him.
So, Harry used nature for his first distraction by shifting the pattern of weather and made the sunny bright day turn into a dark stormy one. At the sudden crash of lightening you turned to the window and gasped. It had just been warm and sunny, blue skies, no cloud to be seen. With the quick distraction, Harry removed himself from your room to gather his thoughts. He didn’t know if you were onto him or not. But you smelled him and that was a concern. Everything was a concern now. He knew Aim gave him good advice, to choose another vessel. But he didn’t want to. That wasn’t going to happen. He was going to find a way to make you his, no matter what you were.
Harry wanted to start getting to know you so he could earn your trust and then win you over for the final task. He conjured a small series of events to get you to leave your home so he could “coincidentally” run into you.
First, the power went out at your house because of the storm. You were already quite creeped out by everything going on so you slid on your jeans and put on your sneakers, feeling a bit vulnerable in just a t-shirt and panties.
Next, your doorbell rang so you went to the front door and peeked outside to find out who it was that could be coming over during a storm. No one was outside. Not a soul. You turned back into the dark living room and felt a chill over your body.
Finally, you heard something moving from within the attic above. The storm had quieted just enough that you could hear something being dragged over the floor slowly, like a chair or something wooden being moved across the floor.
And that was all it took for you to grab your purse and get out of the house. Climbing into your old Hyundai Accent, you backed out of the driveway and drove off down the street. There was no way you were staying inside that house anymore. Something was going on in there. You were sure of it now.
You considered going to the church but in truth you weren’t ready to speak to your parents about what was happening in the house. You didn’t know if they’d take you seriously. And it’s not like you could tell them everything about what you’d experienced, and what had you concerned.
So you pulled into the small café near your house that clearly still had power and looked especially warm and inviting today. With the sudden storm and the way you were feeling a bit on edge, a café with a small handful of strangers seemed like a good place to stop and calm down for a while.
You ordered a mint and lemon green tea with honey, and a lemon bar. You sat next to the window and pulled out your phone. Miguel had just texted you to ask what you were doing tonight and you were considering texting him to meet you at the café when the café door opened and the bell overhead rang to announce the new guest. You looked up with your phone still in your hands and it was him. It was Harry. He was wearing a knee length jacket with vertical strips and he looked very expensive. His grey trousers were crisp and ironed perfectly and he wore a black button up shirt underneath his jacket. He didn’t look like he’d just walked in from the rain, but then you saw him holding an umbrella in his hand.
He didn’t notice you when he first walked in. He went to the counter and ordered something. The girl taking his order nearly fainting at his presence. You couldn’t believe it was really him, here, now. You turned yourself to get out of your seat at the very same time your name was called to pick up your order.
When you stood to make your way to the counter it was then that Harry spotted you. You both smiled at one another you waved at him. You watched as he finished up paying, while he kept glancing back to you.
“Look who it is. My little lemon lover. How’re you doing?” Harry looked down at your treat in hand and then brought his gaze back to your eyes.
You breathed out a sweet laugh at Harry’s words and for the fact that he even remembered that you had a lemon shake just the day before, “I’m well. Electricity went out in my house so I came here. How are you? Uh… do you want to sit with me?” You gestured toward the spot you’d been sitting near the window.
Harry watched your adorable face as you spoke and he smiled at you in a way that had you feeling butterflies in your tummy and in your brain.
“Of course, that would be nice. If you don’t mind.” Harry followed you to the window and you both sat across from one another in the café chairs at the tiny table you’d been occupying moments before. “And I’m well. Just getting settled into the town here. Thought I’d stop into this cafe to see what the place is like. Find out if they have a good black coffee.”
You grinned at the handsome man. His lips were quite pink and his hair looked so soft… You took a sip of your tea to ground yourself a bit. You needed to not let your thoughts get away from you because you were already on that path as you looked at him across from you, in the flesh, his seafoam green eyes looking at yours.
You were trying to think of anything to say when the cashier came to your table with a mug of coffee for Harry, “Here, thought I’d deliver this myself so you don’t have to get up from your conversation.” The girl looked at Harry with a hopeful smile.
“Why thank you. How nice. Cheers.” Harry lifted his mug as he took a sip and then looked back at you.
You couldn’t wipe the smile off your face. Harry was charming and more attractive than you think you’d ever found anyone. Ever. And you could smell him again. Even in the café with the baked goods and brewing coffee, his scent was exactly as you remembered, from yesterday, from the evening before, from today…
“Looks like you have an admirer.” You tipped your chin toward the where the cashier was and chuckled at the look on Harry’s face.
He raised his brow and grinned cheekily, baring his dimples to you, “Ya think? Hmm… Guess I’m not used to having admirers.” Harry lied, of course he was used to it, “Think I should I ask her out?” He wanted to know what your response would be to that.
The question caught you off guard. You didn’t think he’d want to ask her out. And by the way your smile dropped for a flash of a second, only to be replaced by a tighter one, Harry knew you didn’t like the sound of that, which pleased him.
“Oh! Uh… yeah! If you think you like her or something. I mean… I was just kidding, but you know…” you try to laugh off your disappointment and you want to kick yourself for feeling jealous because you had a boyfriend. Harry wasn’t yours to be jealous over.
Harry kept his eyes on yours, still wearing his cheeky grin, “I was just kidding as well. Not really my type. But I’m sure she’s great.”
You let out a breath and smiled as you looked down at your lemon bar then back up to Harry. You put your hands flat on the table, “I see. Well…” you laugh again. Not really knowing what to say. You were starting to feel flustered. You took a bite of your lemon square, Harry’s eyes still on your face.
“Yeah. I wouldn’t ask her out. I’d much prefer to go out with you if I were honest.” Harry spoke slowly and watched you for a reaction. Your eyes widened and you stopped chewing your dessert at his words, “But judging by what I saw yesterday, looks like you’re already taken. Shame.”
You gulped down your mouthful and wiped at your mouth. You couldn’t believe he just said it so casually. But you weren’t terribly surprised that he was attracted to you based on his behavior the day before.
You laugh and fiddle with your mug of tea, “Yeah right.” You rolled your eyes, trying to hide how nervous and excited you felt. You knew your face was growing red as blood rushed to the apples of your cheeks.
“You don’t believe me?” Harry leaned toward you a couple of inches, scooting his chair a little closer to yours. “You don’t think I’d find you to be pretty?”
You looked from Harry’s eyes, down to his hands as he cupped them around his mug, his fingers covered in rings. You breathed out a laugh, “I don’t know. Miguel is the only guy I’ve ever dated so…”
Harry softly spoke over you, “So… you think other guys wouldn’t want to date you too? Miguel is a lucky guy as far as I can tell.”
You dare to look back at his eyes and he’s already got his on you. He licks his lips and his smile is a bit sure, cocky, relaxed… but you really find him attractive. Even the cockiness.
You open your mouth to speak but you find your brain empty in that moment and the only thing you can think to say is, “I like your cologne. What do you wear?”
Harry’s smile spreads over his face and he laughs, looking down to his mug of coffee before pulling his gaze back up to you, “Thank you. Tom Ford. Surprised you can smell me at all in this café.”
“Oh yeah. I’ve got this incredible sense of smell. Always have. I can smell all kinds of things. I know it sounds weird but, like sometimes I can even tell when my boyfriend doesn’t floss. Isn’t that gross?” You laugh and look down at your tea to pick the mug up. It’s such a ridiculous thing, your sense of smell. Your mom and dad have always been amazed by the things you could smell. Once, your mom misplaced her purse. She couldn’t find it for nearly a whole day, but when you came home for the weekend from school, you found it because you could smell the leather. It was in the garage under her car, where she placed it when she arrived home the day before. But it was things like that which happened all the time. Your sense of smell was useful in some ways, but terrible in others.
“Wow. Interesting. Just makes you even cuter. What about me? Does it smell like I haven’t flossed?”
You were fully blushing at this point. Harry’s comments were sending you into an internal freak out, “No. You smell really good. Clean, and fresh, and good.” You smiled at Harry as he sipped his coffee.
“Ahh, good to hear. I certainly try. Better than smelling of unflossed teeth.” He laughed and leaned back in his chair with his gaze pinned to you.
Shaking your head and smiling you spoke, “That’s true. Unflossed teeth are pretty nasty.”
“Do you ever tell him? When you know he hasn’t flossed?” Harry raises his brows in question.
“Nah. I don’t want to hurt his feelings. He’d probably not take it well.” You shook your head, imagining how Miguel would react.
“Hmm… So far, the guy doesn’t like it when you’re offered healthy food, doesn’t floss, and reacts poorly to your helpful suggestions. I think you could do better. But I’m not here to tell you what to do.”
You scoffed and laughed. Harry was unlike anyone you’d ever met.
Before you knew it, an hour had passed. Harry made you feel interesting and pretty with all his compliments and the way he’d bite his lip and watch you as you spoke. He even touched you a couple of times, innocently of course. Well, mostly innocently. When he moved your hair off your shoulder so he could lean in to get a good look at your earing and then proceeded to gently nudge at your lobe you realized he was flirting with you very subtly. And you liked it.
Somehow the two of you had gotten onto the subject of dreams and Harry had just listened to you telling him about a dream you used to have as a child when he decided to share a dream he’d had with you, even though he was just going to make something up, “I had a dream last night. Mmm… probably shouldn’t tell you about it. Might scare you off.” He chuckled lowly as he tilted his head, still looking directly into your eyes.
“You won’t scare me! It’s just a dream, right? Tell me!” You truly were curious, and you really enjoyed Harry’s company. But mostly you wanted to keep him as long as you could so you could be on the receiving end of his touches and his subtle flirtations.
Harry took a deep breath and looked around the café before returning his gaze to yours. He leaned in closer to you, moving his chair even closer to yours so that now his knee was pressed against the side of yours, “It was about you.” He paused, to get a read before continuing, “It was quite… naughty. I don’t want to tell you the details. It’s inappropriate.” He shook his head and you swear he was blushing. He looked almost embarrassed! But now you had to know.
“Oh, come on, Harry! If I was in your dream, you’re obligated to tell me about it. We’re not leaving here until you tell me.”
Harry gave you a lazy smile and licked his lips, looking down at your lips for the briefest second, “I have all night, Y/N. That’s no threat to me. I’d stay here with you talking all night long, no problem. Not gonna tell you my dream. You’d think I was pervert.” He smirked and rolled his lips into his mouth.
You sighed and leaned in toward him a little, feeling quite a lot more comfortable with him, “Okay. I had a dream about you last night and it was naughty. So…” you laugh and look down at your empty mug, not quite believing you were about to suggest this, “If you tell me your dream, I’ll tell you mine.”
Now this was what Harry was looking for, “Fine. I’ll tell you. But swear you won’t think any differently of me.”
You nodded and put your pinky out, “Pinky swear, but you have to swear the same for me for when I tell you mine.”
You linked pinkies and Harry pulled you in toward him, keeping his eyes on yours, “I swear,” he spoke in a whisper. God you really liked this man.
Harry proceeded to tell you about his inappropriate dream, which he totally made up because Harry doesn’t really dream because he doesn’t really sleep, “You and I were together at the church and you were sitting next to me, and slowly running your hand up my thigh, got in real close to my zipper and when you realized I was hard you just tore my pants down and gave me head while your father was giving his sermon. Right in front of everyone.” Harry laughed a little and shook his head as he looked down at his lap, pretending to feel embarrassed.
You covered your mouth and laughed with wide eyes, “Oh my god! Wow! That is…” you both laughed for a moment at the absurdity.
“Your turn, Y/N. Tell me.” Harry was so seductive. He didn’t need to do much. Just the way he was looking at you made your panties wet, which was a little embarrassing. You knew no one else could smell you (which you were wrong about), but you could smell how aroused you were and the scent coming from between your thighs.
“Okay… so, you were in my bedroom and on my bed with me, like out of nowhere. And you like… went down on me.” You pushed out a laugh through your nostrils as you got hot with embarrassment, “Um… anyway, and then you showed me your penis and you came on me. Oh god.” You put your face in your hands and leaned over the table.
Harry thought you were adorable. He waited for you to sit back up and he draped an arm over your shoulder and pulled you in to him, speaking into your ear, “S’okay. You don’t need to be embarrassed. S’just a dream. We both had naughty dreams about one another the first day we met. What does that say about us? Hmm? We’re both quite depraved for that. What would Miguel think?”
You shook your head and melted into the feeling of Harry’s arm over your shoulders, “He’d hate it. He’s never even kissed me before. Well, because I won’t let him.”
“Of course not. The fucker doesn’t even floss his teeth. I can tell you who does floss, though…” Harry paused waiting for you to react to his comment. You laughed and sucked at your teeth. Harry was a little crude. He liked to use fowl language and say things that made you feel embarrassed and hot. But, once again, you liked it. You liked everything about Harry.
“Let me guess. You floss, Harry.” You spoke and turned to look at him. Your close proximity could easily be mistaken as intimate from anyone watching.
“That’s right. I floss. I smell good. I’ll give you healthy things to eat and fill your tummy with,” he was speaking quietly and slowly into your ear and your goosebumps were unstoppable, “… and I would beg for your helpful suggestions. Unlike Miguel.”
You swallowed at his words and imagined being with him again, like you were in your dream last night. Then you thought of his dream and that even seemed exciting to you, having him in your mouth. In church.
Harry noticed your breathing getting heavier. He smiled at the effect he had on you. He smiled at the fact that you didn’t try and move from him when he put his arm over your shoulder. He smiled at your honesty with him about your dream. He was getting somewhere with you. He just needed to keep chipping away at your innocence.
“Am I not correct? I mean, you probably don’t know about the begging part, but I’d beg you for suggestions. I’d beg you for a lot of things. And I mean I’d beg. I have no shame.”
You softly laughed and turned to look at him again, it was difficult to keep your eyes on his with how near he was, you feared you’d press your lips onto his if you looked too long, “You’d beg for a lot of things? What do you mean?”
Harry moved his arm that was over your shoulder, sliding his hand to the back of your neck, and pushing your hair away so he could run his fingers over your neck into your hair at the back of your head, “Do you really want to know?”
You nodded and smiled at the man who was already smirking down at you.
“If you were mine, I’d beg you for kisses, for your attention, for all your time. I’d beg you to hold my hand, to talk to me, to look at me with your beautiful eyes. But since you’re not mine I can’t beg for those kinds of things from you. I could beg you to go out with me, though. But you’d probably find that insufferable. You love your boyfriend, right? So you wouldn’t waste your time with a boy from London you’d just met. You wouldn’t want me to beg you for that would you?”
You lost the air in your lungs somehow. Harry’s own scent became stronger by the moment and it was more of a natural scent. Something you smelled under his cologne and his soap. How should you answer the man? If it’s with truth, then you’d tell him you did want that. Wanted to just swap Miguel for Harry. If it’s with ego and stubbornness, then you’d tell him that you do love Miguel (even though you definitely didn't) and that you wouldn’t want that.
Instead, you just laugh and look down, unable to handle the moment fully. Harry noted your hesitance to answer and he figured this would be your reaction. It was more of a rhetorical question anyway. Something to get you thinking about things.
You reluctantly lifted your head and spoke, “I should probably go. It’s getting late and I think my parents are probably back home now. They don’t like me out too late.” You would stay with Harry all night if you could, but your dad could be quite the deterrent for you when it came to doing things most 23 year old normally did.
“I understand. It is getting late. Before you go, could I give you my number? Is that okay?”
You were relieved that he was the one who asked. You really wanted to ask for his number or give him yours but how would that look being that you had a boyfriend and all?
“Oh yeah! Here...” You turned to pluck your phone out of your purse and opened up your messages app, adding Harry as a new contact, “Okay, what’s your last name?” You looked up at him with your sweet round eyes and flushed cheeks. Harry wanted to eat you whole. You were the gentlest, sweetest, and most intriguing human he’d ever met. But he half doubted you were a normal human. There was something about you that was well hidden, and deeply suppressed that he couldn’t pinpoint. Something that drew him to you. Something that seems to be drawing you to him.
“My last name is Styles.”
Part V*
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genshinemblem564 · 4 months
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Sagau: A god's closure + world building
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Characters: Hu Tao
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This came about from a journey to the "border" with Hu Tao. As an immortal being who grew up as a mortal, your own mortality, or lack thereof, began to weigh on you. When you finally reached your destination, you and Hu Tao were surprised to find a massive gate where you distinctly remember there wasn't one, and in front of it stood a hulking being which resembled an Anubis.
"Anubis": Ah, your grace. To what does this watcher of souls owe your visit? Ah, but forgive me, your memory is not fully intact, so I imagine you must have many questions.
Warden: I am a being known as a "Warden" as I am a protector of the kind and good willed souls that pass through here, while making sure the evil spirits remain trapped in their prison. This gate you see is the gate to the after life. You may note that it was not here upon your last visit, both it and I were revealed by your desire and divine power. Now may I ask, what is your desire?
You shake yourself from your shocked state and state the purpose of your journey.
(Y/N): I-I wish to know, can I visit my friends once they're "gone"? I may be immortal, but I was raised as a mortal, so bonds come to me much easier than they do the archons and other immortal beings.
Warden: I see. Well, to answer your question, yes, you may visit the afterlife whenever you like .
You breathe a sigh of relief as the weight that had been on you the entire journey here finally lifted.
Hu Tao: Oooh, hey, big fella, would you mind describing the afterlife a bit? I'm just "dying" to know more about it.
(Y/N): I'm also rather curious.
Warden: Very well. The afterlife has gone by many names, you may choose to call it whichever you like, but it serves as both paradise and prison. You may recall I said I am "a" warden, there many more of my kin beyond this gate. This place was made by you in your past life to be a paradise to all, and that meant making it a prison for others, and I must say your past self understood mortals well, as there are many aspects to this ever expanding plane. First, I should explain that this gate's destination changes depending on your soul. Good and neutral souls enter a serenity inducing room where servants attempt to lift the weight of their past life, and just beside that is a therapy center as some spirits are more tormented than others. Meanwhile, evil souls are brought straight to the prison, where they are kept until further notice.
(Y/N): Sorry to interrupt, but what is a neutral soul?
Warden: Hmm. I suppose you would say they are those who mind their business, or perhaps they are broken souls who could have done more if life had provided better circumstances. In short, while these souls are not "good" by some standards, they hold no malice within then. Thus, they are neutral. Pranksters, such as your guide here, are also labeled under this category, while good at heart, they are still trouble makers disturbing the peace and thus require disciplinary action should their pranks get out of hand.
You nod and smile in acceptance to this answer, feeling relieved for all of the broken people you've heard of. Hu Tao kind of huffed as if she thought he was describing her.
Warden: On the note of broken souls, there is also a rehabilitation wing of the prison per your command. In your words, "Evil is a disease. Those who are born with it may be beyond saving, but those infected by it are curable with proper treatment." So far, these words have proven true. Many a Rotten soul has been cleansed of malice and given freedom from their torment. Speaking of the prison, the only other thing of note is that it is ever changing in size to house the ever changing number of inmates, but this is true of all aspects of this realm. Now, onto the more pleasant aspects of the afterlife. As stated before, your past self understood mortals well and constructed many districts, with the souls making new ones with each generation. The first is the obvious housing district where the souls live or rather have more personal family time as, if you wish to be technical, no one "lives" here.
You and Hu Tao chuckle a little at his little joke.
Warden: Second, there are the working districts as, surprisingly, many souls find satisfaction in hard work. These souls do jobs such as farming, cooking, many different types of artistry, engineering, construction, smithing, and sales despite there not being a currency here. These districts include the market, the entertainment district where concerts and plays are held, the foundry where all metal is worked into a new shape where it is promptly sent to either the workshop where it is used as machine parts, or the ones made into weapons will be sent to the coloseum where the souls who yearn for battle can relive their glory and have crowds of adoring fans cheer them on for it, and then there are the self explanatory farmlands and restaurants.
(Y/N): That's, um, a lot.
Warden: Quite, and there's still more. There are also the springs and gardens for those seeking a moment of peace, the banquet hall often used by the warrior spirits after a thrilling match as they revel in each other's glory, then there is the central plaza which the souls have taken to calling Festival Street as all of the realms festivities are held there, the archives where those who seek to learn can go to hone their craft. Also, since many people seem to ask, yes, the souls of animals are sent to paradise as, while a lot of animals do kill, it is most often during a hunt or defense, and they are not all malicious. Pets will often wait outside this gate for their owner or one of them if they had multiple, wild and farm animals are led to separate biomes that are suited to them. These biomes are also popular spots to take a trip. Ahem, sorry, I'm just so used to being interrupted by that question that going so long without answering it felt weird. Anyway, back on topic, there is also the museum, along with the archives it is used to preserve the truth of this world's history, not the glorified mess they teach in schools. There are many more human desires that I can list districts and buildings for, but I feel you and your friend would like to make it home before the end of the season, so this will be the last of what I say provided you don't have anymore questions. It may not surprise you that many of the souls within this realm are quite religious, so much so that there is a statue of you, er, your former self in the central plaza, with many smaller shrines to you and other deities scattered throughout the numerous districts.
Hu Tao thanks the warden before turning to leave.
(Y/N): Just one more question, I promise this will be quick. As I've stated before, immotality can be costly on one's soul. This holds true even to those born with it. My question is, would I be able to give others the ability to visit?
Warden: If that is what you desire. I take it this means I will be seeing a few of the archons soon?
You nod and thank him for his time before finally leaving with an extra spring in your step. Once outside, Hu Tao stretches rather loudly.
Hu Tao: Mmmmh. Man, that took forever, but I think we both got something out of that. You got peace of mind and i got a new appreciation for my work.
(Y/N): A "new" appreciation? You enjoyed your work well enough before, I dread to think of what you'll do now.
Hu Tao: Oh you. Don't some archons to visit?
(Y/N): Maybe later, we were in there for quite a while, and all that listening made me rather hungry.
Hu Tao was about to comment before her stomach growled, causing you both to laugh as you made your way back to the harbor.
___________________________________________
Well, that was a massive info dump, definitely longer than I anticipated. I haven't seen anyone tackle the subject of the reader's lack of mortality, and the idea of a creator who can willingly traverse both the realms of living and dead has been rotting my brain, I also wanted the ability to give the archons a bit of closure, at least the ones who lost someone dear to them. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed that rather lengthy info dump
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cubezart · 3 months
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Hi!! You totally don't know me at all, I'm a complete stranger >:) And I'd love to hear about Jim's mental world!!
HI ok so erm this is mostly just gonna be a mess of rambles and vague ideas smushed together barely in order but
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(old/outdated concept sketch, but it's a good start)
for starters, the prime issue(s) to help resolve in his mental world (or this version at least) is jim's fear of burdening his friends and family, and his resistance to reaching out for help, as much as he really needs it. it doesn't get too deep into his trauma, it's just giving jim the push he needs to seek out help again
after jim's recent divorce with bettie, he's been trying to give his family "some space to process" ...which didn't take long to sink back into old self isolation habits. he's been putting his all into his job to repress and distract from everything else going on with him, and it doesn't seem like it'll work for very much longer
first area in his mind is a boring + extremely tiny office room, the other cubicles are all empty and open except for jim's, which has a big metal door attached to the entrance. you can try and talk to him or ask him things, but it won't get you much . he insists he's happier in there really !! its so nice and safe hes fine :) its ok :)
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when asked why he's locked in, he'll insist it's for his own safety, saying some vague stuff while the clairvoyance hints become even more obvious. when you use clairvoyance on him, his POV shows the cubicle door and everywhere around it surrounded by nightmares clawing and staring at him from the other side. (something something these are all just his own perception of things and he's really not in danger)
afterwards, his dialogue tree gets pretty short and limited, leaving raz to explore !! there's a few doors you can interact with, one being just a simple archetype-required door with a little collectible or somethin. the other is an old n dusty storage closet filled with memory vaults piling up to the ceiling. you can't really interact with any of those individually, (maybe some raz line along the lines of "i can't punch through all those :( ") but there's one or two real ones that just seem to have completely mundane and normal memories inside. weird! cuz with cpstd n trauma memory loss/repression, it can repress a lot more than what's necessary
there's one last door to try, leading out into the next phase ! raz says goodbye to jim, and jim happily waves back as the door shuts n locks behind raz, and the hallway distorts and extends, distancing raz away too :( sorta like the effect in the pn2 office construct !! im taking a lot of inspo from that world tbh heehe except for the obvious yknow. dental stuff
the next phase is kind of a messy stub for now, still sorting n planning out everything in my head lol but it's called Jim's Judgement
it centers more around jim's trauma and Issues TM and a lot of it is more vague concepts than any real gameplay ideas for the more dark story elements bc i don't want raz to have to see that and like to think after raz gets him a head start, he gets into actual professional Psychonauts therapy (and for my own silly oc/canon interaction fun, its sasha and milla assigned to help him. perhaps. maybe. they almost assigned oleander but he yelled too much and scared him away /hj) ANYWAY!!
all that being said i honestly have 0 ideas how to tone shit down for raz and im still trying to plan out the smaller in-game per se variation on it so i will simply. wait to talk about it. there's a lot of cool symbolism and motifs i prommy i swear </3 but the main "boss fight" final moment thing surrounds his whole paranoia of being a horrible person who others only tolerate + he constantly has to "make up for it" by putting everything and everyone Before him. i really wanna end it back in the small office space with jim having the key on his desk this whole time, making it literally In His Hands to get himself out. he just needed the support! he's definitely scared and slow, but he opens the door and steps out of his cubicle. the room grows a little bit. its a start
i was gonna ramble more about the darker version of the second phase but this post is already gettin Long and kinda incoherent i think so ermm. ill split it off into a second post probably if anyones interested in hearing more . i hope this all made sense lol i have too many thoughts about him to keep together honestly
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bloodblanks · 2 years
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solace [masky / hoodie x reader] — chapter i.
Two years after the disappearance of Tim and Brian, you were finally ready to move on with your life and attend university in a new city. As you prepare to leave, your innocent quest for online furniture shopping devolves into an insidious nostalgia trip as you reminisce your missing best friends.
author's note: this fanfiction will contain explicit content, including rape/non-con, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, and similar themes.
please read at your own discretion.
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<- previous chapter
You knew there would be a storm tonight. The sky flushed with muted shades of blue, dark opaque clouds roaming above, covering the rest of the city and blocking out any sunlight. However, it wasn’t like you needed the sun. In fact, you were perfectly pleased without it. You had contented yourself with spending the entire afternoon cooped up in your room, browsing through the many tabs of furniture that IKEA had to offer. While the selection was plentiful, they were missing one thing—something you actually liked. With a sigh of frustration, you put your laptop down and flopped back onto your bed.
It wouldn’t be long until you would be moving to university, just a few weeks away, and you still hadn’t picked anything. Maybe it was your fault for renting an unfurnished apartment, but you liked the idea of decorating everything precisely as you wanted it. That, and it was cheaper as well.
Your parents had agreed to help you move your pre-existing things and assist in assembling the newly required furniture when it arrived. After all, they would be within driving distance of your new home, just two hours North. You knew the travel between the two cities was inconvenient, only really doable by car, hence the new place.
Why you attended a university two hours away when you could attend the prestigious university in your current area was beyond most people. The truth was that you hadn’t been accepted to the one close to you, and either you’d attend the one that granted you acceptance or none at all. Of course, you kept this fact well hidden from everyone around you, including your own family as well.
While the university in your area was prestigious, it wasn’t by any means Ivy League or even close. Your grades were just lacking, to say the least. But you would never want to suffer the shame of having to admit something like that. And so you lied, telling everyone you just wanted a new experience. Something along the lines of seeing the world and making new friends. What bullshit, you thought.
Then again, however, there was some truth to that statement. It was possible that a change of pace, a breath of fresh air, and a new start would do you good. You had never lived anywhere else, and perhaps you could use some adventure or at least a new city to explore. Your hometown had gotten stale and rather suffocating for you to live in. Not only were you tired of the same mundane everyday routine, but you also constantly suffered from a weight that hung over you, no matter where you went.
It could only be natural, though. After all, too much had happened for you to be able to just shake things off and leave them in the past. Not that you didn’t try, you did. You did your best to rid yourself of the sullen atmosphere constantly lingering over you. You went to therapy and talked to people, but nothing changed. It was just too much, too soon, too hard. Even though it had been two years since the incident initially happened, your memories held far longer, far more than just that.
Maybe it was just an unfortunate event for the rest of the city. At the time of the incident, the residents had been sent into a panic, but as more time passed, what happened was no longer relevant, no longer thought of, and no longer worth caring about. Everyone moved on with their daily lives, returned to what they were doing previously, and continued like nothing had happened. Everyone save for you and a few others. But there was no reason for it to have affected anyone else; you knew that they didn’t share the memories you had, didn’t experience the events you did, and didn’t know the story like you knew. Like you still know. You swore you’d never forget.
Your online furniture shopping quest was long since over. You were no longer in the mood to do such frivolous things, not when the same thoughts that had haunted you for the past couple of years rose back up from the dead. You stood up from the bed and turned your laptop off, causing the music you played in the background to sharply cut off. The room was now completely silent like it always was when you allowed yourself to reminisce about the past. Inhaling slowly, you took a deep breath to steady yourself before you opened your closet, reaching into one of the bottom shelves. Your hands brushed across the familiar texture of cardboard. Sliding your hands underneath the box, you picked it up and took it out of the closet. You could see the memorabilia peeking out of the box as you set it down on the floor before you, sitting down cross-legged next to it.
Taking out the first item was always the same. It sat at the very top, covering everything beneath it as if it was the lid of the box. Touching your hands to the soft fabric of the hoodie, you brought it up to your face, leaning in and smelling it. Maybe that was weird, but at least it was strange in the privacy of your own bedroom; nobody else had to know about this. Inhaling the scent of citrus and pine, you noticed it had somewhat faded since the last time you took it out. It had been quite a while, so it was only natural, yet you still felt a tinge of sadness, wondering just how much more time it would take until the scent was gone entirely, leaving you with nothing at all. You wished for the ability to freeze time, solely for this piece of clothing, so that the harsh tides of time wouldn’t wash away the remaining fragrance, leaving you exclusively with wreckage. The scent wasn’t particularly delightful; it was likely some cheap, far too strong—although that did turn out to be in your favour—male deodorant spray. But it smelled like him.
It smelled like him, and that was one of the few things you had left. You were grateful for it.
Tim was going through his emo phase when he owned that hoodie, although he was robbed of the chance to grow out of it. You wondered, if he was still here, would he have grown out of it by now? Probably, you thought. Likely, he’d be going to university as well. With his grades when he was still here—he never cared much for school—he probably would’ve had to attend the same university as you. Maybe you wouldn’t have been so alone.
It wasn’t even a question when it came to Brian. Putting down the black hoodie and picking up Brian’s notebook, you knew for a fact he would have easily gotten into almost any university he wanted. Perhaps you were biased, but you believed it to be accurate, regardless, that Brian was a genius. You thought so then and still felt so now as you looked through his notes. His writing was clear, his notes were organized and neat and always came in useful when you or Tim chose to sleep in during class. It was surprising that he was in the same classes as you or any of your courses at all, considering how he could’ve taken them all at a higher level. You wondered if he just chose not to, for whatever reason. If it were you in his place, you likely would have stayed back to remain with your friends. You would’ve done anything to be by their side.
Outside your room, the rumbling of thunder could be heard. Glancing out the window, you saw a brief flash of lightning. The storm came on fast. You actually quite appreciated stormy weather. While most people held disdain for it, you found the roar of thunder soothing in some strange way. You continued looking out the window, watching as the strikes of lightning lit up the sky like New Year’s Eve, counting down the seconds until the sound of thunder was heard. You didn’t need to do so; you knew you were safe in your home, but nonetheless, it had become a habit of yours.
“Do you know how to tell the distance between lightning and thunder?” Brian asked. The three of you were sprawled over the roofed area of the back porch, watching as droplets rained down upon you, the sky filled with dense, thick clouds.
“You just count the seconds in between,” you grumbled, thinking he was taking you for an idiot, “everyone knows that.”
“No, not exactly. You have to divide by three.” You rolled your eyes at Brian correcting you. He often did it, and while you were impressed by all the random facts he knew, you didn’t appreciate being constantly wrong, even though you were accustomed to feeling stupid around Brian. After all, you copied off his homework. It wasn’t solely because you were lazy. That alone said enough.
“Aw, is someone pouting now?”
Tim loved teasing you and now was no exception. It was a common occurrence that he would be getting on the last of your nerves while Brian was audience to it. You knew that Brian would step in if things got too far, but until then, he found amusement in the petty squabbles you two would have. He just didn’t show it.
“Shut up. I’ll beat your ass.” you jokingly threatened Tim, but if he ever pushed it, you wouldn’t hesitate to make truth of your threat, and the both of you knew that. It didn’t happen as often as it used to; however, you regularly got into fights when you were younger. Back then, you were stronger than him, and your battles tended to result in Tim getting upset and then complaining to Brian, who always played peacekeeper. Things changed after puberty. You stood at an unfortunate [height] while Tim had grown to an approximate 180, and while he wasn’t as tall as Brian—who was at least 185cm—he had the muscle to make up for it. You no longer stood a chance against him, let alone be able to win fights like you did pre-puberty. However, the two of you would still play fight, and he’d still entertain you and go easy. Tim had accidentally used too much strength a few times, and you’d get a minor injury of sorts, but those times were far and few between.
Whenever that happened, Tim always insisted that he didn’t care and that you had it coming, all while Brian would be helping you up and telling Tim off. You never took it personally when it happened since you were friends, and you did kind of have it coming. As much as he would say he didn’t feel bad, you know that he secretly did because he was always friendlier than usual for the upcoming days afterwards.
“One Mississippi.” Tim counted, interrupting your thoughts. There had been a flash of lightning.
“Two Mississippi.” Your turn. It would be Brian after.
“Three Mississippi,” he said, right on time.
The three of you counted to twelve in turn before the inevitable crash of thunder was heard, a deep rumbling that shook the skies.
“Four kilometres.” Brian noted, and you replied, “Yeah, we get it. You’re good at math.”
Tim snickered. “Not like it’s basic math or anything.”
He earned himself a light smack on the upper arm. You saw the corners of his mouth twitch upwards right before he jumped on you, tackling you to the ground. You wrestled against his grip, which he never held too firmly, and you managed to eventually roll out from underneath him, panting for air.
“You two are children,” Brian commented, stifling a giggle.
“You’re the same age as us!” you yelled.
“Not maturity-wise,” he responded.
“Whatever you say.” you scoffed at him, crossing your arms over your chest, beginning to pout.
As the three of you turned your attention back to the storm brewing above, you watched in unison the bright flashes of the sky and counted in unison the seconds between the next clap of thunder. Eventually, you started feeling cold, asking to return indoors.
And so you did, but that was not the last time there was a storm, nor was it the last time the three of you counted for it. You had been together counting for every storm since, almost like a tradition, and as the three of you were rarely apart, you had not missed a single one since.
Now that it was just you, you vowed to continue your tradition. For them. In memory of them.
You were still clutching Brian’s notebook, gaze frozen towards the window, when you slowly woke from your daze. You absentmindedly flipped through the rest of the pages in the notebook until you noticed something odd that caught your eye. Flipping back a few pages to where you had seen it, you looked at the doodle on the page. It was a small, crudely scribbled drawing of something resembling a stick man with many trees surrounding him. Seven, to be exact. You frowned. You found something about the drawing eerie and unsettling, but you weren’t sure what exactly it was. Maybe it was just the fact that Brian never typically drew, or it was the lack of context behind the drawing, or perhaps the strange style in which it was drawn, resembling a child’s art in one of those classic horror movies. Why had Brian drawn this? Did it matter? You weren’t sure of the answer.
Lightning flashed outside your window, a bright beam shooting down from the sky. You began your count, “One Mississippi, two Mi—” and then you were cut off by the loud crash of thunder. You didn’t know how to do the exact math, but you were sure it would equal less than a kilometre, the closest it’s ever been. Previously, you had only counted up to three Mississippis, and it was with Tim and Brian. You shuddered, a chill running over your skin, the air in the room suddenly dropping a few degrees.
It couldn’t have been anything. Surely not. There’s nothing objectively wrong right now; I should just calm down. Taking a deep and slow inhale, you tried to steady your breathing and heartbeat, which was beginning to accelerate. Breathing out, you closed the notebook shut, putting it back inside the cardboard box. You did the same with the hoodie, and you pushed down the two flaps of cardboard on top, closing it and then placing it back inside the closet. Back where it belonged. A case safely storing your memories, something to be left in the closet, doors shut, lingering in the past—it was anything but.
You had told yourself that you would leave it here, leave the box of things here and all the memories attached to it in this home. You would start anew, meet new people, befriend them, look towards the future, and forget about the past. But deep down in your heart, you knew you just couldn’t do it. While you had given up on finding them sometime around a year ago, after exhausting your efforts and staying up each night, you hadn’t moved on. From the search, perhaps, but not from the loss. As you glanced at the box you had just placed down, you already knew it would be coming with you to your new apartment.
And that each time you missed home, you could take out the box and still feel like a small part of them was with you. It could almost be as if they never left your side. Like they were still here. Like things were normal.
Like your world hadn’t fallen apart right in front of your eyes.
Crawling into bed, you pulled the covers over your body, deciding it was a good day for an early bedtime. Hiding in the comfort of your sheets, you counted the distance between the times your bedroom was set alight and listened as the thunder cried, slowly drifting off to sleep. 
next chapter ->
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captainkurosolaire · 7 months
Text
X4 ~ Therapy
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Reference ~ Mending Past ~ ♪"Transgender"♪
Fidgeting callous digits drew together, coral incense diffuser carried a eucalyptus scent to tranquil nerves being judder, open nasal-ways passages to breathe palpably again. The bold standing in the seat never felt this got anymore untroubled. Plunged-seeking for help from a dearest hearty found himself comfortable to confine in. Instinctively airing out, grievances, pain bottled within, wasn’t natural. It was attempting to relearn or change nature altogether. Kinsmen would call this act by being here, a sign of definitive weakness. They’d shun him even further, mocking his stake as a man, calling his pride pitiful… Artificially determined by underachievers of our society. However to expose your vulnerabilities, requires unprecedented power. Grit against that lingering, nagging feeling when your entire existence wants to crawl away. Is contesting against what’s supposed to be ‘nature.’ Upon this lounge seat, he was never-braver. A pirate-chasing after the grandest treasure, all forget-to-often, Tormented inner seas to navigate and master; Self-discovery! If someone were to acquire all the wealth in that… One must have to wonder, where’d they stand? Perhaps higher… Of a place not-yet charted to the fullest.
Sweat drenched palms, his throat gulped and dried before, “Ugh, this feels like I’m on a casting-couch n’ th’ local Red-Light District, tryna’ get some virgin hole’s stretched this Sennight.” Doing what often did to everyone who came in-contact, crudely buried and joked it away. Mocking his own feelings-until it was numb, displacing their noise. Throwing a popcorn-shrimp into his mouth with snacks on display, Council was also his Chef aboard too. Across from patient, a kind-hearted, Sea Roe and motherly-like maiden, giving a small-giggle at his remark, “It’s okay. We can wait for you to lax, this isn’t something we need to force open. There’s no-fires, here Cap’n. You’re safe, waves outdoors from us, under that sail-breeze accompanied.” She stumbled-across him when concerned, after nearly-dying from experimenting on narcotics and mixing strong-rum together one-night. Without her keen-observance the Sea Maiden didn’t notice his eyes incoherently devoid of sense, that faithful-Sun. She would’ve been too-late. Suffering more scars-than physically the canvas conveyed on him. Early on taking a mantle. Faltering when it came to multiple Crews. Incurring, mutinies, several enemies, known. Or lurking within depths of the unknown. Bounties that became steep from his escapades of fearlessness. Always targets at his back the moment he donned the inherited Tricorn Hat. From fallen Cap’n who founded this Goldbrand. Inside that-wee-bit part of us that holds us back ushering, whispering like a conniving parasite. Crept-in, saying to flee, run-away. Holding us back from growth-ushering and flourishing. It often won. Looking for any way to get-off-the-hook, from achieving anything, may lead to either happiness or deemed-fortune. Important to often resist that insignificant-part. To combat this requires a shout of frustration, and committing to your declared steps to truly heal. “What would ye’ like t’ ask?” Nerves turned to stone, a deep-inhale taken and exhalation followed. Amusement, candle-lit her visage, before an earnest-smile followed, “We’ll start discussing, what brings you thrill, fulfillment? You’ve a coffer of stories, Captain. They’re written not just upon but through you. Acquiring a healthy outlet to release them may help you astutely, or give room to castaway and relinquish unnecessary weight.” She had an ease sharing empathic attributes. Every emotion someone underwent was her own. Devilishly uprooted, a no-good expression of debauchery collected his features, “Ye sure about that? I could go-listing many pleasurable affairs with vivid details. Can’t say none of those experiences weren't a thrill. Worth th’ voyage my partners I’d bet could vouch fellow sentiments.” Looking to stir-up or shake, but she didn’t waver. Expecting to have her roll-her-eyes, give up on him before starting, hopelessly. As many before-her claimed to be ears. Was obvious she would’ve listened to anything. Nothing could deter her aid, cradled around him knowing just his actual hurt. This what a true-friend exhibited; a Crew? Uncanny, selfishness often was prime here, a believed-necessity. Expect everyone with a knife-of-betrayal equipped Loyalty, if held, resided the strongest-currency. Not glinted gold nor silver.
Bested by her with a pout, seriousness followed his features loosened actually thinking of what her words asked. “I guess seeing dreams realized ov’ others. Particularly my mateys anymore is enough satisfaction. I’ve held many wonders upon this realm. I scoured formerly n’ my shade, claiming Voidal Relics, t’ lost treasures left forgotten and barren. Every-time, I felt further from complete. Would-think with the infamy and power I was collecting, even the fortune I had. There’s no way I wouldn’t feel a sense of freedom sought or grandness. Regardless a gap waged between. Acquiring those ambitious endeavors took extreme sacrifices, not always on my account. I asked much ov’ my fellows. Two-men on the crew who were lovers had much to still-live on and found eachother in my stead, recently-wed, n’ they willingly chased after these materialistic-gains, fer me…  One voyage, required t’ see a difference-make against a War of the Depths that came t’ our shores. Despite their commitment to each other that adventure was seen-through by them. It’d prove the last-moment they shared together. One of them became corrupted, tainted by a relic’s influence, consumed ov’ ration, and killed their own heart; the very partner.” Broke-down and strings inside holding his composure, snapped. Quivering in his voice to encounter realization, “W-what, kind of Cap’n does that? I kept getting my hearties killed! Thwarting away futures not my claim t’ take. Cause of selfishness, greed, to prevent others from having all th’ cards n’ their own coffer? What th’ HELL was th’ justification!? They should still be together…” Balling his fist, nails-delving into his palm until bled. She wrote notes on her clip-board before setting it down. Unknowingly a part of her… Slumbering was strictly-involved in that War of the Depths. Reincarnation of the very-prime-foe. Even beyond both their known. Captain felt it instinctively during their meeting. Soon washed away the notion and mistrusted his own instinct. Because it wasn’t all-true. She demonstrated a whole difference to the advisory, formerly named Siren among Sirens in mythos, who orchestrated and owned an Empire at Depths of the Rohtano. Calmly and understanding from his perspective, “Cap’n we can’t carry everything outside us and blame our shoulders for not staying upright, otherwise we anchor and quickly follow-pursuit of the dead. You said it yourself they willingly followed and saw crucially a mission you-mentioned for that War? What would’ve happened if they didn’t? I’ve to bet more lives lost; War unfortunately is that, there’s no real-fortune any side attains. Always loss-occurs. Think they would-agree that was in-vain? Would they-be any happier or rested souls, knowing their Captain they shared who guided them to another foremost, sabotaged and chained himself because of their behalf? Your survival has a lot of guilt, it’s harmful.” Lowering herself to extend the reach of voice, it never once, impacted a sense of thought or deep-truth to reflect in. Frustration was being quelled, she further descended down to pull him from shallow-bellows of torment. 
As-if her spirit was diving to rescue him, where misery and sorrow; drowns their victims. She attempted to explain with insightful unfathomable wisdom, “Perception carries and decides our reality. Instead of seeing your failure, think of victory. You won in some semblance a War, a tremendous feat; prevailing over it. Every-breath you take on carries extra-life of every fallen hearty you said goodbye, departed to those early sea-bed graves. Look what’ve you achieved, how you’ve mustered courageously, standing against that Past. You’re able to discern; what’s wrong or is containing your gravity. Wallowing is dangerous, making people stuck in-limbo, devouring the Future and preventing a Present from ever-leaving unwelcome shadows. One foot of yours seems to be stuck on shore. While another contemplates a leap to the tides. I’m not saying to forget. I’m saying to swim with your knowledge and experience, forward, forward, forgiving forward.” Her words didn’t instantaneously make a difference, but they were making-brief dents. Never-valuing or understood forgiveness especially towards one-self. Wasn't it easier to quickly throw down the hatch a few-pints of bottomless ale, hasten numbness? No-one wanted to confront-this, or themselves. Burdened with confronting our own burdens. Pain happens when caring. In-the-deep the rulers residing; sharks swam in this manner. Forward, never deterring. It’s all they knew, otherwise they lose breathing, resulting in death. Yet they reigned and exhibited lessons. Captain felt a lighter-sense of him wasn’t an instantaneous recovery but a progressive, steadied one. “Thanks Slafhota, I’ll see ye’ n’ Seven Sun’s same time, aye?” For first-session, it already felt like a right-step towards entering that tide becoming a king of his depth.
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what if there was a vampire therapist carlisle made edward go to after his attempted suicide?
BA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA.
Ahem, sorry, anon, it's just. Ah, that's so very beautiful for a few reasons.
Standard Disclaimer
Obviously, therapy is a wonderful thing as is taking care of your mental health. There's far too much stigma around mental health and therapy in popular culture and absolutely seek out a therapist when needed.
Now, with that, we can get into why I don't think this would be a miracle cure all for Edward.
Why is This a Bad Idea
The thing about therapy is that for it to truly be effective there are a few things required.
First, you have to be able to trust your therapist. You're potentially telling this person deep personal shit, often all the way back to your childhood, and uncovering things about yourself you may despise. It is a hard and grueling process to evaluate yourself and change for the better, and while by law a therapist cannot reveal your secrets you still want to be able to trust that person to truly help you and be sympathetic to you.
Second is that you have to recognize that there is a problem and you have to want to change and approach it even if it's not simply difficult but agonizing. People who are forced into going to therapy by well-meaning relatives/society are often very resistant to the entire concept and will make a point of not addressing what they need to. Sometimes, people are ready to acknowledge a problem, but they're not ready to do what they need to to face it or acknowledge what the problem is.
Which brings us to Edward Cullen.
First, who is he going to trust?
Edward can't talk to a human therapist as he'd have to talk in circles around the issues at hand. He wouldn't be able to discuss anything related to vampirism and while he might come up with decent metaphors he'd ultimately feel the human has no idea what they're talking about or truly understand why Edward was driven to suicide. Not to mention, of course, that Edward's quite contemptuous of us humans. He envies us from a distance but he tends to think of humans as slow, vapid, mayflies who simply do not match his intellectual prowess. He would instinctively feel better than whatever therapist they sat him in front of because, you see, Edward has five B.A.s which is more than the doctor's three degrees.
Then we get to vampires. First, even if there is a vampire psychologist, we're likely not looking at one who is up to date with modern research and therapy practices. Psychology, perhaps even more than medicine (and that's saying something), is a field that has undergone revolutionary changes within decades and has... some sketchy history. If we're looking at a psychologist who was turned around the time of Freud or even Jung and has been eating people and not paying attention to much research since... Not sure I'd recommend them as a therapist. Most importantly: Edward would know they're out of date and unable to get back up to date as most vampires can't integrate or even get close to human society as their control is that bad/they'd have no idea how to navigate a modern university library.
And worse than being out of date, they're not on the diet. If Edward's contemptuous of us humans he's extremely contemptuous of vampires not on the diet (to be fair, for a much more decent reason here). Even friends of the family, Edward sees a marked difference from those who embrace their vampirism and those who do not. Edward would be appalled at the very notion of being offered any kind of moral or advice period from a vampire who goes out and murders a human every two weeks.
That means that the therapist is either in the family (Rosalie with her twelve degrees) or is in the Denali. The family is obviously a terrible idea for so many reasons the least of which is your family member cannot be your therapist as they are too closely involved. (Adding to it that the qualified one, to a point, would probably be Rosalie and Edward's talking to the woman he thinks is a vapid, vain, shrew and telling her how awful she is to her face. It'd go well.)
The Denali, while a little better in that Edward trusts them and sees them as family, are still too close in that Edward would be horrified if their opinion of him lessened and if that news leaked to his family. He can't talk to them either.
So basically, Edward's out of therapists.
Even if he wasn't though, while Edward acknowledges consistently that he has issues in canon, he doesn't seem ready to address them and certainly not with other people. His self hatred is something he buries deep, only deeper is what he views as his vampiric self that lusts for human blood and calculated the cold blooded murder of Bella Swan.
Edward is terrified of himself and the last thing he wants to do is open that box up let alone with either a strange he doesn't respect or a beloved family member who can never ever know.
(Not to mention there wouldn't be any vampire psychologists/therapists as vampires are hedonistic individuals who don't even form a murder society who are either warring with each other, avoiding one another, or murdering their meals who look much like them every two weeks.
Look, they barely have a vampire doctor, and that's because Carlisle's fucking weird.)
Look, it's just never going to happen.
Slight Caveat/We Sort of See This
There is the fact that canonically Edward does ask his family the very awkward and terrible questions of how to make love to a breakable human woman to which they appear to give increasingly beautiful and bizarre answers but that's not the same thing as talking about Edward himself.
There's also Edward's many confrontations with Alice when, thanks to her visions, she has insight into what Edward may or may not do and historically doesn't judge him for it and even confronts him.
Edward also chose to have sex with Bella anyway even when it seems implied that Carlisle strongly suggested it was a very bad idea.
However, more often than not, he chooses not to listen to her as he respects her visions except when they tell him things he doesn't want to hear such as "you will either turn Bella or eat her". Then her visions don't count.
This is about as close as we ever get to Edward getting therapy.
But Alright, Carlisle Sends Edward to Uncle Eleazar
If we have to choose a candidate, then it's going to be one of the Denali. Trouble is, trouble's going down with the Denali post New Moon/During Eclipse in a very awkward way. See, Laurent was tragically murdered by shapeshifters, and when the Cullens pleaded for help in attacking the newborn army they refused as the Cullens wouldn't let them commit genocide. The Cullens then only survived likely because of the help of teenagers, because the Denali blew them off, and the Denali on their end didn't get to avenge Laurent.
So, there's really bad feeling on both sides. Obviously, this smooths over in time for the wedding but uh that felt very reconciliatory and awkward.
So, sending Edward up for therapy during all of this would be really weird if not spark a complete family feud that they never recover from.
Not only that, but Tanya infamously comes onto Edward every chance she gets (we even see this in Midnight Sun and it is hilarious), so... Tanya's right out. Irina is also in deep mourning over Laurent so she's out. Kate is likely still very upset about the not murdering the shapeshifters thing which means...
Eleazar's probably the likely choice.
Eleazar in canon is presented as kind of Bizarro Carlisle. He had a similar history of spending some time with the Volturi, he's an intellectual as well, and is also at least presented as an extreme pacifist. Edward directly compares him to Carlisle and has a lot of respect for him canonically and welcomes his input.
I have no canon to back me up, but if any of the Denali would present themselves as qualified to be a therapist, it'd be Eleazar. He'd also likely point to his time spent evaluating gifts as a kind of coaching people through.. things... (Is he qualified, probably not, but that's not important).
So, we have our therapist who is qualified(?), doesn't eat humans, whom Edward respects, and who isn't considered a 'direct' family member that Edward may feel he's able to open up to (especially as Eleazar was in the Volturi, had started off the diet, so can understand things like blood lust.)
However, even taking out @therealvinelle and my constant unfounded slandering of Eleazar, I doubt this would work out as neither would delve into what's really Edward's problem.
Edward would blame his suicidal tendencies on being a vampire: he is a demon ergo there is no purpose to his life and if Bella dies so does he. I just imagine Eleazar shrugging and acknowledging that yes, life is sad sometimes, and losing a mate is sad and hey did you hear about Marcus?
I just don't get them really digging into the why of why Edward wanted to kill himself so badly. It's not something either would want to confront and on the surface, it looks like they have their answer: Edward views vampirism as so loathsome that he can't turn Bella and he can't exist without her. Ergo. Death.
The only thing that changes is Edward spends a weekend in Denali at some point during Eclipse.
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"I Was Told to Approve All Teen Gender Transitions. I Refused."
Via The Free Press:
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Perhaps you read the long investigation about detransitioners published in this weekend’s New York Times. It is comprehensive and sober and we highly recommend it.
It’s also a piece we are confident would never have made it into the paper were it not for independent publications like ours taking the journalistic and reputational risk over the past few years to pursue the subject of “gender-affirming” care and the subsequent harms inflicted on vulnerable young people. In this, we are proud to stand alongside Hannah Barnes, Lisa Selin Davis, Hadley Freeman, Helen Joyce, Leor Sapir, Abigail Shrier, Jesse Singal, Kathleen Stock, Quillette and others, who took the arrows so that the mainstream press could finally start reporting on what’s really happening. 
What is immensely clear is that individual testimonies—whistleblower accounts like those we’ve published by Jamie Reed and Dr. Riittakerttu Kaltiala—have made the change we are now beginning to see. 
And that change is now impossible to deny: witness the arrival of lawsuits from young people who say they have suffered the consequences of these life-altering treatments. 
Today, therapist Tamara Pietzke adds her voice to those of our other whistleblowers, and tells how she could no longer go along with the pressure to transition her patients.
By Tamara Pietzke
February 5, 2024
For six years I worked at a hospital that said all teenagers with gender dysphoria must be affirmed. I quit my job to blow the whistle.
I know from firsthand experience what hard times are. Though I had a happy childhood, raised as the middle child by working-class parents in Washington State, my mom died of ovarian cancer when I was 22.
After that, my family fell apart. I felt lost and alone.
I  decided to become a therapist because I didn’t want anyone to go through what I had, feeling like no one on this planet cares about them. At least they can say their therapist does.
I earned my master’s in social work from the University of Washington in 2012, and I have worked as a therapist for over a decade in the Puget Sound area. Most recently, I was employed by MultiCare, one of the largest hospital systems in the state.
For the six years I was there, I worked with hundreds of clients. But in mid-January, I left my job because of what I will go on to describe.
The therapeutic relationship is a special one. We are the original “safe space,” where people are able to explore their darker feelings and painful experiences. The job of the therapist is to guide a patient to self-understanding and sound mental health. This is a process that requires careful assessment and time, not snap judgments and confirmation of a patient’s worldview.
But in the past year I noticed a concerning new trend in my field. I was getting the message from my supervisors that when a young person I was seeing expressed discomfort with their gender—the diagnostic term is gender dysphoria—I should throw out all my training. No matter the patient’s history or other mental health conditions that could be complicating the situation, I was simply to affirm that the patient was transgender, and even approve the start of a medical transition.
I believe this rise of “affirmative care” for young people with gender dysphoria challenges the very fundamentals of what therapy is supposed to provide.
I am a 36-year-old single mother of three young kids all under the age of six. I am terrified of speaking out, but that fear pales in comparison to my strong belief that we can no longer medicalize youth and cause them potentially irreversible harm. The three patients I describe below explain why I am taking the risk of coming forward.
Last spring, I started seeing a new client, who at 13 years old had one of the most extreme and heartbreaking life stories I’ve ever heard. (For the sake of clarity, I am referring to all patients by their biological sex.)
My patient’s mother has bipolar disorder and was so abusive to my patient that the mother was given a restraining order. My patient was sexually assaulted by an older cousin, by one of her mother’s boyfriends, and also once at school by a classmate. Her diagnoses include depression, PTSD, anxiety, intermittent explosive disorder, and autism. She is being raised by her mother’s ex-boyfriend (not the one who assaulted her).
The year before I started seeing her, when she was 11, she was hospitalized for talking about committing suicide. Later that year, a pediatrician diagnosed her with gender dysphoria after she started to question her gender. The pediatrician referred her to Mary Bridge Children’s Gender Health Clinic, whose clinicians recommended she take medicine to suppress her periods and that she think about starting testosterone.
Mary Bridge, MultiCare’s pediatric hospital, runs the gender clinic for minors and employs nurses, social workers, dietitians, and endocrinologists, who provide gender-affirming care, which includes prescribing hormones to young patients who question their gender. In order to get that prescription, patients first need a recommendation letter from a therapist. Because Mary Bridge is a part of MultiCare, their patients were often referred to therapists like me who were in their system.
In an April 2022 blog post, a Mary Bridge social worker wrote that the gender clinic’s referrals increased from less than five a month in 2019 to more than 35 a month in 2022. In May 2022, the clinic received a $100,000 donation from Patient-Centered Outcomes Research Institute “to study health care disparities” in transgender youth.
The clinic operates in Washington, one of the states with some of the most lenient legislation on gender transition for youth. In May 2023, the state legislature passed a law guaranteeing that youth seeking a medical gender transition can stay at Washington shelters—and the shelters are not required to notify their parents.
Because of my patient’s autism, it was difficult for us to engage in introspective conversations. During our first visit, she came over to my desk to show me extremely sadistic and graphic pornographic videos on her phone. She stood next to me, hunched over, hyper-fixated on the videos as she rocked back and forth. She told me during one session that she watched horror and porn movies growing up because they were the only ones available in her house.
She showed up to our therapy sessions in disheveled, loose-fitting clothes, her hair greasy, her eyes staring down at the ground, her face covered by a Covid mask almost like a protective layer. She went by a boy’s name, but she never raised gender dysphoria with me directly—though one time she told me she would get mad at the sound of her own voice because “it sounds too girly.” When I asked her how she felt about an upcoming appointment at the gender clinic, she told me she didn’t know she had one.
In between scrolling through videos on her phone, she told me how she cried every night in bed and felt “insane.” She described a time when she was eight years old and her mother nearly killed her sister. She remembered her mother being taken away. At times, she would “age-regress,” she told me, by watching Teletubbies and sucking on pacifiers.
When she started seeing me, she had recently threatened to “blow up the school,” which resulted in her expulsion.
I knew I couldn’t solve all of her problems, or make her feel better in just a few therapy sessions. My initial goal was to make her feel comfortable opening up to me, to make the therapy room a place where she was heard and felt safe. I also wanted to try to protect her from falling prey to outside influences from social media, her peers, or even the adults in her life.
With a patient like this, with so many intersecting and overwhelming problems, and with such a tragic history of abuse, it took our first three sessions to get her feeling more comfortable to even talk to me, and to understand the dimensions of her problems. But when I called her guardian last fall to schedule a fourth appointment, he asked me to write her a letter of recommendation for cross-sex hormone treatment. That is, at age 13, she was to start taking testosterone. Such a letter from me begins the process of medical transition for a patient.
In Washington State, that’s all it takes—a few visits with a therapist and a letter, often written using a template provided by one’s superiors—for minors to undergo the irreversible treatments that patients must take for a lifetime.
I was scared for this patient. She had so many overlapping problems that needed addressing it seemed like malpractice to abruptly begin her on a medical gender transition that could quickly produce permanent changes.
The MultiCare recommendation letter Tamara was given for approving the medical treatment of minors with gender dysphoria. I emailed a program manager in my department at MultiCare and outlined my concerns. She wrote back that my client’s trauma history has no bearing on whether or not she should receive hormone treatment.
“There is not valid, evidenced-based, peer-reviewed research that would indicate that gender dysphoria arises from anything other than gender (including trauma, autism, other mental health conditions, etc.),” she wrote.
She also warned that “there is the potential in causing harm to a client’s mental health when restricting access to gender-affirming care” and suggested I “examine [my] personal beliefs and biases about trans kids.”
When Tamara outlined her concerns about giving a patient testosterone to her manager at MultiCare, she was told to “examine your personal beliefs and biases about trans kids.” She then reported me to MultiCare’s risk management team, who removed my client from my care and placed her with a new therapist.
I shouldn’t have been surprised by this. Just a few months earlier, in September of last year, I was one of over 100 therapists and behavioral specialists at the MultiCare hospital system required to attend mandatory training on “gender-affirming care.”
As hard as it is to believe given my work, I hadn’t heard about gender-affirming care before that moment. I needed to know more. So each night in the week leading up to the training, I searched online for information about gender-affirming care. After putting my kids to bed, I sat glued to my computer screen, losing sleep, horrified at what I found.
I discovered that neither puberty blockers nor cross-sex hormones (testosterone or estrogen) were approved by the Food and Drug Administration as a treatment for gender dysphoria. In fact, prescribing these treatments to kids can have drastic side effects, including infertility, loss of sexual function, increased risk of heart attack, stroke, cardiovascular disease, cancer, bone density problems, blood clots, liver toxicity, cataracts, brain swelling, and even death.
While gender clinicians claim hormonal treatment improved their patients’ psychological health, the studies on this are few and highly disputed.
I found that those experiencing gender dysphoria are up to six times more likely to also be autistic, and they are also more likely to suffer from schizophrenia, trauma, and abuse.
A risk manager’s job is to minimize the hospital’s liability, but in my case, they deemed that my concerns posed a greater risk to my client than giving her a life-altering procedure with no proven long-term benefit.
I shouldn’t have been surprised by this. Just a few months earlier, in September of last year, I was one of over 100 therapists and behavioral specialists at the MultiCare hospital system required to attend mandatory training on “gender-affirming care.”
As hard as it is to believe given my work, I hadn’t heard about gender-affirming care before that moment. I needed to know more. So each night in the week leading up to the training, I searched online for information about gender-affirming care. After putting my kids to bed, I sat glued to my computer screen, losing sleep, horrified at what I found.
I discovered that neither puberty blockers nor cross-sex hormones (testosterone or estrogen) were approved by the Food and Drug Administration as a treatment for gender dysphoria. In fact, prescribing these treatments to kids can have drastic side effects, including infertility, loss of sexual function, increased risk of heart attack, stroke, cardiovascular disease, cancer, bone density problems, blood clots, liver toxicity, cataracts, brain swelling, and even death.
While gender clinicians claim hormonal treatment improved their patients’ psychological health, the studies on this are few and highly disputed.
I found that those experiencing gender dysphoria are up to six times more likely to also be autistic, and they are also more likely to suffer from schizophrenia, trauma, and abuse.
The research also implies that the dramatic rise in these diagnoses across the West likely have a strong element of social contagion. In children ages 6 to 17, there was a 70 percent increase in diagnoses of gender dysphoria in the U.S. from 2020 to 2021. In Sweden there was a 1,500 percent increase in these diagnoses among girls 13–17 from 2008 to 2018.
Yet, countries that were once the pioneers of gender transition medicine are now starting to backtrack. In 2022, England announced it will close its only gender clinic after an investigation uncovered subpar medical care, including findings that some patients were rushed toward gender transitions. Sweden and Finland undertook comprehensive analyses of the state of gender medicine and recommended restrictions on transition of minors.
I decided—though it was potentially dangerous to my career and to me—to ask questions about the findings I discovered.
The training I attended laid out an affirming model of gender care—from pronouns and “social transition” to hormone treatments and surgical intervention. In order for children to be diagnosed with gender dysphoria, the training stated, patients must meet six of eight characteristics, ranging from “a strong desire/insistence of being another gender” to “strong preference for cross-gender toys and games.”
Tamara and her MultiCare colleagues were trained to diagnose gender dysphoria among their young patients when they met six of the eight above characteristics. It was made abundantly clear to all in attendance that these recommendations were “best practice” at MultiCare, and that the hospital would not tolerate anything less.
When the leader of the training brought up hormone treatments, I shakily tapped the unmute button on Zoom and asked why 70 to 80 percent of female adolescents diagnosed with gender dysphoria have prior mental health diagnoses.
She flashed a look of disgust as she warned me against spreading “misinformation on trans kids.” Soon the chat box started blowing up with comments directed at me. One colleague stated it was not “appropriate to bring politics into this” and another wrote that I was “demonstrating a hostility toward trans folks which is [a] direct violation of the Hippocratic Oath,” and recommended I “seek additional support and information so as not to harm trans clients.”
In the training, gender-affirming treatment is presented as “suicide prevention.” As soon as I closed my laptop, I burst into tears. I care so deeply about my clients that even thinking about this now makes me cry. I couldn’t understand how my colleagues, who are supposed to be my teammates, could be so quick to villainize me. I also wondered if maybe my colleagues were right, and if I had gone insane.
Later, my boss reached out to me and told me it was “inappropriate” of me to raise these questions, telling me that a training session was not the proper forum. When I tried to present the evidence that caused me concern—the lack of long-term studies, the devastating side effects—she told me she didn’t have time to read it.
“I am speaking out because nothing will change unless people like me blow the whistle,” Tamara writes. “I am desperate to help my patients.” In retrospect, this ideology had been growing in power for a long time.
I remember in 2019 seeing signs of how gender dysphoria arose among many of my most vulnerable female clients, all of whom struggled with previous psychological problems.
In 2019, I started seeing a 16-year-old client after her pediatrician referred her to me for anxiety, depression, and ADHD. When I first met her, she had long blonde hair covering her eyes, to the point you could barely see her face. It was like she was going through the world trying to be invisible.
In 2020, during the pandemic, she told me she had started reading online a lot about gender, and said she started feeling like she wasn’t a girl anymore.
Around this time, her anxiety became so debilitating she couldn’t leave her house—not even to go to school. After taking a year off school during the pandemic, she enrolled in an alternative school for kids struggling with mental health. I was relieved that she was making friends for the first time, and seemed to be feeling a lot better.
Then she started using they/he pronouns, identified as pansexual, and replaced the skirts and fishnet stockings she often wore with disheveled and baggy clothes. Her long hair became shorter and shorter. She started wearing a binder to flatten her breasts. She tried out a few different names before settling on one that’s gender neutral.
The official diagnosis I gave her was “adjustment disorder”—an umbrella term often applied to young people who are having a hard time coping with difficult and stressful circumstances. It’s the type of diagnosis that doesn’t follow a child forever—it implies that mental distress among kids is often transient.
She came out as transgender to her family in 2021. Her mother was supportive, but her dad wasn’t. Regardless, she went to her pediatrician seeking a referral to a gender clinic.
In 2022, she went to Mary Bridge Children’s Gender Health Clinic for the first time, where the clinicians informed her and her parents that if she didn’t receive hormone replacement therapy, she could be “at increased risk for anxiety, depression, and worsening of mental health/psychological trauma,” according to her patient records. Her dad refused to start his daughter on testosterone, and so all the clinic could do was prescribe birth control to stop her period due to her “menstrual dysphoria,” or distress over getting her period. Which is something I thought all teenage girls experienced.
Five months later, she swallowed a bottle of pills and her mother had to rush her to the emergency room.
By early 2023, my client logged on to our weekly session, which we started doing by Zoom, and she told me she identified as a “wounded male dog.” She explained to me that this was her “xenogender,” a concept she had discovered online, which references gender identities that go “beyond the human understanding of gender.” She said she felt she didn’t have all of the right appendages, and that she wanted to start wearing ears and a tail to truly feel like herself.
I was stunned. All I could do was silently nod along.
After the session, I emailed my colleagues looking for advice. “I want to be accepting and inclusive and all of that,” I wrote, but “I guess I just don’t understand at what point, if ever, a person’s gender identity is indicative of a bigger issue.”
I asked them: “Is there ever a time where acceptance of a person’s identity isn’t freely given?”
The consensus from my colleagues was that it wasn’t a big deal.
“It sounds like this isn’t something that’s ‘broken,’ ” one colleague wrote me back, “so let’s not try to ‘fix’ it.”
“If someone told me they use a litterbox instead of a toilet and they were happy with it and it’s part of their life that brings them fulfillment, then great!” she continued. “I might think it’s weird, but then again, not my life.”
After learning that one of Tamara’s patients identified as “a wounded male dog,” a colleague replied: “If someone told me they use a litterbox instead of a toilet and they were happy with it and it’s part of their life that brings them fulfillment, then great!” I was baffled and alarmed by her unquestioning affirmation. At what point does a change in identity represent a mental health concern, and not something to be celebrated and affirmed? Fortunately, my client never brought up her “xenogender” again. She also isn’t on testosterone due to her father’s disapproval. So I kept these thoughts to myself, and ultimately, in order to keep my job, I let it go.
Another female patient, who transitioned as a teen, serves as a warning of what happens when we passively accept the idea that gender transition will entirely resolve a patient’s mental health issues.
This client, who I started seeing in 2022, is now 23 and rarely leaves the house, spends most of the day in bed playing video games, and envisions no path to working or functioning in the outside world due to a variety of mental health problems. In 2016, this patient was diagnosed with autism, anxiety, and gender dysphoria. Later the diagnoses grew to include depression, Tourette syndrome, and a conversion disorder. In 2018, at age 17, the Mary Bridge Gender Health Clinic prescribed testosterone, despite the fact that this patient is diabetic and one of the hormone’s side effects is that it might increase insulin resistance. The patient’s mother, who has another transgender child, strongly encouraged it.
This patient now has a wispy mustache and a deepened voice, but does not pass as male. It turns out that testosterone, which will be prescribed for life, did not relieve the patient’s other mental illnesses.
My biggest fear about the gender-affirming practices my industry has blindly adopted is that they are causing irreversible damage to our clients. Especially as they are vulnerable people who come to us at their lowest moments in life, and who entrust us with their health and safety. And yet, instead of treating them as we would patients with any other mental health condition, we have been instructed—and even bullied—to abandon our professional judgment and training in favor of unquestioning affirmation.
I am speaking out because nothing will change unless people like me—who know the risks of medicalizing troubled young people—blow the whistle. I am desperate to help my patients.
And I believe, if I don’t speak out, I will have betrayed them.
(note: previously posted this with a lot of repetition because of copy/pasting. This is the fixed version. But if you see any repetition or mistakes please let me know!)
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deusexlachina · 3 months
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Cheeseaged Exocolonist Year 19 2/2: Cement my power by letting people fuck
The finale to my perfect life, in which I reconcile Tangent and Dys, civilization and nature, human and Gardener. And rule over all of it with an iron fist.
CW for discussion of ecofascism. The villains are pretty foul.
My first act as governor is to immediately fire Seeq for attempting to bribe themselves. I install Marzipan in their place. She jokes that she intends to be leader of the opposition, which is funny, because this is a one-party state.
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She is actually not joking; the ending confirms that she leads the opposition. I can only assume that her insincere levity is to make herself look nonthreatening; the last politician to oppose me, Lum, was last seen dragged off by soldiers. He is never mentioned again in this visual novel.
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On my inauguration, the council advised that I spend individual time with everyone. Naturally, I do this in the form of barista therapy, because Tangent needs it and so does Dys. I warn Dys about the dangers of drugs, which he dismisses, presumably because I am telling him this while giving him drugs. Just because I'm a hypocrite doesn't mean it's not good advice.
In between these sessions, Instance comes in to vent about Tangent facing too much pressure, perhaps because she is queen-consort of the most powerful human on this planet. I tell her not to push Tangent too hard. This reduces Helped Tangent even more. This has no mechanical effect, because Tangent doesn't even have enough time to be a supervillain. But it's still sweet to see Instance realize the error of her ways and stop pushing Tangent too hard. Before she kills all non-terrestrial life on the planet.
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Having narrowly achieved 90 Friendship with Vace, he texts me that he's going to go to therapy and apologize to Rex for bullying him for being a furry, redeeming himself a literal month before the end of the game.
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At the end of the year, the Gardeners amass a vast army of animals and genetically-engineered monsters, with the intent of wiping out humanity if we cannot reach an accord. A responsible leader would prepare either for war or for negotiation. However, I am drunk on my own power, so I decide to spend the final month of the game reconciling my wife and brother-in-law.
They share that they've missed each other and felt terrible. Tangent recommends an antidepressant implant. Dys refuses, because I have taught him well and he says no to drugs. Then he sips his second cocktail of the night.
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Having reconciled a decade-long grudge by plying each party with drugs until they are intoxicated enough to talk about their feelings, I am now in a good headspace to negotiate on behalf of humanity. The negotiations go smoothly until Nocticulent demands that we stop fucking.
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I know my people will not stand for this. How will Tammy engage in her favourite pasttime of being pregnant? How will Rex be able to sire a wave of children like a furry Ghengis Khan? As leader, I step forward and renegotiate. This requires a social, mental and physical check, each of which I complete effortlessly because I have a fidget spinner and am stimming constantly, unnerving Nocticulent, who must be unsure if this is some kind of alien sorcery.
Nocticulent is impressed with me, because I have learned a lot "in ten years." I do not correct him that I am trapped in a timeloop, with the combined knowledge of countless lifetimes. He cites my learning as a sign of human potential and thus cause for peace. He does not say whether this decision was informed by my godlike powers or by my wife being a supervillain who can turn his own plagues against him to destroy him at the genetic level. You decide.
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Grateful that I have ended the war, and, more importantly, preserved the right to fuck, my people rejoice, and bow to me as I rule this planet for my long life. I have it all: power, women, fulfillment.
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And my mom is finally proud of me.
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rabarbarzcukrem · 5 months
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Okay I've been meaning to write this post for a while because. Those last few episodes have fucking layers mannnn
So let me start by saying that House and Cuddy's relationship was, sadly, doomed from the very beginning. That's not to say that it didn't have any chance of working out, ever, because they clearly had chemistry and cared about each other. But the circumstances of them getting together, the fact that it was the reason House decided to stay clean makes for an absolutely awful start. It fucks up the dynamic of your relationship - it demands one person to stay for the sake of ensuring the other doesn't relapse, and no one should ever be put under this kind of pressure. Secondly, it was always conditional - which is actually not as bad as it sounds. House is a person who loves pushing boundaries, and Cuddy is a woman who knows her own worth. She, Stacy and even Dominika aren't pushovers - with them, there are lines that House knows he can't cross. Lines that, once crossed, will make them decide it's not worth it and leave him.
And here's where Wilson comes in, because he's exactly this kind of pushover. During one of the therapy sessions House straight up admits that's why he's still his friend - because he can say anything to him and he won't leave. Wilson's affection for him is truly unconditional, and as unhealthy it may be, it's the only kind of relationship that really works for House.
See, he is fundamentally a selfish person. I am not saying that he doesn't have his moments of kindness, but on the most basic level he prioritizes his own needs above everyone else's. He's right when he says he doesn't sacrifice himself. In fact he's incapable of, or perhaps too stubborn to, sacrifice even the smallest amount of his own comfort for the other person, or to simply make the situation easier - a quality that's crucial for, y'know. Existing within society, not to mention maintaining a romantic relationship. He follows his own curiosities with no regard for anything, he will intentionally make his own life harder just to get what he wants, to end up being right. Even in his affection and care for other people he's always centering himself - when Cuddy is hospitalized, he panics. But his fear doesn't motivate him to support her in this trying time, it consumes him to the point he can't even bring himself to visit her. It doesn't matter that she's the one who's sick, or even that her tumor is benign. The only thing that matters is that he is scared.
Someone might say: "well, yeah, but underneath all of this he's actually full of self-hate". And I agree! Except that fact only contributes to his selfishness. You know how anxiety disorders make you worry about what other people think of you to the point you're not actually focusing on them, but only on yourself and your worst qualities? That's exactly what's happening here. In fact, his overall cynicism and pessimism require that of him. If he believes himself a horrible person, and one incapable of change at that, and also believes in the inherent cruelty of the universe and ultimate egoism of all people, of course he ends up unable to connect with anyone. Like when he ends up pushing Stacy away, because he decides it's not even worth it to give them a chance at happiness - making it all about himself again. He thinks he's unlovable, so he acts like a dick. Because he acts like a dick, no one wants to deal with him. This confirms his assumption that he's unlovable, and the cycle continues.
And the reason these last episodes are so gut-wrenching is because all of that gets completely turned on its head. You see, Wilson and his friendship is House's point of reference, the one stable thing in his life, one thing he can be sure of. He's very cautious about depending on anything and anyone else, and yet in Wilson he puts complete trust. During his time in prison, he admits to one of the men there that he's "peepless", because nobody has ever visited him. Yet once he comes back, he's fully ready to fall into the same routine with Wilson, almost as if the possibility of their friendship ending has never crossed his mind. Because he can do unimaginably stupid and cruel things, he can make everyone hate him, but no matter what he does he will not lose Wilson.
Except that when Wilson gets cancer, he has to face the reality that no matter what he does...he will lose him. And the rug is pulled from under his feet.
Once again, we see House repeat the usual pattern of being so scared of losing people that he panics and abandons them at the time they need him the most. He's so terrified of having to not only witness Wilson's death, but keep on living without him, that he gives in to his most self-destructive tendencies. He takes the cowardly way out, because the alternative would require him to get over himself, to get over his fear and insecurities, to endure it for the sake of being there for someone else. He can't bring himself to, he decides it's just not worth the pain.
Except..in those last moments, when he's debating with himself if he should go through with it, he ends up breaking the goddamn pattern. He goes against his self-centeredness, his stagnancy, the features that are the most central to his whole character and opens himself up to change. House! Who has long accepted that people, and especially him, will never change! He sacrifices not only his comfort, not only his core beliefs, but the very thing he lives for - the puzzle, or more specifically, medicine, just to spend these last few months with his best friend. It doesn't matter that it hurts, it doesn't matter that House has lost all hope and doesn't see the point of it all, he will bear it. Because Wilson needs him..and that's enough.
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