#tw: therapy

[idontknowreallywhy]

Estera - Ch 21 - Consult

The only thing more evil than an evil cliff-hangar is not resolving it in any way in the next chapter.

A little Sky and Stars though? That would be good wouldn’t it?

What went before

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John, however, had not been keen.

When Scott had mentioned to him that he’d like to call in on Estera whilst they were in the UK for the TI meeting the following day there had been… a tension.

He hadn’t said anything and appeared content to go along with the plan. But the best part of 3 decades experience of big-brothering told Scott that John was on edge at dinner. Then he’d come back from an evening sea swim with Gordon to find his two nearest brothers deep in conversation in the kitchen. John was pacing and gesticulating, Virgil using the firm, reassuring voice Scott recognised as the one he tended to use on him when he was about to fly off the handle.

Scott backed quickly back around the corner, some instinct telling him his presence would not improve the situation. A frustrated exclamation floated around the corner.

“How can you be so calm? I can’t bear to… we can’t afford to lose him again.”

A reassuring rumble, too quiet for him to hear.

“We don’t know that. What if she triggers another episode? What if he’s rushing in to something not thinking straight and…”

The Virgil rumble interrupted slightly more abruptly.

John trusted Scott’s judgment. From rescue strategy to tactics for managing the TI Board to wrangling The Tinies. Even when they disagreed on the best approach, his brother would advise but in general fall in with Scott’s instinct (whilst making contingency plans in the background of course). In turn, Scott took John’s advice seriously and more often than not adjusted to fit in with it. That’s how it worked, it was how they worked together.

John trusted him to make a good call in everything except, it turned out, in any kind of decision relation to Scott’s own welfare. The fact he could immediately think of five or six reasons that might justify his brother’s view on that point did not prevent the painful knot of hurt and defensiveness forming in Scott’s gut.

He was about to stride around the corner to tell his brother exactly what he thought when a hand rested firmly on his shoulder and Gordon looked up at him, absolute seriousness in his gaze, and slightly shook his head. His little brother then adopted a casual expression and strolled into the kitchen.

“Interesting fact - if trigger avoidance was a good coping mechanism I’d never have set foot in Thunderbird Four.”

The unmistakable sound of the fridge opening and jars being rattled around muffled whatever responses John and Virgil were making and Scott’s heart clenched at the light hearted delivery of such a heavy reminder that his little brother knew the darkness too. Then the thump of the fridge door and click-hiss of ring pull before:

“I’m just saying, oh beloved, ancient and immensely wise bros of mine, that the Old Man is probably aware of what his triggers are and unless she adopted a whole new therapeutic approach with me, Patricia will have never suggested it was a good idea to actively avoid them forever.”

There was a silence.

His very much beloved, much-older-and-definitely-wiser-than-Scott-usually-acknowledged little brother had strolled back round the corner and saluted him before counting down from 5 with his fingers and then nodding in the direction of the kitchen again.

So Scott had gone with the flow and trying to feign the same level of casual, wandered into the kitchen with a cheerful “evening all”. He pretended not to notice the flickers of awkwardness on both faces and made a beeline for the coffee machine. “Beverage?”

“It’s 10pm”

“It’s 10am somewhere, surely?” John raised an eyebrow. “Fine, just for me then.” Scott pressed the button and watched the coffee flow into the cup as he collected his thoughts and tried to ignore the silent conversation going on behind him. He carefully added the tiniest splash of cold water before taking a sip and turning back to them:

“So, I was thinking while we’re in London there might be a good moment for me to pop in on Patricia if she’s got a slot free.”

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The receptionist looked up and gave a dashing smile as Scott paced back past him for the umpteenth time.

“Not long now, sir. Might I get you another hot drink?”

“Please.”

“Coffee extra strong, right?”

Scott inclined his head with a smile.

John had a theory about Scott and caffeine, apparently, he’d said as much on the flight over but hadn’t let on what it was yet. The trip over in Tracy Two had been slower than Scott would have preferred but John’s quiet suggestion that he’d prefer to use the jet rather than One - just in case Scott wanted him to pilot back - seemed a reasonable compromise.

It was easier to talk in TT than in One, and so they did, off and on. Mostly TI related or brothers related. But comfortable. John seemed relieved that Scott was going to talk his idea through with someone who knew what they were talking about and for the moment, that was enough.

Scott hadn’t made any plans though, he didn’t want to set something up and then cancel. He just had to hope she would be available when… if… he asked. If not, there could be another day. It didn’t always have to be now or never…

He hadn’t noticed the door opening.

“Tracy?”

Here goes.

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John was waiting outside with the fast-becoming-traditional take away coffees. Scott raised his cup in salute and nodded his thanks as they wandered over the crossing to the park and grabbed a bench overlooking the water.

“How was it?”

“Different.”

“How so?”

“Normally I crawl in there a bit of a wreck. It was interesting to… not.”

“A positive kind of different then?”

“Mmm.” Scott sighed and looked up at his brother who was regarding him with tangible patience. “So, do you want a blow by blow account or the executive summary?”

“Whatever you want to give me.”

Scott leaned back on the bench and watched a couple of ducks swoop down and land on the pond, one gliding in smooth as silk, the other making a complete hash of it and sending up a tidal wave of spray. He could almost sense the first bird’s eye roll.

“We spent” he checked his watch and his eyes widened in surprise “nearly 75 minutes discussing my known triggers and how I approach each of them. Most I don’t actively avoid and can mostly just ride it out if they turn up… dogs, snow, rust…”

“Rust? I didn’t know about that one.”

“It doesn’t feature much. Hooray for cahelium, I guess?”

“And a strict maintenance schedule.”

“Indeed. The other kind, like needles or being stuck in the infirmary or, you know, ‘having malaria’” Scott added air quotes to try to lighten that one “I try to avoid but often don’t have a lot of choice so it is what it is but I do find them… difficult to manage.”

He sipped his coffee and tried not to think about how difficult.

“I understand. So… which is the girl?”

“I don’t know yet that Estera” he placed a subtle emphasis on her name “is either. It might just have been the conversation we had.”

“Does that make a difference?”

“I guess not. If we meet, it will probably come up at some point. It could happen again. And then maybe you and the others would have to… help… me. Again.”

He sighed.

“Is it worth it, Scott?”

Scott reached out and took John’s hand from where it rested on the bench between them.

“You’re always looking out for me John, I know that. And I do appreciate it. I know you’d rather I didn’t take so many risks and I guess it would be easier on you all if I just moved on and didn’t pursue this friendship. But… I think I have to try? I want to try. I think it might be good for me to try, even if it does end up going wrong. Can you understand that?”

John squeezed Scott’s fingers between his own and nodded. No words were necessary.

Scott blinked rapidly and looked away. A pair of dogs were chasing each other’s tails in the distance, too far away to hear. He breathed out slowly and pondered the fact that yet again he’d felt able to share 90% of the volume of information with his brother but not the bit that was nagging at him most insistently.

Patricia never told him what to do, that wasn’t how it worked. No doubt she’d had hundreds of ex-military clients just desperately wanting someone in authority to give them a list of orders to follow. Not that Scott had ever been particularly good at unquestioningly complying with directions… but sometimes an uncomplicated “how to” crib-sheet would be really welcome.

Instead, when they had occasion to discuss a decision with which he was faced, she might give some limited general information, but mostly invited him to use his own logic to work through likely outcomes, suggested some others. She took no crap and often bluntly called him out on his (usually negative) assumptions and thought patterns. Sometimes he’d go away and think, other times he’d come to a decision then and there but she’d never express an opinion on whether she thought it was the right one. He’d tried to read her expression so many times but it was always impenetrable. She never told him what to do or not to do. That wasn’t how it worked.

Today for the first time in nearly ten years she’d broken that rule. As he’d put his hand on the door handle and turned back to express his thanks as always she had looked up from her notes and frowned ever so slightly at him:

“One more thing. You might find that emotions run particularly high to start with, it might be a good idea to bear that in mind.”

Scott had apparently failed to hide his lack of comprehension as to her point because with the faintest hint of an eye-roll, Patricia clarified:

“For heaven’s sake, Tracy… don’t sleep with her.”

In response to which he’d done a stellar impression of a goldfish, nodded and hurriedly backed out of the room.

Given her speciality, they’d never had cause to discuss that annoyingly persistent facet of his public reputation that refused to die no matter how unjust it might be (or how many articles EOS tampered with). It wasn’t particularly important what his trauma therapist thought about it anyway, it just wasn’t relevant and so it didn’t come up. But… surely after all these years, she knew him better than that? He wasn’t sure whether to be embarrassed or outraged, settling in the end for confused. He hadn’t been thinking of Estera in that way, not more than a fleeting, barely conscious acknowledgment she was a woman with features he generally found attractive. Anyway, given the memories he was struggling with, thankfully false but still horribly potent, that was not a headspace he was going anywhere near.

And given the look on John’s face right now… he was going have to make that really clear before anyone got overexcited.

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#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #john tracy #tb estera #estera #idontknowreallywhy fanfic #Tw: therapy #I’ve had very limited experience of GOOD therapy so sorry if I got this wrong #tw: ptsd

[dekuphilia]

PSYCHOANALYZE

Pairing: therapist!baji keisuke x patient!reader

Warnings: nsft content, doctor/patient relationship, inaccurate representation of therapy, cream pie, cervix fucking, oral (m. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), mentions of a previous relationship (baji), reader is touch starved and a people pleaser, slight dom/sub if you squint, afab reader, facefucking, sizekink, strength kink, pet names

a/n: this is a part of the @treehouse-network​ server collab! my prompt was hospital/doctor and the character i got was baji (obviously) 

Note: all characters are aged up to 21+

nsft under the cut

You had grown to hate going to therapy, the office was so small, often leaving you standing as you waited for your appointment. The atmosphere was so off-putting, the blinding fluorescent, the odd scent of the office, the itchy chairs in the waiting area. On top of the uncomfortable scenery, you weren’t very fond of your therapist, she often overlooked things or blatantly said things you didn’t need to hear.

You still showed up though, every Wednesday, you found yourself sitting in the lobby, awaiting your appointment. There was no real reason you continued to show up, but you did. For nearly a year, you sat through hour-long appointments that seemed to waste your time. Part of you wanted to find a new therapist, someone who would listen, and take your problems seriously, so you did.

As soon as you arrived home, you began searching for other offices in your area, taking note of all of the ones you thought might be worth a shot at calling. After tediously searching, you stumbled upon one that piqued your interest, Dr. Baji Keisuke.

As soon as you woke up the next day, you called the office of the therapist you had found online. The receptionist was quick to set you up with an appointment at your nearest convenience, assuring you that you would find comfort there. There was a short waiting list, so you hoped this man would be a good therapist, able to meet your needs.

Sadly for you, you had to wait nearly a month for your first appointment, leaving you wondering why his office was so busy. You found yourself looking more into the mysterious man, typing his name into your browser, and scrolling through a few articles. After reading a bit about the man in question, you discovered that he was quite young, just a few years older than you. He must’ve been quite smart, you thought, seeming as if he had been in the field for nearly five years. 

You continued scrolling for a bit, finally clicking over to the ‘photos’ tab of google, shocked to find that he was quite attractive, in one of the photos, he was sitting in a chair with leather upholstery, long raven hair flowing over broad shoulders, bronze eyes staring at you in a narrow gaze. He looked intimidating.

You looked a bit longer at the photos of him, your mind wandering a bit as you took in all of his features. Maybe it was due to being touch starved, but you wouldn’t stop thinking about how he would look between your thighs, lips pressed firmly against your clit. If he would hold your hips down or allow you to grind on his face as he devoured you. You shifted awkwardly in your seat, a soft sigh releasing from your lips. You hadn’t even met the man yet, and considering he was going to be your therapist, you knew your fantasies wouldn’t come to fruition. But it wouldn’t hurt to dream, right?

The month seemed to drag on, your anxiety growing stronger as the date of your appointment neared. It was finally the day you could start over, get things off your chest, and meet Dr. Keisuke. You knew he couldn’t solve all of your problems for you, but you hoped meeting him would help in some way, allowing you to let things out as you desperately need to.

As you stood in front of the large building, nervousness bubbled in your chest, leaving you trembling as you walked inside. You neared the reception desk, waiting for the attendant to look up from his computer.

“Hello, you must be here for your 3 o’clock appointment with Baji?” a man with lilac hair and kind eyes types away at his computer, eyes flickering up every so often to meet yours.

You give a subtle nod, clearing your throat, “I am,” You offer a sheepish smile, “I filled out the paperwork online and emailed it last week.” 

“Ah yes!” the man hummed, “It’s right here, you’re all set then. You can take a seat over there,” a boney hand raised, motioned towards a few simple chairs, “And he’ll be ready for you in about ten minutes. If there’s anything you need, let me know!” he smiled.

“Thank you,” you nodded, taking a seat near the window, taking in your surroundings, the building was large, but it wasn’t very showy, the decor was simple, and it was very quiet, the sound of keyboard clicks surrounding the room. It was comforting, you thought, being able to relax for a few minutes before pouring your heart out to someone you had never met.

You hoped things would be better this time, that you could make much-needed progress, that he wouldn’t just brush you off.

After a few minutes of waiting, a woman walked past you, standing in front of the reception desk, just as you had moments ago, “Same time next week?” the receptionist glanced up, waiting for a response.

“Yes, I’ll see you next week, Mitsuya, thank you!” 

Once she exited the building, you were left alone, waiting yet again.

Luckily, you didn’t have to wait much longer, “Miss y/n,” the receptionist, Mitsuya, you assumed, called, “He’ll see you now, his office is right around the corner.” he offered a soft smile as you stood up, padding down the hallway until you saw an opened door.

This was it, you thought to yourself, raising a tremoring fist to knock on the door, “Please, do come in.” 

You pushed down all of the thoughts running rapidly in your mind and slowly stepped into his office, closing the door behind yourself. A sigh of relief passed your lips as you accessed your surroundings, the room was quite simple really, a large mahogany desk creating a barrier between the two of you, a few filing cabinets pushed against the walls, a decent-sized window behind your new therapist. You noticed the lack of decore, and photos, assuming he was a private person. You wondered if he had a family, he was quite attractive, so you assumed so.

The tapping of a pen against wood drew you back to reality and you scrambled to take a seat in front of the desk, folding your hands in your lap, “Sorry,” you muttered, not meeting Dr. Keisuke’s eyes, “Got a bit distracted.” You let out an awkward laugh.

“There’s no need to be nervous,” he spoke softly, glancing at his computer monitor, “I’ve already reviewed your file, it seems we have a lot to talk about, hm?”

“Ah, right.” you nodded, finally meeting his gaze in a stolen glance, “I wasn’t sure what to expect for the first appointment, so I’m a bit anxious.” 

“That’s okay, I’m just going to ask you a few questions,” his gaze was fixated on you as he spoke, leaving you wanting to sink into the chair you sat in, “if that’s okay with you. S’mostly just for your file.”

You nodded in agreement, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. Though he seemed kind, he was rather intimidating. Bronze eyes held a mixture of emotions as he went down the list, making sure to listen as you explained your responses. He seemed interested in what you had to say, taking note of each answer.

Your gaze fixated on his hands as he typed away at his computer, fingers flexing as he moved quickly, You noticed the veins that littered the area, wondering if they trailed up his arms. He let out a huff after typing out your next response.

“Sorry, you’ll have to give me a moment,” the clicking sound stopped as he took a moment to roll up the cuffs of the white button-up shirt he was wearing, folding the cuffs into themselves until they were halfway up his forearm.

You couldn’t seem to look away, stopping mid-thought as you watched, softly nibbling on your bottom lip, something about the way he moved so effortlessly as you nearly sat on the edge of your seat, waiting for his next move.

“It seems we only have about 10 minutes left,” A husky voice broke you from your trance, “I think I’ve gotten everything I need for your file, so we can start next week.” he flashed you a smile, fangs on display.

It was the first time you had seen him smile, most of your session a scowl covered his face, though he did seem attentive.

“Thank you, Dr. Keisuke.” you smiled in return, heat flowing to your cheeks.

“You can just call me Baji,” he leaned forward, the scent of his cologne engulfing you, “No need to be so formal.” he let out a soft chuckle.

“Oh right,” you let out a breath, finally loosening up a bit, “Well, thank you then, Baji.”

Nearly a month had passed since your first appointment with Baji Keisuke. You had been to his office a total of 3 times since then, once a week, just as you had before. Things were different though, rather than dreading your appointments, you looked forward to them. He really seemed to care about helping you, you could see the raw passion in his eyes as he listened to you, and hear the emotion in his voice as he spoke. It was simple things that made your time enjoyable, not to mention he was very cute, you had maybe developed a small crush on your therapist, but you would never admit that and definitely not him.

You were sure these feelings would pass, you just enjoyed the attention he paid you, never taking his eyes off of you as he spoke, even consoling you when you would pout over something, you were just attention-starved, you assured yourself. This would pass.

As you approached the building, you pushed the glass door open before making your way to the reception counter, letting Mitsuya know you were there for your appointment. Luckily, you didn’t have to wait as long as usual, a woman you didn’t recognize rushed out of the office without a word. It was odd to see someone you were familiar with, as you hadn’t missed an appointment since you started seeing him. You tried to shake the thought that maybe she wasn’t a client from your mind, but it was still lingering as you waited.

“He’s in a bit of a mood today,” Mitsuya said in a sing-song tone, “but you can head back whenever you're ready.”

You muttered a soft ‘thank you’ before making your way down the hall, peeking into Baji’s office. You took note of his disheveled hair, the way the space below his eyes was a dark shade of purple.

“Hey,” you hummed, taking a seat in your usual spot.

You wondered why he seemed so off today, what had brought his mood down so substantially. You had the urge to ask but decided against it. You knew it was his job to listen to you, not the other way around, but as he let out a sigh, the urge to ask only grew.

“What would you like to talk about this week?” he pushed a strand of hair out of his face, leaning forward on his desk to meet your eye line.

“I’m not sure,” you trailed off, the large stack of files aside his computer catching your gaze, “Looks like you’ve been busy today,” you commented.

“You have no idea.” he let out a huff, rolling his eyes, “S’been a shit show today.”

Before you could stop yourself, you responded, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Well, for starters,” he motioned towards the large stack of paperwork you had been looking at, “I have all of these files to go through,” he sighed, “and on top of that, My girlfriend–” you felt your heart drop, but he was quick to correct himself, “Ex-girlfriend, just barged into my office 5 minutes before this to bitch at me.” He looked so frustrated as he spoke, raking a hand through raven hair, “And now I’m venting to a client, which I should not be doing.”

“It’s okay, really!” you replied quickly, wanting to hear more about his personal life, he had never spoken like this before, he was normally so calm and reserved, but at that moment, you could practically see the anger streaming through his veins.

“I really shouldn’t say much more,” a groan passed his lips as tossed his head back against his chair, stretching his arms across the headrest. You couldn't help but stare as the white button-up he wore rose up slightly, revealing a small sliver of his toned abdomen. 

You knew he was speaking to you, ranting on about how horrible his day was, but you couldn’t bring yourself to pay attention, gaze fixated on the exposed skin. He must have noticed your lack of attention, calling out to you as he caught where your gaze was centered.

Baji leaned forward, a smirk covering his lips as he spoke, “You’re not a very good listener, are you?” he teased, tugging down at the hem of his shirt.

Embarrassment coursed through your veins the moment you had been caught, averting your gaze, “Sorry!” you squeaked, hiding your face in your hands, “that was so inappropriate of me,” you trailed off.

“Don’t be.” Baji couldn’t help but chuckle, you were just so cute, hiding from him, your flustered state only egging him on, “I don’t mind actually,” he chose his words carefully, hoping not to scare you off. He knew he shouldn’t pursue you in any way, but you were so kind, so sweet every week, staring up at him with soft eyes as you spoke, taking his advice to heart.

You fidgeted in your seat, cheeks flushing as you were eye to eye with him, you knew you shouldn't be feeling this way, not from a few words, yet your arousal seemed to pool between your thighs the more bronze eyes gazed at you with such hunger. 

“Let’s talk about you then, since you're having trouble listening,” he flashed you a smile, “unless you’d rather continue daydreaming?” he taunted.

Though he wasn’t saying anything inappropriate, tension was thick in the air, hovering over you like a cloud. Your mind raced as you tried to think of a response, thoughts of his hands roaming your body clouding your mind, thoughts you shouldn’t be having about your therapist. 

Luckily for you, your session was nearly an end, only a few minutes left until you were able to return home and hide shamefully in your bed, “I’m just a bit spacey today,” you commented, averting your eyes from his intense gaze, “Maybe next week will be better.” you glanced down at your phone, taking note of the time, “I should probably get going anyways, thank you, sir.”

You awkwardly stood, walking to the doorway without a word, “See you next week then,” Baji replied, watching as you exited his office and made your way down the hall.

Wednesday couldn’t come sooner, you were having a horrible week and you weren’t sure if you could handle much more, you had nearly been fired from your job due to an issue made by your supervisor, there was a leak in your apartment, and you had locked yourself out twice this week. The list just seemed to grow as time went on, adding to your sour mood. By the date of your appointment, you had to drag yourself out of bed and to the building. You hadn’t wanted to go if you were being honest, the urge to stay in bed and hide from the world only grew as rain poured down just as you left your apartment. When you arrived at the building, you made your way to the restroom, giving yourself a moment to breathe and collect your thoughts. 

You knew getting things off your chest would help, but at the moment, it didn’t seem like anything would help. With a sigh, you exited the restroom, not bothering to stop at the reception desk as you normally would. You rushed down the hall, stopping in front of baji’s office. You stared at the door for a moment before knocking. 

A pout covered your lips as you waited for a response, after a minute passed, you knocked again, pressing your ear against the wood of the door.

You could hear rustling, and mumbling through the wood, but everything was muffled and you couldn’t make out a single word. With a huff, your hand ghosted the doorknob, checking to see if it was locked. Much to your pleasure, it wasn’t. You took a deep breath, pushing the door open, “I’ve been waiting out here for five minutes.” you let out a frustrated groan as you rounded the corner, stopping in your tracks as you noticed the blush covering Baji’s face, the way he was sprawled out in his chair, thighs spread, causing your eyes to drift downward until you realized why he was so flustered.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, you knew you should look away, leave his office even, but you were frozen in place. Your mind runs while, who was he thinking of? Surely he knew it was time for your appointment, he knew you were coming, didn’t he?

“If you’re going to stand there and stare,” he let out a huff, fisting his cock lazily as he met your gaze, “At least close the door.” He flashed you a grin.

“Right!” you squeaked, rushing to shut the door behind you. You knew this was wrong, but your mind was running wild, thoughts of the past week pushed aside to bring in new ones of Baji. He overtook your every thought, sinking his fangs into you. You were right where he wanted you, flustered, vulnerable, and aroused.

“Care to help me relieve some stress?” bronze eyes met yours with such emotion, there was no way you could deny him, giving a small nod, “come here then.” he motioned for you. 

You padded towards him until you were near his desk, “Down.” he said simply. You dropped to your knees, positioning yourself beneath his desk. You stared up at him with doe eyes, waiting for his next move, Baji was quick to lean forward, stroking himself near your face, “You’re so cute,” he commented, drawing his tip closer to your lips, “Open.” 

You did exactly as he asked, lips falling open to welcome him, within seconds you felt the head of his cock resting against your tongue, the taste of pre-cum hitting your taste buds. Eagerly, you lapped at his cock, placing kitten licks all over the tip until you were satisfied. Wrapping your lips around him, you took more in your mouth until he was nearly in your throat, fighting the urge to gag around him. A groan rumbled in his chest, his fingers lacing in your hair to guide you.

You did your best to take him down your throat, the warmness causing Baji to buck his hips, leaving you gagging around his length, “Fuck, M’sorry” he tossed his head back, eyes glued shut as you continued taking him, despite your sputtering around him, “Just like that.” he continued guiding you, forcing his cock down your throat until tears pricked the corners of your eyes.

Though he hadn’t touched you, you could feel your arousal pooling between your thighs, the thought of him using you for his own pleasure only turning you on more. Dark eyebrows knitted together as he stared down at you, watching his cock bulge in your throat. You were so precious, letting him take out his frustration on you.

Your dainty hands grasped his thighs, steadying yourself the best you could as he continued to use your throat, groans filling the space of the small office. You should’ve worried that someone would hear him, but your mind was overtaken by arousal, too dumb to grasp onto a single thought. 

“As much as I’d like to cum down your throat,” Baji slowly pulled his cock from your lips, smearing the spit that coated it across your cheek, “I’d much rather cum in your cute little cunt.”

In an instant, you were pulled to your feet and bent over his desk, the skirt you wore flipped over your back to expose your underwear. Your skin felt like it was on fire as he palmed the fat of your ass, squeezing it roughly, “These are cute,” he commented, thumbing the flimsy material, “S’a shame I’m going to ruin them.”

Much to your surprise, he tugged on the material until it ripped, the frayed material falling to the floor. A shiver overtook you as you realized how strong he was, he could throw you around like a rag doll if he wanted to.

“Don’t be nervous,” fingers ghosted your slit, collecting your arousal, “M’not gonna break ya.” he chuckled, slipping a finger inside of you.

You let out a soft gasp, leaning into his touch, “Please,” you whined, “Please don’t tease.”

You were desperate to feel something, desperate to let go and not worry about all of the things bothering you, you needed this, needed to be mindless for a while.

“You’re an eager little thing, ain’tcha?” he teased, thumbing your clit, “Got a lot on your mind, hm?”

A pout covered your lips, “Don’t psychoanalyze me right now.” you huffed.

“Oh hush,” he pushed another finger inside of you, pumping them at a steady pace as he spoke, “You’re the one who walked in on me,” he taunted, “It’s my job to psychoanalyze you anyways.” Fingers withdrew from your aching cunt, leaving you with a wet squelch.

“I need you,” you whined, “Please Baji, help me feel better.” 

Without a word, he pressed on your lower back, urging you to lay across his desk. Being the people pleaser you are, you did exactly that, swiping the contents of his desk onto the floor, cleaning a spot four yourself.

“You’re going to help me clean that up,” he tsked, lining himself up with your entrance, one large hand holding you in place, the other guiding his shaft into your drooling pussy.

“S’so big,” you let out a whimper, attempting to inch away from him, but Baji had you anchored in place.

“You can take it, can’t you?” he teased, bottoming out inside of you, your gummy walls sucking him in, “There you go,” he let out a sigh, resting inside of you for a moment, “Aren’t you a good girl?”

Your body tensed as you tried to accommodate his size, letting out a rigid breath, you try your best to relax, “Please move,” you whined, “Please, want to feel you.” 

“Relax for me,” Baji’s hand ghosted your back, tracing imaginary patterns, “Can’t move if you’re squeezing me like that.” a groan passed his lips.

Within seconds, the pain was replaced with pleasure, your gummy walls finally allowing Baji to move. His pace was slow, caring even, but that wasn’t what you were looking for, you craved dominance, you needed him to use you, take his frustrations out on you, and you needed to let go. 

“Harder,” you whined, peeking back at him, “I can handle it.” 

The simple phase ripped through the last bit of restraint he had, his hips snapping to meet yours at a rapid pace, “Can you?” he taunted, taking your hair in his fist for better leverage, yanking you back until your body was flush against his, the material of his shirt scratching your skin. You were at a loss for words, downing in pleasure as his thrusts sped up, nearly knocking you right back down onto the wood in front of you, “I asked you a question!” he barked.

“Yes!” you gasped, taken aback by the tone in his voice, his words going straight to your core. “I can handle it! More please,” you slurred, pleasure coursing through your veins and fogging your thoughts.

“I hope so.” He remarked, nearly chuckling as he continued to ram into you, bullying his cock into you until it was pressing against your cervix, “Can you feel that?” a hand firmly pressed against your stomach, right where his cock was. 

The room filled with sounds of pain and pleasure as you neared your climax, the feeling of his cock kissing your cervix becoming too much for you to handle. You felt like you were in heaven, high on euphoria, endorphins rushing through your veins as Baji’s thrusts continued.

“Please don’t stop,” you urged, letting out a whine, “M’so close.”  With eyes rolled back and a blush covering your body, you neared your orgasm, nearly releasing on his cock, but you waited, waited for his approval, for him to tell you it was okay. Your desire to please taking over, “Can I cum? Please Baji!”

Your pleas were music to his ears, the pathetic whines escaping your lips, the fucked out expression on your face, how could he deny you?

“S’okay,” he voiced, placing a kiss on the nape of your neck, “You can cum, baby.”

Baby, he called you baby. You were coming undone before you knew it, pleasure washing over your body as your arousal covers his cock, soaking your thighs and the black dress pants Baji was clad in.

“Oh fuck,” a growl leaves Baji’s lips, the feeling of your sweet cunt squeezing his cock becoming too much for him, your cute moans, the huffs of breaths escaping your lips, it was just too much. With a final buck of his hips, he released inside of you, painting your walls white with his thick cum. He didn’t stop there though, offering you a few more thrusts of his hips as you collapsed onto his desk, both of your arousals mixing inside of you and dripping down your bare thigh as he slowly withdrew himself from your heat.

With a tremoring hand, he quickly stuffed his cock back into his pants, tugging up the zipper. A pang of sadness ran through your chest as you turned to collect yourself. Baji was quick to grab your hand, turning you around to pull you into his chest, “Thank you.” he murmured, placing a soft kiss on the tip of your shoulder.

You let out a breath, collecting your thoughts the best you could before responding, “I wasn’t expecting that,” you mumbled, finally regaining control of your mind, “Oh my god, we actually did that.”

Baji couldn’t help but let out a laugh,” We did,” he flashed you a grin, “I’d like to do it again sometime.”

Again? You were sure this was a one-time ordeal, Sure he would be done with you by the time he finished, rushing you out of his office.

“I think I’d like to take you out as well.” he took a step back, grabbing a pen and a pad of sticky notes from the floor that had been discarded from his desk prior, scribbling on the neon yellow, “Call me if you’d like.” he held his hand out, offering you the small sheet. 

You took the note, holding it in your palm for a moment before speaking, “I’d like that.” You offer a sheepish smile, “I’ll see you next week?” 

“I’ll be here, of course.” he grinned, shoving his hands in his pocket.

“Thank you again,” you murmured, turning on your heels to exit his office. You adjusted your skirt the best you could, hoping no one would notice your lack of underwear or the mixture of arousal running down your thighs.

You took a deep breath as you walked past the reception desk and to the front door, noticing the shade of pink covering Mitsuya’s cheeks, “I see you had a good appointment this week,” lavender eyes raked down your figure, causing a similar shade of pink to cover your own cheeks, “I’ll see you next time then!”

#baji x reader #baji keisuke #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo rev smut #baji keisuke smut #baji keisuke x reader #tokyo rev x you #tokyo rev x y/n #baji x y/n #baji smut #tw: breeding #tw: therapy #tw: size kink #tw: strength kink #afab reader

[jesus-said-chill]

I emailed a clinic for a therapy session for my social anxiety!

They called but I didn’t answer 🥳

I will try to call back tomorrow, but I just find it very funny tbh, like how am I suppose to get over this if I can’t even answer them lmao

In the process of deleting all of my socials just to focus on myself and family in the new year but I just love my little watcher blog so much. It brings me joy.

I’m honestly just speaking to the void to get these thoughts and feelings out before I explode. 😚

#not unsolved or watcher related #adult life is very lonely sometimes #sorry for being cringe on main #tw: therapy #tw: anxiety #might delete later

[in-love-with-writing-whump]

Prompt:

Whumpee sat stiffly in the chair, the therapist, A, across from them looking through a clipboard with information. "You've made quite the name for yourself as a hero, Whumpee."

They shrugged. "It’s what I do. I look out for people."

A nodded, putting down their clipboard. "Why is that? You've done so much. It's a lot for one person."

Whumpee ran their hand through their hair. "I have to."

A frowned. "Why do you have to, Whumpee?"

Because no one can go through what I went through. I have to protect them. No one deserves that.

They shrugged. A decided to move on. "Whumpee, you look out for a whole team of people. You're a leader. But if you're looking out for them, who looks out for you?"

"...I do." Whumpee choked on a tired laugh.

A smiled weakly. "Anyone else?"

Whumpee didn't meet their gaze. No. Of course not.

#whumpee #whump prompt #team whump #tw: trauma #superhero whumpee #hero whumpee #tw: angst #tw: fear #tw: therapy

[system-vent]

System vent moment! TW therapy mention

I’m so annoyed at our alters! They never show up for therapy and now our therapist thinks we have DDNOS instead of DID because these people WONT SHOW UP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It’s like I DO have separate “identities” or whatever they just hate saying their names and acting like they are themselves.

It just sucks lol

.

#did vent #osdd vent #tw: therapy #sys vent #system vent

[thevoidisscreamingbackatyou]

mikey has therapist friend syndrome 100%. in this essay i will-

Possible TW's: Therapist friend syndrome, possibly ooc character, mentions of mental illness

lmk if theres anything else <3 stay safe guys!!

-describe a little bit how this may actually be for him, as somebody who has experienced this syndrome(im all good dw lol)

but yeah this idea wouldnt leave me so yall get to suffer with me <3

anyways lets get into it!!

so first of all, therapist friends are essentially people who are NOT licensed therapists or anything of the sort; theyre people who often get vented to and who often act as a makeshift therapist to their loved ones. this definition may be wrong but its how i view it so this will probably explain why i get stuff wrong later on lol.

im not sure just how ooc it is to say that mikeys the therapist friend, but considering dr. feelings and dr. delicate touch, id say its not that ooc.(i have watched the rottmnt show btw, i just skipped some episodes so there are gaps in my knowledge.)

mikey may be the most emotionally mature and the most in-tune with his emotions, but that doesn't always mean he's able to cope better than his brothers. being a therapist friend, or brother in this case, makes him more likely to seek therapy or find a way to be mentally healthy, but it does not guarantee it.

he could be the kind where he always puts up a happy face in order to make sure that people feel comfortable talking to him, because he's okay, right? and i feel like this was him for at least a little bit. he might've grown to seek help for himself after the invasion or smthng but for a bit he was probably like this.

this would've affected his mental health a LOT, especially in his family. i feel like splinter's depression definitely contributed to mikey's need to be a therapist, and the trauma the brothers endured only made it worse.

his art can be seen as a coping mechanism, and one of the healthiest ones in the family. creative block would be a problem, but otherwise it would be good for him.

i honestly don't have any idea how to express much more of this, so i'll probably add to this post later-but yeah here's my analysis of mikey as the therapist because i relate to him way too much!! :)

#rise mikey #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt michelangelo #rise michelangelo #rise of the tmnt #save rottmnt #save rise of the tmnt #rise of the turtles #rise of the tmnt movie #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt movie #rise movie #character analysis #character study #tw: therapy #tw: therapist friend #tw: mental illness #please elaborate if you want!!

[lazymblr]

#life of... #lia #noelle #tw: therapy

[ambivalenceshefelt]

Location: Harley's office with @harleynovabaker

It was an odd day for Nikki to be sitting at a therapist's office. But it was part of the deal with her dad; they let her be and she went to therapy twice a month. It was a pretty sweet deal considering.

The girl out front had sent her to wait in the office, said the doctor had to take a call outside and it was fine. She wasn't sure it was appropriate but there she was, inspecting the room. This was okay, this was fine.

A woman walked in and Nikki noted she hadn't noticed her yet. If this was Doctor Baker, then she was young. They may might have a shot here. She cleared her throat. "Um hi..." she waved. "Guess I'm your next appointment. Nicole Keaton. Nikki." she chuckled. God, it had really been a while since she last saw a new doctor...

#c: harley baker #aurorabay.starter #tw: therapy

[blustering-old-fool]

Ooc: sooooo mun had therapy today, and was told to...more or less confront parents about their verbal abuse and teasing.

Called parent in the middle of the session and was vocal about the teasing and how I didn't like it and how it effected me.

Now I'm just sitting here waiting for.... chaos... cause they're gonna come yelling

#ooc : depression #tw: therapy #tw : parent issues #in panic mode

[idontknowreallywhy]

Estera - Ch 20 - Thread

Things are ticking along nicely aren’t they? Could so easily leave it there… but… nah, life isn’t that easy chaps.

It’s been a while since we last saw the rambling chaos that is (in my imagining at least) the inside of Scott’s head. So we shall have a little catch up with that. And a smidge of Estera’s too, just to keep it even.

Recrudescence (to which this is a sequel) and earlier chapters are here.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

The interior designer had done everything possible to make it not feel like a clinical setting but you only needed to come a couple of times before the high-end-hotel-lobby look developed an association with the reasons behind the reason you were there.

Scott sat in the waiting room and tried to lose himself in the wallpaper. John had managed to spend 7 minutes tracing a continuous line through the swirls from one side of the room to the other but frankly Scott didn’t have that sort of patience.

He sighed and looked up at the ceiling, casting his mind back to the time they had come to see Patricia together. It had been good. Awful. Genuinely awful. He shivered. But objectively a good thing. As she often said “It usually needs to get worse before it gets better”. He couldn’t help worry that sitting there and telling his younger brother of some of the horrors had made things more ‘worse’ than they needed to be, however. And then hearing John’s calm but clearly emotional description of witnessing his elder brother relive that time while feverish and incoherent…

Scott hissed quietly to himself. It went against everything he stood for. He was supposed to have been the strong one, he was supposed to have shielded them from all of that.

Too late now. His clear cut role as the protector had shifted irrevocably. He knew John, Virgil too, would now always feel more of a drive to look after him because they’d seen him at his worst, his weakest. He hated it. He hated it so much he wanted to burn the last three months from history and restore their innocent belief in their big brother’s invincibility again.

But.

The revelation had been what he saw in John’s eyes that afternoon.

The horror, he’d expected.

The simmering anger, yes.

But it was what he didn’t see but had dreaded for a decade if the truth ever escaped in this way - the disappointment, the pity. They were missing, miraculously, gloriously absent from his brother’s reaction. What he saw instead was respect and admiration and acceptance and it had blown his mind. The idea that he could so utterly fail to be what he was supposed to be and John would still look at him that way was… well. He guessed he’d be processing that one for a while yet.

Scott hadn’t told him everything though. Not the very darkest part. He’d said only what was necessary to explain what his little brother had been forced to endure with him. He hadn’t mentioned Her: His first great failure.

Then she’d exploded back into his life and it turned out that she wasn’t.

He hadn’t.

They… hadn’t.

Ten years of nightmares as his subconscious picked through what they’d told him and treated him to the lowlights. What she’d endured because of his arrogance in thinking he could make a difference. How much more painful and humiliating her death was thanks to him. He’d seen it so vividly he’d sometimes woken believing he’d somehow been the perpetrator, having to race to the bathroom as his stomach let him know it was as disgusted with him as his mind was.

He knew now his mistake had been to show weakness. His reaction had clearly tipped them off that this… THIS was a way to torture him where more conventional methods had been less than effective. He should have spotted the story became more embellished each time. Should have realised what they were doing. They’d even brought an interpreter to his cell, just to make absolutely sure he understood every last detail. The man had looked so sick, so disgusted by the words he was forced to say. He wondered what happened to the guy… if it ever kept him up at night too.

If only Scott could let him know it wasn’t true. They hadn’t… he hadn’t.

She wasn’t.

Because it meant everything. He blinked back tears as the relief washed over him yet again. If they’d only known it was much easier to make him cry with relief than with pain.

Nothing was immediate though, not even Thunderbird One and especially not the process of persuading his unconscious mind that things had changed. Probably 75% of the times an image of her came to mind it was… not a good one. As Virgil had suggested, every time it happened he tried to imagine her face as she’d sat across the table and teased him about the action figure. The little grin and flash of mischief in her eyes. But that memory was weak and fleeting compared to how reinforced the decade old ones were.

Which was why he was here to see Patricia.

Because he wanted to see Estera again.

Yes, of course it was partly to check she was ok… he was still worried about her. She still seemed very alone, although she had at least opened up a little in her messages he was concerned that might be her only outlet beyond the weekly half hour session with the state-provided counsellor. Oh, and the dog. Seemed like she talked to the dog a lot.

But the real, selfish reason was he needed to see her with his physical eyes again. To reinforce his belief she was real, that he wasn’t imagining it. So he could more easily picture her alive and happy. Hopefully then his subconscious would catch up and maybe sleep would be less… complicated. Was it ok to want to do something just because it would make him happier? People often said it was… he’d just never been convinced.

If she hadn’t been keen, he’d forget it. He wasn’t THAT selfish. But she seemed keen last time he mentioned it. She’d even seemed pretty pleased to hear from him when he’d accidentally called her in the middle of the night, once she’d gotten over the very Virgil-esque half-awake grumpiness. Scott had nearly called again several times since but couldn’t quite think of a good enough excuse and so had ended up channelling his desperation to know she was alright into another silly joke or a jibe about the British weather or asking after the kids in her class.

He had spectacularly failed to follow Patricia’s previous advice about not letting himself feel responsible for the woman. He already felt as though the fact Estera was alive was an invisible thread holding him together, keeping him steady, keeping him here. That… might not be ideal.

It was certainly going to be a different Patricia conversation to the usual. For once, he knew exactly what he wanted. The question he needed to get straight was: was it a good idea?

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

The sky was a brilliant blue.

So very close to the shade she loved most of all, toned down perhaps a little by the faintest wisps of cloud lingering in the stratosphere. As she let the surgery door swing shut behind her and paused at the top of the ramp, the wind dropped to the merest breath as if the world was pausing, waiting for her next move.

“Look, see? The UK can manage sunny weather after all.”

Ah, she was doing it again. Chatting away in her head to the imaginary blue-eyed friend she’d carried with her so long he felt closer than family. Not that he ever spoke back… she wasn’t that far gone.

It was still a bit of a shock every time she realised she could actually communicate with the real life version now - she took a quick photo of the sky and a seagull swooped into shot just in time. Nice. She sent it over and watched for a few moments to see whether it would show as received. It didn’t. She pushed back the tendril of panic that edged up her spine. He was just busy. And he’d said Dawn would let her know if anything happened and she hadn’t heard anything so logically everything was fine. Everything was fine.

The gull wheeled, seemingly aimlessly, far above and she watched it for a while before shaking herself and striding purposefully towards the footpath for the main road and the bus stop. She’d booked herself a treat for after the appointment today and didn’t want to miss the bus that would get her there in good time.

That had been the 6th session of the 12 she would get, and so in theory she should be half way there to sorting herself out. It was always hard to know immediately afterwards, as she generally came out feeling as though she’d been run over by something large and extremely weighty… perhaps Virgil Tracy’s big green behemoth… but things were improving. The dreams were still an issue, but she wasn’t losing focus on the present nearly so often during daylight hours and that was definitely something to be thankful for.

The guilt, ‘survivor’s guilt’ as the counsellor called it though Estera hated the phrase because, as she’d pointed out on at least two occasions, she had done far worse than just survive, was perhaps the heaviest thing. She understood and mostly agreed on an intellectual level that it was irrational and, particularly as the supposed victim of her actions didn’t appear to blame her, it was something she should let go of. She knew it in her head. But the knowledge hadn’t made it as far as her heart and she accepted it likely never would. Perhaps she was just supposed to carry the burden… as a way of redressing the balance somehow.

She jumped backwards as a seagull dived to snatch a discarded piece of pastry from a few feet in front of her. She wondered if it was the same one she’d photographed and proceeded to distract herself from more unhelpful trains of thought by trying to work out whether it had been pasty or pie it had scored. A small piece of filling remained behind on the pavement - probably apple? Or potato. Bez would have happily eaten it either way of course.

The bus tracking display on the shelter clicked over to “due”. She straightened up and pulled out her phone in readiness to pay but it vibrated suddenly, slipping from her hands and skidding into the road. She saw the message notification pop up just as the bus swung around the corner.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #tb estera #Scott Tracy #estera #tw: ptsd #Tw: therapy #idontknowreallywhy fanfic

[topguncortez]

heyo!! same anon who asked the chaplain vs. therapist question. thank you for your thoughtful response! no wonder your work is so accurate. i didn’t know you were active duty, cool! and i couldnt agree more with what you said. my brother was recently discharged from the marines and went through both religious help and behavioral health too. i was actually thinking of a convo we had where he had mentioned the different ways dudes in his unit got help. so ty! love your stuff and appreciate you

no problem! I'm just trying to end the stigma and the fear around soldiers, sailors, aviators, marines, any service members about going to behavior health. Every branch does it differently, so I can't speak about the Marines, cause I don't know how they handle things. I can speak for the Army and how they handle things.

I remember back in Boot Camp we used to do night watch on trainees who were risks to themselves and others until they could get moved out of there and on their way home. At the time, I thought it was annoying, but then after hearing about another brigade that had a trainee suicide, I realized how important it was. I've done the Army ASIST program so I can help soldiers when they need it.

And not every person who goes through Behavior Health is there for depression or anxiety or PTSD. I went for anger issues. I went for help about my divorce. I went for advice about toxic leadership.

Talking to a therapist doesn't automatically mean you are depressed or weak. It means you are strong and want to take charge in your mental health.

#topguncortez #tw: depression #tw: therapy

[gperez-jackson]

c l o s e d for : @drewxjackson

where: the wilson when: friday 26/05

Couple's therapy hadn't been something Gabi had ever really thought she'd need to do with Andrew -- especially after he had asked her for a divorce -- but there she was, attending the session as suggested on the website she had found about divorcing someone in a healthy way. It seemed laughable at the time that someone had a fully operational website on how to divorce effectively, but it had actually had some good advice and Gabi was thankful to have somewhat of a list to go through and check off at each step.

Therapy hadn't been going all that well, but the two were still willing to attend and Gabi was thankful for that. Afterwards, they'd agreed to go to lunch and chat without the watchful eye of the therapist and Gabi had booked a table at one of her favourite places; The Wilson. She sat and perused the menu, knowing full well she wasn't actually going to eat considering her appetite when Andrew was around was basically non-existent.

"I think that went well, don't you...?" she asked, though she wasn't sure she believed herself when she had said it.

#andrew02 #tw: divorce #tw: therapy

[diaphanous-autumn]

It’s been a long time...

...since my last post. I don’t even know if anyone’s still following this project. So many years without a word from my side. Too much stuff happened in my life and I needed some time for myself VERY badly.

I’ll write the reasons down under the cut, but list the TW beforehand. Please understand that these are no excuse for my disappearance but an explanation. I wish I had done things way different than I did.

TW: mental illnes, medication, therapy

TW: death of family member(s)

The reasons for my abrupt silence were:

1. I’ve been dealing with bipolar disorder that got out of hand. My medication wasn’t helping at that time and my therapist changed too frequently so I couldn’t settle in. We don’t have many good therapists and most of them don’t want new patients, so I had to go to the local speciality hospital to get semi-treated. There my therapist in charge changed almost monthly. I hated it. During that time, I tried to use my problems as fuel for my game. But depression withheld me from doing process. Only during my mania I was able to do some stuff and even then I got heavily distracted and completed other stuff. I couldn’t continue this way.

2. In the last few years I lost two very important and pillars of my life. My dear grandmother died shortly after my last post. My grief is long-lasting and it took even longer to understand that everyone grieves in their own way and that there is no timetable or guide how to grieve. The worst thing was: my father was affected by it most. He loved his mother even though there were rocky roads in their relationship. And I guess that grieve inside him was eating him up inside. I wish I would have been there for him during that hard time. 3 years ago I lost my father. He was only 51 years old. This was very hard to grasp for me. I couldn’t understand or accept it, but that’s what it is. His birthday is nearing and I still keep on thinking of him. I recently was able to get back to stuff I did before with him. Playing games I associate with him or listen to specific songs... The problem was: I did associate Ciel Nocturne on a very personal level with him. I didn’t bear to look at it and it made me sick.

3. Work took over most of my lifetime. Before starting the game and halfway through I had no job anymore. I started an apprenticeship and after 2 years of it I had to quit because I got sick too often. Shortly after I started another one that I had to quit after 1 year due to grieve and you guessed it- sickness. Depression made it hard to even get out of bed and that lead to stress and heavy migraine attacks. I felt worthless.

4. The ongoing drama inside the community wasn’t good for my mental health. I took things too personal and I didn’t want to be part of a toxic community. I got some very weird messages throughout development and my game got described as “some game where you play a girl that heteroes up a mansion with some white-haired guy” What? It made me unnecessarily angry and I took it personal because in the end, most stuff I put into the game storywise was my life experience!

5. Adding to the community trouble, I’m still very much pissed that my game got decrypted and my stuff used for own purposes. Someone stole my voice sound files and used them in their game. My scripts got ripped. Images from CN were still in the thieves’ game folder. Was this really something I could put myself through?

I had so much time to think about the game, the story and everything revolving around it. I decided I’ll start anew, I would love to rewrite the story a bit and come back with a completed game someday. I won’t post progress here and I learnt that I should make this thing in my own pace, without people or even myself pressuring me.

So... if you read all of this, thank you so much. This means a lot to me.

I’m really sorry for keeping up the silence until now. I hope I can reach some people with my game. So this might be my last post until I’ll release it, I guess.

Thank you.

#ciel nocturne #ciel nocturne (game) #rpg maker #rpgmaker #horror game #pixel horror #tw: mental illness #tw: death #tw: therapy #tw: medication #rpghorror #rpg maker horror

[in-love-with-writing-whump]

Dialogue Prompt:

Tw: Strong Language

"Whumpee."

"Hmm?"

"That’s your fourth cup of coffee today."

"So?"

"You hate coffee. You mostly drink water and soda. Maybe tea when you need to get some rest or feel sick. You've always hated coffee."

"Maybe I've changed my mind."

"Since you're not gonna stop being a smartass, I'll just ask. When's the last time you slept, Whumpee?"

"Why does it matter?"

"You have eyebags darker than the coffee you're guzzling. Your hand won't stop shaking. And you keep looking past my shoulder as if there's anything there."

"OK, I haven't been getting a goodnight's rest. And you're one to talk, A."

"B's worried, C's voiced their concern to me about it, Caretaker bought melatonin for you. Hell, even D's noticed. What's wrong?"

"..."

"Is it nightmares? It's okay; anyone who had been with Whumper for even a fraction of the time you spent with them would be having them too."

"...I don't want to talk about it, A."

"I think you should talk to someone about it. Maybe it'd help-"

"I don't want to talk about it! If every single time you closed your eyes, you were back there, you wouldn't want to sleep either! If you woke every night screaming because you can't stop thinking about the literal *torture* you were put through just because some God decided you should clean up their mess, you would be staying awake no matter what too!"

"..."

"..."

"Whumpee, I'm sorry, I-"

"Don't. Just don't."

*crash*

"Shit, Whumpee!"

#whumpee #whump prompt #tw: angst #team whump #tw: sleep deprivation #tw: nightmares #tw: hallucinations #tw: strong language #tw: collapse #tw: unconsciousness #tw: trauma #tw: torture #chosen one whumpee #tw: chosen one trope #tw: deity #tw: scapegoat #tw: therapy

[jimkirkachu]

I feel like an absolute bastard. (cw gender stuff, names, pronouns, family drama)

As a way to update my parents about Janelle Monae saying in an interview that their pronoun is "free-ass muthafucka" (because gender goals x infinity!!!), I casually led into it by mentioning that my new therapist wanted to know my preferred name/nickname and pronouns—all as a means of getting to my stupid punchline, "they/them seems so much easier now, doesn't it!" ha ha ha I thought we were cool, I've been making pronoun jokes since I came out to them last September because I know it's weird for them to go from having a daughter to having an adult child / offspring / neither daughter nor son. I get it. And I've really tried to be cool about them continuing to Female me while also trying to gradually/gently push them with things like... my Kirk haircut, sharing trivia or articles about NB stuff with them (e.g. the Janelle Monae news), etc. Anyway, I didn’t think any of that would come up again, but I’m clearly an idiot because I’ve spent 32 and a half years with one parent who Never Forgets Anything and Never Lets Any Little Detail Go Unnoticed.

Six hours later, my mother asks me what my answers had been when my therapist asked me to pin them down more concretely than "either way, whatever you prefer." ((Aside: apparently therapists want to know the Real You? and having other people decide who the Real Me is... is not what they mean by that??)) I knew I was trapped but I never want to lie to my mom, right? So I told her honestly that my therapist will be referring to me as “they/them” and “Jim” (aka Not my legal name/what my family calls me, as well as a name which traditionally is given to people who are the "opposite" of my agab). (I also reminded her that my previous therapist knew me as Jim, too, hoping that might soften the blow.) Again: I get it. I knew before I said it that it was going to hurt her because I’m choosing to have certain people call me by a name that’s not the one she and dad gave me when I was born. I understand that it’s hard for them. I understand why it’s hard for them.

(And this makes no never mind, but... it’s hard for me, too. 🙁 But I know, that’s beside the point.)

After a long, very uncomfortable silence, she said, “Is it okay if I keep saying she/her?” So I counted to five in my head and said it’s fine, because I honestly never expected her or my dad to be fully understanding of any of this. But now (and not for the first time) I’m very much wishing I’d just never come out to them at all, because at least that way I wouldn’t have gotten my hopes up when they responded by claiming that my being NB was fine and claiming that they would be totally supportive/accepting of it. My expectations were low before they knew because I assumed they would be honest with me about how it made them feel, which I assumed would be along the lines of “betrayed,” “inconvenienced,” “confused,” “disappointed,” “skeptical,” “disrespected,” and/or “we failed our child.“ It seems that when they were so chill about it up front, I forgot to keep expecting those reactions in delayed forms, and I guess I let myself believe that they would actually make the effort to shift some of their thinking about me, maybe even start using they/them for me, etc.

Turns out they were enthusiastic to declare their support (which I greatly appreciate, don't get me wrong) but putting that support into practice has proven to be harder than I think they realized. “Too much has changed too fast” is what I’ve been told now... even though I’m not transitioning to male, I’m not doing HRT or having surgeries, I’m still dressing the same on a daily basis (just changing my “fancy” wardrobe), and the only thing that’s physically different is that I've stopped shaving my legs (which neither of them has even noticed because I only wear long pants).

Anyway she just happened to ask me all this as she was on her way to bed. So there was another awkward silence before she said goodnight, and if 32 years’ experience has enabled me to read any of her moods correctly, then she started crying as soon as I was out of earshot. (I would have confirmed and/or tried to get her to talk to me about it but I’m running, like, a spoon deficit at this point.)

So is my lack of much visible change the problem, then? Is this breaking my mom’s heart because I’m not different enough from my “old” self? Would this be easier in some way if I was transitioning and she could, idk, genuinely mourn the daughter she no longer has? And despite losing a daughter at least she would have a “replacement” kid whose gender still Made Sense to someone entrenched in the gender binary for almost seven decades? Or would it just make things worse?

Should I have simply lied and said I’m going by my legal name with my therapist, because how will my mom ever know that anyway? Has this name thing crushed her so bad because not much else has changed about me otherwise, so she didn’t see it coming? Or am I genuinely the asshole for expecting her to be more supportive/validating too soon, and I just need to be more patient?

((Tangent: she witnessed a really bad impostor-syndrome meltdown of mine a few months ago. I was trying to figure out what to wear to a church function and eventually got so frustrated—and convinced that I’m not really NB, just a pathetic ugly female who hates herself/her body—that I told her to pick out a damn dress for me and take me to a wig shop so I could try and undo everything I’ve done to try and hate my biologically female body a little bit less. And she responded by telling me to wear the pants/button-down/sweater aka “masc-ish” outfit I’d started with. So... is it only if I’m in crisis/panic mode that she can get on board with my being NB? Did my meltdown help her put her own misgivings about this aside? Or was she only okay with my being NB before it included having new people in my life call me by a different name??))

I keep trying to pinpoint what I’ve done wrong, and every time I re-do the math I still can only come up with, “...I was born.” But that wasn’t even my fault. I just feel incredibly selfish for trying to get them to see me the way I see myself. I keep thinking that if I don’t feel female, that’s my problem and I should have kept it to my damn self. If my identity is, in fact, Jim + they/them + non-binary, fine, but I feel like I should have known better than to reveal—to the people who named me and raised me—that I don’t really feel, and never really have felt, like I actually am the person we all assumed I was for 31 years because there didn't seem to be an alternative.

And this is precisely why I started things off with my new therapist by trying to make her decide whether to call me she or they, Jim or my real name. More than anything—more than being sane, healthy, or alive—I want not to be a burden on others.

But that’s all I ever seem to be able to do without fail.

#not trek #personal log #gender identity #gender confusion #tw: gender dysphoria #non-binary #nonbinary #nb problems #family drama #tw: family problems #therapy #tw: therapy #identity crisis #tw: self deprecation #low self worth #no self worth #no spoons #pronouns #profanity #tw: profanity #swearing #tw: swearing #internalized queerphobia?? #idk if this counts #guess it's a good thing my next session is tomorrow #sorry i know this is a lot of posting for a mostly inactive tumblr account i just need to get this crap out of my head for a minute #long post #soul sick #jtkchu's brain #stfu jtkchu

[sacapoche-idiots]

(source)

#cake #tw: food #tw: hate #tw: therapy #funny cake