#short therapy session

[drawing-way-outside-the-lines]

➖ Mature content, 18+ ➖ check the trigger tags each time ➖      

Chapter 34 - Overwhelmed. Episode 1.

-------Evans point of view---------

Evan: I felt horrible. I was sitting here, in the guest bedroom of the second floor of Congo's house… our house I guess. Leaned back on a chair, trying desperately to calm my nerves. It was 2 days after Sparkles birthday. The previous night, I had gotten awoken by Andy screaming and cursing upstairs. He was so angry I didn't dare to disturb him, and after listening in on the loud conversation between him and Congo, I had quickly found out, he had come to learn about Sparkle and Daniel fucking around. A thing I had known about for weeks, but had decided not to let him in on, as I wasn't sure he would handle the news well. I had enough in my own darkness, I couldn't handle seeing him crash again. So I had shut my mouth, when I by random had stumbled over the secret. But now he had found out, and he was furious that the 3 of us had kept the secret. I naturally had become scared, listening to his words. It had sounded like he most of all wanted me long gone. I had felt like I let him down. Like I had betrayed not only his, but also Congo's trust. So in my despair I had left a trace of apologies and begging for him to forgive me, all over Facebook. Me, Evan, who wasn't much for public display of feelings. At all. When Andy found out about all the posts on Facebook, he of course came to my rescue. My brave love. I always admired him so much, ever since we were teens, I guess I sorta looked up to Andy's courage. He had assured me he wasn't gonna leave me, that mostly it was Daniel he was angry at, and he understood why I hadn't spoken up. But most importantly, that he loved me, and forgave me. I trusted him. Fully. But still I couldn't shake the feeling of him leaving me. Of having hurt him so much, that it may be unfixable. I woke up this morning, terrified of losing him. And I crashed. I crashed big time. Unable to stop crying. Unable to stop myself from slipping further and further down a black pit of a hole. I had never been so scared in my life. So Andy made Daniel call his uncle. The shrink. George. A thing I had spent the whole summer denying I need. Truth is, I need help. I can't get out of this hole on my own. But I hate sharing deep feelings and thoughts with anyone but my partner. I hate letting people so close. But here I was, 30 minutes later, stuck in a room with George. And I knew I had to speak up, he had been starring at me 5 minutes straight already!

Knock on the door

Evan: I sighed deeply… saved by the bell

Andy: He peeked in with red puffy eyes, it was easy to see he had been crying Are you okay?… Evan?

Evan: I forced a small smile Yeah…

Andy: He turned his head and looked at George How's things going in here?

George: Well He smiled warmly at Andy it seems we haven't quite started yet.

Andy: He nodded softly and snuck in the door, closing it silently behind himself, smiling a bit apologizing at George as he with quick steps walked towards me, and kneeled down next to me, planting a soft hand on both my cheeks. I couldn't help but feel I should be the one sitting on the floor, comforting him. Andy had had it far worse in life than I had ever had. I should be the one comforting him, not the other way around. He smiled softly with a sadness only Andy could hold, and talked to me in the sweetest voice I have ever heard come from him. Evan… we will get you through this. I promise. The first session is always the worst. That's the time where you have to poke a hole in the bubble so everything will come spilling out. It will get easier. And you are in the very best hands, I trust George with my life… just look at me… I was such a mess I could barely figure what was up and down… but he fixed it… I'm doing much better thanks to him. I still have a long way to go, but I'm functioning again. I don't ask you to trust George… just trust me, alright? I know he can help… I just know. Cause if he can help a screw up like me, you will be a piece of cake. He chuckled softly and planted a gentle butterfly kiss on my lips I love you…. so much… and I'm very proud of you. I will be waiting right on the other side of that door nodded at the door he came through Daniel and Congo is in the garden, so don't worry, they wont hear a thing, even if you feel like screaming or crying. And if you get enough, or need me in here, just yell my name, and I will be here in seconds… okay?

Evan: I nodded softly and sighed

Andy: Okay his voice was shaky and I could see tears rise in his eyes, but once again, he was the bravest thing I had ever come across. He stood up, took a deep breath, turned around and smiled softly at George Be good to him and as George nodded agreeing, Andy silently disappeared out the door

Evan: I starred at the door a few seconds. How was it that he always knew exactly what to say, and the exactly right time? As soon as the words had left my mind, the tears started pouring down my cheeks. And I sobbed harder than ever before

George: Evan… take your time he spoke in a calm and warm voice, reaching a couple of paper towels towards me. After about 5 minutes of none stop crying, I was all out of tears, curled up on the chair in a ball. Tired… no exhausted… feeling like the only thing I wanted was sleeping for days. But a certain calm had also lowered itself over me, the calm of having cried it all out. Evan… his voice was just as calm and warm as before how do you feel now?

Evan: I sighed softly Empty…

George: I see. That might be from crying that much. Now, tell me Evan… is there anything beside this past night with Andy screaming, that makes you extra sad today? I mean, is there anything I don't know yet?

Evan: I sighed softly and nodded Yes.

George: Alright, take your time…

Evan: It's Andy…. I feel like he's slipping away. I wake up sometimes at night and hear him cry in the bathroom. And if I check his Facebook those same nights, it happens to be nights where he has either posted pics of kids, or kid cribs. You know… like cribs for toddlers.

George: Frowned softly I see.

Evan: I'm just so sad I can't give him what he wants. And I feel horrible, cause I always leave him alone out there, crying… I just don't have the energy, George. I don't even know how to fix myself… so how can I fix him? Plus… it's not even something I can fix. I have tried talking him into adopting… I even tried talking him into maybe having a kid with a woman, so half of the genes would be his. But he want nothing to do with it, as long as my genes can't be involved. Or Congo's for that matter. Nothing is good enough. He want's a kid mixed by our genes, and it's just not possible. He want's what A could give him, what he was promised. But I'm not A.

George: And how does this make you feel…..apart from sad?

Evan: I paused for a bit…. not enough. Like I'm not enough.

George: He nodded softly Let's leave this for a while. Tell me, have you talked with your father recently?

Evan: No I shook my head lightly

George: Do you want to?

Evan: I pulled my shoulders I don't know? Yes… and no…

George: Andy tells me your dad is very sad about his and your moms actions, and that he delivered a very nice apology. He wants to be in contact with you again. To be a part of your life. Do you think you could forgive him? You know, we all make mistakes sometimes…

Evan: I sighed softly I have forgiven him, George…. but that does not mean I feel any better. I don't know if I want to see him right now. I just wanna stay away from people in general. I didn't even want to go to Sparkles birthday party.

George: He nodded in an understanding way and smiled softly

Evan: I just feel… so tired. And so sad. But at the same time just empty. I just wanna stay in bed.

George: I understand. That's the depression. Now we have talked about medication before, and I understand you don't want pills, which I respect. So I wont even suggest again. However, Evan, it has gotten worse since our last talk. So at this point, if I have to be honest, it's either medication or weekly therapy sessions. I fear if we don't act you will soon sink so deep that everything will take a very long time to straighten out again.

Evan: I nodded softly, I knew he was right

George: I can promise you we can fix this, it's nothing I haven't seen before. And the depression is still pretty easily solved, even if it has gotten deeper.

Evan: I sniffled my nose and before I could hold it back I burst out in a deep sobbing

Andy: Not even 5 seconds later he came bursting through the door, walking straight up to me and sat down on the big chair next to me, wrapping his arms tight around me

George: He cleared his throat and spoke in an even warmer voice than before Evan… can you try to tell me what's going on in your head right now?

Evan: My voice was shaky, and almost got drowned in the sobbing a few times as I spoke I'm terrified of losing him! I let him down… I can't forgive myself… but I don't want him to leave me… I'm so fucking scared!! I miss my family… and I'm so scared I will never see my mom again… I coughed from my sobbing I'm so scared Andy will crash again… and I'm so fucking sorry I leave you alone in the bathroom crying, I'm a fucking horrible person… I understand if you don't want me any longer…. but I beg of you to stay… I beg of you!! I can't handle losing you!! I can't live without you!! I can barely breathe just at the thought of never seeing you again!! I can't…. I'm so sorry I can't give you what you need…. I know you want a kid… I want too… but… my voice broke completely, and I could no longer see anything for all the tears streaming out my eyes

Andy: He tightened his grip around me and kissed my hair gently I'm not going anywhere, I thought I made that clear? I love you Evan, nothing can change that, and specially not such a tiny thing as you keeping a secret from me. I know why you did it. And I fully understand. You needed to protect yourself. I understand you can't carry more, that's also why I hide in the bathroom. He sniffed his nose a few times, it was easy for me to know he was crying Evan… I'm sorry I put this pressure on you, with my missing pregnancy and all… I don't even know why I call it that, cause even with A I would never have been pregnant… we would have gotten the kids some other supernatural way, I'm sure. But I am truly sorry I lay this weight on you, I just feel so heartbroken… kinda like if I had a child and lost it.

George: Cleared his throat again Andy… we do need to have a session about that, since I think this has taken a turn, that could potentially be very bad for your mental health, and push us a few months back on your recovery.

Andy: I know George! His voice sounded irritated I'm sorry, it just seems like we all have more than enough on our plates, but the shoveling doesn't stop… there just seems to be more and more we have to deal with.

George: Sighed softly I know sweetheart… I know. And I didn't say today. Let's take it in a couple of days, alright? I think we should stop for today. I think we rounded the main reasons for Evan's depression already, so I know where to start working next time. It seems to me, as I have said before, that Evan's depression comes mostly from worrying about your mental state nodded softly at Andy This is not me blaming you, Andy… just so we're clear. I guess it just means this boy really loves you, probably more than any of us fully know? He smiled softly at Evan and sighed softly furthermore, it seems like the mess with your family is taking quite a big chunk of you, so my request is, until we meet next time, you have a conversation with your dad. I don't mind wether you do it by phone, by email or face to face, but I need you to do it, in order to have something towork with. I need to know where you and him stand, and how you felt about talking with him again. Is that okay?

Evan: I nodded softly

George: Good, thank you. Furthermore, I think it's clear to me we need to meet once every week, if I see that isn't enough, I may decide on twice a week, for a smaller period. Is that clear? We want to start healing you, and preferably before you sink deeper.

Evan: I nodded agreeing

George: Smiled warmly Thank you. It's nice to see you finally give in, Evan. I can't help you, unless you want me to. He took a deep breath and smiled friendly Alright, if you guys don't mind, I think I will go have a beer with Congo and Daniel. It's been a while since I last shared their delightful company.

Evan: As we all stood up to leave, I suddenly felt extremely dizzy, and the last thing I felt, was my cheek slam against the floor. I woke up only seconds later, at the sound of Andy screaming my name, loud, squeaky and in a tone full of terror.

Andy: EVAN!!! OMG OMG OMG!!! EVAN!!! Loud sobbing is he alright?!?! GEORGE!!!

Congo: I could suddenly hear Congo enter the room, with Daniel just behind him What's happening??

Andy: He yelped something in such a high pitched voice I couldn't make out a single word

George: I think he fainted… we stood up to leave the room, and before we could even get to react, he turned pale, and fell.

Congo: ANDY! Please get off him, he needs space to breathe!!

Evan: Ahh so that was why it was hard to breathe… I felt Andy quickly crawl off my chest, and then I felt something warm slide under me quick and gentle, judging by the warmth and shape, and the fact that my upper body got gently lifted, I guessed it must have been Congo… so I slowly opened my eyes, and blinked them a couple of times to try to focus.

Congo: Spoke in a low soothing voice There you are he chuckled softly you gave the little one quite a scare. I could hear Andy sob somewhere in the room How do you feel, Evan?

Evan: I blinked my eyes a few more times, and opened my mouth, but my throat seemed too dry for any word to come out

Congo: He looked up Daniel… will you please go grab a glass of water, not too cold… and add a tea spoon of sugar in it?

Daniel: Uh… sure…

Congo: He looked back down at me with a warm smile, reaching up to dry a few tears off my cheeks, gently leaving his hand on one of them, softly stroking my skin… and it was very soothing… I felt so safe. Hey… you're starting to get some color back on your face… that's good.

Andy: Sniffled his nose Is he gonna be alright?

Congo: He kept his eyes firmly planted on mine, but spoke even softer now Sure thing, my love… I'm pretty sure Evan just felt very exhausted on top of such a hard day… and maybe he even has a bit of low sugar levels in his body. He hasn't eaten much the past days… but he will be just fine… don't you worry. I couldn't figure if he was still talking to Andy, or soothing me… maybe both?

Daniel: Congo… he reached down a glass and Congo grabbed it with a thankful smile

Congo: Let me help you sit up a bit… as he moved me upwards slowly, I could get to see Andy and George, they were sitting on the bed, not many meters away from us. George had wrapped his arms around Andy, who still looked terrified. I felt so bad I had scared him. Alright, here we go… drink slowly…

Evan: I nodded softly and pressed my lips against the glass as he held it for me, and as he tipped it, I slowly drank the water pouring into my mouth… judging by the sweet taste Daniel had added a lot more sugar than he was instructed to, but I was thankful for his try at least. I finished about half of the glass before I coughed lightly, and Congo removed the glass from my lips

Congo: Are you okay?

Evan: Yeah I coughed slightly again and looked at Andy with sad eyes I'm sorry I scared you.

Andy: He nodded softly It's okay… as long as you're okay.

Evan: I nodded softly, but then started feeling dizzy again, so I sank back down into Congo's arms

Congo: Hey hey he padded my cheek lightly don't go disappearing on us again now.

Evan: I smiled softly No… I just feel…

Congo: Nodded softly I know… it will take a few minutes for the sugar to kick in, but I suggest you get some rest. I can stay by your side and keep an eye on you, just to be sure… if that would make you feel safe?

Evan: I nodded softly and dug my fingers into his arm around me, for some reason I felt like if he would let go, I would faint again… and I didn't want to… it was scary enough the first time, besides, my cheek bone still hurt from the first impact with the floor.

Congo: He smiled softly and brushed a few strands of hair off my face Evan, I wont let go unless you tell me to.

Evan: I sighed deeply

Congo: Alright… what do you say we carry you downstairs? You need to lay down and get a nap… let me just… before I could get to react, he was already standing tall, with me in his arms, like a princess, a thing I would normally protest, but it felt nice… it felt safe, so I dug my fingers into his chest and leaned my head on his shoulder Are you coming?

Andy: Nodded softly

Daniel: Of course he is! In few steps he reached Andy, grabbed him and threw him over his shoulder, and all the way down the stairs I could hear Andy chuckled and squeak, hanging over Daniel's shoulder. I thanked Daniel for knowing exactly what to do to lift Andy's mood

Congo: We settled fast in the bed, Congo between me and Andy, having both of us in the nook of his arms. He had insisted to keep his shirt on, for my sake… but as Andy had pouted, I had told Congo I would survive a bit of chest hair. Truth is, I just wanted him as close as possible, for some reason, right there, for the first time, he felt somewhat like a father figure, which was exactly what I needed. So as I snuggled my head against his chest, I didn't find it strange when 4 men was starring at me, like I had lost it. Congo was the first one to speak up. Uh… Evan… not that I mind… at all… it's actually nice to lay like this… but are you sure this is okay for you? I could easily put a pillow between your head and my chest… or at least a pillow case?

Evan: I couldn't help but feel a bit annoyed by Daniels goofy grin, so I sighed relieved as George told him to help him with something upstairs, and quickly dragged him with him to the second floor. Now only Andy's face of disbelief annoyed me I'm okay… really… I just… as my eyes filled with tears again, I pressed my face against Congo's chest I just feel so scared…

Congo: Hushed a few times in a soothing tone, wrapping his arm tighter around me, and I got the feeling he did the same to Andy to prevent his sprinkles from leaking again I understand… it's not the first time I have been someones safe place. He planted a soft kiss on Andy's hair, then on mine And as long as you are okay with this, I have no problem at all. Actually, it only makes me happy that you by now feel THIS comfortable with me… even if it turns out to be a one time thing.

Evan: I sighed deeply and dried the tears off my eyes Thank you… for understanding I yawned big, and felt more tired than ever

Congo: Kissed my forehead gently Don't mention it. I will always be here for you, just as much as I am for Andy… I consider you both my boys…. alright? You're my family. And I love you both very much.

Andy: Sniffled his nose softly and reached over to caress my cheek How do you feel now? Are you still dizzy?

Evan: I shook my head softly No… I feel better… I'm just so exhausted.

Congo: I think the sugar kicked in then… but you should definitely get some sleep, and a proper meal when you wake up. Judging by the sound upstairs, George is already cooking for us… so let's take a small nap till he is done? Hm?

Evan: I nodded softly Andy… could you put a movie on? I just… the quietness is making me uncomfortable.

Andy: His face lit up and he jumped straight out of bed I know! That's how I feel sometimes when I get anxiety… I just can't sleep if it's too quiet, it makes me scared! It was cute how enthusiastic it made him, knowing he wasn't alone in that feeling, and I observed him with a small smile as he fumbled around to put on a movie, and find a pleasant volume level where we could both hear the movie, but also easily fall asleep. And as he crawled back, laying down face to face with me again, on the other side of Congo, I smiled at him warmly

Congo: Alright sugar cubes… let's try to close our eyes…. I will just rest a bit, I wont sleep. I will keep an eye on you, okay? He squeezed me a little And Andy too, so he wont get jealous chuckled warmly. He leaned his head down and planted a gentle kiss on Andy's lips, and then per reflex, I assume, planted one on my lips as well. I didn't mind… I was already half asleep.

[spookyspaghettisundae]

The Impossibility of It

Chloe Grant could hear the thunder of rotors through the soundproof glass on the twentieth story of Future Proof’s headquarters.

A black unmarked helicopter, landing atop the skyscraper, had captured her entire attention.

Or it happened to be a convenient distraction from the conversation at hand. An uncomfortable conversation that Grant had sought out herself, and also been dreading all the while.

“Would you rather reschedule?” asked Rebecca Chao. She couldn’t quite finish the sentence without a hint of sarcasm.

Grant chewed on her lip until she spotted Chao observing her nervous tic, then made a conscious and forced effort to stop doing that.

She peeled her gaze from the vista of Austin’s skyline. The chopper had landed, though the noise of its thundering rotors still reverberated through the panes.

“No, uh, no,” Grant stammered out, sighing in between, “Sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to waste your time.”

Chao folded her hands on her lap. She stared at Grant with a perfect poker face.

“We’re not wasting any time here. Not to step on your toes, but I think you were long overdue for a session. There’s only so much mental stress our field operatives—or really anybody—can tolerate before it starts affecting their—our—private lives.”

Grant sighed again.

At this point in time, she wasn’t sure what her private life even was.

With the way reality kept shifting with each change of the timeline, her own life felt alien to her.

The corners of Chao’s lips twitched with the hint of a smile.

“Maybe you could… inspire Mister Carter to see me, too.”

Grant scoffed. Smiled fully.

That would be the day.

“I’m afraid you won’t get Carter in here unless you mandate therapy sessions for field ops.”

Chao’s lips curled and her eyes narrowed.

“Now, there’s a thought.”

Her pen clicked. The doctor scooped her notepad off the desk and scribbled down a note.

“It’s just… I know who I am, but I am not the me who this world used to know before I returned to it through the temporal Anomaly… if that makes any sense. Everybody must have gone through life knowing another me, and although our experiences should mostly match, I… I keep running into these… differences.”

“Like your intimate relationship with Miss Bennett?”

Grant only nodded in response.

“I wish we had more concrete insights into how the Anomalies and temporal disjunctions truly work. We are, together, exploring terra incognita here. A weak solace, perhaps, but in some ways, you are a pioneer.”

“Well,” Grant said, clicking her tongue, “I did sign up for it, didn’t I? I could just quit, couldn’t I?”

Chao stared at her. Instead of answering those questions, she scribbled down another note on her pad.

“I’m quite—not—I’m not quitting,” Grant stumbled over her words. “No, there’s lives at stake.”

“But your own life is a concern. There’s no shame in self-preservation. We all need to protect ourselves.”

Grant pinched the bridge of her nose. Felt a headache coming on.

This wasn’t what she hoped to hear in the session.

“Are you worried you are dissociating?” Chao asked. “I am very sorry—it must be difficult to negotiate the differences between the life you knew before the temporal shift.”

The helicopter on the rooftop had quieted. The ensuing silence in Chao’s office became almost ghostly as a consequence. Grant now almost yearned for the distraction of noise.

Chao’s question lingered in the air like a phantom, haunting Grant, floating around the back of her head.

Chao broke the silence and said, “As I was saying, this is terra incognita for all of us. You are under no obligation to perform as the Chloe Grant people expect you to be. You only owe it to yourself to be who you want to be. And if that’s more in line with the timeline you come from, then that is who you are.”

Though Grant found a shred of comfort buried within her words, she pursed her lips, and part of her instinctually rebelled against Chao’s advice.

“What are you… are you suggesting I should break up with Dan?”

Chao’s eyes widened and her brow furrowed.

“I was not suggesting any such thing, no. Not even close. I—”

The phone on Chao’s desk buzzed with obnoxious volume. An incoming message.

The doctor shot a glance down at the small device’s now-glowing screen.

Grant said, “No, it… it feels right, I think. Like it was going to happen anyway? The more I think about it, the more I can see it, or could have seen it, or whatever. Uh—”

In stark contrast to the rest of the session, it was almost like Chao hadn’t listened to a single word she said since the phone’s buzzing. The doctor just stared at the text message on her phone’s screen.

“Doctor? Am I… interrupting something?”

The furrow on Chao’s brow arched even higher. She looked up from the device to meet Grant’s gaze, then shook her head.

“No, I am sorry, I apologize. It’s… please forgive me. I should answer this.”

Chao picked up the phone and her thumbs tapped away at a reply.

Grant stifled a sigh and stared out the floor-to-ceiling windows.

The sun was setting on the horizon, painting the city in pink light.

Chao put the phone back down, then asked, “Now, where were we?”

Grant shook her head. “No, it’s… nothing. I think I’ll manage. Just talking has helped. A lot. That was Spencer, wasn’t it?”

The corners of Chao’s lips twitched again.

“Yes, but he can wait.” Her glance to the silent clock on the wall telegraphed her next statement. “We still have fifteen more minutes.”

On cue, the phone buzzed again. Chao’s gaze darted back down to it, locked onto the screen, reading the next message intently.

It was also fifteen minutes before the end of office hours.

But their unusual line of work here had a habit of sneaking up on them and saddling them with overtime. All the time.

Grant grinned through her final sigh of the day, as if she had run out of breath for it.

“Shall we?” she asked Doctor Chao.

Chao’s entire expression hardened. It had to be something serious.

She nodded at Grant.

“In fact, yes, we are both being called to join a meeting. Downstairs.”

A chill ran down Grant’s spine.

Like a premonition of terrible things to come.

They packed up and left the doctor’s office, cutting the session short. Grant wouldn’t be losing sleep over it. She hadn’t been lying or exaggerating about how the talking had helped somewhat, though she was skeptical if anybody could help her at all.

If anybody could even understand—truly understand—what all of this felt like.

The CEO, Malachi Spencer himself, had summoned Doctor Chao to the basement levels. Riding the elevator down with their top-clearance keycards, Grant learned that Spencer had summoned her, as well. She only missed the summons because she had switched her phone to airplane mode for the therapy session.

Spencer probably knew about the therapy now. There was no point in asking how Chao handled confidentiality. The normal rules didn’t really apply around here.

Future Proof tended to play fast and loose with morals and ethics.

To sleep at night, Grant told herself that this was in humanity’s best interests.

The two women exchanged no words as they marched down the long and harrowing hall through Containment’s sub-level.

Their taciturn walk delivered them into a forcibly sterile medical examination room. In deeper solemn silence, they slipped into HAZMAT suits. Donned the visored helmets. Ensured everything was sealed airtight.

White clouds enshrouded them, hissing, as they crossed through the airlock. Electronic seals beeped and clicked, and they entered the quarantined room.

Even with only the smell of plastic to meet her senses, Grant thought of rotten meat upon seeing the body on the metal examination slab.

That thing wasn’t human.

It wasn’t saurian, either. She wasn’t sure what it was, but she had seen such a thing before—

In the Crossroads of Anomalies. Chasing the man in ancient armor.

The sight of it up close stunned her so deeply that she failed to notice all the faces staring at her upon her entrance into the examination room.

The creature was only vaguely humanoid, featuring almost twice the body mass of a grown man. Its arms were longer than its legs, and all its limbs were wiry with hidden power, tipped in freakishly long fingers, and deadly claws. Mottled gray flesh reminded her of aliens from outer space, especially with the head’s strange form and toothy maw, and a metal, futuristic device crowning its skull—with wires and hooks clearly protruding from the flesh, attached to the organism’s head.

It had been riddled with bullets. A surgeon had extracted all of them.

“Doctor Chao,” said Spencer, every syllable cutting like a knife. “Agent Grant. Good of you to join us. We’re brainstorming here and all red-clearance personnel is encouraged to weigh in with any theories they can come up with.”

Grant sidled up to the autopsy table and stared into the exposed insides of the carcass’s open torso. Stretchers kept tissue peeled apart, and the organs reminded her of what one might find among a human body’s innards.

She asked, “What are we looking at here? Where did you find this… thing?”

Stantz, their PR manager, was among the people gathered around the table.

The HAZMAT suits they were all wearing made it hard to tell everybody apart, but Grant immediately recognized his smarmy tone.

“I pulled some strings. United States special forces, led by a certain Captain Dariel Rose, as you all know, took down this specimen with extreme prejudice. Unlike the wise foresight of Future Proof here, Rose and his men gunned it down, butchered it in some truck or back alley, and only handed it off to us after we, uh, twisted some screws on his thumbs.”

Grant wasn’t interested in the specifics. Especially not with Stantz’s delivery thereof. The rest of the gathering had probably already discussed it to death, anyway.

Doctor Solomon stood at the head of the autopsy table, just next to a tray harboring a scalpel and other sharp implements. He wiggled his fingers like he was antsy to cut the specimen some more.

And he said as much. “Yes. This would be the second autopsy performed on the specimen, though not by us. I appreciate the almost Victorian theatrics of having an audience.”

Doctor Burch shuffled awkwardly where she stood next to him. She stared at Stantz, expecting him to share something more about their new specimen on the table, or about the circumstances on how it ended up here.

Spencer and Stantz stood by the clawed feet of the abominable creature. Stantz’s arms stayed crossed, like he was protesting something. Meanwhile, Spencer exuded the same presence as he always did—a knife in human shape. Even wearing awkward-looking HAZMAT gear instead of his usual expensive tailored suits did little to diminish Spencer’s domineering energy.

His deathly glare swept across his employees before locking onto Solomon.

“Feel free to bring Doctor Chao and Agent Grant up to speed with your theories so far.”

Solomon shrugged and gestured in the round, urging the others to speak up.

Carter stood across from Solomon, on the opposite side of the table. He looked tired and grumpy, as usual. His gaze bounced back and forth between Grant and Mischchenko, as if he was expecting either of them to say something.

Standing right next to Burch, Mischchenko tilted her head and shot Grant furtive glances. She then cleared her throat, muffled by the HAZMAT suit, and repeated what she must have already said earlier.

“It combines physical traits of simians, felines, humans, and—this is the weird part—a shark. Note the teeth,” she said, pointing two yellow-gloved fingers at the creature’s toothy maw.

Grant leaned over the body’s head to take a closer look. Indeed, rows of teeth lined the mouth, and they looked as jagged and triangular as those of vicious, serrated sawblades.

Though the creature had no fur, she could vaguely see the resemblance to apes and wildcats both—especially with what she had seen of the creature in its living form, darting between the Crossroads’ Anomalies.

Unable to stop scanning the creature’s odd features, she asked, “Well, is that really that odd? Something from the far future could… evolve into this, on our planet. Right?”

“I said the same thing,” Mischchenko muttered with a hint of resignation. She then nodded to Burch.

Burch continued in her stead, saying, “It’s from 2,000 years into the future. I have no earthly idea how anything on our planet would evolve this fast.”

Another cold shudder shook Grant’s spine.

2,000 years into the future.

The impossibility of it arrived in waves.

“Wait,” Chao interrupted. “How do you know it’s from 2,000 years into the future?”

“Allow me to answer that,” Spencer said, cutting in. “The very Anomaly that this building was built on top of harbors a connection to that specific time. This is not the first of these specimen that we examined. Burch carbon-dated a dead one we retrieved from the future, and this predator—we dubbed it the Apex Predator—is native to that time.”

“That specimen wasn’t sporting this, though,” Solomon said, using his scalpel to tap the metal device attached to the creature’s skull.

Chao’s face twisted. She looked as insulted as Grant felt—even at their clearance level, secrets had been kept. Some people had been in the savvy about certain dealings at Future Proof, while others, like them, had been kept in the dark.

Solomon still tapped the metal device with the scalpel.

Grant jutted her jaw out at it and asked, “What the hell is that?”

Solomon shrugged.

“Some sort of bio-mechanical implant. Perhaps a cerebral augmentation, or something to control the specimen. It’s not transmitting or responding to Wi-Fi signals, however, so your guess is as good as anybody’s. Once we extract it, I’m excited to pick it apart and find out what makes it tick.”

He smiled.

Mischchenko said, “I’m more concerned about what it suggests, because it—”

Spencer cut in again. “The future of our planet looked bleak on every one of our early expeditions through the Anomalies, Agent Grant. Apocalyptic, one might say. And this implant on the specimen’s head, suffice to say, it tells us beyond a shadow of a doubt that there is someone in the future who is experimenting on these feral animals. A perplexing outlook, given that that the future is arguably unsuitable for human life.”

Early expeditions? Again, with the secrets—Grant couldn’t stop a frown from surfacing.

She asked, “Why isn’t any of this on record anywhere? Why weren’t we briefed about these… things?”

Was this why Ruiz was leaking information to Corsino and Celeva?

She glared at Spencer. The fire in his eyes matched hers, yet ever so coldly.

Carter arched a brow. He had been thinking what she said out loud. He locked onto Spencer with shades of the same burning intent.

Spencer fired back, “Everything we do is on a need-to-know basis, and now you need to know.”

Grant almost spat her words out. “As I reported in my last debrief, and described to the best of my ability, this is exactly the kind of specimen I sighted in the Crossroads. Would have been good to know about these things, you know, before they kill us. This thing, how powerful is it?”

A dark chuckle escaped Carter and he nodded at Stantz. “Bozo over here says it managed to gut three ex-Marines like fish before they took it down with a couple hundred high-caliber rounds.”

“Not how I put it,” Stantz said, “but I am neither a pedant nor do I feel like correcting the talent.”

Carter leered at him with a toothy grin. Though he stared at Stantz, his grumbling was directed at Spencer when he asked, “You rethinkin’ that no-exploring-beyond-the-Anomalies rule now, boss? Seeing as you used to send people through, all willy-nilly. Or did I misunderstand that just now?”

All he garnered was a thin-lipped smirk from Spencer. The CEO spared him no remark.

“Though my curiosity is overwhelming,” Solomon said, “curiosity, as we all know, killed the proverbial cat.”

Spencer broke eye contact with Carter to fixate on Solomon next. “You? You out of all people are now recommending against Anomaly expeditions, doctor?”

Solomon gingerly placed the scalpel back down onto the tray and shook his head.

“No, not at all. Though the consensus is—and I’m inclined to agree with Doctor Trémaux on this—that anything we do beyond the Anomalies could bear disastrous consequences for the present. Disastrous. I don’t think we can stress this enough.”

“Duly noted, doctor. The—”

“Hey,” Mischchenko interrupted them.

Everybody’s gaze followed where her index finger was pointing.

To the tiny, blinking red light on the creature’s cranial implant.

“It was doing that,” Grant said. “The one I saw in the Crossroads.”

Then it all happened so fast.

Yelled someone, “Restrain it!”

But the thrashing had already begun. All reactions followed too late to prevent disaster from unfolding in their midst.

The creature—despite its open chest cavity—began lashing out.

It was alive. So deadly, and alive.

Spindly limbs, ending in sharp claws, thrashed about. People fell, stumbled backwards, raised arms in defense, only to see the yellow-suited material on their arms get slashed to ribbons. And blood sprayed.

Blood sprayed everywhere.

Shouts of confusion and agony and panic all competed for attention, and all of them lost that competition in the explosive chaos.

The yellow of Doctor Solomon’s HAZMAT suit was splashed crimson from the chest down. The head of engineering screamed at the top of his lungs.

Before Grant could even blink twice, Carter was on top of the monstrosity, catching it by its thick neck in a powerful chokehold. His other gloved, meaty fist pried at the strange cranial implant, like he was trying to rip it off the creature’s skull by hand.

On instinct, Grant had shoved Chao out of the way, sending her flying into Stantz and Spencer, sending them all crashing into the floor like a set of human domino pieces. Lucky for them that she has acted without thinking, because clawed feet had threatened to slice their bellies open in the creature’s thrashing rage and rampage.

Carter’s swearing was cut short as something slit his throat—

It all happened so fast.

Instead of intelligible words, he emitted guttural choking while he choked out the creature, and yellow-gloved fingers, stained red, slipped from their grip on the monster’s cranial implant.

He staggered away from it, unable to hold on any longer.

Burch stumbled away with the horrifically injured Doctor Solomon, pulling him away from the specimen, while Mischchenko sprung into violent action. She yanked a heavy microscope off a nearby table, and slammed it down on the creature’s head. Two blows was all it took, cleaving the red-blinking device from the Apex Predator’s skull, to the tune of tearing flesh and cracking bone.

She ducked away before a flailing claw could eviscerate her.

The heft of her blows had torn off what Carter had been trying to rip away by hand, and the bloodied piece of mysterious tech clattered onto the floor, spraying puddles of blood and scattered brain matter. Then the tiny red light atop the device winked out. Went dead.

The Apex Predator thrashed around one final time, then its deadly body fell limp on the metal slab again.

Carter had landed on his ass, gripping his neck, and Grant was quickly upon him. She applied pressure, but it all happened so fast—the blood pumped out between her gloved fingers at an alarming rate.

His wide eyes—piercing blue eyes—stared into Grant’s. Then they stared through her as the life faded from them more and more, fading more with every pumping squirt of blood from his neck.

Though the circumstances had changed, she watched Carter die.

Again.

Not in Midland’s desert. In the basement levels of Future Proof.

And as she’d admit in her next session with Chao, she dreaded the thought that it wouldn’t be the last time she’d watch him die.

At the very least, she would see him die in her dreams.

Over and over again.

[farther-north]

Pov: Me when The Crane Wives

[snailmailmp3]

hs postcanon has always been fanfictiony (which i mean value neutrally) but this upd8 seems to be setting it up to operate in a fanfiction register that i (personally) cannot stand

[roses-red-and-pink]

Oh actually in other news, my divorce was finalized a couple weeks ago so that’s exciting, I guess. (And also sad, and also relief etc etc)

Still a real roller coaster of emotions over here. Trying to go to church young single adult activities and boy oh boy is that anxiety inducing. But I know the only way to get better with it and feel comfortable is to keep going. I know I’ll make friends, it just won’t be immediate.

[carmillatism]

since ao3 is down: carmilla fic @drcarmillaappreciationweek

Sometimes A Mom Is Just A Goth Vampire Lesbian From Outer Space And That's Okay

For Dr. Carmilla Appreciation Week: Mom Monday

trigger warnings for implied/referenced child abuse and neglect, implied/referenced parental abuse, and light self-hatred

note: i will be posting this (and other fanfics for this week) on ao3 once it is up and working again. just don't want to wait any longer for this fic. first time posting a fic on tumblr as well, just so it's known.

fic under the cut

"So, how was your mother?"

"Oh, starting with the hard-hitting questions, huh?" She crosses her legs, then uncrosses them. She scooches around on the chair before giving up. She stares.

"I mean there's no other way to start it, is there? You didn't give me much to work with, so…" Carmilla narrows her eyes.

"Watch it. Just because you're giving me therapy, doesn't mean you get to be disrespectful." She tries to add a hint of humor to her voice because she knows she doesn't mean it. Really. …Well, she kind of does. It's weird. That's why she's in therapy.

She sighs before leaning back in her chair, folding into herself. "Well, I guess she was fine. She wasn't as bad as my father; that's for sure."

"I'm not going to ask you about your father as we aren't here for that, don't worry, but you said 'not as bad'. What does that mean?"

She sighs, frowning slightly. She really was going to divulge this information to a stranger then. "She wasn't actively bad, really. She just allowed so many things to pass. She never really tried to stop anyone from doing anything. She was so passive, so easily used by people who just wanted to hurt her- her kids- me. She wasn't good in that way."

"And that passive response can be just as bad as the people who actively hurt you." She cringes at that.

"I wouldn't say that…"

"Oh, okay. How come?"

She pauses, thinking about the question. Well, she did help her sometimes. …Sometimes. "She… um, well, she helped me on occasion. She taught me how to take care of myself, make food. She sometimes helped me with my studies."

"So, the bare minimum?" The question is innocent and she knows they're trying to help, but that statement snaps something in her. The very fragile dam of emotions she built about that topic crumbles. It was never that strong anyways.

She always knew what her mother did wasn't the best. That was why she was here for the Gods' sake. But she hadn't ever thought about it in that way. Her mom had barely done the bare minimum and yet she still praised her so much… She did the bare minimum and much worse so often that Carmilla just felt like she had to praise her just for doing something… kind, that she should do. She praised her for doing what all mothers should do for their children.

She couldn't stop it. She felt tears beginning to swell in her eyes. A few started to leak out. She grabbed a few tissues from the tissue box laying on the table next to her.

"I never really thought about it in that way, but… yes. If that. She did the bare minimum sometimes, and other times- most times- she didn't. She just let me get hurt and let my father hurt me with not a care in the world. And she never really apologized, more so made it about herself than anything else. She didn't focus on me that much, and if she did, it was because I messed up somehow."

Her therapist looks down at their paper before scribbling on a pad resting in their lap. Tears are streaming down her face, but she's surprisingly calm. It was almost relieving to get this out.

"And this… you mentioned that you wanted to talk about being a mom…?" Her head perks up at that and she stares at them for a moment. Did she write that down…? Oh. Right. Curse her past, emotionally volatile self.

"Oh, I guess. It's just I was wondering about how I am as a mother. I try to help a lot; I do. But sometimes it just doesn't come out right. I feel like I make situations worse when I try to help." She cringes and looks down at her hands folded in her lap.

"And what do you do to help them?"

She thinks for a second. There was a lot, she thought. Maybe… too much? She should probably mention the things she did that usually made her Mechanisms worse, though.

"Well, a lot of times I would think their mechanisms were acting up and making them feel bad, so I'd take them to the lab and get them the help they needed."

Her therapist frowns, writing something down on their paper. She closes her eyes for a moment, breathing in deeply. This is a safe space for her to talk about herself. She won't be judged. …But even so, she couldn't stop herself from judging her own words that came from out of her mouth.

Her therapist looks down at their clipboard, tapping their pen against it, thinking. "And what did you do to help?"

She frowns, thinks. Was it really helping? Did she actually help them? Or was what she did something that only made them worse? "I would usually perform surgery on them…" Her therapist seems to have to hold back a reaction. "I'd get to the root of the problem, their mechanism, and make sure it was all up to date and working well."

Her therapist hums thoughtfully, and she stiffens before relaxing. Her therapist leans a bit forward, chin in hand. "And were their… mechanisms really the problem?"

She stops at that. Were they? She had always thought that it had to have been something with the mechanisms that were making them feel bad. They usually worked just fine, but they were still experimental tech that hadn't been used before. She just always assumed that it had to be that. The mechanisms are the clear reason, so what else could it be?

"I mean, yeah." She stops. Well, actually, a lot of times when she'd knock them out, get into their mechanism, they would be just fine, running smoothly. So if it wasn't the mechanism then what was it?

The therapist takes her silence as a cue to add, "Did there seem to be a common throughline for why they needed help? What signs were there?

"Well… they seemed okay at first. Usually right after they were mechanized there was understandable fear and confusion, but they'd soon come to find a routine. They grew comfortable on the ship. I'd take them in to check on them, their mechanisms. I think it was only after that they seemed to get worse. Did I scare them about their mechanisms too much? Did I make them worried? They always seemed so scared and worried, sometimes defensive."

Her therapist just continued to look at her, a sad look on their face. Did she say something wrong? No. No. The therapist wouldn't judge her for that. She was just judging herself too harshly.

"I mean they would usually be fine before I took them back. I'd watch them from the other room, and they would seem fine. They would talk, play games and music, and destroy stuff sometimes." She thinks fondly about those memories before continuing. "And then when I would walk into the room with the news that I needed to double check their mechanism, that's when they would get scared. They'd always back away, beg me not to take them back. I can't believe I scared them so much about their own mechanisms." She looks up to the therapist to see if they have anything to add. They just stare at her before motioning for her to continue. She does. "But… well, even when I didn't bring up surgeries, treatment, or their mechanisms, they would get scared like that often. Almost all the time. It was always when…"

Her hand flies to her mouth before she can utter the next part. A noise between a strangled yell and a cry parts her lips and she instinctively pushes her hand harder against her mouth to stop it from getting out.

Her therapist smiles sadly, nodding just slightly.

She… was the problem. They were always scared when she walked in. They were always fine right before. They always got scared when she entered. They were scared of… her.

That… she can't believe she could do something like that, make her own kids so scared of her. That was… insane. She thinks morbidly to herself that it's almost as insane as making people immortal. It was insane just as much as it was true. Her therapist had only confirmed it.

"How could I… How did I never realize?"

Her therapist looks at her hard for a moment, and she thinks she can truly see them for the first time. She's actually focused on who they are. They're a real, living person that she's just spilt her guts to. "People can get stuck in their own head sometimes. They think what they're doing is the right thing because that's all they've ever known." Tissues barely made a dent in the tears streaming down her face. They were silent, however. Acceptance could hurt just as much as any pain. "You can think you're doing the right thing, but the right thing for one person can be the wrong thing for another. Kind of like the opposite version of 'one's man treasure can be another man's trash'."

So that's why they always seemed so scared. It was her. They were scared of her. She thought she was helping them with those surgeries, with mechanizing them in the first place, but she wasn't… She had never even thought she could be the problem.

"How could I be so bad…?" Her body was a coiled wire. A coiled wire, ready to be let go and lash out at anything and everything. But, well, not anything nor everything. She just wanted to lash out at herself.

How could she fix this? This wasn't something you fixed with a handsaw, anesthetic, and some morphine.

"It's hard. It's hard to know what you're doing, especially when you never had a good example to begin with." Oh. Oh that- That makes sense. "What you did was bad-" She cringes at that but nods. It was. "-but bad things happen and people do those bad things. But that doesn't always make them bad people. Even if they were once bad, they don't have to stay that way. It's not up to you to decide if they forgive you, but you can, either way, decide to be a better person." Oh. That was nice. She… She could be better. She had all of eternity to make things better. She could do that. She could, at least, make things better than they once were. That was a promise.

"I… Thank you. Thank you very much."

Her therapist nods. "Of course. It will take time, but you can become better. You can do it for them. Just… give them time and space right now. Rushing into it will just make things worse. And… don't be scared to reach out to help on how to become better. People are working every day to better themselves. I'm sure there's many people who would respect your endeavors and could provide advice. People do fucked up things, but that doesn't have to mean they're fucked up people."

That was… Maybe she understood why people went to therapy.

Her tears had stopped rolling, thankfully having stopped before she got to the end of the tissue box. She was… glad she went here. It was a lot to hear that she hadn't been as good a mother as she had thought she tried to be, but it was nice to have confirmation that she could get better. She could do better. So much better. She could be a better mom.

She smiles and nods at her therapist and they smile back.

And… since the session was coming to a close, she could ask the therapist a question. Maybe for a little more comfort. Mostly just because she was interested. Damn that cat curiosity killed.

"Do you think the mechanisms see me as their mom?"

The therapist thinks for a second. Yeah. From what I know, I would say so." They stop, then, contemplating something. "I don't think of you as my mom, though." Oh, WHAT? Come the fuck on.

She frowns before arching a brow at that, staring him down. "...Marius, now, why would you say that?"

Marius shifts in his seat uncomfortable, clipboard still in hand, but he has stopped tapping his hand. Carmilla laughs to herself and thinks they're more weary of the gun they have on their hip, now.

"Well, I mean, you just really didn't make me like the rest, you know? You didn't make Tim, Raph or me." Marius looks at her and Carmilla looks anywhere but him, just to rile him up some more.

She looks to her left then right before pursing her lips at him, looking slightly disappointed. Marius sighs and runs a hand through his hair. They seem to want to throw their hands up in the air, before thinking better of it.

"Doc, come on. You're more like a family friend than anyone else. You're like someone who pops in sometimes to see what's going on." Carmilla feigns anger at that, and Marius sighs even deeper this time, resting their head against their hand.

"Oh, so I'm just a family friend, am I? I make almost all of you, and I'm just a family friend. I see how it is, Marius." She hangs her head downcast and sniffles a bit for emphasis.

Marius closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose in deep thought. They open their eyes again, and level a stare at Carmilla. "Carmilla, it's just that Raph was more the one that made me and I still don't know you that well. Like, the others are definitely your kids, but I'm- we're- just not." Carmilla notices that whilst exasperated, he doesn't seem to be stressed, moreso playing along with her. But either way, it is nice to hear where the two of them stood in reference to her. She still didn't know the two that well.

"That's docteur to you, Marius." Marius gives an exasperated sound before finally throwing his hands in the air, clipboard flying to the floor. "And, I mean, would you consider Raphaella your mom?"

"What? No!" Marius' face has turned into a grimace. He looks somewhat sick.

Carmilla hides a smile, trying to keep the conversation as serious as possible. She arches a suspicious eyebrow. "Well, then, being made by someone obviously doesn't make them your mom."

"Well-" She cuts them off.

"So me creating you obviously doesn't matter here. I think it should be more about the fact that I take care of all of you and make sure your mechanisms are working just fine. Plus, I cook for you and help you when you're feeling down. And! I do that all in a motherly way." Carmilla looks proud of herself. Marius looks… confused. "So why are you so hesitant to call me mom when it's clear that's what I am to you?" She was actually a bit curious at the answer.

"Hey! This was supposed to be a therapy session for you, not me! Also, wouldn't this break some type of rule in therapy if I was treating my mom since you 'are' my mom?" He's really against calling her his mom. Interesting. Either way, Carmilla isn't worried. She'll make them see she's their mom soon.

"You're not an actual therapist, Marius. If you were, you wouldn't be giving out therapy on a ship in the middle of nowhere. You'd have a license and some of your therapy sessions wouldn't include se-"

"Hey! Low blow! You don't always need a license from some big industry to be able to do something." He's red in the face but laughing good-naturedly, and Carmilla allows herself a giggle.

"You quite literally need a license to be a therapist, Marius." Marius rolls their eyes at that.

"Oh, well, I guess that means you aren't a doctor anymore because your license surely has been taken away after breaking the hippocratic oath so many times."

Carmilla's mouth drops open and she has to stop herself from blurting out a laugh. Yeah, she could get used to this Marius kid.

"Oh, Marius, you're grounded for like 3 years now."

Now it's time for Marius' jaw to drop. He stares at her, bug eyed. "You literally can't do that! You're not my mom!"

"You may not see me as your mom, Marius, but that doesn't make me any less a mom in general, so I can most definitely ground you."

"How can you even ground me on a ship, light-years away from any planet?" Marius actually looks somewhat worried.

She thinks on that for a second and then says, "You're going to be stuck in your room for 3 years, then."

"TIM!"

Dr. Carmilla glares at Marius, tapping her foot against the floor. Of course Marius has to try and use someone else to support his bullshit claim. Can't back it up on his own. She hears Tim running towards them and rolls her eyes when she sees Tim pop his head in through the door frame.

"Uh, what's up?" She asks, before looking between Dr. Carmilla sitting in an armchair and Marius holding a clipboard, glasses on his forehead, and wearing clothes that seem more business casual than his normal outfit. This was some type of therapy session then. Tim looks behind him before looking back in the room, furrowing his brows and squinting slightly. "...If you're having a therapy session, I can just… leave…" She starts backing up, seeming to not want any part in whatever Carmilla and Marius were doing.

Marius holds up a hand out to stop Tim. "No, no, nope. The therapy session is over and I need to ask you a question." Carmila sighs, looking between Tim and Marius. Marius always had to cause a scene (which was another reason why they were her kid).

Tim comes back to the door frame, but steps a bit back and out of the way, apparently scared of what he's about to be asked. Marius would either want her to come practice some type of fucked up form of therapy, or pretend he was a Baron. Which Marius really seemed to think he was even though it was obvious to Tim that Marius didn't even know where Britain was in the first place. And Carmilla, she would probably just stare at her eyes. For a long time. A long long time.

"Uh, ask away, then-"

Marius barely allows Tim to get their sentence out before asking, "Would you say Dr. Carmilla is my mom?"

Whatever she was expecting, that was not it. Why are they wondering about the schematics of moms…? Why couldn't they just be normal and murder people? Why talk when you can… oh, she doesn't know, explode a couple planets.

"Tim." Her head snaps to Marius and her goggles zoom in on their face. He looks… serious? Well, as serious as Marius could be.

"I mean I don't really know how to answer that-"

"Tim, just answer their question so this conversation can end." Carmilla just stares at him, tired.

"Uh, well, probably not, then." Carmilla exclaims and Tim cuts her off before she can say anything. "I mean! You didn't really make him nor have you been around him for that long, so…" Tim stops, thinking for a moment, tapping their chin for added effect. "I guess you're more like a stepmother."

"A STEPMOTHER?" Carmilla yells and Tim shrugs. Marius is laughing, doubled over.

"You know, she has a point, Doc." Marius says through tears of laughter.

"A POINT? I'LL SHOW YOU A POINT, MARIUS VON RAUM-"

"HEY. CAN YOU GUYS SHUT IT? SOME PEOPLE ARE TRYING TO GET AN OLD-ASS TV THEY LOOTED TO WORK PROPERLY." Jonny's muffled yells can be heard from the common rooms.

They all shut up, looking between each other, barely keeping back laughs. And then they're all in hysterics: cackling, sobbing, hiccupping, rolling over themselves as they try to gain any semblance of control over their bodies. But they just can't stop, the absurdity of the conversation– the situation– making them lose it.

And Carmilla, there, in that moment, as she's shaking from laughing so hard, realizes something. Maybe Mom was less about the title, itself, and more about the experience the word describes.

[kashilascorner]

Just booked a session with a console psychologist 🤞

[jimmystrudel]

5 year dog plan updates: I think I've identified a breed (and 3 potential breeders), I have more clearly figured out what I don't want and what my life style will not fit and most important I need more experience with dogs in general

[desifleabag]

In my recent therapy session, I realized a thing about myself: how I fill my void with professional goals and how much I struggle with showing gratitude.

My therapist said that the void in me is interfering with my life because I don't know how to be grateful or accept the things I have achieved in my life. No matter how much I achieve, there is always something that bothers me. It's either "I can do better" or patting myself on the back.

I have filled my voids with professional goals for the past 10 years. It's like I have this chocolate ice cream box, and I am filling it with peas and whatnot. Chocolate ice cream looks good in the chocolate ice cream box only. It's like always finding an alternative to fill that space in your life.

They say, no matter what you do, if you don't know how to appreciate yourself, then you will always get into a spiral of overthinking and self-loathing.

I have experienced low self-esteem since childhood, and I have constantly compared myself to people on LinkedIn, Instagram, and in college. It's never-ending for me.

I am almost three years into therapy, and I still find it hard to accept my accomplishments and hard work.

To practice gratitude, I do journaling, write a letter to that teen version, and have optimistic thoughts about my life, but also not ignoring my negative emotions.

It's always hard to accept who you are and your accomplishments, but it's never too late to embrace them because you deserve validation, love, and support from yourself too.

[commaclear]

headcannon

all Wilburs in the commaverse™ have said bravo after hanky panky, the differance is how they go about it.

htid!wilbur is flustered, just blurts it out and is teased about it for months

btp!wilbur says it but quackity doesnt hear (or so he hopes) and he cringes any time he thinks about it. or he almost says it but doesnt.

tstr!wilbur says it and then jumps out the window

and finally atwg!wilbur says it unironicaly

-ÆÆ anon

Basically canon tbh

Btp!Wilbur said it jokingly as a teen and Quackity will never let him forget it

[chiefmauskateer]

<3

Sometimes I say self loathing things to my therapist and he looks at me dead in the eyes before saying “You fucking moron.” and tbh same

[angel---eater]

Being consistently misgendered in DBT is slowly driving me insane.

[thelasttaleofthepari]

Ro the number 1 Sokeefe shipper

[misericordieux]

If I am actually alive at the end of this therapy

…

Because I’M LOSING MY GODDAMN MIND

[thatnerduknow98]

“I don’t actually enjoy defeating you, you know. I just do it because I’m the only one who can. And I know why you wreak havoc. I know your backstory. You were abandoned and forced to work terrible, abusive jobs that no longer exist. That’s a valid reason to want to burn down the government. But I have to stop you, because that’s my job. And you refuse to surrender until I’ve knocked you bloody to the ground, so I have to continue to knock you bloody. But I don’t like doing it. I know you’re a person under that mask and I know that you’re human and you hurt and I don’t like causing you pain. So why do you keep letting me do it?”

The villain had to think about this for a moment. “My therapist says I do this because I don’t know a life without abuse so I create the circumstances in which I am comforted by familiarity. You knocking my teeth in for the hundredth time is familiar. I have gotten to the point where I begin to enjoy it.”

“So it’s a kink?”

“No, no, nothing like that. You are much too young for me anyway, and that would be super wrong and gross. I may be evil but I have morals in that regard.”

The hero sighed. “Look, I really don’t like it when you force me to hurt you. Can you please find another way to outlet your needs?”

“I don’t know how,” he said. “I wasn’t good enough to qualify for boxing or ufc, but the first time you kicked my butt I didn’t even have to be good enough, you know? You saw a hint of me harming something else and put me in the hospital for a week. It was nice to be taken seriously, I guess.”

“Ok, but there may be other ways you can outlet your issues. Have you tried a peaceful hobby, like gardening or art?”

“Oh I’m actually an artist when I’m not a villain. My lab is covered in paint and canvases of unique shapes and sizes I cut myself. I even have a contemporary piece at the local art museum two towns over.”

The hero nodded and chucked. “Take your pain out on the paint. Or even find another sport. Men’s volleyball is really picking up here. You can take it out on the ball.”

“It’s not the same,” the villain said, face drooping. “I feel like I deserve to be punched and punished. Even before I started doing the things that warranted you to come defeat me.”

“Ok dude that’s called trauma and you need to figure out how to get thru that,” the hero replied, with a hint of annoyance. “Most of us actually feel that way too, like we deserve to be beaten, when we’ve never done anything that warrants it.”

“Why do you feel that?”

“My grades weren’t high enough in school so Dad paid more for me to go to college and then held it over my head.”

“Oh that’s awful.”

“Yeah. But now I save lives to prove to myself that you can be fucking dumb and still a good person.”

The villain pondered this for a moment before replying, “How would everyone react if I just quit? If I took a career change and never needed to be defeated again?”

“Well, we have secret identities for a reason. Just become your identity, and utilize your art and chemistry skills toward something better than colorful bombs.”

“Perhaps I should. But that’s scary.”

“It is scary, but honestly I wouldn’t acknowledge that you as a villain disappeared. If the press asked, I’d just shrug. This way you can change quietly.”

The villain nodded. “I appreciate that. I think I’m gonna try it.” He began limping away.

“You’ll be great!” the hero said. “At least take pride in knowing your decision is preventing me from doing something I don’t want to do.”

Six months later, the art exhibit two towns over had grown so big and expanded that it moved to the duo’s town. The hero went undercover, knowing this was his former enemy’s work, and was surprised to watch the work go from anger to peaceful. The red buildings became soft blue flowers in a meadow.

The hero turned to leave and made contact with the former villain, now an artist. The artist smiled- with his new pearly white teeth- and approached him.

“Thank you for coming,” he said. But they both knew the gratitude was from more than the hero visiting the exhibit.

“Foolish hero. As long as there is evil-” “-Yeah, yeah, you’ll return. But why? Each time you show up, you get your teeth kicked in.”

[yourbleedingh3art]

Men don’t think they can teach me anything so they don’t love me , I reject the presence of paternalism when it presents itself as egalitarian , balanced loving