#writing a character healing from that is catharsis

[wutheringmights]

Chapter 31: The Spoken Confession & The Black Blood Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Additional Tags: Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda), Alternate Universe, Character Study, War, world building, Trauma, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Political Intrigue, Found Family, Angst and Humor, Warriors is a very complicated person, Warriors also does not know Time is Mask, Warriors (Linked Universe)-centric, Canon-Typical Violence, Heavy Angst, Manipulation, Morally Ambiguous Character, Please read content warnings before each chapter, Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Physical Abuse, Implied Sexual Content, Power Imbalance, Implied/Referenced Torture, Blood and Injury, Disabled Character, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat Summary: “You are going to hear a lot of terrible things about me. Most of it is going to be true.” Being the hero who saved Hyrule from a bloody war was a thankless job that left Warriors with more regrets than he cared to remember. He only started to heal after meeting his fellow heroes from across time and joining them on their quest to defeat the black-blooded monsters. But when his time-hopping journey takes him back home, he finds his kingdom on the brink of war once more. This war threatens to ensnare not only Warriors, but his newfound family as well. Warriors will do whatever it takes to keep them safe, even if that means becoming a traitor to the kingdom he gave up everything to save. But the harder Warriors works to protect his family, the more the secrets of his dark past come to life. Who is Captain Link Walton, the Hero of Warriors? What happened to the two other heroes he had once fought alongside all those years ago? When this is over, will Warriors even have a family left to save or is he doomed to repeat his past mistakes? (Once, there were three brothers: the captain, the engineer, and the child. Their story did not have a happy ending.)

Hello everybody! Guess who's back! If you remember me, then you know what bullshit this is. If you don't, then oh boy!

I'm so sorry that this chapter took so long. The good news is that it's about 42k long. That's a lovely little novella right there. With how crazy the world is right now, it feels bad to write a dark fantasy with a cornerstone of bad people in politics, but hopefully you will find some catharsis in this.

I know I did. I cried. A lot.

Cheers! 🥂

In this chapter of the fanfiction that is way too long for it's own good:

Link finds solace in his friendship with Proxi

The Knights of Hyrule are here, which means its time to deal with the black blood problem.

Pain, and perhaps a little suffering to go with it.

📚 Read It Here 📚

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Fun(?) question: If you could only write/read one trope ever again for the rest of your life, which would it be?

(I am aware that tropes are tools and most stories have multiple in them. I mean tropes as central foundations for stories. Play along please lol.)

Happy new year, bud! I'm looking forward to that Mikey First Edition in this year 2025.

But wow. This is a really hard question, because there are quite a few that I really enjoy...

Someone who is flawed and broken learning that they're allowed love and heal, and they shouldn't be condemned to an eternal cycle of misery and loneliness because of the past. The idea that you are worthy of happiness even at your lowest, darkest point is important to me. For reasons.

It doesn't even have to be romantic. Friendship. Brotherhood. Found family. Finding your pack. Healing, loving, becoming a better person for yourself, but with their hand in yours.

[astral-herald]

Viktor's (subverted) Aristotelian Tragedy

A common sentiment I’m seeing throughout post-finale Viktor discourse is an understandable concern or distaste for the element of choice lost throughout his story. I know a lot of us – myself included – expected more time spent on his transformation, along with emphasis on the anger/rage/betrayal fueling it. But seeing him allow Singed to “begin the process” in episode 8 reminded me of Arcane’s origins – tragedy. Bear with me for another long analysis :)

Aristotle wrote the following on the tragedy: “A tragedy is the imitation of an action that is serious and also, as having magnitude, complete in itself…with incidents arousing pity and fear, wherewith to accomplish a catharsis of these emotions.” He also emphasized that the true tragic hero couldn’t be perfect, and his downfall into such catharsis-inducing circumstances was reliant on a fatal flaw, oftentimes pride.

Viktor fits this mold, as do many Arcane characters, and it stands to reason that this was intentional since the writing team has reiterated that the show is a tragedy, at its core.

Regarding Viktor’s fatal flaw, I’d argue it’s pride, but it manifests very uniquely. He never makes any grand declarations about his success and doesn’t draw attention to himself in any clear way throughout season one (“Progress Day” comes to mind). Instead, his pride manifests as staunch independence and self-reliance that lead to his downfall; his unwillingness to break his stoic mold arguably led to his use of the Hexcore…so it goes.

Fascinating caveat: Viktor’s pride is a defense mechanism, a necessary tool he built in order to survive and succeed in a hostile environment to people of his station. His self-reliance is increasingly desperate as his illness worsens. He’s cornered by fate but banks on the sanctity of choice at every turn – in season one, Viktor is bound by the conviction that we all have a choice. It’s why he’s so distressed when Jayce makes the wrong one regarding weaponizing Hextech.

“There is always a choice.”

Viktor’s choice to fuse with the Hexcore is the classic Aristotelian fatal flaw moment, the singular incident that opens the flood gates for eventual catharsis. We watch Viktor make an irreparable choice, one that we know to be bad, and endure the repercussions. He then makes the choice to abandon the Hexcore, and end his life, but audiences can’t shake the feeling that those consequences aren’t leaving anytime soon.

So why is Viktor so anti-choice in his final season 2, act 3 form?

Choice is Viktor’s weapon. Pride is what leads him to abusing it. Despite how uncomfortable and depressing it is to watch, Viktor’s slow descent into the Herald is a perfect twist of fate. The Arcane is even so insidious that it meshes with his original intent, to help those suffering in the undercity, while convincing him that their subservience is healing. He becomes responsible for their choices. He knows what’s best because he’s relieving the Gloriously Evolved of their suffering, right? The utopia is for the greater good, yes?

Admittedly, it was really hard watching act 3 Viktor descend fully into his choiceless ethos. But we can still relate it to his tragic flaw – his pride has mushroomed into coldhearted omniscience; not only does he know what’s best for everyone, evolution, but he also has the sense to make the choice for them to supersede their “baser instincts.” The grief we feel upon seeing this perverted, violent version of himself, as far removed from Viktor as possible, is the culmination of Aristotle’s treatise on tragedy. The catharsis is the rock-bottom Machine Herald.

"Choice is false."

But then Arcane decided to basically make Jayvik canon (get out of here, Christian Linke) and destroyed the early drafts of this post. I’m going to rapid-fire this next bit:

Jayce forces Viktor back to life. Viktor has no agency in his season 2 inciting incident. Again, it’s distressing when we mourn his agency, but it remains in accordance with Aristotelian tragedy.

Viktor clings to humanity as long as he possibly can. When Jayce calls out Viktor’s trajectory, alleging that his old partner had died in the Council chamber, whatever is left of Viktor gives way to the Arcane because his last tether has been snapped.

Jayce knows the game – Old Man Jenkins Mage Viktor told him so. Jayce becomes the linchpin in subverting Viktor’s tragedy. He knows what must happen. He understands now.

Machine Herald Viktor is given the chance to undo his fatal flaw, to reverse the catharsis, when he sees Old Man Jenkins Mage Viktor. With Jayce’s help, he takes it.

Given that it’s a version of Viktor who ultimately frees him from himself by empowering Jayce, we can gather that Viktor has liberated himself from his tragedy.

Aristotle’s catharsis is rapidly transformed from something based in release to something healing – Viktor’s tether to humanity returns. He grasps it. The walls of his pride and self-reliance collapse. He accepts Jayce’s help, finally being seen as the full individual he is. Catharsis ensues, for sure, but I don’t think it’s based in the typical tragedy genre.

All this to say, I think Viktor’s arc was, in fact, carefully constructed. He represents the Aristotelian descent into a fatal flaw and that’s very distressing to see unfold, especially since he embodied the tragic hero archetype so well from day one. However, Jayce undoes this narrative and we’re given an incredibly subversive ending that I, personally, never saw coming.

I’m sure that Mage Viktor has a much larger bearing on this analysis than I’m accounting for. But for now, suffice to say that he is Viktor’s way out of the tragedy. TALK ABOUT CHOICE!

This doesn’t erase anyone’s discomfort for Viktor having less and less agency, but I’d like to emphasize the logic and literary precedent behind the story decisions.

PS: here's a quick source I looked at about Aristotelian tragedies. I hope to re-up on Greek tragedies so I can get more specific about the parallels Arcane draws from them.

[writingwithcolor]

Author with cultural disconnect: How do I write without making it seem as if I hate my own heritage?

Anonymous asked:

I’m a white-passing Asian author, and I’ve never felt all that connected with my heritage. My current story centers on a fairy (re: fantasy-world POC) child and ends with her realizing that her parents are toxic af and her human best friend’s family takes her in. This is the perfect opportunity to sort through my own issues with my heritage and finally convince my monkey-brain that it’s okay to not know how to cook Vietnamese food or celebrate tet or speak Vietnamese… But I also realize that if I’m not careful, this could easily slip into “Hey, I hate my heritage and so should you!” So how can I stop that from happening?

Writing for yourself first, not an audience

I ask you a simple question: why put pressure on yourself to have any sort of non-offensive messaging for a story that hasn’t been drafted yet and is to convince your monkey brain it’s okay to exist as yourself?

That seems like the fastest way to stop the story from being actually cathartic and instead a performance art piece when you already feel hung up on performing as “properly” part of your culture.

As I said in Working Through Identity Issues and Other Pitfalls of Representation, not all stories you write need to be for public consumption. Especially stories you’re using for your own self-processing and therapy, because you’re trying to get a cathartic moment that is rewriting your own story.

At what point does the public need to be involved in that?

I do understand the compulsion to want to post—I have definitely posted some Questionable™ material in my drive to get validation for feeling the way I do, wanting people to witness me and say “same.” It’s a powerful urge. Sometimes it’s worked, but most of the time it’s just made me feel horrifically exposed.

But you really do not have to post in public to get any sort of validation. Set up a groupchat with friends if you want the cheerleading and witnessing—people who will know your story and give you good-faith interpretations and won’t accuse you of anything. Honestly I’d suggest setting up this groupchat anyway; as someone who just got one again after quite a few years without it, my productivity has skyrocketed from being around supportive people.

Let the monkey brain have its monkey brain moment and shut off the concept the story is for the public. Shut off the concept of performing for an unknown audience. It’s for you. Be authentic, no matter how bad it would look to outsiders. They’re not reading it. Part of getting catharsis, sometimes, is being the worst version of yourself, somewhere nobody else can see it.

Deciding to publish the work

If, after you do write it, you find that you actually do want to polish it up and put it somewhere… edit it. Rewrite it entirely if that’s what it takes. Take the story through the same drafting process every story needs to go through, ripping out the unfortunate implications as you go.

Editing can be its own form of healing, as you try to figure out what this character would need to not be hateful. As you realize, once this longform journal entry is out of your head, what was bothering you now that you can see it pinned down on a page. But you absolutely do not need to write with the intention of editing in that healing. When I’ve tried, it’s fallen flat.

The healing will come from being yourself, no public involved, and writing about your feelings in their rawest form. Anything else is extra.

There’s no point in trying to put guard rails on the drafting process, not for a deeply personal piece. And by the time that drafting process is done, you’ll likely have specific scenarios and contexts that you can ask about, and you might even have ideas on how to fix it yourself once the story has a shape to it.

This is 100% a situation where there’s no real sense in idea workshopping something in the plotting stage. You’re doing something for you. Decide if it’s for public consumption later (while acknowledging “no” is a perfectly valid answer), and only figure out how to make the story not overtly harmful if you decide to put it out into the public.

~ Leigh

[hestzhyen]

Analysis: Hakuri & Abusive Backstories

Hello dear void. Hakuri is a character that is near and dear to my heart so I wanted to yap about him and why his story is so important to me on a deeply personal level.

This is a LONG yapfest- the Tumblr Edit Post UI is hitching and lagging while I try to type this little notice there's so much word vomit in here. I honestly don't expect anyone to read it all the way through. I just wrote this to figure out why I was so goddamn attached to a fictional character. I spent too many hours on this to just delete it all once I found my answers though, so... if you wanna strap in, go ahead. But maybe make sure you've got a decent chunk of free time and high tolerance for extremely subjective interpretations first.

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DISCLAIMER: This is purely my opinion- I can't speak for anyone's experience but my own.

First, this isn't a trauma dump. Not for me at least. I'll be talking about what Hakuri endured and how it shaped his character in relatable ways thanks to the quality of the writing. But there won't be anything discussed outside of what happens in Kagurabachi canon, so rest assured on that front.

Second, fictional characters don't have to be 1:1 mirrors in terms of type or severity of trauma the reader experienced themselves to be helpful self-reflection tools. Please take care if you choose to read this, and make sure you're in a good frame of mind if parts of Hakuri's struggle could send you into darker places.

Third, I started writing this around chapter 53 and it's being posted as of chapter 58. If it ages poorly, well, I'm not saying I'm smart just because I yap a lot.

Without further ado... prepare for an expansion of massive proportions under the cut.

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All too often we see shounen characters have an abusive sob story background to give them a sympathetic hook and a reason to start from zero. There's little to say about them other than they go from zero to hero for the good vibes and catharsis. They begin their story as a victim first and foremost, and there are little or no lingering effects from trauma once they have their moment of triumph. In the "good" cases they're healed and whole. In the "bad" cases they have negatively warped personalities for the rest of the story. There's not much in between the two extremes.

Portraying the abuse characters endure in such a shallow way is not the best way to write about it, from my point of view. Writing it as something that can be overcome with strength of will alone is harmful. So is writing the victim as a permanently damaged, defective person. Instead, we need more characters like Hakuri that are shaped but not wholly defined by their abuse, and aren't completely healed by putting the manifestation of their torment in the dirt.

Hakuri is the first character the [abusive past] attribute that actually worked as a hook for me. This is largely due to two key writing decisions: not centering Hakuri's entire narrative around overcoming the abuse he suffered, and carefully depicting how trauma influences his actions. It's necessary to read between the lines of what he says and does to see how much he hasn't said about himself- what he won't admit or recognize, despite how core it is to his character.

Chapters 19-23, Meeting and Getting to Know Sazanami Hakuri

Mantis imagery for courage!

The very first things we learn about Hakuri are as follows:

1) He pushes through hardship with sheer force of will 2) He lost his whole family and has probably been on his own for a while 3) #1 is a lie

I've brought it up before, but food symbolism is all over the place in Kagurabachi- it's often a short-hand for comfort and connection. So Hakuri spilling that metaphor out of his mouth right after telling us he's able to "push through" is a sign that he actually isn't coping with his situation that well. His thoughts about himself and his actual status don't match up. But it's ridiculous imagery that puts us off and pushes us towards thinking he's kind of pathetic rather than making us feel sorry for him. And the rest of his introduction, while accurate to his character, buries the lede on how much he's suffering.

As for his backstory: he was disowned, yes. He says his family will kill him if they see him, yes. But it reads more like Hakuri was punished for being a moral black sheep after he himself framed being disowned as punishment for "being weak" and "getting in the way of business". There's no hint of foul play on his family's part other than being low-life criminals to be fought as the arc villains. So he's primed for some sadness but probably nothing on Char's level. The only hints we have towards something serious until the chapter 24 reveal are not exactly obvious:

-He has a fatalistic mindset and thinks it's natural for him to be overpowered and kicked around because he's weak. (Could just be typical zero-to-hero shounen character things.)

-He's generally unafraid and highly tolerant of pain. He gives no shits about his condition after being kicked around by the Yakuza, smears the blood from his nose while casually talking to Chihiro, and willingly takes a strong hit and is able to yell encouragement to Chihiro while lying bloody on the floor. (Doesn't really stand out in a series as violent as Kagurabachi; this is kind of the bare minimum for being involved in the plot if you aren't a child to be protected.)

-Perhaps the only big tell-tale sign: we zoom in on his trembling fist when describing his older siblings as "strong and scary" in chapter 23. (Could be inferred as fearing for his life since he also says they'd kill him on sight in the same chapter.)

Hakuri's not written like a typical abuse victim in this intro. We don't get commentary from other characters about how much pain Hakuri seems to be in- they comment on how weak and dopey he appears instead. Nor do we get shots of him looking sad, flinching away from touch, or being hesitant to connect with other people. He's actually kind of unhinged with how passionate and eager he is to join forces with Chihiro. He's intense and ridiculous and gets used like a wholesome gag character more than anything else.

So there's not much to suspect here. Hakuri's got more to reveal to us but there are no signs of what we should brace ourselves for. Then the nightmare starts.

Chs. 24-26, The First Glimpse

This page goes from 0 to 100 REAL quick.

Well, shit.

Behold the understated reveal of Hakuri's status as a victim of abuse. The revelation at the bottom of the page only to see his suicide attempt on the page turn is an extremely effective "oh shit- OH SHIT-" two-hit combo that arrests the reader's attention, and I really wish that it was the most memorable part of the chapter for more people. Because holy hell, this recontextualizes everything we know about Hakuri. He's still a passionate, silly, and slightly insane guy, but damn he actually suffered more than he let on.

To find out like this is unusual, isn't it? Char's situation wasn't shown right away either, but meeting her as a scruffy orphan clued us in that she was going to have a tough past from the start. Hakuri, by comparison, gave us very few obvious hints about it. It's like he doesn't want to be seen that way. He openly admits to being "weak" and "useless" but his own pain? The suffering he endured? He's totally fine pushing past it all (lies).

But we're not even close to done yet.

Note how Hakuri's focused on Soya's hands...

Hakuri's first instinct being to jump to his death says a lot. Unlike standing up for the little girl or jumping in to save Chihiro, this is a purely reactionary response. There's no room to think back to Chihiro's bravery for inspiration as those memories overwhelm him. He's terrified. So he jumps and trembles in fear as Soya tries to talk him into coming back to relive his nightmares.

We laughed at the soda spilling out of his mouth and his expressions after he got hit in the face by Hiyuki, but this is deadly serious. Hakuri isn't okay at all. He's actually in very bad condition and the way he thinks about Soya says so much.

The panel explaining Soya's expression of "love" on the page above is important, but it's not emphasized in the same way as what's happening in the present. It feels like an unpleasant detour into Hakuri's inner thoughts for extra context while the main focus is on him and Soya in the moment. Hakuri doesn't even describe what happened to him directly- he says "punching and kicking" like it could be anything from hazing to broken bones, but the backdrop lets us know that it's probably closer to the latter. It gives the impression that Hakuri (understandably) doesn't want to think about this at all.

He also frames Soya's aggression towards him as an expression of "sincere" affection. That's preposterous and heart-breaking to most people- violence isn't love. Even most victims will acknowledge that... to a point. Violence hurts, it's unwanted, but it's still a valid expression of emotion to be acknowledged. It's something they earn or deserve. The rational people are correctly screaming NO IT'S NOT! And most victims would agree again... to a point. Somehow they're the exception to that mindset. Other people don't deserve it, but they do.

So despite it all, Hakuri is still able to be brave for Hinao's sake. He's not going to let Soya hurt anyone else if he can help it, even if it means putting himself back in harm's way. This adds an interesting layer to his character. He's laden with trauma, but he's still able to show courage for others. He thinks he's weak and won't prevent whatever abuse comes his way, but he will put himself at risk to stop others from experiencing the same or worse.

Why is he so devoted to protecting other people at his own expense? Sadly, it's not uncommon for victims to advocate harder for other people than they do for themselves. It also has something to do with the merchandise woman that was mentioned this chapter, but that reasoning won't be revealed for a while yet.

"This pathetic wretch was born a Sazanami, but he can't even do sorcery. He's useless. Worse, he's a hindrance. His life is worthless."

There's another thrill of panic when Kyora summons Hakuri to use his life as a bargaining chip. Hakuri's at his most pathetic here- he's on the ground, helpless under Kyora's foot, not even trying to resist or escape. None of the fire we saw when he saved the little girl, took that hit for Chihiro, or defended Hinao is present. Hakuri can't be brave for himself. He's quite literally trampled by what passes for the Sazanami version of "love" and "basic human decency". It doesn't need to be spelled out any clearer than this: Hakuri's woes come from his family, especially his father. The Sazanamis are fucked up even when it comes to how they treat their own flesh and blood. They're rotten from the head down.

It's obvious then why Chihiro's words and actions affect Hakuri so much. Hakuri thinks he has no value whatsoever- his father says as much, and he falls for Shiba's bluff implying the same. Only Chihiro steps in to directly repudiate Kyora's toxicity and say yes, Hakuri does have value. So much, in fact, that he's willing to trade the precious memento of his father (and the majority of his strength) to prove it. So they're able to leave, but not without Hakuri encumbering himself with a huge amount of guilt for how things went down.

The face of someone ready to spiral down and out.

It's telling that reassurances don't do much to help Hakuri feel better. Shiba tries to help by offering generic comfort (ice cream) and Chihiro tells him it's alright, but it's not until Hakuri hears that he's still needed that he's able to bring himself out of the mire of self-hate.

Of course it's extra effective for Hakuri because he was considered totally useless, but this is very relatable even for folks who weren't told they had no value on a daily basis. Offers of comfort only make the self-hate worse for some people who think they're utterly worthless. Even simple gestures like Shiba's twist the knife and reinforce the idea that the person doesn't deserve any kindness whatsoever. It just piles on the guilt. But being given something to do -especially if it's believably framed as something only they're capable of doing- feels incredible. They might have some value after all, even if only for this one thing.

It's something that I really appreciate the author doing since it's a touch that didn't need to be added. Hakuri could have just found a bit of solace in Shiba and Chihiro's words, which would have given more time for other things to be addressed in the chapter. But it's important to show that Hakuri struggles with accepting kindness because he took his father's words to heart. His feelings of worthlessness and uselessness are essential to who he is.

After this we see him at Chihiro's beck and call, prioritizing his requests over everything- relaxing with Char and Hinao, even his own comfort with another ice cream/food metaphor. It's framed as something silly and dog-like for the laughs, which once again encourages us to downplay the severity of this issue for him. None of the other characters ever directly point this out either. It's one of those informed traits that influences Hakuri's actions without any acknowledgment from himself or others, but just like the soda spilling out of his mouth, we're invited to treat it as a gag.

From here, the focus shifts entirely to building tension for the raid on the Rakuzaichi. Hakuri's circumstances are put on the back-burner to simmer for 5 weeks in real time until he confronts Soya in chapter 30.

Chs. 30 & 32-34, The Soya Rematch (what Chihiro and Shiba know):

Hakuri puts his fear of Soya aside to bait him out to help the mission. Chihiro and Shiba gave him a job to do, so he'll see it through no matter what. Unfortunately things don't go as planned and he ends up all alone with his biggest tormentor.

I'll have more to say about Soya himself in his own section with Kyora later, but it's very clear what his role as Chief Bully is, narratively speaking:

In a lot of ways, Soya is more object than actual character. He's our almost cartoonishly evil device to represent everything that's been repressing Hakuri. He's the demon in his head telling him he's useless, pathetic, weak, and so on. So Hakuri trying to square up to Soya is also him facing off against the things he's internalized that hold him back.

Hakuri's struggle against Soya before he awakens seems very hopeful and standard shounen. He's fighting the internal battle at the same time as the external, telling his brother to "shut up" while his mind races to figure out what he should do now that the situation went belly-up. He could keep playing the victim and take Shiba up on his offer to help since he can't reach Chihiro, or he could play dead and wait for it all to be over... or he could try believing in himself. Because Chihiro saw something in him and even if he can't bring himself to think he's strong and capable, he can at least have faith in Chihiro's words that they would end the Rakuzaichi together.

This time it works and he's able to shove Soya close enough to the tree wall so that Chihiro can give us a great visual metaphor to show us what just happened to Hakuri:

Chihiro is the one who broke Hakuri's mental barrier for him. He couldn't do it himself, but someone he admired believing in him in return made all the difference. Hakuri just needed a little support to start coming into his own.

He stays behind to handle the rest of the fight on his own while Chihiro goes ahead to meet up with Shiba- he can do this himself now that he's awakened thanks to their help. Very wholesome, extremely shounen. But there are deliberate writing choices which make it obvious that there's more going on beyond the surface that winning this fight won't fix or even fully address.

In Chapter 32, Hakuri tells Chihiro and Shiba a slightly condensed version of his experience as an uncomfortable reminder for the reader. Oh, right, Hakuri was abused- at least that explains why he survived a Flame Bone punch to the face. Anyway, let's move on to ditching John Hishaku and kicking Soya's ass.

The framing is so interesting to me. Chapter 32 uses preexisting panels that are cropped and presented slightly differently compared to how they originally appeared: Ch. 24

Ch. 32

Full page for reference.

When Hakuri recounts a version of the abuse flashbacks, they're not merely downsized to fit. They're cropped to downplay the gang-ups and are smaller in size compared to the rest of his story, almost as if he doesn't think it's that big of a deal compared to being unable to keep up with his siblings. We don't even see his own words describing what happened despite him talking freely about everything else. Instead, the abuse sequence is treated like the panel where he describes Soya's "love"- Hakuri talking to Chihiro and Shiba about his suffering is an unpleasant aside to give context rather than the main event.

Seriously. The dialogue of him explaining why his family gave up on him over the reused backdrop of the Sazanami estate is given more time than him being hit and kicked. Chihiro and Shiba get the "it wasn't so bad" version of events compared to what Hakuri remembers experiencing, and we're invited to treat what's normally the foundation of a character's entire existence as a convenient explanation for why he's so goddamn sturdy.

Neither of them noticeably react to his story too. We got a bit from Shiba in the car in Chapter 26 when he realized Hakuri was probably stewing in self-hatred, but we've never seen any of Chihiro's thoughts or reactions since he was disgusted by Kyora using Hakuri as a bargaining chip. He does reassure Hakuri that they'll be there to help him, but isn't it strange we don't see Chihiro's reaction to this information at all? We see little panels of his concerned faces all the time for less than what Hakuri talked about here:

Chihiro cares a hell of a lot, and he's very attentive to boot.

Obviously we don't see Chihiro and Shiba's reactions because they aren't important. This isn't about Hakuri's abuse- we already knew about it. The focus is on Hakuri's awakening and his faith in Chihiro, not the past.

This is a victim's mindset manifesting as clever visual storytelling, in my opinion. Of course it's not that bad when he has to talk about it; he invited it by being weak and not living up to standards. It wasn't a big deal though. There's more important stuff to do right now anyway. And the story moves on as if to agree with him- we go right back to our regularly scheduled action scenes interspersed with some flashbacks to contextualize other characters, namely Tenri and the Sazanamis before Hakuri was rejected.

That's right, Hakuri once again dodges abusive past cliches by being doted on and cared for before he was found lacking. He knew what it was to be loved, even if the Sazanami version is manipulative to the point of being abusive all by itself. There's more to say about this under Kyora's section but no wonder Hakuri's so fixated on being useful- he wants that affection and sense of belonging back more than anything. It's fucked up, but it's all he knows. So Hakuri was abused twice over: emotionally and physically. Damn. He turned out pretty alright despite it all, huh? Wonder how that happened...

Well, it's time to move on now so he can ascend and overcome it all. He's gotta yell "Isou!" and prove himself, and the next two chapters seem to be putting him on course to do just that, albeit with some difficulty. Can't make a character's awakening too easy or it won't feel earned. He's got some serious trauma to overcome thanks to his family's bullshit.

Then chapter 35 hits and we get the nightmare fuel.

Ch. 35, The Real Backstory (what Ice Lady knew):

Chapter 35 is that long-awaited full-chapter delve into Hakuri's painful past with the mysterious woman, and boy does it have some unsettling revelations.

Ice Lady's tragedy is framed as the important driving force for Hakuri as we know him- she broke him free from his family's grip and motivated him to seek help to end their evil ways. She's the entire reason we meet him in Chapter 19. Everything Hakuri is doing this arc ties back to how badly he fucked up with her, setting the stage for him to become the savior he tried to be when we met him. Oh yeah, we got more Hakuri abuse lore. Can you believe that WSJ let the author get away with showing someone slitting their throat in front of a kid?! And make it at least partially his fault? Jesus Christ. Now it's truly time for him to come into his own, though- oh man that cliffhanger at the end of the chapter...! Wait, what do you mean there was more to his suffering besides the situation with Ice Lady?

I was being a bit facetious there but the point stands. We didn't get a tear-jerker reveal chapter dedicated solely to Hakuri's pain and suffering at long last just to make us feel bad for him and nothing else. Instead, we got a full-blown tragedy caused by the Sazanami cycle of abuse. The nightmare of Ice Lady killing herself in front of Hakuri overshadowed the reveal that damn, Hakuri actually had it super rough. Because yeah, that was unexpectedly brutal even compared to Chihiro being baited with Char's severed leg last arc. It really drove home just how fucked up the situation with the Sazanami family was and how it affected everyone that got tangled up in their bullshit.

So the presentation of what he endured is once again subdued even though the panels showcasing the tools took up half the page. Soya breaking Hakuri's finger was called "bullying" (いじめ[ijime], not 虐待 [gyakutai, abuse]). A single flash back frame off to the side seems small compared to the emphasis on Hakuri telling Ice Lady (and us) that it's "not that bad" because Soya keeps losing the tools and going back to using his fists (the terror in Hakuri's expression in that panel is completely at odds with how calm is explanation is, though). It's also not unreasonable to presume that the jump rope, peeler, and wrench were shown for the audience's benefit to clue us in that Hakuri's holding back again, much like the panel describing Soya's "love" in chapter 24. He's always saying the bare minimum and trying not to think of the rest- he buries that shit deep.

But he has to if he wants to keep going. There's no way he can sit down and process all of this right now:

Hakuri: "It's normal for my brother to break my bones and worse before he loses the tools. He usually only hits me anyway, so it's not like this happens all the time."

Woman betrayed by the man she loved to be sold at an auction as merchandise to the boy overseeing her captivity: "That's messed up!"

"This is as close as I can get to being cherished by the people who are supposed to care for and support me."

He even misses the point when he finally does open up:

"You're the one who's trapped in a cage."

This part is the hardest for me to write about, honestly. Again: I was never tortured or anything, much less hit. But this chapter is the one that made me take a good, hard look at what I went through and connect some dots. Hakuri's mindset, the things he says, the way he phrases things- that's someone who doesn't want to acknowledge that they're in a bad situation that's not their fault.

Hakuri will talk about his own worthlessness and all his defects that "invite" the abuse, but he won't acknowledge that he doesn't deserve what's happening to him at all. He's not the kind of shounen character who understands that his situation sucks and uses it as fuel to become better. Instead, he's stuck in that oh-so-relatable spiral of self-deprecating negativity that keeps victims trapped.

It's easier for Hakuri to think he deserved it for his own failings. This wouldn't be happening if he hadn't earned it somehow. He's in this situation because he's weak and any "love" is better than none at all. Then it's reinforced by the genuine helplessness and vulnerability of being too isolated to escape or know better, compacting down into dense layers of denial and self-hate that act as defensive armour against emotions that are too difficult to face. Like anger or the desire for something better. Like hope. Those are only felt on behalf of others, not himself.

At any rate, it's a bit distressing that so many people forget that Hakuri's actually a hell of a lot more complex than he was hinted to be before this chapter. He's not an innocent in all this like Char was, which is incredibly smart and realistic writing from the author. Hakuri was also an abuser himself. An accidental one, but doesn't matter when you talk to someone the way he did to Ice Lady. He didn't swing the knife but he did kill her with the same mentality that was crushing him down on the inside.

He doesn't use his suffering as an excuse for anything he does, good or bad. Not even in the sense of wanting to save others- that's all about Ice Lady and his family's terrible legacy. What happened to him isn't worth mentioning or acting on. Yet another distressingly accurate facet of a victim's mentality, unfortunately.

But this must be it. This chapter was a depressing surprise but surely there's nothing left to reveal. We had his big moment of sadness so it's only going up from here. Hakuri's going to overcome everything and it'll all be okay! Back to standard shounen powerups!

Chs. 36-43, Putting the Past to Rest (things only Hakuri knows):

Oh.

In chapter 36, the storehouse reveal somewhat overshadows all the instruments of abuse Hakuri unwittingly stored inside it. There are a lot of people who completely forgot about the objects in there during the hype of the moment, and I never get tired of seeing "WTF?!" posts and comments from folks doing re-reads of the arc. It's so easy to overlook the rope and sticks and all the other tools when you're cheering hard for Hakuri to finally, finally overcome his tragic past by putting Soya down. Worst Big Bro is gonna pay and Hakuri's ascension will be complete! ... Wait, was that a goddamn chair?

There's also a point made of Soya's defeat not being a resounding victory.

Still framing Soya's abuse as love, but it's got a bitter feel to it this time.

Hakuri is the one who gives Chihiro strength in the moment despite everything he's just been through.

We're cheering when he awakens and pressurizes Soya's guts, but then these panels remind us that there's nothing to celebrate from Hakuri's perspective. He doesn't savor finally overcoming Soya as his abuser or the manifestation of everything that's messed up about his family. There's no immediate sense that things will be okay from now on either. To Hakuri, this isn't a personal victory. It's just something that needed to be done for Ice Lady and all the victims of the Rakuzaichi.

This is a sort of capstone to Hakuri's backstory. The second-to-last new thing we learn about him is that the abuse was still somehow worse than we thought. He really, truly buries the lede when it comes to what he suffered and the writing is in cahoots with him on it. He won't even take the time to smile or feel a little relief- he's not ready for that yet. Instead he just walks past Tenri's mutilated corpse to pull Chihiro along to get the job done.

If this was a different series we might get a little more catharsis- even just the barest hint that Hakuri's gonna be just fine from now on. But this is Kagurabachi and the author fucking gets it so there's still a little more to unpack before Hakuri can have an opportunity to begin the healing process.

In chapter 37, the pain of Kyora looking away was framed as just as important to Hakuri as the fond memories of when he was loved and wanted:

"... I still wanted you to praise me, Father."

The very last thing we learn about Hakuri is that he wanted his father's love despite it all.

Hakuri ended the torment from Soya- he'll never have to worry about his skin being peeled off or getting beaten with a pipe ever again. But the cycle that caused it- and the complex feelings for the people who hurt him- aren't so easily dealt with. It's not so simple as being hurt and flipping a switch to stop feeling affection for the perpetrator. So Hakuri acknowledges that he still wanted his father's praise in spite of the years of torment the man knowingly enabled.

In the end, Kyora grants Hakuri's secret wish and acknowledges him at the very last as the chaos fades away so that they're the only thing in each other's view. He really, truly won it all. He doesn't rejoice in victory, though. Once more there's no triumph for Hakuri to celebrate. Killing his father was just another thing that had to be done so that there would never be another Ice Lady.

It's hard to say what exactly Hakuri's feeling about Kyora's death since it's yet another thing we haven't seen him talk about- and may never. It's not too much of a stretch to think he's got a complex mix of sadness, relief, and guilt going on, though. At least the moment when their eyes met was intensely cathartic after all the times Kyora deliberately looked away. But Hakuri's still not okay yet.

It's not like life suddenly gets better when the abuser is gone for good in some cases. Hakuri's still struggling in the immediate aftermath of seeing his father die at last. It's a relief that there won't be any more pain caused by the Sazanami clan -and Kyora in particular- but it still fucking hurts to lose someone so important to you. It's also frightening to suddenly be thrust into the unknown without a guide of any kind.

Fortunately for him, Hakuri is able to find new purpose with Chihiro. He gets to walk away from his family and stay with the people who believed in him. This is another thing that I can't praise the author enough for. It's far, far too common for writers to frame victims reforming their abusers as some kind of ultimate victory.

No, no, no!

The most charitable way to explain this is that the survivor is so saintly that they'll even reach out to the ones who hurt them to help them become better people. But that is such utter bullshit I don't even have the words to express myself properly. It's terrible messaging for survivors. They don't have any obligation whatsoever to help the people who hurt them. They don't even have to keep tabs on how the abusers are doing in a general sense. They get to fucking leave and find happiness with people who treat them well. That is the true ideal.

Hakuri being given a clear out to leave is where the rest of the catharsis in his story comes from. He doesn't have to stay and fix things even though he absolutely could as the first person since the clan's founder to have both Isou and the storehouse powers. Kyoura and Soya are gone- he could have stepped in to make the clan right their wrongs and atone as a family. But there's not even a hint of guilt tripping from the author about Hakuri's decision to follow Chihiro. It's framed as the best possible thing for him to do, in fact.

If he stayed, he'd never work on the other issues around self-worth that he's burying so deep inside. Switching from villainy to good deeds won't resolve the issues with the clan's mindset about being living tools for a greater cause either. Not to mention the fact that there's nothing his siblings can offer him even if they treat him like a king for the rest of his life- the damage was already done long ago. There's nothing left for him there except more misery and stagnation. He needs to go with Chihiro, his new north star, to learn how to heal.

But lest this outcome be too heartwarming, Hakuri's still not directly facing everything that he went through. Hakuri phrases working alongside Chihiro as "proving the value that [Chihiro] saw in him", not "starting over" or "making the world a better place together" or even "paying Chihiro back" by helping him on his mission. He's still trying to be useful in the service of someone else like a tool.

Hakuri's bruises are already fading; or at least they were until I had to edit this part in light of the events of chapter 56 onward. But the mental scars of the abuse are still guiding his actions and thought processes even if he doesn't acknowledge it. And that's where we come back to the torture implements still hidden in his warehouse.

Hakuri's not home free despite us collectively sighing in relief that he got his Happily Ever After, subdued as it was. He needs to face what he's been avoiding and burying so that he's not endangering Chihiro's plan and the people around him by throwing himself in danger just to be even the slightest bit useful.

Oftentimes, trauma is an invisible scar that needs to be worked around for the rest of someone's life- hence why he's still got those physical manifestations stored deep inside where only he can see and grant access. Hakuri's only just started out on the path to redemption and recovery. He needs to start addressing the guilt over Ice Lady and learn some tough lessons about self-worth before he can even begin to look further inside to those Visual Metaphor Tools.

After that, if the author's interested in continuing this part of Hakuri's character, is exposing them and what they mean to someone who can help Hakuri get rid of them. Whether that's Chihiro, Shiba, or someone else doesn't really matter. Hakuri's got a long road ahead dealing with the lingering after-effects, unlike so many of his fictional fellow survivors. He's still very much in need of a lot of support from his new found family- now more so than ever after what happened in chapter 58.

Soya and Kyora

There's something to be said about the writing for the primary abusers, too. The Rakuzaichi arc was well-received in large part to Kyora being an incredible villain and Soya being... Soya.

Soya

And the "Worst Big Brother" Award goes to...

Soya serves two primary purposes in the narrative: to contrast Hakuri's character, and be the manifestation of everything that was wrong with the clan.

Soya and Hakuri share similar looks, hand gestures, and extreme expressions but they couldn't be more different. Soya has the inverse of Hakuri's character framing: he's shown to be competent and strong, and almost everyone in-universe acknowledges him as such-we're even told he's smarter than Kyora. But he's actually quite the pathetic loser due to his freakish obsession with his "weak" little brother.

More obviously, Soya is the rotten core of the family. He's obsessive over Hakuri to an extremely alarming degree- he even refuses his duties as the next clan head and a member of the elite Tou to find and stay with Hakuri. Kyoura tells him to "stop fixating on that failure" but Soya's having none of it, he just can't let go of his "endearing" weakling of a little brother. Bullying Hakuri is what he lives for and he does it all in the name of purest love. Just like the clan lives for the Rakuzaichi and are devoted to it mind, body, and soul. They're both extremely toxic and Soya's the guy who gets to represent the deleterious effects of cleaving to abusive mentalities on individual members.

Soya's fists and words to Hakuri are the blatant messaging about what the Sazanami mindset did to him. He had that mental block preventing him from using his sorcery because he was constantly being told he was weak and useless. It was literally beaten into him as a form of love, but not all abusive mentalities need to be reinforced with violence. Soya was just there to make the point too obvious to be missed.

Hakuri's final words to Soya say it all. Soya throws a tantrum over Hakuri refusing to lay down and take the abuse any more and screams "Why won't you go down?! Why won't you die?!" Hakuri simply responds that it's because Soya "always loved [him]" and deals the final blow. He was able to recognize the strengths his family gave him through Soya's "love" but he's not grateful in the slightest (and he shouldn't be). He's simply ready to sever all ties and move on with tearing it all down now. Hakuri was finally able to accept that he didn't want or need that kind of love in his life any more.

Kyora

And the "Worst Dad" Award goes to...

Obviously, Kyoura is the key to this whole mess. He's the one who instilled his children with corrupt values, enabled Hakuri's abuse, and generally Fucked Up Big Time when it came to loving his kids properly. But he thought he was doing the right thing because what's what he went through. He was both abuser and victim himself, just like Hakuri.

This is the key part of abusive backstories that are so often missed. Abuse doesn't always come from deadbeat caretakers that hate the innocent little kid. That scenario is actually way too over represented in fiction, honestly. Abuse isn't always constant malice- it can start later in life. It can even be born from love. Ultimately, it's all too often the unintended consequence of a family haunted by the specter of the cycle. And Kyora is the perfect summary of how and why it echoes through generations.

Hakuri was loved and wanted for at least half of his life. His family might not be wholesome or have healthy attitudes about affection, but he wasn't born hated and mistreated just for existing. He was cared for to the best of his dad's ability just like Tenri and his other siblings.

Even when Hakuri failed to live up to expectations, Kyora didn't just write him off and turn him loose. He kept Hakuri around for years feeding and clothing him and let him try to do what he could. Kyora simply couldn't justify protecting him or showing love since the family ideals were so warped around being able to serve the clan's tradition. He wasn't "allowed" to love a failure, no matter how much he wanted to.

Kyoura struggled about his feelings for his "worthless son" in the flashback we saw through Tenri's PoV- he wanted Hakuri to succeed. He acted like Hakuri forced his hand to punish and marginalize him for failing too hard, not out of ill-will. And during the raid itself he was actually "bent out of shape because he used Hakuri's life as a bargaining chip", according to Enji. It wasn't even until Hakuri showed up to break into the storehouse that Kyora truly cast everything away to prioritize the Rakuzaichi. He really did love Hakuri in his own way.

Kyora was a shitty dad and person, don't get me wrong. No one should put family tradition over their child's well-being and he more than earned his death just by being a human trafficker. But it's clear that Kyora wasn't written to be a shallow, irredeemable monster of a person- he didn't exist in the story just to be a villain and to make us feel bad for Hakuri. He's a tragic character in his own right.

He couldn't even understand why his wife's final words about the auction ruining their lives was replaying in his head near his final moments. The what-if scenario of his happy family sitting down to eat dinner in an apartment somewhere showed his longing for something that he could have had, if not for the goddamn auction. If not for the abuse that made him into the person he chose to be until the very end.

It's why Hakuri getting to walk away is such a poignant end to the Rakuzaichi arc. He's the one who gets to break the cycle on his own terms, and that's the true end of the Sazanami dynasty. The auction hall doesn't collapse until he decides to stand tall and follow a new path. Whatever Hakuri's siblings do with the Sazanami legacy isn't his concern any more- he's free.

What About Char?

Char's story was also well told! It's the earliest evidence that the author actually gets it when it comes to depicting abuse victims. She's reticent despite her desperation, unable to open up even when Shiba and Chihiro tell her she needs to or they'll send her to an orphanage. Eventually Chihiro wins her trust through his altruism and she comes to believe in him. She and us are the only ones who know exactly what happened with her mom, but it's not important for the rest of the cast to be in on it. She's safe and happy now and that's enough.

Even though Char's arc ended close to that overly-simplistic "everything is k now" scenario that I hate, there's one key difference that sets it apart to let us know that no, she's not truly okay yet.

Char's still got some attachment issues, which makes perfect sense. She lost her mom in a traumatic way so of course she's happily surprised that Chihiro came back to her. Char's on the path to healing- she's able to thrive thanks to Team Goldfish's care- but her abusive past still shapes who she is in small ways like this.

I doubt we'll see more development of her beyond checking in now and then. She's too young to be consistently involved in the heavy themes of Kagurabachi's story, much less the fights. But it's good to know that the author includes little details like this so we don't assume Char's 100% fine now. He understands that trauma doesn't just vanish when the victim's safe in their Happily Ever After scenario. That's why he made sure we knew that she's going to be okay in the long-run.

Ch. 26, right after Chihiro trades Enten for Hakuri

But Hakuri's not there himself yet.

Food as a metaphor for comfort, security, and/or connection is constant in this series. It's very obvious symbolism to let the author convey a bit more context in the scene than dialogue alone can. So when Hakuri rejects food here, he's rejecting reassurance from Shiba. Meanwhile Char's already comfortable enough to accept it. Good for her, truly!

Hakuri's situation wasn't necessarily worse than hers, but it was a lot more complex. So even though he's safe now, he's not really able to pursue his happiness yet. All those tools he keeps locked up inside, the mindset of being one himself- they're still issues for him to work through. But there's hope for him too.

The author went out of his way to show us that Hakuri's also on the path to healing here. The last time Hakuri shared food with someone, he was forcing his abusive ideology on Ice Lady. She started finishing the meals and truly internalizing the hopelessness of her situation. He fucked up the food as comfort/connection metaphor bad with her.

Yet in Chapter 47, we see Hakuri sharing some snacks with Chihiro on the train. Sharing food isn't connected to the situation at hand or the information dump it's serving as backdrop for, so it's definitely a deliberate choice on the author's part to depict this instead of literally anything else. It was shown to let us know that Hakuri's on his way to his own Happily Ever After.

He's able to connect to Chihiro and not worry about the repercussions. This is a huge step for his character and speaks volumes about the level of trust between them; this is the first time Chihiro's willingly accepted food from someone else too. Hakuri's not only still reaching out to other people, he's still able to provide warmth to others despite it all.

What's Next?

I'm not going to pretend that I can predict what Hakuri's story will look like from here on out. He'll have a hard time for as long as he's slated to get development though- Kagurabachi takes the adage "suffering builds character" very seriously. We're only 58 chapters in as of finally posting this so it's best to strap in and expect a lot more pain.

That said, I feel like Hakuri's self-sacrificing mindset is going to be addressed first. As of chapter 55, he's set up to fail and cause problems by throwing himself into danger despite not being fully healed or rested. The root of this issue would likely be his atoning savior mindset. Hakuri needs to protect and save others very badly after what happened to Ice Lady. He also loathes the idea of others making sacrifices for his sake. So he's willing to throw his life away even when it would be better for his allies if he stayed out of the fighting.

There's also a good reason we met the Makizumi clan in the arc immediately after the Rakuzaichi fell- Hakuri needs to start dismantling the "tool" mindset that was drilled into him. He's only switched his fervor from serving the Rakuzaichi to serving/saving others. This is extremely toxic when combined with his guilt over Ice Lady and drives him to go to extremes to do good, to the point where he's ignoring everyone trying to get him to rest and heal for the sake of the mission if nothing else.

In essence, I believe we are going to finally address the lie of his introduction- that he can keep pushing through hardship with sheer force of will. Because that is not how overcoming trauma actually works.

After that, only the author and his editor know exactly where things will go. But I hope that no matter what happens, Hakuri's lingering trauma is exposed and dealt with. It's informing all of his actions, positive or negative, whether he wants to acknowledge it or not. I have faith that this author can tackle this subject compassionately and realistically- he's already done it twice with Char and the Rakuzaichi arc.

So that's that. If you read all this... thanks. Take care, and choose kindness for yourself for today.

[kallie-den]

Cerulean

A recent escapee attends a support group for victims of evil mind control… run by the strange, sinister and inimitable Dr. Amaranth Cerulean

Special thanks to @dollzcomix for this commission, and for allowing me to write about Dr. Cerulean! They are a character of Demoiselle Porcelaine's creation, and I highly encourage you to check out her socials for all of her wonderful artwork of Dr. Cerulean - who truly is inimitable, and whose creator brings across their unique charm better than I ever could

If you like my writing, please consider supporting me on Patreon!  For less than the price of a cup of coffee each month, you can get immediate, early access to everything I write - 4 pieces of hypno-smut a  month, including the latest chapters of all the multi-chapter stories I write. Your support helps me keep writing and is greatly appreciated <3

---

The support group was nice… kind of. In theory. It had sounded nice, anyway, when Mariah had found out about it online. A pop-up ad, of all things, accompanied by a garish animation and a picture of the strange-looking psychiatrist who ran it, and written all in lower-case: ‘villain hypnosis victim support group’. Obviously, Mariah’s first instinct had been to dismiss it as some kind of weird internet con, but then she’d had second thoughts. Was there really a support group for people who’d been through what she had? Could other people actually understand the way she was feeling? If so, wasn’t that worth taking a chance on?

That was how she’d ended up in an untidy, rented office space on the side of the highway after dark.

It both was and wasn’t the kind of atmosphere Mariah had expected. A bunch of chairs set out in a circle. People sitting on them, sharing their stories. Strung up on one wall was a big banner that read ‘Mind Control and What Comes After: A Support Group to Find Yourself Again After Being Brainwashed’ in brightly colored but slightly faded letters. Mariah appreciated the stab at an upbeat atmosphere, but the attendeess simply weren’t up to the task.

They all just seemed so completely and utterly harrowed. Mariah sympathized, of course. She knew the ashamed, traumatized, hollowed-out look on each of their faces all too well. She saw in the mirror every morning. But she’d been hoping to see something a little more encouraging, too. Healing. Solidarity. Catharsis. On TV and in movies, support groups always involved people pouring out their hearts, breaking down, embracing one another. Making breakthroughs and overcoming their issues.

Mariah hadn’t expected the real thing to be quite so dramatic, but she’d been looking for more than a sequence of interminable recountings of horrors and violations. Each one seemed to conjure the awfulness of the past back into the present and leave the recounter shriveled and trembling. It was like the support group was making the attendees lesser, not greater. Mariah wasn’t sure she could see any signs of healing at all, or even of people finding solidarity in their brokenness. It was all just miserable.

The only person who seemed like they were having a good time was the psychiatrist running the thing.

Dr. Amaranth Cerulean, they/she.

They looked just as weird in person as they had on their advert. Dr. Cerulean was deathly pale, with big, tired, dark-circled eyes and unusual, light blue markings beneath them, as well as on her lips. It was a strange and striking look, especially along with their prominent nose and the short but poofy, voluminous hair piled up in rounded masses on their head. The shrink wore a gray cardigan over a ribbed, mustard yellow turtleneck sweater which was tucked into the belted waist of their brown slacks. It was an outfit from a different decade. Mariah just wasn’t quite sure which one.

In a way, it wasn’t surprising that a support group like this would be run by an eccentric. Mariah wasn’t one to judge. Dr. Cerulean’s demeanor, though, was a little unnerving. Throughout most of the session, Dr. Cerulean sat on her chair at the head of the group, in a completely slack, slouched pose that registered nothing but complete disinterest. They barely spoke, and only to indicate who should speak next. Certainly not to provide any advice or support. They had a pen and a pad of paper, from the way their hand moved while they were writing on it, Mariah felt certain they were mostly just idly doodling.

Every now and then, however, something would catch their attention. Occasionally—and only when somebody was sharing a particularly lurid, uncomfortable and traumatic part of their experience of being mind controlled—Dr. Cerulean would throw their entire body forward and sit perched so perilously close to their edge of their chair, Mariah feared they were about to topple from it. They would scratch at their notepad in a frenzy, and those big, tired eyes certainly became laser-focused and eager. Whenever that happened, a truly ghastly smile descended on their face. Not warm, not supportive, just pleased. Smug. Grateful, even, like they were thankful someone had stepped up to deliver them from boredom.

And from the slight twitch in their cheek, Mariah couldn’t help but suspect Dr. Cerulean was struggling to keep themself from laughing.

Dr. Cerulean’s presence made the entire support group feel uncomfortably voyeuristic, somehow. When it came to be Mariah’s turn, she kept it to a bare minimum. She introduced herself and made a few oblique references to what had happened to her, but completely glossed over the details. She figured that was pretty normal for a first-timer—and besides, it was difficult to speak with Dr. Cerulean looking at her like she was a fresh-cooked meal placed on their table.

Mariah decided right then and there—there wasn’t going to be a second time. She just didn’t feel comfortable here. It wasn’t the kind of support group she was looking for.

She stuck it out to the end, though—mostly because leaving halfway through seemed much too awkward. Once they wrapped up, before Mariah could slip out quietly, she found that Dr. Cerulean was suddenly between her and the door, and staring at her with an expectant look on their ghoulish face.

“H-Hi,” Mariah said, mostly because she felt like she had to. “Um… thanks for the session.”

“Oh, don’t mention it,” Dr. Cerulean sounded every bit as tired and seedy as they looked. “Thank you for coming. Really. We love a newcomer.”

“Yeah…” Mariah had no idea what to say to that. “Well, I was actually just-“

“Good news!” Dr. Cerulean interrupted suddenly, in a lazy, drawling voice. “You’re actually our one-hundredth member. That means you win a free one-on-one session with yours truly.”

Finger guns.

---

Hell no.

That had been Mariah’s initial response. The easiest ‘nope’ of her life. She’d politely declined, and privately resolved to never set foot in Dr. Cerulean’s support group again.

Then she’d gone home, gone to bed, and had the nightmares again.

It was nothing new. They came for Mariah most nights. But it meant another eight-hour torture session inside her own head, tossing and turning, fighting off both gut-wrenching guilt and poisonous allure. In the cold light of dawn, Mariah had felt worse than ever—and taking up Dr. Cerulean on her offer hadn’t seemed like such a bad idea after all. It had been easy to tell herself that it hadn’t really been that bad after all. Sure, Dr. Cerulean was a bit eccentric, but what had Mariah expected from somebody running a support group for mind control victims? It wasn’t like they’d done anything wrong, exactly.

More importantly, Mariah needed the help. Desperately. She couldn’t keep going on like this. That was why she’d gone to the support group in the first place. She needed to talk to somebody. Didn’t she owe it to herself to push herself? To take every chance? Mariah kept thinking about the kind of stuff she’d read online. Recovery wasn’t always easy. It wasn’t always comfortable. You had to push yourself.

Mariah had decided that she wanted to push herself.

Besides, it was just talking. In the end, that was what clinched it for her. All they were going to do was sit in a room and talk. If it was good, great. If it was bad, it would be a waste of time—but at least Mariah could tell herself she had given it a fair shot.

Basically: what was the worst that could happen?

That was how, the very next afternoon, Mariah found herself in Dr. Cerulean’s office, trying to distract herself from her anxiety by carefully inspecting the weird pineapple lamp on Dr. Cerulean’s desk. Dressed exactly as they had been the day before, the psychiatrist regarded Mariah with a bland smile on their blue lips as they invited her to sit down opposite them.

“So, um,” Mariah said, shifting uncomfortably. “How do we get started?”

“First things first,” Dr. Cerulean told her, “I have a few release forms for you to sign. Standard stuff, really. No need to read them too carefully.”

They handed Mariah a small stack of papers. Cautiously, Mariah started scanning the first. It seemed, as promised, entirely standard. Non-disclosure, liability, that kind of thing. After signing it, she moved on to the second, then the third, and quickly stopped bothering to read much of the legal jargon. On the very last form, though, something caught her eye.

“Wait a minute,” Mariah said. “This is a release authorizing you to… write online fiction about me?”

Quickly, Dr. Cerulean reached over the deck and snatched away the piece of paper. “Oops,” she replied languidly. “Bit of a mix-up. My mistake. Don’t worry about it. You can sign that one later.”

Later? Mariah frowned. Was that some kind of joke? It had to be. Dr. Cerulean certainly looked like they were finding humor in something—but it was in seriously poor taste.

“There we go.” Dr. Cerulean stretched one of their long arms across to retrieve the other release forms. They sat back in their chair and regarded Mariah carefully. “To begin with, why don’t you just tell me what brought you to the support group?”

Again, Mariah considered refusing. Again, she reminded herself: she needed to give this a shot.

“I… I just feel like I can’t move forward,” Mariah began slowly. She fixed her eyes on the floor, hoping that would be less awkward. “You know? I see all these people going about their daily lives. Pursuing careers. Pursuing other people. Pursuing happiness. And it just seems completely impossible to me. Like I can’t even fathom it—even though I used to be just like them. I can ever remember her—that old version of me. The one who wasn’t… who wasn’t broken. I want to be her again so bad. I just… can’t remember how.”

She looked up. Mariah’s voice was already a little choked up from the emotions she was describing. She was hoping, perhaps, for a kind word or a kind smile.

Instead, Dr. Cerulean wasn’t even looking at her. They had a pencil in their hand, and they were trying to spin it cleanly on the joint between their thumb and their hand. After a particularly vigorous spin, it slipped away from them and clattered against the top of the desk.

“Dr. Cerulean?” Mariah ventured plaintively.

Dr. Cerulean let out a breath that was very close to a sigh, and then their brow twitched in a way that made Mariah think, just for a moment, that they were going to roll their eyes. Then, though, a smile—only a little forced—came to Dr. Cerulean’s blue lips.

“Why don’t we start at the beginning?” Dr. Cerulean suggested. “What actually happened to you?”

“Oh. Right.” That made sense to Mariah, even if she wished Dr. Cerulean sounded a little more patient about it. She gathered her courage. Talking about what had befallen her didn’t come easy. “A couple of years ago, I-I was in a relationship. With a guy. Robert. We were engaged, I actually. I thought we were going to spend our entire lives together.”

“Uh-huh.” The look of boredom still hadn’t disappeared from Dr. Cerulean’s face.

“I had recently started a new job,” Mariah recounted, voice trembling. “As a PA—a personal assistant. I spoke to my boss about taking some time off for the wedding. Mrs. Lawrence. She, um, didn’t like that idea. She’d always been kind of… controlling, I guess. A… a bully.” She struggled to say it, even though it was true. “She told me she required my services. Didn’t want me to focus on the needs of anyone besides her.”

“Oh?” Those big, sunken eyes on Dr. Cerulean’s face were starting to perk up a little. “What then?”

“I threatened to quit.” Mariah squeezed her eyes tight shut. “So she mind-controlled me.”

Mariah heard a small, wet sound from a short distance away. When she opened her eyes, Dr. Cerulean’s lips were damp, and they had taken up their notepad.

“Tell me more about that,” the psychiatrist prompted.

“She started taking over every aspect of my life,” Mariah whispered. “The way I looked, talked, dressed, and how-“

“No, no,” Dr. Cerulean interrupted eagerly, waving a hand. “How did she mind control you?”

“Um.” Mariah was taken aback by the question. “What do you mean?”

“Well, is she a psychic?” Dr. Cerulean raised a hand and started counting methods on her fingers. “Psychoactive spores? Big ray gun? Good ‘ol hypnotist? Some kind of succubus?”

“She, um,” Mariah replied slowly. “She had one of those… toys on her desk. You know, with the row of balls hanging on strings?”

“A Newton’s cradle!” For the first time, Dr. Cerulean sounded faintly delighted. “Hold on.”

Dr. Cerulean reached under their desk and started rummaging around in a box that seemed to contain a truly preposterous quantity and variety of strange objects. Mariah watched, confused then horrified, as Dr. Cerulean plucked out one of them and set it upon their desk.

It was a Newton’s cradle.

“Um…” Mariah was transfixed by the object. “That’s… c-can you…”

Dr. Cerulean took one of the metal balls between their thumb and forefinger, lifted it, and let it swing.

The metallic tap as it hit against the next reverberated through Mariah’s entire being.

“D-Dr. Cerulean,” Mariah stammered. She was hot and cold. She could feel herself sweating. She could feel herself sinking. “C-c-could you p-put that away, p-please?”

“What, this?” Dr. Cerulean seemed faintly surprised as they leaned back easily in their chair. “But it’s just a little toy.”

“But…” Mariah was about to say something else, but the tapping of the Newton’s cradle broke about her words before they could form. She was left blubbering the word over stupidly. “B-but…”

“Mariah,” Dr. Cerulean tutted. “It’s important for you to understand that this is just a commonplace object. It’s acquired a certain psychological character in your mind as a trigger, but that’s something that you’re imbuing onto the world. Aren’t you afraid that you’re just reinforcing the scars of your own trauma? We need to push past our fears. If you continue to treat this toy with significance, it will become more and more significant to you.”

Dr. Cerulean sounded every bit the consummate professional as they rattled off the argument in their quick but monotonous voice. The words crested over Mariah like a wave. She had no rebuttal. Dr. Cerulean was the psychiatrist, after all.

And Mariah really, really couldn’t think straight with the Newton’s cradle tap, tap, tapping away on the desk.

“OK,” she said quietly, eventually.

“Very good.” Beyond the Newton’s cradle, Mariah could see a smile forming on Dr. Cerulean’s face. “Desensitization through exposure therapy is a key element of recovery. Go on.”

“Go… on?” Exposure therapy? Mariah still couldn’t look away from the Newton’s cradle. She couldn’t stop shaking. But if it was part of her recovery…

“Tell me what your boss did to you.”

“Mrs. Lawrence,” Mariah said slowly, “made me break up with my boyfriend.”

As they took notes, Dr. Cerulean made a little noise that might have been the beginnings of a laugh. “Of course.”

“B-but it’s more than that.” Mariah wasn’t sure that she wanted to talk about it, really. But she had no choice. It just came out of her—because she was looking at the Newton’s cradle, and Dr. Cerulean was telling her to speak. “She… s-she made…” Her voice broke. “She made me g-gay.”

Abruptly, Dr. Cerulean sat forward. For the first time, Mariah felt the full weight of the psychiatrist’s attention.

“Oh wow,” Dr. Cerulean remarked, with an ominous delight they slowly brought back under wraps. “That’s… really something. How did that go?”

“It’s awful,” Mariah moaned. “It’s not… I’m s-straight. I’ve always been straight. But when I looked at her—when I look at other women—I can’t help but feel it. And it feels so… so dirty.”

“Of course,” Dr. Cerulean agreed, scribbling at their notepad. “Something as fundamental as your sexuality has been made completely alienating to you.” They sat forward, leering. “It must be maddening. Feeling like your desire and your memory are at war. Not knowing which one you can trust. Not knowing which one is really you.”

Mariah nodded slowly. It was exactly like that. She was so glad Dr. Cerulean understood—but at the same time, hearing it said out loud with such bluntness felt awful.

“Tell me more,” the psychiatrist beckoned. “Tell me everything.”

Mariah’s vision was starting to narrow. She made one great effort to tear her attention away from the Newton’s cradle—and couldn’t. She could feel herself losing focus. Losing wakefulness. It was just the way it had been back then. Her shaking worsened, but it wasn’t enough to jostle her from trance’s reaching fingertips.

“I… I…” Dr. Cerulean’s words conjured the very deepest, most awful truths from Mariah’s drowning mind. “I tried… to go back to him, after they arrested her. I knew she’d get out on bail, but it gave me enough time to c-come back to my senses. I went back to him, but… b-but I just couldn’t stand it. I c-couldn’t look at him the same. And when he touched me, I…”

There was a loud noise as Dr. Cerulean slapped their thigh. Mariah jumped, but even that wasn’t enough to break her focus.

“Wait, you tried to go straight back to your old life?” they wheezed. “Wow, yeah, no, don’t do that! You didn’t give yourself any breathing room. No time to process what had happened to you. You tried to force yourself back into an old groove, and then when you couldn’t, I bet you felt more broken than ever! Rookie mistake, seriously.”

Dr. Cerulean’s barely disguised amusement bothered Mariah, but not as much as it should have. She simply couldn’t think straight. Each loud tap as one of the balls of the Newton’s cradle impacted against its neighbor was overwhelming. As much as she wanted to get up and leave, Mariah’s legs wouldn’t obey her. The most she could do was point at the Newton’s cradle with a weak, trembling hand.

“Please,” she blubbered. “P-p-please make it stop. P-please. I can’t… I c-can’t…”

“Oops.” Beyond the cradle, Mariah could see that Dr. Cerulean’s tired, sunken eyes had become bright and leering. “Now you’re on the verge of a full-blown relapse, aren’t you? It looks like you really are that fragile. Well, it makes sense. Recounting your traumatic experiences while being exposed to an explicit reminder of your victimhood will do that to you. Not very recovered after all, huh?”

Mariah shook her head numbly as tears welled up in her eyes. She could see it so clearly now. She wasn’t recovered at all. She hadn’t moved forward even one inch since getting free. She was small. She was weak.

“Tell me,” Dr. Cerulean asked, “what are you so afraid of? You’re shaking like a leaf."

“I-I don’t want to hurt people again,” Mariah blurted out.

Dr. Cerulean set down their notepad and planted their hands on the desk, palms vertical, the tips of their fingertips pressed together. Mariah could feel those long fingers reaching into her. Peeling her open. Prying her secrets apart.

“Who did you hurt, Mariah?” Dr. Cerulean asked.

Mariah had never told anybody about that—but she couldn’t lie. Not here. Not now. Not with the Newton’s cradle. Mrs. Lawrence had always drilled that into her. Tell the truth.

“I h-helped her take other girls,” Mariah whispered. “Anybody who caught her eye. I m-made appointments with them. P-put things in their drinks. Sometimes she even m-made me hold them, so they’d keep looking at the…” She choked back a sob. “Mrs. Lawrence made me t-talk to them. Condition them. D-d-discipline them.”

“Fascinating,” Dr. Cerulean said softly. “You must feel so guilty.”

“Yes!” The word erupted out of Mariah. It was all she could think about, every hour of every day.

“Of course,” Dr. Cerulean agreed softly. “You feel as though you were forced, outside of your own control, to commit acts that horrify you and compromise your sense of self. I think it’s crucial that we begin to reframe this.”

Mariah nodded slowly. She could do nothing else.

“Did you know that-“ Dr. Cerulean interrupted herself with a kind of gleeful chuckle. “Did you know that you cannot be hypnotized into doing anything that you don’t want to do?”

“Um.” Mariah blinked and swayed unsteadily. “W-what?”

No. That wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true.

“Oh yes,” Dr. Cerulean insisted. “Hypnosis is just a little mind trick, really. It’s a way of lowering your inhibitions and suppressing your conscious mind, but do you really believe that it would make you a complete and total slave to whoever’s doing it to you? Lowering inhibitions simply implies the removal of a barrier to your true desires.”

“No.” Mariah shook her head violently. “N-no. No way. That’s… you’re…”

“Think about it,” Dr. Cerulean pressed, thin blue lips now stretched into a leering grin. “How did you feel when your boss used you sexually?”

Mariah flinched. “I-it felt good, but that’s only because she made-“

“Accepting our sexualities is often a battle,” Dr. Cerulean said agreeably. She made another note in her notepad. “How did you feel when you hurt those other women?”

“Please don’t make me say it,” Mariah begged, trembling. Dr. Cerulean just looked at her. “G-good. But that’s-“

“Of course.” The psychiatrist nodded. “Violence. Exercising power. It may be unpleasant, but it appeals to the baser parts of our natures. That’s a huge part of any form of so-called mind control. It provides a nice, convenient excuse for us to exercise desires we might normally feel the need to repress. And how about whenever you were ‘forced’ to obey your boss?”

Obey. That word lit a fuse in Mariah’s head.

“Obey,” she muttered. “Obey. O-obey. Obey. Obey. Obey.”

Normally, she was better than this. She could keep it under wraps. Not today. Not with the Newton’s cradle.

“A mantra!” Dr. Cerulean sounded pleased. “And so easy to trigger, too. This is good. Great, in fact. We’re making a lot of progress. I think we’re really starting to get to the root of your issues.”

“Obey.” Mariah kept repeating it under her breath. Each word gave rise to the next, unceasing, until her lungs were empty of air and she was shaking from the effort—but still, she kept going. “Obeyobeyobeyobeyobey.”

“Yes, yes, keep going,” Dr. Cerulean waved an idle hand in her direction. “Exposure therapy is a crucial tool. Remember what we were discussing earlier? You have to take back power from these things. You can’t keep making them special in your head. Repetition is a great way to do that.”

There was something soothing about hearing that. Mariah started easing into the mantra, letting her mind settle. She just needed to trust Dr. Cerulean. Her obedient liturgy was starting to make her feel calm again. Just like it always had with Mrs. Lawrence.

“Now, what was I saying?” Dr. Cerulean mused. “Oh, that’s right. Hypnosis. You really must consider what I’m saying. Perhaps the reason you’ve found all of this so difficult is that your boss was tapping into some of your deeply held repressed desires. Forcing you to confront them. Forcing you to accept the way they make you feel.”

“Obey,” Mariah panted. “Obey. Obey. Obey.”

“Obviously that’s just one way to conceptualize your experience,” Dr. Cerulean continued. “It might not sound right to you, but that’s where reframing comes in. At the end of the day, Mariah, you need to make a choice about what kind of narrative you want to fit onto your life. Ultimately, that’s all our egos amount to. They’re stories we tell about ourselves to find a semblance of security and comfort in our day-to-day lives. Which story flatters you the most? Which story brings you the most comfort? We need to help you answer that question so that you can find a degree of fulfillment.”

“Obey… obey… obey…” Mariah was slowing now, as the mantra drove all the way down to a deeper layer of hypnotism, leaving her in a place so dark and still even speaking was too much effort for her.

“Enough of that now,” Dr. Cerulean instructed dismissively. “You want control, don’t you Mariah? Think about it: which narrative makes you feel in control? Which one will help you reclaim your life?”

Mariah’s eyelids fluttered as she bent her mind to the question. When they were open, she could see Dr. Cerulean, lurking beyond the Newton’s cradle. When they were closed, she could see Mrs. Lawrence. Her boss. Her brainwasher. It was terrifying—but what if it didn’t have to be? Mariah could remember a time she hadn’t been scared. A time when she’d eagerly obeyed her boss with the eagerness of a docile lamb.

More than ever, she longed for it.

But… that was wrong, wasn’t it?

“I…” Mariah grasped. “No, I… I’m straight?”

Dr. Cerulean shook their head slowly. “You’re a little behind, Mariah. Remember. Narratives. Reframing. Are you really straight? Or is that simply what you’ve always believed? Many queer people suffer from a degree of internalized bigotry, and respond by desperately clinging to a veneer of heteronormativity. I promise you, Mariah. This room is a safe space. You can explore your feelings and desires here.”

Mariah’s mouth opened and closed uselessly. What Dr. Cerulean was telling her didn’t sound right—but then again, Mariah had no idea what would. And the pale psychiatrist sounded so expert. So sure.

“Let’s approach this on a more basic level,” Dr. Cerulean offered. “You need to relearn confidence in your basic drives. It’s important that you proceed without doubting yourself too much. I want you to accept yourself. To embrace your feelings. That’s the only way you can begin to heal. With that in mind, let me ask you: how do you feel about men?”

The Newton’s cradle was coming to rest, but that provided little comfort. As its motion slowed, Mariah felt her thoughts slowing along with it. She was swimming in trance. The word ‘obey’ was still echoing in her head. She couldn’t get beyond her first, strongest response.

“I c-can’t stand them,” she whimpered.

“Good,” Dr. Cerulean said poisonously. “I’m glad you can accept that about yourself. Now, how do you feel about women?”

“I… I…” That question triggered a sudden sunburst of emotion in Mariah’s head. Ideas, impulses, and beliefs all poured into her, each one pulled by a thread that was a memory or a sensation. They awakened something in her, something that burst past her lips in a wet, needy ejaculation. “I-I belong on my knees for women!”

“Another mantra?” Dr. Cerulean leered. “Interesting. It seems like we’re making a lot of progress here. As I told you, I want you to have confidence in your feelings and desires. So please, don’t stop yourself. Do whatever it is that feels most right to you. Whatever makes you feel comfortable in the moment.”

A great weight was pressing down on Mariah’s shoulders. Simply sitting in her chair felt so nauseatingly wrong, she couldn’t bear it. The only thing that seemed comfortable was slipping out of it, down onto her knees beneath Dr. Cerulean’s desk. The cold, uncomfortable floor welcomed her with the familiarity of a well-worn mattress.

“Fascinating,” Dr. Cerulean mused. “At the risk of moving a little too fast, perhaps we should try a little word association. That can be a very useful way to uncover the real roots of psychological issues. So, Mariah: you belong on your knees for women?”

Mariah choked back another sob as the words flowed out of her. “I b-belong on my knees for women. A good secretary’s place is under the desk. I l-love to be at women’s feet. I belong on my knees for… for women. A good secretary’s p-place is under the desk. I… I… hng… I love to be at women’s feet!”

Her stomach was a noxious cauldron. An iron pall of palpitating nausea sat inside her. The sense of anxious danger that had haunted her for months now was frothing like never before. But above it sat a thick, dense, smothering fog that whispered to her: this was all good. It was right. It was her place.

Mariah was trying to listen to the danger-sense. She was failing. It was too painful. She just wanted to stop thinking.

“It stands out to me that your set of associations ends with a reference to women’s bodies.” Mariah heard Dr. Cerulean’s voice from above, as the strange psychiatrist sat back calmly in their chair. That was another thing she was used to. “That may be the key to your desires, Mariah. Listen to them. Show me what comes next.”

As they spoke, Dr. Cerulean slowly slipped out of her shoes, using each one to pry the other off. Underneath, they were wearing a strange pair of pineapple socks; yellow and patterned on the lower part, and leaf-green around their ankles. Their socks, though, weren’t what had caught Mariah’s attention. She was distracted by the simple fact that she was in her place, under a desk, and an authoritative woman was looming over her with their feet dangling in her face.

Mariah followed her desires. She did what came naturally to her. With tears still in her eyes, lips still mouthing the words Mrs. Lawrence had imprinted on her mind, she reached out and began massaging Dr. Cerulean’s feet.

Dr. Cerulean let out a glib chuckle, then sighed contentedly. “Look at you now. You’re under the desk, repeating your mantras, looking for another woman’s feet to worship. A complete and total relapse! How unfortunate.”

“I… I… I-I…” Another sob threatened to rip loose from Mariah’s throat. She wanted to speak, to argue, to apologize, to beg, but she already knew that if she tried, the only thing that would come out was her boss’s mantra.

A relapse. It was the rock-bottom Mariah had been afraid of for so long. All the urges she had been fighting to hold in check were oozing out. She was on her knees again. She was languishing in the pit of her own awful, dirty, lustful feelings about women. It felt awful. It felt like home.

“I know, I know,” Dr. Cerulean agreed. “It’s tough. But what do I keep telling you about, Mariah? Reframing! It’s an essential tool. Consider: what if this isn’t relapsing? What if this is simply who you are?”

Whatever part of Mariah might have wanted to push back against that had been broken into silence. As Mariah trembled and sobbed and eagerly, expertly pushed her thumbs against the soles of Dr. Cerulean’s feet, it seemed impossible to deny. Wasn’t this who she was? Wasn’t what she was doing right now the proof?

“It’s up to you, of course,” Dr. Cerulean added. “This is all about your wellbeing, Mariah. You’re perfectly free to define the goals of your own therapy. The perspectives I’m offering you are nothing more than food for thought. So, what do you think?”

As she knelt there, Mariah thought about what it would mean if she insisted upon her need for recovery and healing. It would mean more months of therapy and counseling, of twitchiness and jitteriness, of viewing herself, first and foremost, as a victim. It would mean looking over her shoulder for Mrs. Lawrence everywhere she went, and constantly guilt and shame whenever she found herself glancing at another woman. It would mean perhaps years of slowly building herself back up so she could learn to trust again, so she could reclaim her sexuality on her own terms—hell, so she could even work in an office again.

It was too much.

Just like that, Mariah gave up.

“Y-you’re right, Dr. Cerulean.” Mariah’s voice was still trembling desperately, but as she spoke, a haunted grin came to her face. “T-thinking about how I really feel… I guess it’s o-obvious. I’m j-just a lesbian.”

“Interesting,” Dr. Cerulean remarked. They sounded like they were beginning to crack up laughing. “And all those things you did for your boss?”

Mariah let out a twitchy laugh too. “I j-just did those things for Mistress because I wanted to.”

“Very interesting. Even hurting those other women?”

The noise that erupted from Mariah’s throat was a sob and a laugh in equal measure. “Y… y-yes. That’s right. I w-w-wanted to.”

“My goodness,” Dr. Cerulean sounded like she was fighting to suppress a moan as Mariah gave in. “That’s quite the breakthrough.”

Mariah wanted to. She wanted to serve her boss because she was a submissive lesbian. She wanted to hurt other women for her mistress because it turned her on. It was that simple. She was that simple.

“Why don’t you sit back up here?” Dr. Cerulean suggested. “One question: what do you think about the way your boss hypnotized you?”

As Mariah came up from under the desk, she glanced at the Newton’s cradle sitting on the psychiatrist’s desk. It had long since come to rest, but the sight of it still made her stomach churn.

“M-Mistress knows what’s best for me,” Mariah bleated, forcing her nausea down. Forcing herself to fall back on what her boss had taught her. “Mistress thinks for me b-better than I can.”

Dr. Cerulean sat forward as they let out a great, wheezing chuckle. “Let me get this straight,” they said. “Do you imagine that your boss knew that you were a lesbian all along, and was simply pushing you to accept it?”

A tear trickled down Mariah’s cheek. “Y-y-yeah.” She made herself believe it.

“Wow,” Dr. Cerulean remarked, and shrugged. “Well, yeah, that certainly sounds plausible to me. No issues there. We discussed your internalized homophobia earlier. I suppose being forced to confront that must have caused a kind of backlash. Very unfortunate.”

“R-right.” Mariah sat bolt upright in the chair as she felt compulsion snap tight around her like a collar on her neck. “Oh my god. I n-need to go back to Mistress. I need to find her again.”

“Oh yes?” Dr. Cerulean leaned forward intently. “And why’s that?”

Mariah’s happy, grateful smile was so wide. She wasn’t sure why she couldn’t seem to stop crying. “I need to apologize. I need to b-b-beg for her forgiveness.”

Tears were welling up in Dr. Cerulean’s eyes too—but only because they were fighting so hard to keep a tight rein on their mirth. “That sounds great!” the psychiatrist agreed. “Rebuilding the bridges we burn during moments of crisis can be so important. And far be it from me to keep you any longer—although I’d love to schedule a follow-up in a few weeks’ time. Just so I can, ah, see how you’re getting on.”

Mariah nodded eagerly. She was so thankful to Dr. Cerulean for helping her get her head on straight. Really, it was the least she could do.

As Dr. Cerulean stood up to see Mariah out, they carelessly set down on their desk the small notepad they had been taking notes on. With it face up, Mariah could see a few of the choice comments Dr. Cerulean had made:

‘BOOOORING I’m so sad blah blah blah’ ‘messing with her orientation? nice lol’ ‘dig for mantras?’ ‘oh she’s COOKED cooked.’ ‘amazed someone else hasn’t scooped her up already’ ‘regular follow-ups? the massage is pretty good’

Mariah decided to ignore them. She decided they had to be about somebody else. Fortunately, Dr. Cerulean distracted her from it by sliding another piece of paper across the desk.

“Now, about that release?” the psychiatrist asked politely. “I think this could be really great material for a fic. I can see getting a lot of Ao3 kudos for this one.”

With a tight, harrowed, unsteady, haunted grin on her tear-stained face, Mariah obediently signed her name and then hurried back to return to her life as a brainwashed, submissive, lesbian secretary. As she left, Dr. Cerulean leaned back in their chair and slipped their hand down the front of their pants.

“All in a day’s work,” Dr. Cerulean murmured to themself. “Now, let me see if I can finish before my five o’clock.”

—

I would like to express my gratitude for the generosity of all those who support me on Patreon, and to give a special thanks to the following patrons in particular for their exceptional support:

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[novlr]

I’ve heard the term ‘catharsis’ before. But what does it mean? And how can it be used in a story?

The word “catharsis” comes from the ancient Greek katharsis, meaning “purification” or “cleansing.” Think of it as a purging of emotions, primarily through art or experience. Merriam-Webster offers a few definitions, including the purification of emotions like pity or fear, a release that brings spiritual renewal, and even the bringing of a complex issue to consciousness for expression. Sounds like a lot! While these definitions seem complex, we can keep them simple. 

Catharsis is essentially the release of pent-up emotions, like anger, fear, sadness, or grief, that are causing inner turmoil or issues. It’s about finding a way to express or process these feelings, leading to a sense of relief and release. Think of it like this: someone overwhelmed with anger might find catharsis by screaming into a pillow, hitting a punching bag, or even just having a conversation about what’s bothering them. The key is that the emotion is acknowledged and released.

You know those moments in a good movie or a good book where you’re crying, or laughing, or angry? The scene is just taking you away. It’s when the moment passes and the emotions drain away – that’s catharsis.

Not all releases are positive, however. People can lash out or say and do things that, while it lets the emotions go, aren’t constructive. Screaming at someone or punching them in the face can act as a cathartic moment but with very different consequences!

This release, this purging, is what allows for healing and growth. Catharsis often deals with significant emotions tied to impactful events—the kind that leaves a mark or a wound. Think of the anger and sadness following a betrayal, the grief after a loss, or the fear after a traumatic experience. When these emotions are finally purged, there can be a sense of vulnerability, yes, but it’s a vulnerability that paves the way for healing from the events that led to them.

Think of it like getting food poisoning. You’re nauseous, sick to your stomach, miserable. Then it all comes out. You feel weak, but hey, you finally feel better. Catharsis is like that, but emotional rather than physical. The emotions roil and churn, they’re making things uncomfortable or difficult. And then they finally come out. You’re better, but you’re also a bit weak and vulnerable after.

Writing to achieve catharsis

Sometimes, expressing emotions directly to others can be difficult. That’s where writing comes in. It can offer a similar cathartic release to physical expression. Many people find solace in journaling or diary writing, using the page to explore their experiences and emotions. By giving these feelings a voice on paper or screen, writers can find their own release — a way to finally let go.

Catharsis for our characters

As writers, we can offer our readers catharsis through our characters. We often put our characters through the wringer—challenging situations, tragic backstories, internal and external conflicts. But this is where the magic happens. By allowing our characters to experience and process their emotions, we create opportunities for readers to connect with them on a deeper level and experience catharsis vicariously.

Conflict is the driver of storytelling. It’s not just about physical fights, though. Conflict can be any kind of struggle. A conflict can be a disagreement between two people, a character’s internal struggle with fear, a battle against injustice, or even a confrontation with grief. The goal is for the reader to empathize with the character’s journey. When the character finally confronts their conflict and releases those pent-up emotions, the reader can experience a similar sense of release.

Catharsis isn’t limited by genre. It can be found in any story where characters experience genuine emotions. If your characters can feel, they can experience conflict and a slow but steady emotional buildup. This buildup will eventually lead to a breaking point, a moment of release—either positive or negative. They might confront the source of their pain head-on, or they might lash out in harmful ways. Regardless of the outcome, that moment of release is the catharsis. And from that point, healing (or further conflict) can begin.

Writing catharsis: some practical tips

Writing effective catharsis can be tricky, but a good starting point is your own experience. Think about times in your life when you’ve felt strong emotions and how you expressed them. How did it feel before, during, and after the release? Did you yell? Cry? Exercise? Talk to a friend? These personal experiences can inform how you portray your characters’ emotional journeys.

When developing your characters’ conflicts, consider how they’ll react and express their emotions. What are their “purification rituals”? Do they internalize their feelings? Do they seek solace in nature? Do they confront others directly? Do they engage in self-destructive behaviors? Just as importantly, consider what happens after the release. Do they find peace? Do they seek reconciliation? Do they spiral further? The bigger the event that brought things about, the greater the release.

Moments of catharsis can be pivotal in a character’s development. They can mark a turning point, a moment of transformation. By letting go of past traumas or negative patterns, your characters can finally heal from events and find a new path forward.

The power of catharsis

Writing catharsis isn’t just about creating emotional scenes. It’s about developing complex, relatable characters. By showing how characters process and release strong emotions, you reveal their inner world, their motivations, and their coping mechanisms. This depth can make them more believable and engaging.

Catharsis can be a catalyst for change. It can prompt characters to make important decisions, change their behavior, and embark on new paths. It can be a very transformative experience, leading to personal growth and healing.

And remember, the story doesn’t end with the cathartic moment. The aftermath can open up new possibilities, creating new conflicts or resolutions. There’s a new clarity that often follows a release bringing a chance for characters to see things from a new perspective. They might find new strength, new direction, or a new understanding of themselves.

Ultimately, writing catharsis allows you to explore the full spectrum of human emotion. It’s a powerful tool for character development, plot progression, and creating a truly resonant reading experience.

[chillyneon]

Allow yourself to make any story you want for your Self Insert. If you want to stay yourself that's fine! If you want to grow into a different person due to story experiences, do it! There's so much fun and catharsis to be had whether it's SFW or NSFW, there's no rules of what you're allowed to do with YOUR Self Insert. Good, Evil, Neutral, Toxic, EVERYTHING IS ON THE TABLE FOR YOUR PERSONAL FANTASY. You can write yourself reacting to different situations any way you want. Just because you wouldn't "realistically" handle things a certain way, who the fuck cares ITS YOUR SELF INSERT YOU MAKE THE RULES.

Experience horrific atrocities that change you into a completely different person from the trauma that only your F/O can heal? Or only you can help their own traumas? DO IT.

Save the day even when canon heroes failed and be the only one who can get it done, everyone loving you for it? DO IT.

Be trained by F/Os and become an amazing fighter that can hold your own in a brawl? DO IT.

Help the villain, or hell BE the villain, who wreaks havoc while reveling in the evil and carnage of it all to a concerning degree? DO IT.

Become a secret assassin who has to go through special training and actually kill people and infiltrate spaces in order to complete the missions you were trained to do, and fucking loves it all? DO IT.

Take part in a gigantic intergalactic revolution that could tear the structure of leadership apart down to its very knees, fighting alongside your F/O? Or even tragically, fighting against your F/O? DO IT.

Having the ability to fight the enemy whether you're a Villain or a Hero, achieving abilities that make you a force to be reckoned with to the point where even canon characters know your name without having ever met? DO IT.

Actually fucking DIE and have an angst filled pain train from all the heartbreak your F/O experiences due to your death? DO IT.

Have an evil F/O that inflicts dark emotional and/or physical torture that breaks you past the point of no return? DO IT.

Fuck everyone and everything because you're just that attractive and amazing? DO IT.

Hang out with everyone and everything because you're so damn cool and engaging? DO IT.

You're so fantastic and will have awesome experiences, or you know, delicious painful experiences. You're also gonna get AAAAAAAALLLL the F/Os, they love you so much because it's YOU no matter what form your Self Insert takes!!!!

Anyone who says otherwise is pure dookie.

[lazyscience]

Dungeon Crawler Carl Challenge

[EDIT: PARTY IS FULL, alas I have hit a wall for how much AI I am able to write in a single evening. thank you all though for there being enough interest to actually take time :) ]

So I've been feeling pretty low the last few months. I know I'm not the only one riding that struggle bus, that a good number of the friends and mutuals around these parts are also feeling um. Uninspired, by current events. Demoralized, saddened, angry, confused, bereft - some of all of that.

One of the things I've been enjoying over the last year or so have been the Dungeon Crawler Carl books; some of you are probably also familiar, given a number of tabletop RPG folks hang out around these parts. If you haven't tried them, I heartily encourage them - they're cartoonishly violent, thoroughly offensive to anything resembling a religious or socially conservative sensibility, laden with body horror, full of cocker spaniel slander, and wildly vulgar in a teenage-boy sort of way. They are also full of complex and interesting female characters, affirmative masculinity, kindness in great duress, found family, anti-capitalism, pro-skepticism and determination in the face of overwhelming odds. A LOT of shit blows up. And the hero's wisecracking BFF is a Persian cat who is half Real Housewife, half neglected child.

The point of all this introduction to say: the titular Carl's mantra with which he is surviving the dungeon is, You will not break me.

And damn if I don't think he's got a point.

Spraytan Hitler getting inaugurated and nominating his bumbling coterie of asskissers to the Cabinet? Fuck him. Not gonna break me.

Morons trying to take rights, safety and bodily integrity away from people I love? Fuck them, not gonna break me.

People at work making THEIR months of fucking around MY workload problem now? Fuck that, not gonna break me.

Stupid chronic pain? Fuck it, not gonna break me.

Stupid depression and anxiety? Fuck no. Not gonna break me.

Now, dear reader, your challenge, should you choose to accept (you don't need to be a longtime follower or a follower at all, just a fellow crawler in this bullshit dungeon that is currently our lives who would like to stick it to The Corporation/The Universe At Large)

The AI of the dungeon likes to give Achievements. These are snarky, profane, moments of catharsis when you've finished a quest or defeated an enemy describing your reward (frequently just 'you're still alive, good for you') And since I don't have the wherewithal to send you guys the Celestial Benefactor Boxes you're out there grinding for, that's all I can give you - but if you want 'em, tell me what quest you've beaten/mob you've splattered each day and I'll give you an Achievement.

Mobs can be tasks you've been dreading, phone calls you don't want to make, awkward conversations, doctor's visits you don't want to schedule.

Quests are good things you're doing for yourself. Working out/making opportunities to move in any way? Making art/crafting/writing/other creative endeavors? Learning a new professional or personal skill? Reading longform books (of whatever genre) instead of doomscrolling? Making an effort to heal your relationship with food in ANY way you think is appropriate FOR YOU? Treating yo' self? Pedicures are a buff in the dungeon! (it's probably best to not ask why)

Party up - when we're doing something with/for others - or letting others help us - we are stronger together than we are apart.

Some days, all you're up to is staying alive. Just staying alive is a worthwhile accomplishment.

I am going to try to every day for the next 30 to post at least one mob I've fought, quest I've been working on, or party I've joined. And anybody who would like one, reblog mine with yours and I'll give you an Achievement.

Now get out there, crawlers, and kill, kill, kill!

[ohmeadows]

this is a meandering post as i'm slowly trying to pin down my feelings on how healing is used as a sledgehammer in fandom yet never manages to say anything; but... demanding that others write and re-write to cater to your healing needs is exhausting. the idea that healing is always soft and tender flattens the process too, which in my experience is often ugly as hell and demanding beyond compare. it takes strength and it takes delving into ugly things and sometimes it's extremely unfulfilling when you realize there's nothing left that you can do except throw dirt on it and move on.

steamrolling all healing into some tenderness and softness is... it's not to say that isn't a good part of it, but i don't think it is everything there should be. there's so much to healing, such as what is keeping the healing from happening right now to this character? is it their environment, is it who they are with, is it their loneliness, is it repressed pasts? is it themselves? if you escape the immediate zone of danger, how does your body react? what bubbles up?

one form of media critique that i keep seeing is the... "it didn't heal me personally therefore bad therefore this must happen instead" and the person is just describing a fanfic idea! that they should be writing!

in the fandoms i'm active in, healing is this... amorphous blob people keep saying they want but they can't name it or conceptualize how it'd work for those characters. "i want them happy :(" great. what is happiness to them? what would be required to get there? is being with another person truly the solution? and so on, and so on.

and beyond that, there's the reader's own process of going through the story, of finding catharsis in whichever particular genre they feel drawn to: for me, that's tragedy and doomed narratives and crawling through the trenches while having everything you believe in ripped away and questioned to the pits. that, also, isn't for everyone. i don't think everyone finds the healing i write healing in their definition, and that's fine.

i'm overthinking this from a writing perspective, in the end, thinking about the mechanics and motions necessary to get such a journey instigated and moving, if it's even one the character has interest in going on or has to be dragged through.

anyway. cents thrown into a well. there's doubtless more to say on healing but not every conflict written about in a story will be healed. there's room to sit with what that means and what the story is trying to say with that, what rooms it allows you to enter into.

[bookshelfdreams]

never ceases to amaze me how ppl are obsessed with assigning other characters's traits and story arcs to Izzy to pretend that He's The Only One Who-- (no, he isn't)

'cause yk there IS a character who has a casual disability/body difference that doesn't just exist when it's relevant to the plot (and is, in fact, not relevant to the plot at all, because it's not a narrative device). A character who starts out with hypermasculine posturing and tbh kinda femmephobic, and is then quite literally cured by gay love. Who's kinda weird and goofy, but depicted as hot and desirable, because that's what he is! Who goes through a traumatic event and finds catharsis and healing, and sure, lots of that happens off-screen and could be addressed in more detail, but when has that ever stopped fandom from writing novel-length metas and fanfics. Who has a beautiful, canon love story.

And on top of that he's a hilarious, sarcastic little shit, and just great fun to watch!

(It's Pete. I'm talking about my buddy, my best friend, my specialest boy Black Pete.)

But for some reason he tends to fall to the wayside in fandom. If he's talked about at all, there's a fandom-wide tendency to make him into the shitty, one-dimensional, disney-esque clown and comic relief character he notably is not in canon - and assign his actual arc and characteristics to a more palatable angry asshole.

Hmm.

Wonder why that is.

[atamascolily]

While we're waiting for the Thunderbolt Fantasy final (sob) movie to come out, here are some of my predictions/wishes/hopes for what's going to happen:

-the demon gods are banished/sent back to their original realm. Once they are gone, there's no more need for the Shen Hui Mo Xie, so those will also go (probably also back to their original world, where they'll just be ordinary swords). I would love it if the Index became sentient and chose this fate, though!!

-Shang might use the scrying mirror he picked up from Xing Hai for one or both of these things OR he might save it for some secret timey-wimey thing bringing his own life full circle (although I really hope that isn't what actually happens). One way or another, he's gonna use it, though.

-with no more swords to guard, the Hu Yin Shi dedicate their lives to healing the world/Wasteland of Spirits, where their new fortress happens to conveniently be located. Unless the Lotus MacGuffin sword heals everything first???

-Bo Yang Hou dies. Sorry, old man, you represent the old ways, and also someone has to die in this movie for pathos, and I'd rather it be you than Juan Can Yun.

-Juan Can Yun and Dan Fei survive and have a million babies and rebuild the Dan clan; Urobuchi had BETTER not kill either of them off or I'll be so pissed.

-I would love it if the new Dan clan fighting style ends up as some combination of sword and spear techniques!!! Let Juan Can Yun use a spear again 2K25!!

-I think Lin's plan to target the Demon King will not provide him with the catharsis he seeks because it's not clear to me that the Demon King has the emotional capacity for the kind of reaction Lin craves. (He's like Locust in this way.) So regardless of how much disruption Lin causes, I think he'll be ultimately unsatisfied with the results.

-because of a dearth of "villains" in peacetime, Lin will give it (mostly) up and travel the world with Shang instead. One or both of them might ostensibly have a task to do, but I would love it if these two just wandered the jianghu and lived their best lives. Bonus if there is some dialogue that is suspiciously similar to wedding vows (technically, Lin already proposed with the whole "wrecking havoc on the world" line back at the beginning of S4, so all that's left is for Shang to take him up on it).

if this movie doesn't end with the two of them walking off into the sunset while "Darkest" plays, I'll be shocked. and the immediately go back to writing fanfics where this totally happened.

-Yan Xi becomes the ruler of a reunited Wan Yu because he's the only one left. Shu Liang Bi's headache gets deeper. Hopefully he gets a raise.

-Partway through S4, I thought Yan Xi and Chao Feng might get married for state reasons, but having embraced her obsession to become a Dark Magical Girl, Chao Feng is probably doomed. Lang is probably going to kill her, which is only going to make him spiral more. She might also have a Gollum-like role, where she accidentally does something good or useful while attempting to fulfill her own self-interest.

-hopefully Lie Mo Xian is human for good, but he might turn back into a pipa again when not in the demon realm, who knows

-character poems for Azi, Locust, Chao Feng, and Shang (redux), I think, although given that it's only 90 minutes, who even knows

-Azi vs. Lang fight. Hopefully Lang won't use the seals, but let's face it, he hasn't been making very good decisions lately, so he probably will. Killing Azi will bring him no joy, only more angst. and once he becomes a demon god, he'll start attacking the human realm.

(Bonus points if Azi's last words are "subarashii")

-Lang's demon god form will also be incredibly hot and different from his Azi-like "Awakened" form we saw briefly in S4.

-there's a picture on the official website of a giant 4-eyed demon god with an entire city/castle on its head peering out of a hole in the ground, so yeah, that's happening at some point

-please please please let Tian Ming's song be what brings Lang back from his Demon God rampage of revenge please please please. Also Shang and Lie Mo Xian, but LET TIAN MING DO SOMETHING

-also Lang and Tian Ming are probably an endgame ship

-I still don't know exactly what Locust has planned (probably becoming fate itself or something equally grandiose) or what his and the Demon King's fates will ultimately be (probably both dead) not to mention what Lin has planned for both of them and whether or not it will work…. but hopefully it'll be awesome.

-I would love a Lin vs. Demon King fight, or to see the Demon King fight at all.

-WHAT about those secret weapons Bo Yang Hou shipped across the Wasteland of Spirits???? PLEASE BE ANOTHER CANNON OR SOMETHING (but let's face it, it's probably more swords).

-anyway, the major conflicts as I see it are each of the heroes fighting their narrative foils/shadow selves (literally and figuratively): Lang vs. Azi; Lin vs. Demon King; and Shang vs. Locust.

-there's also a snippet in one of the S4 BTS videos with a clip of the Xi You army and a palanquin with the chancellor beside it, so presumably Chao Feng is going to try and get the Dong Li humans to surrender and/or double-cross them. Hopefully the Xi You forces will ultimately side with humanity instead of accepting the demons as allies.

Anyway, I'm really only scratching the surface here, and am probably missing a lot, but this is at least a good start.

[morganski-19]

Chills Right to the Marrow, Final Thoughts

The fact that is a title alone is enough to bring me to tears. This fic that I wrote, it means more to me than I ever thought it would. When I wrote the first part, it was meant as nothing more than a singular tumblr post with no planned follow up. And then you asked for more, and I wrote it. I found solace in a character with no more than ten minutes of screen time, and wanted more.

Then Dustin's pov came along, and I had a vision of what this could be, and just wrote. There was no outline, there was a minor plan. I placed myself in these characters and told them to go. Certain scenes and moment were in mind, and I let them come when it felt right. I knew where it needed to end, but let the characters take me there.

This fic was a first for me. My first outsider pov fic, and the first in which I didn't have a direct outline. I had to hold myself back, and there were many moments lost that may never be seen. Things that I had wanted to write, but couldn't find the space to. If I ever were to come back and write more for this fic, maybe I will get to them.

But really, what this post is, is to somehow explain how this fic helped me more than I thought it would.

As with anything I write, I find little things of myself that I can use to help write these characters. There is always something that I use to help me get into their mind, but it has never been to the level this was. The catharsis that I experienced while writing this fic was unmatched.

With Wayne, I wrote the unexplainable feelings that one has seeing their loved ones go through intense medical treatments while the world keeps spinning. How, even though it feels impossible, you have to keep moving and doing other things while fighting with the darkness. And how, in the end, life can come back to you in ways that you cannot imagine.

In Eddie, I wrote for my family members who have received diagnoses such as his, and the pain they must have felt in that moment. But also, their mindset of continuing to find joy in their life, and not letting their diagnoses dictate how much they can still live.

In Steve, it was that cursed thought in my mind that no one in my life reciprocates the love I have for them, and the small ways that thought is always proven wrong.

But, no one can quite match Dustin, and how his pov has helped me. If you were to ask me which character in Stranger Things I related to the most, it would always be Dustin. I was that nerd with a fascination for the unknown, and a laugh that was never quiet. And the story that I gave him in this fic was one that I relate to a lot.

In Dustin, I wrote my frustrations about being kept out of the loop of my grandfather's cancer treatments, and the anger that I hold of hearing of his initial diagnosis from a facebook post. In Dustin, I wrote my struggle to move on and age after experiencing the pain of the Covid pandemic that started when I was seventeen. And the struggle of feeling so affected by it while coming out completely unscathed. In Dustin, I wrote of the fear of growing up, and leaving my younger self behind, but now knowing that they are always within me wherever I go.

In this fic, I wrote about the friends that stick by me every step of the way, and the community I have around me. I wrote about healing, and growth, and more importantly, the beauty of life. I wrote about finding the light while feeling stuck in the dark, and how warm it feels when held in your hands.

To "Chills Right to the Marrow", to Wayne, Dustin, Eddie, and Steve, this is goodbye. Thank you for all you have given me, it was needed more than I knew.

[haze-of-hyperfixations]

Hi! Do u have any fic recs for asoue? :) 👁️

hi!! :)

ooh, absolutely! here's three!

Illumination by cygninae

i've recommended this oneshot before, and i'll do it again. absolutely adore this one. why i recommend it: quagmire triplets my beloveds. <3 stunning writing style. complex feelings and grief and reunions and the feeling of sharp cold mornings where everything is so bright and new it almost hurts to look at. reading it feels like emotional catharsis.

All Those Things They Couldn't Say by midas_touch_of_angst

it's been a while since i read this one, but it's been in my bookmarks for years for a good reason. it's fantastic. why i recommend it: AU with so many good character dynamics. trying very hard not to spoil the plot as i type this, but. it's made me tear up from emotions. also because the aforementioned fic already has me thinking about the quagmires, i have to mention that i especially love the quagmires in this AU so much. actually all the unfortunate gen kids are so important to me. <3

a plague on both of your houses by nevereverever

i actually read this oneshot for the first time today! loved it. <3

why i recommend it: many nice details about this fic, but for me? sunny and bea. i could have cried, i love them both so much. it's a very sweet fic, it's got all the kids trying to heal together. sad and soft and full of love. also lots of nicknames. <3

i would go into more detail about each of these fics, but, unfortunately, i am very sleep-deprived. but yeah, i'd recommend them all! they're all lovely fics. :)

thanks for the ask!! hope you have a great day!

[tildeathiwillwrite]

genuine qustion, bc i dont understand whump, why do you like it? whats the appeal? am i missing something?

I'm going to assume from the wording of this question that you already have an idea of what whump is, and you're asking why someone would want to read/write it, but if not here is a good post summarizing the genre.

This post is divided into two parts below the cut: the appeal of whump for me, and an explanation of why I like whump.

For me, personally, the appeal of whump comes from putting a character (whether that be an someone else's character, my original character, or a nameless whumpee) in Situations (with or without a whumper), and then having the difficult recovery or healing process (usually with a caretaker). Sometimes I deviate from this pattern, such as omitting the recovery, but that is usually my main focus.

A bit more emphasis on the comfort in hurt/comfort, but there's also hurt in the comfort.

My main love of whump stems from the tropes I enjoy:

Used as bait (where a whumpee is captured with the intent on using them to lure the caretaker into trying to rescue them in order to capture the caretaker too). I like this one because of the suspense of knowing it's a trap, and wondering if the caretaker will manage to rescue the whumpee, or get captured themselves.

Magic whump (whump but in the fantasy genre). This one gives more possibilities or twists on usual whump tropes by adding magic into the mix. Combined with my love for fantasy writing.

Captivity whump (a whumpee captured by a whumper, usually including various forms of torture). This trope is very versatile. Why were they captured? What does the whumper gain by torturing them? So many possibilities. Not to mention the rescue afterwards!

Sickfic (whumpee is sick, usually with a caretaker). Someone else mentioned this before, I don't remember who otherwise I would've linked them, but illness is something rarely seen in existing media. When a piece of media has whump, it's usually torture or a fight scene, but I've only ever seen sickness a handful of times. I like the idea of a character having all these cool abilities but still getting the common cold, especially when they have someone else to take care of them. Also it's easier to write from experience for this then, say, getting stabbed.

PTSD whump (when a character has trauma). This is more of a recovery trope. I hate it when a piece of media has a character go through an incredibly traumatizing event and then as soon as they're out, they're perfectly fine mentally. Let the character have ptsd, dammit! I don't really write this often, but when I do I love writing the nightmares in particular.

Immortal whump (with a character who, for whatever reason, cannot die). I love this one because it opens up even more possibilities for whumping. It usually depends on how the character's immortality works, but they can take a lot more damage than any other whumpee.

Realism in whump (realistic injuries, illness, and recovery). Really just a preference, as I'm studying in the medical field and already know a lot about how the human body works, so I use that knowledge and apply it to my writing. For example, fainting as portrayed in hollywood movies is a lot different from how fainting actually is. Involves a fair amount of research, but I personally think it's worth it.

(side note: I haven't really found any tropes which I strongly dislike, but out of personal preference I avoid smut and nsfw whump such as rape)

As to why I like whump? This was a tough question to answer, to properly articulate. It's fiction. And writing give me freedom to do pretty much anything to the characters and through the characters. I suppose whump is another way to exercise that creativity. "I know how the character reacts to this Situation, but what about this other Situation?"

I know some other writers use whump writing to work through their trauma, as catharsis. Props to them, but I don't write whump for that reason. I always liked putting my characters in Situations, and then a couple years ago discovered what whump was, went "that's a thing?!" and basically dove in head first.

The Tumblr whump community itself has also been very sweet and welcoming, I draw a lot of inspiration from the other writers, especially when I'm trying to figure out what to write next. I doubt I would still be writing whump if the community wasn't as welcoming, and I'm very glad it's not the case. If you go back in my archive, the first writing I started posting was whump. Nameless whump turned into oc whump, which turned into posting about my WIPs. So if the whump community gatekept me out, I probably wouldn't be posting any writing at all (and that's very sad to think about).

I hope this post was helpful to you! I can't speak for other members of the whump community, these opinions and motives are my own. If you have any more questions feel free to ask.

[bigdumbbambieyes]

when i write, specifically about Billy, it’s not about redemption — it’s about healing, no matter how that looks

it can soft or it can be ugly, whatever he needs

and i believe Steve also needs a lot of healing from what he’s gone through and refuses to talk about (although we all know by now that it’s just bad writing in the show)

and bc they’re written as the ‘same person’, i often find that they balance each other out and it’s so cathartic for me to write them healing both each other and individually, together

and maybe it’s bc of that catharsis that i’m so deeply moved by them as characters and as a ship, bc they can be so real when i write them, in some ways they write themselves and i just get the pleasure of watching it unfold in my brain and down to my fingers on the keyboard 🥹

maybe it’s ‘not that deep’ but it is to me!!