forum *bonks you* Go to therapy, loser. (Small group, 0/5)

Started March 25, 2023 by Deleted user

tune

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(how broken are we allowed to make characters? like, what limits do you have on any mentions of anything?)

(Honestly as long as you’re not glorifying shitty behavior I don’t care. But check with the others for their triggers maybe?)

(Uh- question- is this more of a mental hospital place of just a place for therapy-?)

(Just a therapy clinic/support group type setting :) )

(Uh- question- is this more of a mental hospital place of just a place for therapy-?)

(Just a therapy clinic/support group type setting :) )

(Ohhhh ok!)

(how broken are we allowed to make characters? like, what limits do you have on any mentions of anything?)

(Honestly as long as you’re not glorifying shitty behavior I don’t care. But check with the others for their triggers maybe?)

(alrighty!)

Who’s gonna do the starter-? (Ima laugh if this goes to group therapy cause ethan will flip out-)

Name: Clancy
Age: 53
Gender/Pronouns: Cis (ish) man, he/him (look, I’ll be frank with ya… Clancy don’t really care for gender roles. He do, in fact, be a fancy lad.)
Orientation: Gay asexual
Species: Orc
Appearance: Clancy is huge, needless to say. He is hulking, broad, massive, standing at 7’3”. But he makes up for his height intimidation factor by being portly and unassuming, he’s basically an Old English Mastiff in Orc’s clothes. Gentle, dopey, and clumsy, with a clean shaven face outside of long braided sideburns and raven black hair that hangs to his waist. His tusks are a little chipped and worn, his pointy ears have gauges, and if you uncover his chest you see a massive spread of tattoos to cover up scars and wounds. His eyes are a gentle brown with crow’s feet beside them, his bluish green skin wrinkled slightly and worn with his age.
Personality: Clancy is just… wholesome. He’s incredibly friendly, intelligent, and charismatic, but he uses his charms to help people and to allow them to be their best selves.
Magic?: He is a practiced Elemental Master, and can harness any of the four elemental powers or their combinations or offshoots thereof.
Weapon(s)?: None, besides martial arts.
Theme song(s): I Will Wait by Mumford and Sons, Froot by MARINA just because it’s a bop.
Other: Clancy was raised by a wizardly drug cartel, stolen from his parents and trafficked in illegal fighting rings across the continents and was eventually used to test drugs on when he sustained an injury that cost him the use of his right leg. He eventually escaped, started a new life, and found a mentor that taught him how to achieve inner peace and after a few years of working with her, eventually vanished all for Clancy to carry on her legacy. Clancy has struggled to become the person he is today, but boy is he glad he is who he is. He has a sober vampire (basically, a vampire that doesn’t drink sentient creatures’ blood) husband named Arielle Damos.

Who’s gonna do the starter-? (Ima laugh if this goes to group therapy cause ethan will flip out-)

I can start!

Ok pog!

Clancy was sitting in the community room, where the group therapy session was about to start. All three of his clients were court-ordered to be here, trafficking victims or violent monsters it didn’t matter, all were here because they had no choice. He expected some resentment towards himself, however he didn’t expect the group to be totally intolerable mostly because he hadn’t received any information on their pasts. The unfortunate part of living in a world with magic, he had long since realized, was that most people weren’t easy to control. And when they lashed out, people got hurt in the process.

Clancy’s phone let out a small ding, a text from his husband letting him know where he’d be tonight. The bookstore, right. Rain pattered outside the shatterproof windows, and the room smelled like bleach as it had recently been cleaned. There were fidget toys for all species scattered in baskets across tables, and the warm lamps glowed as they floated around the ceiling casting a friendly sunset across the room.

Clancy heard the door open, as his clients were escorted by armed guards into the room. Well, he might as well get started. Clancy stood, his ankle length skirt billowing around his legs as he walked over to greet the group. He straightened the collar of his shirt, and adjusted his glasses with a sense of nervousness. “Hello all. My name is Clancy, I’m here to help you all succeed. We call this program New Starts and Healthy Transitions for a reason, after all.” he smiled, casting even more warmth across the room even with the sense of anxiety building up in his chest as to how this would go.

Ethan struggles against a few guards, screaming at them in Russian and sending curses and threats flying. It was clear he had true panic and fear in his eyes. He hated being touched…he also hated being forced into anything. He punches at a guard, only to be restrained.

Ethan always felt guilty after causing any scenes, but when he was in this state of panic, he always immediately went into fight mode. He had learned to defend himself at a young age. He had to. It was the only thing that kept him from being killed when he was younger, and now it was his only response to these types of situations. Ethan wasn’t a bad person…just had bad decisions. Even if they weren’t voluntary.

The guards manage to get Ethan to a seat, but were unable to get him to sit without him trying to dash out the room. His eyes darted from place to place, trying to find any and every exit possible, while also trying to stay on high alert. His eyes snapped to Clancy as he spoke and he pauses, then snarls.

Xander never wanted to be here. Never.

They hadn't even wanted to go to court. After all, what good would it do for them? They had no reason for it. They were better off by theirself anyways. Everyone was either violent, a fool, or a violent fool in their eyes.

They didn't like violence.

So they stayed away from everyone.

Until someone found them living under a bridge and had filed a case. Which was stupid, because the judge had taken one look at them and said "You have court mandated therapy next week."

Xander didn't understand what the judge had seen to make them send them here.

But here they were.

The gaurds had tried to escort them in physically when they wouldn't go in willingly. . . they had disappeared. They didn't know where. But they left and then Xander went on their own because anything was better than being touched again.

They watched as a Russian man was forced into the room and shrank back, away from them, their mind going peacufully quiet.

To the rest of the group it would look like Xander's soul had just left their body. Distantly, they knew how it looked, but they couldn't be bothered to care.

So here they were, blank faced, dead-eyed, frozen in place. Waiting for the hell to start.

Rhys was silent, his unnaturally handsome face pale as he walked into the room ahead of the guards. He didn't need to be dragged anywhere. He'd go if it meant he didn't get touched. Because any touch of any kind made him want to curl up into a ball and sob his eyes out. Or die. Dying would have been better twelve years ago.

He casts a qiick look around noting the screaming Russian man and cringing away, and then noted the other person, who looked dead. Rhys didn't care. He just wanted this to be over with. He knew how to please people in all sorts of ways. He could tell them exacatly what they wanted to hear.

And he would do just that. Then go home to his dark apartment, sit on his bare bed and cry. Then go back to what he as working on.

But for now, he sat in a chair, silent, starting at Clancy and forcing a small, but east smile to his face.