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@doctorisaacclarkson
The Doctor is in (intro post)
Is- is this working?
Ahem
I am Doctor Isaac Clarkson, but you can call me Isaac, I am a licensed Therapist and Psychiatrist. That means whether youre a kid from crime alley all the way to the most pristine elite, if you need help, I am here. My door is always open to everyone. I believe anyone can change if given the chance and well and truly want to.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch โข No registration required โข HD streaming
๐ฌ
@koriandrofficial
"Ah starfire! You're that hero from the news! How nice. I make this offer with any vigilante but if you ever wish to book a session with me, even if its just to talk about how stressful balancing being a hero and being a person is, my door is always open."
A session?
"I am a licenced therapist and psychiatrist, my job is essentially to help people work through feelings they have whether it be stress, depression or anger, and help them work through trauma."
Oh! That sounds like a wonderful job! I, of course, am very in touch with my emotion, so I do not think I'd need these sessions. I can recommend you to a couple friends, of course.
"Thats perfectly fine, thank you."
In the dead of night, a bouquet of brilliant white roses in a crystal vase appear on your coffee table.
The flowers hum with an indescribable power, each petal softly shimmering with a red light.
The flowers fill the room with the scent of fresh soil and wild roses. The longer you look at them the more you feel like someone is watching you.
Sitting at the foot of the vase is a note with blood red lettering on it:
Most Noble Keeper of minds,
Your devotion to my city is commendable. But be warned, taking such attentive care of what is not yours will most certainly invite the wrong kind of attention.
And end in being consumed by your charge.
With the utmost sincerity, your dearest acquaintance Anneliese.
@the-sun-behind-the-slaughter
//you asked for this. ๐
"What the....? Who...?"
He reads through the note.
"I... is this a threat...? I mean... they are nice flowers... but... whoever this Anneliese person is, they've been inside my home. This... can't be good."
He pockets the note, not knowing what to do with it yet. He leaves the flowers where they are and leaves to tell his boyfriend (he lives with his boyfriend and adoptive son)
The note is slightly warm to the touch, the letters shimmer with the sheen of fresh ink. Even through the fabric of your pocket you can feel the heat on your skin.
As you turn your back on the flowers you hear a soft chuckle in the back of your mind.
The voice sounds vaguely familiar, but you can't quite place it. You feel a delicate touch on your hand, like fingers brushing tha back of it. But notice that there is no one in the room with you.
He freezes
"Who- who was that?" He looks around, panicking a little
Another chuckle. Then a pause.
"Do you truly wish to know, doctor?" The voice comes from within your own mind. The tone slightly mocking.
A hand lands on your shoulder it's nails digging into your collar bone, sending a sharp pain down your arm. You turn to see who is touching you but there is no one there, only four nail marks beginning to bleed.
The presence moves closer to you bringing the scent of roses near your face. A soft breeze caresses your cheek, as if someone is whispering but there is no sound. You feel as if this entity is merely inches away from your face looking directly at you.
"What-?! the fuck?!- what the hells going on?!"
"Tell me doctor, do you have a wish?" The voice is gentle, inquisitive.
The note in your pocket begins to glow softly.
"Tell me, and I will grant it."
"A wish? What do you mean? Who are you?"
The voice heaves a sigh that shakes your soul. "Why are therapists always so inquisitive?" The voice murmurs.
"Yes, a wish. Your heart's desire. Grasp the note and all will be revealed."
There is a feeling of mild annoyance and impatience in the air, you get the feeling this "person" might be a bit younger then you.
"I... i just wish people understood me. They always assume that because of gothams history with therapists becoming evil that i will too... but I'm not. I just want to help people, is that so bad?"
He takes the note out of his pocket
"Oh? Is that all?" The voice looses a bit of its gravity.
"Honestly, this feels like a bit of a waste on your part. But okay." You hear a crackle from the note in your hands.
Looking down you see arcs of light erupting from it. White rose petals blow from the bouquet ,wrapping around you. You involuntarily shut your eyes, when you open them you are no longer in your home.
Instead you are in what appears to be a study filled to the brim with thick leather bound books. The heavy wood shelves seem to extend endlessly upwards. Looking around you notice the opulence and luxury of the furniture, each table holding a vase of roses identical to the one you received.
At the far end of the room you see three large floor to ceiling windows, behind them there is an inky blackness with occasional cracks of red light. Just beneath the window sits a young woman, looking no older the twenty-five. She sits at a desk piled high with books and papers.
She looks up at you, placing her quill in its inkwell. She gestures lightly, several pieces of paper floating over to their own vase before disappearing. Her face, it's hazy but you recognize it. You've seen it before in passing.
Once from Jeremiah's office back when you worked at Arkham, but back then she was just a young girl visiting with her mother. Then again more recently in an interview about mental health donations you barley listened to. She looked like Sunny Gotham, but she was too old. To your knowledge Sunny was only twenty-two or twenty-three.
"Hello doctor, sit." She motioned towards a chair it turned towards you, beckoning you to sit in its plush leather cushioning.
"This is... strange." He walks over and sits down.
"So, you wish to be understood?" The woman leans forward, steepling her fingers.
"I can make that happen, I can give you the gift of reading others as easily as one would read a book. And in turn give you the knowledge needed to make them understand you." There was a slightly mischievous glint in her eyes.
"Of course there will be a price, and if I'm being honest I find your wish to be a bit boring and not really worth much. But I said I could grant it so here we are." She looked at you awaiting your decision.
"What kind of price...?"
"Just the occasional favor, nothing big. Especially considering how little effort you're incredibly mundane wish takes to grant." She sits up slightly looking mildly irritated by the situation.
"I've been connected to your world by a power beyond my control. I wish to break that connection but I will need help, so I'm asking you for assistance. Just simple information gathering taking your lack of power or influence into account." Her tone was mildly mocking, she reached out brushed her hand over some of her books.
"I- and how would i do that? I'm just a doctor, not a spy."
"I will tell you what I want to know, you will learn it. Then you will tell me what you have found. I will explain in more detail once you agree. Of course I won't force you, but it's not often someone offers to grant your heart's desires."
"I... alright, sure. Let's do it."
He likes helping people anyway. Even if said person is some kinda reality warping genie like person
Once you agree, she pulls out a book that looks nearly identical to the notebook you used at Arkham.
"Take this book. When you speak to your patients if you glance the pages of this book their innermost thoughts will be revealed. Write your questions within these pages and I will reveal the answers to you." She smiles softly passing the book to you.
Once you touch it, you are transported back to your home. No time has passed and everything it exactly as it was before you left. The only proof that anything has transpired is the slightly warm book in your hand.
He stares at the book for a moment "...I... i should probably have a lie down. Maybe its just lack of sleep" hes never dealt with anything like this before. But he doesnt get rid of the notebook
In the dead of night, a bouquet of brilliant white roses in a crystal vase appear on your coffee table.
The flowers hum with an indescribable power, each petal softly shimmering with a red light.
The flowers fill the room with the scent of fresh soil and wild roses. The longer you look at them the more you feel like someone is watching you.
Sitting at the foot of the vase is a note with blood red lettering on it:
Most Noble Keeper of minds,
Your devotion to my city is commendable. But be warned, taking such attentive care of what is not yours will most certainly invite the wrong kind of attention.
And end in being consumed by your charge.
With the utmost sincerity, your dearest acquaintance Anneliese.
@the-sun-behind-the-slaughter
//you asked for this. ๐
"What the....? Who...?"
He reads through the note.
"I... is this a threat...? I mean... they are nice flowers... but... whoever this Anneliese person is, they've been inside my home. This... can't be good."
He pockets the note, not knowing what to do with it yet. He leaves the flowers where they are and leaves to tell his boyfriend (he lives with his boyfriend and adoptive son)
The note is slightly warm to the touch, the letters shimmer with the sheen of fresh ink. Even through the fabric of your pocket you can feel the heat on your skin.
As you turn your back on the flowers you hear a soft chuckle in the back of your mind.
The voice sounds vaguely familiar, but you can't quite place it. You feel a delicate touch on your hand, like fingers brushing tha back of it. But notice that there is no one in the room with you.
He freezes
"Who- who was that?" He looks around, panicking a little
Another chuckle. Then a pause.
"Do you truly wish to know, doctor?" The voice comes from within your own mind. The tone slightly mocking.
A hand lands on your shoulder it's nails digging into your collar bone, sending a sharp pain down your arm. You turn to see who is touching you but there is no one there, only four nail marks beginning to bleed.
The presence moves closer to you bringing the scent of roses near your face. A soft breeze caresses your cheek, as if someone is whispering but there is no sound. You feel as if this entity is merely inches away from your face looking directly at you.
"What-?! the fuck?!- what the hells going on?!"
"Tell me doctor, do you have a wish?" The voice is gentle, inquisitive.
The note in your pocket begins to glow softly.
"Tell me, and I will grant it."
"A wish? What do you mean? Who are you?"
The voice heaves a sigh that shakes your soul. "Why are therapists always so inquisitive?" The voice murmurs.
"Yes, a wish. Your heart's desire. Grasp the note and all will be revealed."
There is a feeling of mild annoyance and impatience in the air, you get the feeling this "person" might be a bit younger then you.
"I... i just wish people understood me. They always assume that because of gothams history with therapists becoming evil that i will too... but I'm not. I just want to help people, is that so bad?"
He takes the note out of his pocket
"Oh? Is that all?" The voice looses a bit of its gravity.
"Honestly, this feels like a bit of a waste on your part. But okay." You hear a crackle from the note in your hands.
Looking down you see arcs of light erupting from it. White rose petals blow from the bouquet ,wrapping around you. You involuntarily shut your eyes, when you open them you are no longer in your home.
Instead you are in what appears to be a study filled to the brim with thick leather bound books. The heavy wood shelves seem to extend endlessly upwards. Looking around you notice the opulence and luxury of the furniture, each table holding a vase of roses identical to the one you received.
At the far end of the room you see three large floor to ceiling windows, behind them there is an inky blackness with occasional cracks of red light. Just beneath the window sits a young woman, looking no older the twenty-five. She sits at a desk piled high with books and papers.
She looks up at you, placing her quill in its inkwell. She gestures lightly, several pieces of paper floating over to their own vase before disappearing. Her face, it's hazy but you recognize it. You've seen it before in passing.
Once from Jeremiah's office back when you worked at Arkham, but back then she was just a young girl visiting with her mother. Then again more recently in an interview about mental health donations you barley listened to. She looked like Sunny Gotham, but she was too old. To your knowledge Sunny was only twenty-two or twenty-three.
"Hello doctor, sit." She motioned towards a chair it turned towards you, beckoning you to sit in its plush leather cushioning.
"This is... strange." He walks over and sits down.
"So, you wish to be understood?" The woman leans forward, steepling her fingers.
"I can make that happen, I can give you the gift of reading others as easily as one would read a book. And in turn give you the knowledge needed to make them understand you." There was a slightly mischievous glint in her eyes.
"Of course there will be a price, and if I'm being honest I find your wish to be a bit boring and not really worth much. But I said I could grant it so here we are." She looked at you awaiting your decision.
"What kind of price...?"
"Just the occasional favor, nothing big. Especially considering how little effort you're incredibly mundane wish takes to grant." She sits up slightly looking mildly irritated by the situation.
"I've been connected to your world by a power beyond my control. I wish to break that connection but I will need help, so I'm asking you for assistance. Just simple information gathering taking your lack of power or influence into account." Her tone was mildly mocking, she reached out brushed her hand over some of her books.
"I- and how would i do that? I'm just a doctor, not a spy."
"I will tell you what I want to know, you will learn it. Then you will tell me what you have found. I will explain in more detail once you agree. Of course I won't force you, but it's not often someone offers to grant your heart's desires."
"I... alright, sure. Let's do it."
He likes helping people anyway. Even if said person is some kinda reality warping genie like person
In the dead of night, a bouquet of brilliant white roses in a crystal vase appear on your coffee table.
The flowers hum with an indescribable power, each petal softly shimmering with a red light.
The flowers fill the room with the scent of fresh soil and wild roses. The longer you look at them the more you feel like someone is watching you.
Sitting at the foot of the vase is a note with blood red lettering on it:
Most Noble Keeper of minds,
Your devotion to my city is commendable. But be warned, taking such attentive care of what is not yours will most certainly invite the wrong kind of attention.
And end in being consumed by your charge.
With the utmost sincerity, your dearest acquaintance Anneliese.
@the-sun-behind-the-slaughter
//you asked for this. ๐
"What the....? Who...?"
He reads through the note.
"I... is this a threat...? I mean... they are nice flowers... but... whoever this Anneliese person is, they've been inside my home. This... can't be good."
He pockets the note, not knowing what to do with it yet. He leaves the flowers where they are and leaves to tell his boyfriend (he lives with his boyfriend and adoptive son)
The note is slightly warm to the touch, the letters shimmer with the sheen of fresh ink. Even through the fabric of your pocket you can feel the heat on your skin.
As you turn your back on the flowers you hear a soft chuckle in the back of your mind.
The voice sounds vaguely familiar, but you can't quite place it. You feel a delicate touch on your hand, like fingers brushing tha back of it. But notice that there is no one in the room with you.
He freezes
"Who- who was that?" He looks around, panicking a little
Another chuckle. Then a pause.
"Do you truly wish to know, doctor?" The voice comes from within your own mind. The tone slightly mocking.
A hand lands on your shoulder it's nails digging into your collar bone, sending a sharp pain down your arm. You turn to see who is touching you but there is no one there, only four nail marks beginning to bleed.
The presence moves closer to you bringing the scent of roses near your face. A soft breeze caresses your cheek, as if someone is whispering but there is no sound. You feel as if this entity is merely inches away from your face looking directly at you.
"What-?! the fuck?!- what the hells going on?!"
"Tell me doctor, do you have a wish?" The voice is gentle, inquisitive.
The note in your pocket begins to glow softly.
"Tell me, and I will grant it."
"A wish? What do you mean? Who are you?"
The voice heaves a sigh that shakes your soul. "Why are therapists always so inquisitive?" The voice murmurs.
"Yes, a wish. Your heart's desire. Grasp the note and all will be revealed."
There is a feeling of mild annoyance and impatience in the air, you get the feeling this "person" might be a bit younger then you.
"I... i just wish people understood me. They always assume that because of gothams history with therapists becoming evil that i will too... but I'm not. I just want to help people, is that so bad?"
He takes the note out of his pocket
"Oh? Is that all?" The voice looses a bit of its gravity.
"Honestly, this feels like a bit of a waste on your part. But okay." You hear a crackle from the note in your hands.
Looking down you see arcs of light erupting from it. White rose petals blow from the bouquet ,wrapping around you. You involuntarily shut your eyes, when you open them you are no longer in your home.
Instead you are in what appears to be a study filled to the brim with thick leather bound books. The heavy wood shelves seem to extend endlessly upwards. Looking around you notice the opulence and luxury of the furniture, each table holding a vase of roses identical to the one you received.
At the far end of the room you see three large floor to ceiling windows, behind them there is an inky blackness with occasional cracks of red light. Just beneath the window sits a young woman, looking no older the twenty-five. She sits at a desk piled high with books and papers.
She looks up at you, placing her quill in its inkwell. She gestures lightly, several pieces of paper floating over to their own vase before disappearing. Her face, it's hazy but you recognize it. You've seen it before in passing.
Once from Jeremiah's office back when you worked at Arkham, but back then she was just a young girl visiting with her mother. Then again more recently in an interview about mental health donations you barley listened to. She looked like Sunny Gotham, but she was too old. To your knowledge Sunny was only twenty-two or twenty-three.
"Hello doctor, sit." She motioned towards a chair it turned towards you, beckoning you to sit in its plush leather cushioning.
"This is... strange." He walks over and sits down.
"So, you wish to be understood?" The woman leans forward, steepling her fingers.
"I can make that happen, I can give you the gift of reading others as easily as one would read a book. And in turn give you the knowledge needed to make them understand you." There was a slightly mischievous glint in her eyes.
"Of course there will be a price, and if I'm being honest I find your wish to be a bit boring and not really worth much. But I said I could grant it so here we are." She looked at you awaiting your decision.
"What kind of price...?"
"Just the occasional favor, nothing big. Especially considering how little effort you're incredibly mundane wish takes to grant." She sits up slightly looking mildly irritated by the situation.
"I've been connected to your world by a power beyond my control. I wish to break that connection but I will need help, so I'm asking you for assistance. Just simple information gathering taking your lack of power or influence into account." Her tone was mildly mocking, she reached out brushed her hand over some of her books.
"I- and how would i do that? I'm just a doctor, not a spy."
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch โข No registration required โข HD streaming
In the dead of night, a bouquet of brilliant white roses in a crystal vase appear on your coffee table.
The flowers hum with an indescribable power, each petal softly shimmering with a red light.
The flowers fill the room with the scent of fresh soil and wild roses. The longer you look at them the more you feel like someone is watching you.
Sitting at the foot of the vase is a note with blood red lettering on it:
Most Noble Keeper of minds,
Your devotion to my city is commendable. But be warned, taking such attentive care of what is not yours will most certainly invite the wrong kind of attention.
And end in being consumed by your charge.
With the utmost sincerity, your dearest acquaintance Anneliese.
@the-sun-behind-the-slaughter
//you asked for this. ๐
"What the....? Who...?"
He reads through the note.
"I... is this a threat...? I mean... they are nice flowers... but... whoever this Anneliese person is, they've been inside my home. This... can't be good."
He pockets the note, not knowing what to do with it yet. He leaves the flowers where they are and leaves to tell his boyfriend (he lives with his boyfriend and adoptive son)
The note is slightly warm to the touch, the letters shimmer with the sheen of fresh ink. Even through the fabric of your pocket you can feel the heat on your skin.
As you turn your back on the flowers you hear a soft chuckle in the back of your mind.
The voice sounds vaguely familiar, but you can't quite place it. You feel a delicate touch on your hand, like fingers brushing tha back of it. But notice that there is no one in the room with you.
He freezes
"Who- who was that?" He looks around, panicking a little
Another chuckle. Then a pause.
"Do you truly wish to know, doctor?" The voice comes from within your own mind. The tone slightly mocking.
A hand lands on your shoulder it's nails digging into your collar bone, sending a sharp pain down your arm. You turn to see who is touching you but there is no one there, only four nail marks beginning to bleed.
The presence moves closer to you bringing the scent of roses near your face. A soft breeze caresses your cheek, as if someone is whispering but there is no sound. You feel as if this entity is merely inches away from your face looking directly at you.
"What-?! the fuck?!- what the hells going on?!"
"Tell me doctor, do you have a wish?" The voice is gentle, inquisitive.
The note in your pocket begins to glow softly.
"Tell me, and I will grant it."
"A wish? What do you mean? Who are you?"
The voice heaves a sigh that shakes your soul. "Why are therapists always so inquisitive?" The voice murmurs.
"Yes, a wish. Your heart's desire. Grasp the note and all will be revealed."
There is a feeling of mild annoyance and impatience in the air, you get the feeling this "person" might be a bit younger then you.
"I... i just wish people understood me. They always assume that because of gothams history with therapists becoming evil that i will too... but I'm not. I just want to help people, is that so bad?"
He takes the note out of his pocket
"Oh? Is that all?" The voice looses a bit of its gravity.
"Honestly, this feels like a bit of a waste on your part. But okay." You hear a crackle from the note in your hands.
Looking down you see arcs of light erupting from it. White rose petals blow from the bouquet ,wrapping around you. You involuntarily shut your eyes, when you open them you are no longer in your home.
Instead you are in what appears to be a study filled to the brim with thick leather bound books. The heavy wood shelves seem to extend endlessly upwards. Looking around you notice the opulence and luxury of the furniture, each table holding a vase of roses identical to the one you received.
At the far end of the room you see three large floor to ceiling windows, behind them there is an inky blackness with occasional cracks of red light. Just beneath the window sits a young woman, looking no older the twenty-five. She sits at a desk piled high with books and papers.
She looks up at you, placing her quill in its inkwell. She gestures lightly, several pieces of paper floating over to their own vase before disappearing. Her face, it's hazy but you recognize it. You've seen it before in passing.
Once from Jeremiah's office back when you worked at Arkham, but back then she was just a young girl visiting with her mother. Then again more recently in an interview about mental health donations you barley listened to. She looked like Sunny Gotham, but she was too old. To your knowledge Sunny was only twenty-two or twenty-three.
"Hello doctor, sit." She motioned towards a chair it turned towards you, beckoning you to sit in its plush leather cushioning.
"This is... strange." He walks over and sits down.
"So, you wish to be understood?" The woman leans forward, steepling her fingers.
"I can make that happen, I can give you the gift of reading others as easily as one would read a book. And in turn give you the knowledge needed to make them understand you." There was a slightly mischievous glint in her eyes.
"Of course there will be a price, and if I'm being honest I find your wish to be a bit boring and not really worth much. But I said I could grant it so here we are." She looked at you awaiting your decision.
"What kind of price...?"
In the dead of night, a bouquet of brilliant white roses in a crystal vase appear on your coffee table.
The flowers hum with an indescribable power, each petal softly shimmering with a red light.
The flowers fill the room with the scent of fresh soil and wild roses. The longer you look at them the more you feel like someone is watching you.
Sitting at the foot of the vase is a note with blood red lettering on it:
Most Noble Keeper of minds,
Your devotion to my city is commendable. But be warned, taking such attentive care of what is not yours will most certainly invite the wrong kind of attention.
And end in being consumed by your charge.
With the utmost sincerity, your dearest acquaintance Anneliese.
@the-sun-behind-the-slaughter
//you asked for this. ๐
"What the....? Who...?"
He reads through the note.
"I... is this a threat...? I mean... they are nice flowers... but... whoever this Anneliese person is, they've been inside my home. This... can't be good."
He pockets the note, not knowing what to do with it yet. He leaves the flowers where they are and leaves to tell his boyfriend (he lives with his boyfriend and adoptive son)
The note is slightly warm to the touch, the letters shimmer with the sheen of fresh ink. Even through the fabric of your pocket you can feel the heat on your skin.
As you turn your back on the flowers you hear a soft chuckle in the back of your mind.
The voice sounds vaguely familiar, but you can't quite place it. You feel a delicate touch on your hand, like fingers brushing tha back of it. But notice that there is no one in the room with you.
He freezes
"Who- who was that?" He looks around, panicking a little
Another chuckle. Then a pause.
"Do you truly wish to know, doctor?" The voice comes from within your own mind. The tone slightly mocking.
A hand lands on your shoulder it's nails digging into your collar bone, sending a sharp pain down your arm. You turn to see who is touching you but there is no one there, only four nail marks beginning to bleed.
The presence moves closer to you bringing the scent of roses near your face. A soft breeze caresses your cheek, as if someone is whispering but there is no sound. You feel as if this entity is merely inches away from your face looking directly at you.
"What-?! the fuck?!- what the hells going on?!"
"Tell me doctor, do you have a wish?" The voice is gentle, inquisitive.
The note in your pocket begins to glow softly.
"Tell me, and I will grant it."
"A wish? What do you mean? Who are you?"
The voice heaves a sigh that shakes your soul. "Why are therapists always so inquisitive?" The voice murmurs.
"Yes, a wish. Your heart's desire. Grasp the note and all will be revealed."
There is a feeling of mild annoyance and impatience in the air, you get the feeling this "person" might be a bit younger then you.
"I... i just wish people understood me. They always assume that because of gothams history with therapists becoming evil that i will too... but I'm not. I just want to help people, is that so bad?"
He takes the note out of his pocket
"Oh? Is that all?" The voice looses a bit of its gravity.
"Honestly, this feels like a bit of a waste on your part. But okay." You hear a crackle from the note in your hands.
Looking down you see arcs of light erupting from it. White rose petals blow from the bouquet ,wrapping around you. You involuntarily shut your eyes, when you open them you are no longer in your home.
Instead you are in what appears to be a study filled to the brim with thick leather bound books. The heavy wood shelves seem to extend endlessly upwards. Looking around you notice the opulence and luxury of the furniture, each table holding a vase of roses identical to the one you received.
At the far end of the room you see three large floor to ceiling windows, behind them there is an inky blackness with occasional cracks of red light. Just beneath the window sits a young woman, looking no older the twenty-five. She sits at a desk piled high with books and papers.
She looks up at you, placing her quill in its inkwell. She gestures lightly, several pieces of paper floating over to their own vase before disappearing. Her face, it's hazy but you recognize it. You've seen it before in passing.
Once from Jeremiah's office back when you worked at Arkham, but back then she was just a young girl visiting with her mother. Then again more recently in an interview about mental health donations you barley listened to. She looked like Sunny Gotham, but she was too old. To your knowledge Sunny was only twenty-two or twenty-three.
"Hello doctor, sit." She motioned towards a chair it turned towards you, beckoning you to sit in its plush leather cushioning.
"This is... strange." He walks over and sits down.
In the dead of night, a bouquet of brilliant white roses in a crystal vase appear on your coffee table.
The flowers hum with an indescribable power, each petal softly shimmering with a red light.
The flowers fill the room with the scent of fresh soil and wild roses. The longer you look at them the more you feel like someone is watching you.
Sitting at the foot of the vase is a note with blood red lettering on it:
Most Noble Keeper of minds,
Your devotion to my city is commendable. But be warned, taking such attentive care of what is not yours will most certainly invite the wrong kind of attention.
And end in being consumed by your charge.
With the utmost sincerity, your dearest acquaintance Anneliese.
@the-sun-behind-the-slaughter
//you asked for this. ๐
"What the....? Who...?"
He reads through the note.
"I... is this a threat...? I mean... they are nice flowers... but... whoever this Anneliese person is, they've been inside my home. This... can't be good."
He pockets the note, not knowing what to do with it yet. He leaves the flowers where they are and leaves to tell his boyfriend (he lives with his boyfriend and adoptive son)
The note is slightly warm to the touch, the letters shimmer with the sheen of fresh ink. Even through the fabric of your pocket you can feel the heat on your skin.
As you turn your back on the flowers you hear a soft chuckle in the back of your mind.
The voice sounds vaguely familiar, but you can't quite place it. You feel a delicate touch on your hand, like fingers brushing tha back of it. But notice that there is no one in the room with you.
He freezes
"Who- who was that?" He looks around, panicking a little
Another chuckle. Then a pause.
"Do you truly wish to know, doctor?" The voice comes from within your own mind. The tone slightly mocking.
A hand lands on your shoulder it's nails digging into your collar bone, sending a sharp pain down your arm. You turn to see who is touching you but there is no one there, only four nail marks beginning to bleed.
The presence moves closer to you bringing the scent of roses near your face. A soft breeze caresses your cheek, as if someone is whispering but there is no sound. You feel as if this entity is merely inches away from your face looking directly at you.
"What-?! the fuck?!- what the hells going on?!"
"Tell me doctor, do you have a wish?" The voice is gentle, inquisitive.
The note in your pocket begins to glow softly.
"Tell me, and I will grant it."
"A wish? What do you mean? Who are you?"
The voice heaves a sigh that shakes your soul. "Why are therapists always so inquisitive?" The voice murmurs.
"Yes, a wish. Your heart's desire. Grasp the note and all will be revealed."
There is a feeling of mild annoyance and impatience in the air, you get the feeling this "person" might be a bit younger then you.
"I... i just wish people understood me. They always assume that because of gothams history with therapists becoming evil that i will too... but I'm not. I just want to help people, is that so bad?"
He takes the note out of his pocket
In the dead of night, a bouquet of brilliant white roses in a crystal vase appear on your coffee table.
The flowers hum with an indescribable power, each petal softly shimmering with a red light.
The flowers fill the room with the scent of fresh soil and wild roses. The longer you look at them the more you feel like someone is watching you.
Sitting at the foot of the vase is a note with blood red lettering on it:
Most Noble Keeper of minds,
Your devotion to my city is commendable. But be warned, taking such attentive care of what is not yours will most certainly invite the wrong kind of attention.
And end in being consumed by your charge.
With the utmost sincerity, your dearest acquaintance Anneliese.
@the-sun-behind-the-slaughter
//you asked for this. ๐
"What the....? Who...?"
He reads through the note.
"I... is this a threat...? I mean... they are nice flowers... but... whoever this Anneliese person is, they've been inside my home. This... can't be good."
He pockets the note, not knowing what to do with it yet. He leaves the flowers where they are and leaves to tell his boyfriend (he lives with his boyfriend and adoptive son)
The note is slightly warm to the touch, the letters shimmer with the sheen of fresh ink. Even through the fabric of your pocket you can feel the heat on your skin.
As you turn your back on the flowers you hear a soft chuckle in the back of your mind.
The voice sounds vaguely familiar, but you can't quite place it. You feel a delicate touch on your hand, like fingers brushing tha back of it. But notice that there is no one in the room with you.
He freezes
"Who- who was that?" He looks around, panicking a little
Another chuckle. Then a pause.
"Do you truly wish to know, doctor?" The voice comes from within your own mind. The tone slightly mocking.
A hand lands on your shoulder it's nails digging into your collar bone, sending a sharp pain down your arm. You turn to see who is touching you but there is no one there, only four nail marks beginning to bleed.
The presence moves closer to you bringing the scent of roses near your face. A soft breeze caresses your cheek, as if someone is whispering but there is no sound. You feel as if this entity is merely inches away from your face looking directly at you.
"What-?! the fuck?!- what the hells going on?!"
"Tell me doctor, do you have a wish?" The voice is gentle, inquisitive.
The note in your pocket begins to glow softly.
"Tell me, and I will grant it."
"A wish? What do you mean? Who are you?"
In the dead of night, a bouquet of brilliant white roses in a crystal vase appear on your coffee table.
The flowers hum with an indescribable power, each petal softly shimmering with a red light.
The flowers fill the room with the scent of fresh soil and wild roses. The longer you look at them the more you feel like someone is watching you.
Sitting at the foot of the vase is a note with blood red lettering on it:
Most Noble Keeper of minds,
Your devotion to my city is commendable. But be warned, taking such attentive care of what is not yours will most certainly invite the wrong kind of attention.
And end in being consumed by your charge.
With the utmost sincerity, your dearest acquaintance Anneliese.
@the-sun-behind-the-slaughter
//you asked for this. ๐
"What the....? Who...?"
He reads through the note.
"I... is this a threat...? I mean... they are nice flowers... but... whoever this Anneliese person is, they've been inside my home. This... can't be good."
He pockets the note, not knowing what to do with it yet. He leaves the flowers where they are and leaves to tell his boyfriend (he lives with his boyfriend and adoptive son)
The note is slightly warm to the touch, the letters shimmer with the sheen of fresh ink. Even through the fabric of your pocket you can feel the heat on your skin.
As you turn your back on the flowers you hear a soft chuckle in the back of your mind.
The voice sounds vaguely familiar, but you can't quite place it. You feel a delicate touch on your hand, like fingers brushing tha back of it. But notice that there is no one in the room with you.
He freezes
"Who- who was that?" He looks around, panicking a little
Another chuckle. Then a pause.
"Do you truly wish to know, doctor?" The voice comes from within your own mind. The tone slightly mocking.
A hand lands on your shoulder it's nails digging into your collar bone, sending a sharp pain down your arm. You turn to see who is touching you but there is no one there, only four nail marks beginning to bleed.
The presence moves closer to you bringing the scent of roses near your face. A soft breeze caresses your cheek, as if someone is whispering but there is no sound. You feel as if this entity is merely inches away from your face looking directly at you.
"What-?! the fuck?!- what the hells going on?!"
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch โข No registration required โข HD streaming
In the dead of night, a bouquet of brilliant white roses in a crystal vase appear on your coffee table.
The flowers hum with an indescribable power, each petal softly shimmering with a red light.
The flowers fill the room with the scent of fresh soil and wild roses. The longer you look at them the more you feel like someone is watching you.
Sitting at the foot of the vase is a note with blood red lettering on it:
Most Noble Keeper of minds,
Your devotion to my city is commendable. But be warned, taking such attentive care of what is not yours will most certainly invite the wrong kind of attention.
And end in being consumed by your charge.
With the utmost sincerity, your dearest acquaintance Anneliese.
@the-sun-behind-the-slaughter
//you asked for this. ๐
"What the....? Who...?"
He reads through the note.
"I... is this a threat...? I mean... they are nice flowers... but... whoever this Anneliese person is, they've been inside my home. This... can't be good."
He pockets the note, not knowing what to do with it yet. He leaves the flowers where they are and leaves to tell his boyfriend (he lives with his boyfriend and adoptive son)
The note is slightly warm to the touch, the letters shimmer with the sheen of fresh ink. Even through the fabric of your pocket you can feel the heat on your skin.
As you turn your back on the flowers you hear a soft chuckle in the back of your mind.
The voice sounds vaguely familiar, but you can't quite place it. You feel a delicate touch on your hand, like fingers brushing tha back of it. But notice that there is no one in the room with you.
He freezes
"Who- who was that?" He looks around, panicking a little
๐ฌ
@koriandrofficial
"Ah starfire! You're that hero from the news! How nice. I make this offer with any vigilante but if you ever wish to book a session with me, even if its just to talk about how stressful balancing being a hero and being a person is, my door is always open."
A session?
"I am a licenced therapist and psychiatrist, my job is essentially to help people work through feelings they have whether it be stress, depression or anger, and help them work through trauma."
In the dead of night, a bouquet of brilliant white roses in a crystal vase appear on your coffee table.
The flowers hum with an indescribable power, each petal softly shimmering with a red light.
The flowers fill the room with the scent of fresh soil and wild roses. The longer you look at them the more you feel like someone is watching you.
Sitting at the foot of the vase is a note with blood red lettering on it:
Most Noble Keeper of minds,
Your devotion to my city is commendable. But be warned, taking such attentive care of what is not yours will most certainly invite the wrong kind of attention.
And end in being consumed by your charge.
With the utmost sincerity, your dearest acquaintance Anneliese.
@the-sun-behind-the-slaughter
//you asked for this. ๐
"What the....? Who...?"
He reads through the note.
"I... is this a threat...? I mean... they are nice flowers... but... whoever this Anneliese person is, they've been inside my home. This... can't be good."
He pockets the note, not knowing what to do with it yet. He leaves the flowers where they are and leaves to tell his boyfriend (he lives with his boyfriend and adoptive son)
๐ฌ
@koriandrofficial
"Ah starfire! You're that hero from the news! How nice. I make this offer with any vigilante but if you ever wish to book a session with me, even if its just to talk about how stressful balancing being a hero and being a person is, my door is always open."
Send a ๐ฌ to hear how my muse feels about yours.
Source: a deleted blog
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch โข No registration required โข HD streaming
Gay ๐ซต
"And? Is there something wrong with that anon?"
.............................. You're good at this
"Not the first time someone's pointed out I'm gay before. Like 'oh thank you for reminding me, I would have forgotten'." He chuckles
No i mean, the flag behind is not the gay flag, I expected you to point it out to me that you are pan, not gay
"Ah, that. Well, that is correct. Some people just use gay as an umbrella term though."
Gay ๐ซต
"And? Is there something wrong with that anon?"
.............................. You're good at this
"Not the first time someone's pointed out I'm gay before. Like 'oh thank you for reminding me, I would have forgotten'." He chuckles
