Therapy Quirks

Welcome to the Therapy Quirks, a fan blog dedicated to the internet novel, Therapy. Our main function is to post quirks related to said novel, but we all post the occasional related graphic and question. If you need a Therapy fix, we're the blog to see!

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“She’s different than you’re usual. Nice tits, though.” “Hey man, don’t talk about her that way,” snaps Asher.
Asher seemingly teleports across the room and appears between us. He shoves Josh in the chest, shouting, “Hey man, what did you do to her?”
… Asher’s fist connects with the right side of Chris’s face. He doubles over, clutching his cheek with both hands and moaning. “Talk about Andy like that again,” Asher growls, “and I will end you.”
  • “She’s different than you’re usual. Nice tits, though.” “Hey man, don’t talk about her that way,” snaps Asher.
  • Asher seemingly teleports across the room and appears between us. He shoves Josh in the chest, shouting, “Hey man, what did you do to her?”
  • … Asher’s fist connects with the right side of Chris’s face. He doubles over, clutching his cheek with both hands and moaning. “Talk about Andy like that again,” Asher growls, “and I will end you.”


He’s dressed in typical hipster attire – skinny jeans and a v-neck t-shirt exposing a sculpted, yet bony chest.
“I don’t know if I can interact with half my old friends anymore, not after trading in my letterman’s jacket for a tight pair of hipster jeans.”
Then I turn, grab Asher by the sleeve of his hipsterized v-neck t-shirt, and drag him away from the scene…
  • He’s dressed in typical hipster attire – skinny jeans and a v-neck t-shirt exposing a sculpted, yet bony chest.
  • “I don’t know if I can interact with half my old friends anymore, not after trading in my letterman’s jacket for a tight pair of hipster jeans.”
  • Then I turn, grab Asher by the sleeve of his hipsterized v-neck t-shirt, and drag him away from the scene…


Do you have a job? Had one last year – fired for use of excessive sarcasm in dealings with my boss.
  • Do you have a job? Had one last year – fired for use of excessive sarcasm in dealings with my boss.


“Do you… uh… mind if we take your car?” “Um,      why?” “Because I drive the car of a soccer mom… Yours is ten times more      butch.”
  • “Do you… uh… mind if we take your car?” “Um, why?” “Because I drive the car of a soccer mom… Yours is ten times more butch.”


“And you’ll be partaking in the great      American tradition of beer pong and scantily-clad women?”
  • “And you’ll be partaking in the great American tradition of beer pong and scantily-clad women?”


… he reaches behind his head to scratch at      the nape of his neck and averts his eyes…
Then he      defaults to his awkward-Asher move and scratches the back of his head.
  • … he reaches behind his head to scratch at the nape of his neck and averts his eyes…
  • Then he defaults to his awkward-Asher move and scratches the back of his head.


“Speaking of colleges… a couple of the old      high school guys go on break next week and we were planning a reunion. In      the form of a party, set to drop this Friday. … I was kind of hoping you’d      come… As a buffer,” he’s quick to add, throwing his arms out to steady me.      “I don’t know if I can interact with half my old friends anymore, not      after trading in my letterman’s jacket for a tight pair of hipster jeans.”
  • “Speaking of colleges… a couple of the old high school guys go on break next week and we were planning a reunion. In the form of a party, set to drop this Friday. … I was kind of hoping you’d come… As a buffer,” he’s quick to add, throwing his arms out to steady me. “I don’t know if I can interact with half my old friends anymore, not after trading in my letterman’s jacket for a tight pair of hipster jeans.”


He nudges me with his shoulder. I nudge him      back, harder. Nearly knock him over. But he flails his arms until he      regains balance and rights himself.
… Just for that, I nudge him again.
  • He nudges me with his shoulder. I nudge him back, harder. Nearly knock him over. But he flails his arms until he regains balance and rights himself.
  • … Just for that, I nudge him again.


I know I’ll have to come clean at some point,      but I’ve been hoping the, “Asher, I’m a depressed psyche patient”      conversation would happen much, much later in the future. You know, once      we’d become such great friends that a little thing like my needing therapy      wouldn’t scare him away.
“Dr. Hart’s my therapist. That’s a card he      gave me. I’m supposed to get three people to sign it and then look at it      whenever I feel depressed.”
I watch his face for all the signs – the      frozen frown as he contemplates the information he’s just received, the      relaxing of his features as realization settles in, and then one I haven’t      counted on. One I can’t successfully identify. It might be understanding,      it might be concern, or it might be a blend of the two.
“You know this doesn’t change anything,      right?… It only… clears some things up. Like what happened with Josh,      and your outburst when I invited you over for dinner that one time. Andy      -” he plants his hands on my shoulders and renders avoiding his gaze      impossible, “- I still think you’re cool. I don’t think you’re psycho or      anything. Besides, if you’re honestly depressed, the therapy can only do      you good.”
  • I know I’ll have to come clean at some point, but I’ve been hoping the, “Asher, I’m a depressed psyche patient” conversation would happen much, much later in the future. You know, once we’d become such great friends that a little thing like my needing therapy wouldn’t scare him away.
  • “Dr. Hart’s my therapist. That’s a card he gave me. I’m supposed to get three people to sign it and then look at it whenever I feel depressed.”
  • I watch his face for all the signs – the frozen frown as he contemplates the information he’s just received, the relaxing of his features as realization settles in, and then one I haven’t counted on. One I can’t successfully identify. It might be understanding, it might be concern, or it might be a blend of the two.
  • “You know this doesn’t change anything, right?… It only… clears some things up. Like what happened with Josh, and your outburst when I invited you over for dinner that one time. Andy -” he plants his hands on my shoulders and renders avoiding his gaze impossible, “- I still think you’re cool. I don’t think you’re psycho or anything. Besides, if you’re honestly depressed, the therapy can only do you good.”


When I pull my phone from my pocket, a slip      of scrap paper breaks free and hangs in the air for a second before      touching down. I bend over to retrieve it, but Asher’s half a second      faster. “You dropped this.” It unfolds when he pinches it and he reads it      before I can reach out to stop him. 
He pulls a pen from his pocket, lays the      paper flat against his palm, and scrawls his name beneath Dr. Hart’s.
  • When I pull my phone from my pocket, a slip of scrap paper breaks free and hangs in the air for a second before touching down. I bend over to retrieve it, but Asher’s half a second faster. “You dropped this.” It unfolds when he pinches it and he reads it before I can reach out to stop him.
  • He pulls a pen from his pocket, lays the paper flat against his palm, and scrawls his name beneath Dr. Hart’s.