Delphox Story: PTSD and Chill

Ugh. Why does my head hurt?
No, I know why it hurts.
I had a fifth upon the fourth and now I shan't be coming fourth upon the fifth.
Heh.. That'd be funny if I didn't feel like my head was being beaten upon by a sledgehammer.
Right. Get up. Water would be nice. Throat feels like I gave the Sandman a blowjob and tried swallowing.
Opening my eyes was probably the worst decision of the day. I immediately slam them shut as my mind goes blank from pain and I feel like I just looked into the sun.
My groan of pain sounded weird. Even to me.
Blindly sitting up in bed I manage to crack my eyes open in a slight squint and move a hand up to rub my muzzle.
My Muzzle?
My Muzzle!?
WHY DO I HAVE A MUZZLE!?
Looking across the room at the mirror propped up against the wall, next to the boxes I hadn't yet unpacked from moving in gives me my answer and I just stare at the reflection.
I turn my head left.
It turns its left.
I turn my head right.
it turns its head right.
Looking at my four fingered hand and wiggling them doesn't help any.
Matter of fact, I even recognize what I am. But My brain refuses to cooperate as the hammers continue ringing in my ears.
And of course, right on que, because my headache wasn't bad enough, and my day not quite screwed hard enough... Music makes an abortive start, and then my head explodes, my ears flatten, despite the hairtufts poking from them and I shove my head under the pillows with a pathetic whimper.
Where in the absolute fuck did that damned mariachi band come from!?
Kids laughing answers my question, my bedroom is overlooking a courtyard in the apartment complex.
Playground, Ramada and...I'm betting one of the kids is having their birthday today. I risk a look at the alarm clock...
11:00A blinks back at me, like an ominous inevitability that makes me groan.
And then my cellphone phone rings.


My heads a mess. It hurts, My throat is still sore. and there's a mariachi band playing under my window.
Also my phone.
I check the screen, Thankfully I still have a thumb. I can work with three fingers and a thumb.
I press the phone to my ear and then groan in annoyance.
"We're trying to reach you about your car- " Thud Hang up, phone dropped to the bedside table and I'm stumbling across the room like a newborn child.
I don't even bother with the cup beside the sink, I just shove my hands under the faucet and drink.
Don't judge me, We've all done it.
I wash away the sandmans load finally and bring back the blessed rains to the sahara that is the back of my throat.
And then, and only then do I really look up into the mirror.
At least my clothes stayed intact. And it's only now that I realize they itch over my fur.
Off comes the hellokitty pajamas, shut up they were a gift ok? My grandma still thinks I'm thirteen and they're actually comfortable.
My fur instantly fluffs up and, alright yeah. Delphox. I would have preferred Braixen but I can make this work. I'll take bring five foot over three feet tall any day of the week.
Not like it's much of a loss. five foot and a quarter is still borderline anyways. that Quarter was doing heavy lifting anyways. Giving it a break like it finally deserves.
I step down from the small step stool and look around, hitting the lights makes it suddenly all the more real.
Picrel for exactly how I feel looking down at myself. I really should stop mentally talking to myself. They'll send me back to therapy with all the other PTSD riddled veterans...
Wait. For once the buzzing in my ears is gone, is that what the world really sounds like without that constant tinnitus ring?
My back doesn't hurt, and I'm not limping with the aid of my cane either.
What a deliciously new fresh hell I've now discovered.


And what a gloriously delicious fresh hell it turned out to be!

Stumbling into my kitchen, itself still only half unpacked, opened up the fridge and recoiled as the scents within promptly assaulted my nose and proceeded to beat my sinuses into submission.
I grabbed the orange juice instead of the beer I had planned on. Fished a cup from a box, rinsed, poured and replaced the juice in the fridge.
The couch in the living room was somehow more comfortable than I expected. Probably the extra fur covering my ass. The tail wasn't too hard to move out of the way. It just... moved when I settled down. Like a phantom limb.
The juice actually tasted alright. There was a slight...something in there. Like something on the tip of the tongue, probably because it was processed despite the 'organic' title. Damn liars.
TV was still on, news as about the goings on, just enough people turning to cause chaos, not enough people for them to have a solid idea what the hell to do.
My eyes narrowed slightly, the headache didn't help, but I recognized the unit of the military getting deployed as I pointed my left arm at the screen, "HAH! Sucks to be you dirtbags, betchya'll wished I was still running supply, huh!?" I was tempted to shout vindication! as I saw the mismatched gear of soldiers stumbling over one another.
Of course, this also made me pause and look at my arm, that was not my thumb sticking out by my wrist. >It was a reflex, I swear. Nothing prepares you for suddenly holding a flaming stick.
I actually found myself staring at the damned flame for longer than I should, it was almost hypnotic. A quick flick of my wrist and the flame went out as I put said stick back into my 'sleeve' and sipped my juice.
"Well. That's a thing."


"And in other new-Zzrt!"
Right, That's enough of the news for today. TV goes off.
I also didn't even touch the remote to turn it off.
Currently I'm staring at the TV remote as it wobbles through the air.
Ngl, this is frankly awesome.
Upgradespeople.gif
My phone rings and the remote drops to the table with a clatter, right. Gonna have to learn to control that.
A quick glance at the phone and I groan again, the headache is gone, but the name on the phone?
"Phox Family therapy services, headshrinking on demand, Ask about our over thirty midlife crisis discount. How may I assist you?"
Shiteating grin engaged as I pull the phone away from my ear as my sister screams at me about not being a real therapist and to stop using that stupid joke, it's offensive.
"Then... uh... mebbe you oughta actually go to therapy instead of calling me all the time to whine?"
Click!Dialtone
I'm going to hear about that later, whatever. More important things to do.
Such as choking down a pair of Tylenol that my body rather wouldn't.
I don't know if they'll help, but screw it, we ball.
Outside, onto the balcony, I got the corner apartment, and no neighbors can see me.
I once again reproduce my magic trick of pulling a stick from my sleeve and staring at the flame.
Ok, that is hypnotic as hell, and I have the strange urge to speak mandarin and quote River Tam.
Forcing my eyes off the fire I point it towards my charcoal grill and exhale, focus, Become on with the force... wait, wrong franchise, I feel the fire and then extend it.
Picrel.
No seriously, that bitch is toasty now.
Thankfully the grill tanked it like a champ.
"cái bù shì[No way]"
I look to the stick, I look to the grill,
"Guess I'm having burgers for lunch."
Also, this has been the best day ever.


The Burgers were great, btdubs.
The Soda I tried to drink with them? Not so much.
Down the drain the can went.
Goddamned fresh hell, I thought I was free of thee!
Dr. Pepper shouldn't be wasted going down the drain.
If you like Coke or Pepsi? Allow me to elucidate upon thee why I prefer the Doctors Pepper.
We literally use that stuff to scrub and degrease engines when we run outta milspec degreaser overseas.
It also has flavor. Unlike the other two.
That's why I am lamenting the massive Cube'o'Soda(It's only missing one can too) as I glare balefully at it while I drink another cup of orange juice.
On one side of me levitates the TV remote.
The other is a compacted sphere of fire.
Thankfully it's not producing smoke or the fire alarms would be going off.

I move my right hand, the TV remote does a barrel roll.

Left hand causes the orb to begin slowly changing colors as I heat it through the visible spectrum...
ZZZRT! ZZZRT!
Remote clatters to the table and the ball explodes in my face, blowing back my fur and I swear the tip of my nose is now singed.
My headache... lessens slightly.
Then the Mariachi band begins playing again.
I left the balcony door open. Idiot.
I pickup the phone, eyeball it and exhale.
"Phox's Billiards and Balls, You rack them, I'll Crack 'em, Phox speakin'."
I pull the phone away slightly as my mother groans in disgust.
Gaze Upon My Works Ye Mighty, and Despair.
Apparently her internets sketchy again.
Turn it off, then on again.
Did that already? Bullshit and Lies, progenitor.
I hear the sound of cords being unplugged, thirty awkward seconds of silence, "Oh, it works now. Nevermind." Click
This woman is going to college for Forensic Computer analysis, ladies and gents.
I rebuilt my schools entire IT dept from scratch, and built the libraries database system at 16 over a summer.
POP!POP!RATTA-TAT-AT!!!BINGBONG[FuckMYLIFE!]BANG!!
I scramble over the back of the couch and cower.
Fireworks?
Fireworks.


Fireworks.
But that's not what I'm hearing.
A year ago I was the gunner on a convoy and my truck hit an IED.
UnexpectedRocketMan.Gif
I did not stick the landing.
In fact, Landed like a wet sack of used ass.
I did however wake up long enough to remember the sound of bullets zipping into the ground around me.
Ear flatten, tail curls between my legs and at some point I managed to shut the balcony door with my mind.
low crawling back to my room and shutting the door nets me peace and quiet as the fireworks start.
I need a shower.
And a Beer.
A Case, preferably.
Thankfully I don't have any. I'm trying to turn a new leaf.
Instead I go to the mirror and breath.
Deep Breath In.
Hold it, focus on my own face.
Slowly let it out.
You're not desperately trying to stand up and not understanding why your vision's blurry.
In.
You're home. Not being tackled by some guy through a doorway.
Out.
The ringing has stopped, the headache is going away as well. It's silent.
And then Gods reminder that if you had an attention span, you'd be unstoppable.
I hold up a red glowing, rotating ring of fire.
Suddenly the laughter isn't just outside and from the kids. It's me.
I'm laughing.
I'm a five foot tall magical telepathic firefox.
I walk back out onto the balcony, use the embers of the fire to light a cigarillo and lean back in the hammock.
Face your fear, it's just fireworks and kids.
Not the human wreckage they pulled out of the rubble of a near collapsed building.
I blow a smoke ring and catch it with my mind before slowly twisting it, trying for something complex.
what I actually get is a floating dick.
And the neighbor across the way pointing at me and shouting.
I send the floating smoke dick chasing after her with a grin, Lobo would be proud.


This cigarillo is almost better than sex.
Just one problem.
New lungs, Who Dis?
I'll get used to the coughing eventually. Hell, not like that's the worst shit I've inhaled.
Ever seen a burnpit overseas? Yeah, those things smell like they look.
The hammock sways in the breeze and the air feels great.
Even half closed I feel the presence that is me drift through the house, settling on the Tv remote.
I love smart Tv's, especially when you rip out the trash installed and get a custom OS on there with jailbroken apps.
Music, free of ads, drifts through the apartment as my headache recedes. It's getting easier to deal with an fainter the more I exercise that 'muscle'.
I stub out the cigarillo and just vibe while half watching clouds go by, the occasional firework makes me flinch but that's small beans now.
I'm almost back to sleep when I hear, over the music, the pounding on my door.
Apparently my rendition of Green Lanterns dick, delivered Lobo style, was a bit much.
I pop the door, "Guten Tag, Officers."
They both recoil slightly while I produce another cigarillo and light it off the tip of my finger, and then hit them with the 'problem?' look.
"We... have reports of you causing a disturbance?" Comes the almost brain-off-just-answer. Reply.
I... sigh and rub the bridge of my muzzle between my eyes.

"I apologize." Mentally hitting the remote I drop the volume of the Tv a few levels, "Here, by the way." I hand over my ID, My Veterans ID and shrug, "Woke up like this."
They both take a few minutes to regroup, take the ID's and step away. The Fact I'm cooperating has them on the backfoot. One turns back to me, "So you're -"
"A Delphox. Fire and Psychic, No, I would like to not go with you. Ya'll've got more issues than a pair of cats fuckin' in a sock, if the news's to be believed. I just want to smoke a cigar, drink a beer and lounge on my hammock in the back."
The hand does come off the taser, thats progress. but of course, it's now resting on the gun.
My eye's drop to half lidded and for a moment, time slows down.
Apparently I come with my own bullet time.
Good for me, Not for them. By a longshot.
The old adage, 'have a plan to kill everyone, and two escape routes at all times' flashes through my mind.
And then the hand comes off the gun and time resumes as normal. My heartbeat however, does not. Just... breathe, normally. Fucks sake.
"In the future, please, don't chase your neighbors with a smoking phallus, Ma'am."
I let my ears speak for me a bit by pinning them back and looking down at my foot as I cough, "Err.. I won't, Sorry about that."
My ID's are returned, "Well...call this in, you're cooperating and we're swamped as it is."
The door shuts after they take down some additional information and deliver a 'please don't leave the country, or cause any more trouble' speech.
I glance out to the balcony as the music goes back up, I reach into the fridge and float a bottle of water to me.
I lied about the beer. I would love one though.

I drop back into the hammock and continue working on my control.

The stick wobbles in the air as I trace glowing lines in the air.
While pointedly grinning towards the lady across the courtyard.
She's very much not happy. And I very much don't care.


It is now 6pm
Do you know where your children are?
"No, vaguely threatening 90's tv guy, I do not."
Que the sound of C.O.P.S on the same Tv.
Of course, I'm in the kitchen, trying to figure out what to make.
And quickly realizing I'm going to have to go to the corner store.
I am not amused at this process.
Keys, wallet, phone and I'm out the door. These sleeve pockets are pretty handy.
Behold, I am a wizard.
I cut through the open desert lot, barefoot.
Yes, I realize this is stupid.
Right about the time I step down and hiss, I realize I've been fucking around with my head in the clouds.
YouHaveSteppedIntoAMinefield.jpg.
Using my mind, because I need to learn, I yank the offending teddy bear cholla out of my foot and send it bouncing amongst it's breathren.
Right, this is gonna be stupid.
Wingardium Leviosa, bitches.
The floating chunks of cactus begin clearing a path for me as he patiently make my way across the lot.
And right into a crowd of the local ne'er do wells.
I give them a look, the kinda that says I am not in the mood.
"Holy shit! It's one of them weird things that people are turning into."
I hold up a hand, and in the palm of my hand is a bouncing orb of flame
"I just want to get to the store."
They part like the red sea and I keep walking.
I step into the store and instantly regret it as the own jumps back from the counter.
Two minutes later I slap butter, milk and orange juice onto the countertop.
ClerkBSOD.exe
I produce my wallet, and drop ten onto the countertop, and just stare at them.
Win95bootup.wav
Cash register rings and out the door I go again as I shoulder the bag and head for the lot.
I'm halfway home when I hear the sirens.
I'm already done cooking when the knock at the door comes.
I pop the door open, both officers are back.
"I needed butter, milk and orange juice."
I produce my ID, and my veterans ID, they wave me off.
Courtesy call. Statement, not a danger, just getting groceries. They leave. I eat.


Day two of being a Pokemon, and my phone will not stop buzzing.
You know what sucks in this day and age?
And I don't just mean the ticks that are politicians, lawyers and corporations.
Social media.
Watching myself walking across the lot, and using the ball of fire to make the sea of kids part is a surreal experience.
So is the aftermath video of them breaking down how dangerous I could be.
"Buddy, you have zero Idea how harmless I am."
Of course, they talked to the cops, showed them the video, and now... I'm staring at the post on my parents facebook with them demanding to know why I didn't tell anyone.
How did this happen?
Easy! They followed the cops, and there's my bloody damn apartment number by the door. My phone has not stopped since.
Latest text?
Sister:"What the actual fuck!? Did you catch something overseas? How? when? This is so embarrassing!"
Bitch, please. How is this embarrassing to you?! right, My sisters superior sense of entitlement, that's how.
Mom:"Are... are you ok? do you want to talk about it?"
No, Ma. I want to sleep another hour and watch daytime TV and try ti ignore the kids outside my window chattering about the pokemon in the building.
The clock on the way states seven am and I am already tired of today.


Eight AM and I'm grouchy.
Breakfast is actually a simple affair - SEGs.
Sausage, Eggs, Muffin, half rasher of bacon and orange juice.
My phone is propped up on the coffee table as I read the list of messages, they still haven't stopped coming in.
I did not want to become a minor celebrity.
TikTok had other plans, must a slow news day. Facebook is going off, and management had stopped by already.
We need to revise our...contract with you. Sura ya did buddy, I'm not a protected species, and I'm not human. Can't have animals, you know, policy, and all that shit. Right?
Good thing I'm good at fast talking, Gave 'em the ol' PR spin: If they pass a law stating they can't discriminate, how's that lawsuit gonna look?
One Year Lease: Get!
I'm tossing my trash into the bin when I hear it.
My Sister.
My Mom.
I leave the front door cracked open and drop the doormat on the ground in front of it as they come up the top of the stairs.
Yes, I did this on purpose.
'If you're here to bitch, get to steppin'.'
My sister speaks first, "Oh. My. Gawd. You're still such an asshole."
I pause, point to the doormat, "You can fuck off, Mom can come in. I don't have time for your shit."
Of course, Mum's there to play peacemaker as she shoots my sister a look and enters.
The Evil eye, from a thousand yards. Works every time.
I set out drinks, I'm a gracious host while we chat about how it all happened. And what I'm going to do about my 'situation'.
It's simple, We kill the batman, I mean, I stay put.
My sister keeps her whore mouth shut and stays the hell off social media about this.
And I continue like nothing happened.
Of course, that's not sitting well with either of them.
Have I tried just not being a pokemon? <-My sister. OF course, Mom -> Have I seen the CDC, is it contagious, did I catch it overseas? You know I never should've signed up for all that people come back different.
I just sigh, I can feel the headache forming.

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Pub: 12 Oct 2025 15:45 UTC

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