#ill probably have to read this to my therapist

[queer-pagan-witch]

One day I will learn, that just because the bottle is low, does not mean I need to finish off the bottle.

[pillowenvelopchair]

Hey guys!! this is just my insane ramble on Still Waters Run Deep that's made by the lovely @un-local. I've had so so sooooo many thoughts about this fic and I decided to try and put it all coherently in a post :)

Probably not a lot of new insights, just many, many rambles

Magdalene analysis and her view on Rogier + some other stuff

Magdalene, at the start of the story, is aimless and refuses to follow any line of Grace, putting off whatever it leads to and going in the opposite direction. Yet Grace is fickle, and it all eventually converges, so she gives in. (aaaand a life-changing partnership ensues)

She wants out of the competition of becoming Elden Lord, and she wants nothing to do with it. Someone else to take lordship is what she wants. Magdalene, in her eyes, is not worthy to take the throne. But Rogier on the other hand…

Rogier is, quite literally, built different. He thinks differently compared to Magdalene (a STR vs INT user difference lol). He’s able to pick out all the details that she would miss. Be able to extrapolate and examine it all and be able to learn from it. Magdalene can't do that.

It's basically:

Rogier: says some fun facts about the most random thing in the room, saying all the history behind it, and what the tiny details could mean Magdalene: yeah, that's a rock.

So instead, she becomes a tool for Rogier to be able to use, because that's the least she can do for him.

“She can already feel the faint grin forming on her lips at the thought. She never wanted to be Elden Lord. She’d finally picked up and followed grace to... to get away, with no idea what it called her to do. When Melina told her where it led her, she felt only dread. But Rogier... To save Those Who Live in Death... Two birds, one stone. She meets his eyes, and doesn’t look away. In them, she doesn’t see pride, or avarice. She doesn't see a man who wants to rule the world. Not at all. The path forward is clear now.” -Chapter 22

For once, she really sees a light from the dark future she sees. She's hopeful that she won't have to take the throne, that Rogier can burden it instead of her. He's worthy in her eyes and because of that, she devotes herself to him with all she can do. (Ah but… I believe Rogier wants her to be Elden Lord? Not sure but her not wanting to be Elden Lord doesn’t quite fit with what he has planned)

Magdalene really holds onto Rogier, and his guidance (a comfort wizard, if you will). And so the idea that he won’t make it… that she’ll be left alone with Grace again, forced to join back into the competition for lordship... It's sickening to her. So she really clings to him, desperate to not be left alone with a destiny that she despises.

Magdalene is always pulled into different directions. Grace pulls her to one but she pulls herself to the opposite one. Fia and D are both on extreme sides of the spectrum on Rogier's survival, and Magdalene is caught right in the middle of it.

But for her, Rogier will survive, he has to survive otherwise... that light, that small hope she has will all fade into obscurity.

Ghosts from the past (Lorens and Ida)

I absolutely love how something, or rather, someone haunts both of them.

Lorens had been the catalyst of all of what Rogier does now. Why he’s so desperate to save those who live in death. He's literally devoted his body and mind to Lorens just to see him alive (maybe Rogier's devoting all of himself to finding a solution to death because he wants it to come back to the old times when it was just him and Lorens in the Rise, or maybe not!! I'm just rambling lol).

Every thought of Lorens is painted with a sort of bittersweetness to it. From Rogier's perspective, at the very least (I'm super curious as to how Lorens would view Rogier but we'll probably never get it because... you know...). He's almost obsessed with him, and it's all pretty unhealthy lol.

Magdalene, who’s haunted by Ida who's probably a sort of lover that hadn't been fully brought to fruition. Different opinions on what they have had made Magdalene leave with (from what I have seen at least, we have scrapes of her, people! I can't wait to see more of Ida though)

Now with Ida... Magdalene absolutely shakes herself out of every thought she has about Ida. Spurning every single thought or imagination she has of that woman.

"Nausea comes in waves. Fever. She can feel delirium taking her—she’s convinced she’s submerged in the very waters of creation, for a while. She vividly feels herself sinking deeper and deeper into a current; cold and dark and inescapable. As it pulls her down, she’s overcome with the instinct to breathe it in— Against her temple she feels a hand, with gentle fingers dragging softly through her hair. Suddenly, every layer of the dream collapses in on itself, and she jolts awake with a gasp.  Here, in Liurnia, she hauls herself up, rubbing at her face. Even the memory is a shock of cold water to her. She’s a woman haunted." -Chapter 23

(I just really love this part- I can't help it)

I think it's also really interesting how Magdalene leaves Ida due to their differences in what they have (?) while Rogier just absolutely hangs onto Lorens no matter what, despite him being... er... him. Not so sure about his personality with the small flashbacks we get of him but he’s probably not good for Rogier.

In short, Rogier venerates Lorens, while Magdalene absolutely rejects Ida. (Opposites!)

Rogier’s overthinking

Also found it interesting that when Rogier thinks he really thinks. He's a professional overthinker, even in the past

"He thinks of the labyrinthian etiquette, the way he’d triple-check every sentence for a double meaning. The secrets, the ruthless political schemes. It all felt like a spider’s web to him. He’d learned the game, and he played it well, but it had been nothing but paranoia and misery for him. Just like it was for everyone else." -Chapter 17

It's what's kept him alive (Ch. 17), and what's been able to pave the way for his findings Yet, it’s also his curse. He tries to pick out every detail that he can and think of every possible reason or motivation. Every single outcome he just needs to know so that he won't get caught by surprise again. He needs to be in control of the situation, he needs to be the master of the chessboard.

Oh and once this guy spirals, he really spirals. He starts thinking and looking at details, rewinding every single thing, every interaction, and trying to label a reason for every little thing. Yet... something emotional seems to break the surface of the water.

I personally think that he was raised to overthink. He was a noble after all, and he dealt with politics. He truly needed to check, double check, triple check, every single sentence and word in case it would have a double meaning. "He’d learned the game, and he played it well" (Ch. 17) . Getting worse after Lorens' death, being fooled by "Only a cut." (Ch. 25) and seeing the aftermath of it.

He can't not do it because if he doesn't, and he gets surprised it would break him (or at the very least, freak him out).

ALSO!! Rogier hating on "saccharine conversations" (Ch. 17) good lord. This guy cannot be real with anyone. Rogier refuses to show vulnerability because:

1. He was raised like that (the whole attachment theory thing) 2. He will absolutely break if he does

Do you guys remember when Fia tells Magdalene that "dear Rogier began to weep as he spoke" (Ch.14)? Fia saw through Rogier's walls through the cracks and he just absolutely breaks down. (Get yourself a man who, after "embracing" tells you all about this thing he's obsessed about and then cries because of it)

It's a mortifying ordeal, that someone's able to see through the walls you've meticulously put up. It hits something deep within that he’s tried to bury.

Despite the walls he puts up people other than Fia see through them. Magdalene (Ch.7) was able to see through the small cracks that have broken, and Roderika... hoo she really hit a nerve didn’t she? (But it also hit one of her nerves too, Rogier vs Roderika am I right?)

Chapter 17 analysis

Also, while we’re on the topic of Roderika, let's talk about chapter 17! Seems I have a lot to talk about.

I absolutely love this chapter so much, it gives us so much insight into Rogier's backstory and the way he thinks. His noble background really shines through here, with how he acts with Roderika who is a fellow ex-noble too.

"His grin is wide and carefree, but it rather feels like he's baring his teeth.  There’s no room for your pity here." -Chapter 17

This guy cannot accept any sign of sympathy/compassion with anyone. It's all pity to him, and he absolutely hates pity. Once Roderika starts to console him too it sickens him and it makes him bare his teeth like an animal, his baser instinct showing just a little bit.

He’s probably bore his teeth to other nobles in the court, or whatever meetings they have with one another. Small threats that get the message across by a vicious smile, is something he is all too familiar with.

I also think that it's a little bit funny how he gives advice to Roderika but then is also a little bit of a hypocrite about it

“It’s hard, to leave it behind. But the old world will keep its claws in you, if you let it.” -Chapter 17

Rogier while it's not his past life that he's stuck but rather, he is stuck on Lorens. Even though Rogier is no longer Lorens' student, even though Lorens is dead, he still has his claws on Rogier. It's his entire motivation, why he's in a "pathetic" state now. He isn't letting those claws go, he lets them dig deeper within him, and they dig in deep.

“You already have it within you," he says. "They were only trying to bury it.” -Chapter 17

Rogier immediately buries his own emotions in this interaction when Roderika tries to console him lol. Just based off of him being an ex-noble and his whole family thing, it's well established that he is very much used to burying it all down his gullet. I mean, is it really Rogier without emotional suppression?

Also Rogier tends to close off all the matters that relate to what he feels in his dialogue both in game and in SWRD. This guy cannot let out just a slight moment of vulnerability

A Color Theory Thing on my read on Rogier's garb:

Rogier, with his background being grounded in nobility has suppressed his baser desires in exchange for meaningless political schemes that have only brought him misery. Yet after coming to these lands, he finds himself with Lorens.

He wears a Raya Lucarian Robe and it has red on it. It's a sign of baser instincts being shown for once. He has grown an infatuation with Lorens despite being his student.

Yet, Rogier is still mostly blue, and he still suppresses that baser desire that he’s developed, that infatuation for Lorens. He never once builds up the courage to be able to tell Lorens what he feels. He would always bury those feelings down, and as a result he can't let go of it. It's far too deep to be buried back up.

But once Lorens has died, Rogier changes too.

He exchanges those garbs for yellow and turquoise (I think?). He's a mix of colors and beliefs.

He still has the blue in the turquoise, which symbolizes calm, intelligence, and emotional control (you can’t spell Rogier without emotional control) But turquoise isn't just blue, it also has green.

Green represents growth, life, and new beginnings. This is a new beginning for Rogier, who's set out for a new goal, to be able to save those who live in death (and perhaps give them life? Not so sure on that but in SWRD that seems to be the case with Lorens).

It's balanced by yellow. Creativity and originality, he's almost the only person we meet who wants to save TWLID. Not only that but yellow also symbolizes illness, which could be a foreshadowing of what happens to him later in his life.

It's not just sickness though, yellow also symbolizes deception. Rogier lies, but I necessarily think he's someone who is always deceptive. He's more like the type of guy who would lie so that an encounter would go well or not hurt someone else's feelings. I think he's like that from that whole ex-nobility thing he's got going on. Political schemes and lying through a smile is something that he's familiar with. (It also doesn't help that he keeps being emotionally suppressed too lol)

Cowardice is another. Rogier is scared to tell anyone about his emotions, to take that risk of being honest with someone. His background in nobility and his family definitely doesn't help either.

Rogier had been too scared to be true to Lorens and tell him his feelings, and because of that, he would never be able to. I feel like he's avoided it even more afterward. He refuses to take that jump of being honest with someone, whether it's about his emotions or his ideals, he doesn't let them go.

But when he does? With D, it completely breaks off everything they've had. Everything that they could have been.

"Beguiled fool. A rotten, sick bastard. Fouled by them. A wicked, two-faced user. Heartless. Loathsome parasite. How could he? Were they not supposed to set this crooked world straight? Profane. A perversion of honor. A madman." -Chapter 5

“Get out of my sight.” “I’m sorry.” He’d said, and he was. But Darian’s lips curled back, and he jerked his head away and locked his eyes on the horizon. His jaw twitched, in the moment he took to reply.  “Don’t talk to me.” There was nothing he could do to fix this. To undo his mistakes, to spare Darian his intentions." -Chapter 5

It's all gone because he had been honest about his goals (presumably). This experience probably strengthened that emotional suppression so as to not be hurt/caught by surprise.

So when Magdalene, someone who wholeheartedly accepts his ideals and sees his side for once, he's cautious. He can't believe that someone can genuinely agree with him because all the times that he has been honest, he's been punished for it. (though, he reminds himself that she's not like that)

In short, this guy's a mixed bag. A mixed bag with problems

(basing this off of the Elden Ring color theory video, it was an absolute joy to watch)

[EDIT]: idk what to call this section but he seems to seek out some form of approval. Lets see how that ties in with his grief!

"He still doesn’t understand why. What did he do, specifically? Or was he just past his usefulness? Deemed unfit to rule? He never truly wanted to rule as Lord, but to be cast aside so indifferently—it had shaken him.  Every now and then he fumbles with this, again and again, but he knows. He does. He knows that grace has forsaken him for good reason. He’s a heretic. An apostate. He who does not obediently bow before a faltering, decrepit Order, so ill-equipped to handle the world as it is. " -Chapter 5

"All these years. Couldn’t change a thing. Rather pathetic, I’d say—what a fool, thinking that this crooked world could be made right by mortal hands. Sure, deathblight. Truly, a fitting end for a worthless, rotten bastard." -Chapter 12

Now, speaking from some personal experience, being raised in a family that's of nobility and expects so much out of you from a young age definitely breeds some kind of self-worth issues that really stick with you. Especially if you haven't had anyone to truly support you.

Because of that, I believe that Rogier, in a way, is trying to prove his worth. But not to the Order, I think that he's in some way trying to please Lorens. Even in death.

He puts everything into his studies of Death, searching and scouring for scraps of information just to give him a single lead on anything, and for what?

"Its fulfillment will be a selfish act of altruism. These crooked lands will set right, by his hands, for a reward of nothing at all. But make no mistake: he needs another day. And another after that, and another after that. He needs his questions answered with questions, he needs his notes corrected in an unreadable hand, he needs to hear one more “Well—” followed by the most opaque, convoluted tangle of sentences ever constructed. There’s no reward he seeks, but the warm smile of cold gray eyes and a scoff about just what he’s wearing nowadays. " -Chapter 19

Rogier devotes himself to saving TWLID (saving Lorens, in reality), but it's not because it's all for selfless reasons, he seems to want things to go back to the way things used to be. Back at the Rise, with just him and Lorens once more.

I don't think Rogier ever accepted Lorens' death. He's determined to bring back Lorens, desperately trying to find a solution to bring him back no matter what.

And it’s quite hypocritical isnt it? That Rogier wants to change the Order to be able to sort of… revive Lorens from Death. To go back to the old times that they both had had.

This guy refuses to grieve and is searching (desperately) for a solution for a dead man who's probably not even good for him. Get this man some therapy

This entire post's summary is just me going:

Anyway, that's all for my crazy rambles! I can't wait to see how SWRD will progress, and how everyone will intermingle and grow with one another (Rogier and Mags)!!!! :0)

Have some doodles + a WIP that I'll probably never finish as a treat for reading this! (Mag's torso was wayyy too long on the second one oops)

(bonus boggart because I love him)

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[born-to-lose]

According to 6 different serious health/psychology pages I have BPD, do you think that means I should see a therapist?

[rabbitindisguise]

earlier I was like "maybe I didn't change at all from middleschool" and then I watched more of haikyuu after going through my old middle school interests and I was like. No I was more angry rage monster? now I'm like. Chill and stuff. And can appreciate chill people more. I don't even have to pretend I just don't mind things as much anymore

the wonders of ~mood stabilizers~

[unripe-lemon]

Since i know no one will see this:

1 note and i will email my therapist

ok so for this one,, like since then i have emailed my therapist?? that counts right????? tbh i dont even know what to talk abt anymore, but i do have a session with her so dw

2 notes and ill put my laundry away

ugh….. stupid. internet.. making me do things that will make my life easier…. gugh yeah i put my laundry away!!!!! everyone clap now

5 notes and ill try to brush my teeth more often

ok so like for this one i found this video https://youtu.be/pvutTiPY7q8?si=PASnBmUXZ0xiHzWM imma sing this song to myself every tike i dont feel like brushing my teeth

6 notes and ill try to put on cream for my dermatitis (anxiety hives!!! yayyy!!!!) more often

just did it hehe :) tho it is getting a little worse and my kitten scratched me on top of it 😭

10 notes and ill attempt to learn my timestables

11 notes and ill study for my exams

my exams are over!!!! so idk what to do for this one? maybe ill go do my homework instead

20 notes and ill try to go one day without using my pc/phone

30 notes and ill vaccum (more bc we just adopted kittens) my room entirely

40 notes and ill try to explain my depression to my mom again

50 notes and ill clean my locker out at school

imma do this tmr!!!

i forgot 😭 someone remind me

80 notes and ill fix the posters that are falling off of my wall and are probably going to rip soon

doing this rn! taking dinner break

100 notes and ill REALLY unpack everything with my therapist

maybe tmr?

we talked about medication and kittens, also exams so like success??

200 notes and ill ask my mom if we can go to my go and get! me! medicated!

ill discuss w therapist tmr

discussed with therapist, we are now getting the conversation started with my mom and are going to see what my gp says after that!! :) ty to everyone in the notes rooting for meds

300 notes and ill re organise my bookshelf

400 notes and ill clean all of the mold off of my wall

damn 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 ion wannaaaaaaaa

this is a weekend activity tbh, and idk if its even going to BE this weekend :P

500 notes and ill clean the mold off of my roof

600 notes and ill try sewing some new clothes

i crocheted a scarf!!! does that count?

700 notes and ill buy some new shoes

800 notes and ill check out dnd club at school (im scared)

900 notes and ill come up with more goals

edit: bro……. 😭

so im gonna take my time w these bc there is a lot to go thru!! i will try my best to remember to update!!! ty for notes :)

- random internet stranger

edit 2: WTF 1000 NOTES GUYS CHILL

ok so like i have to come up with more goals now???

1500 and ill start taking study notes with a study method (rb with study method that is your fav eg cornell method)

1700 and ill attempt to hype myself up enough to eat at school (long story, germs)

2000 notes and ill start whatever book wins this poll:

[yououghtaknow]

trying to decide which psychological damage to inflict on myself tonight (watch gg s3 finale, watch act 2 of waitress, finish annotating siken’s crush, or finally rewatch bare)

[soupyspaghetti]

venting about silly things pls disregard

[innerangeltoadlover]

IDEOLOGY : LIFE IN SCHIZOPHRENIA

1. I was inspired to write this because I believe a diagnosis of schizophrenia silences those who suffer from the illness. I wrongly believed after my sister took me to Court in an effort to make me homeless that I would never have to fight for my truth to be heard again. Poor outcomes for patients are linked to expedient treatments - ones which may ignore salient indicators of abuse in order to place mental illness as the cause of behaviour and the only valid truth. There is probably nothing more demeaning and disheartening than telling your therapist about abuse and having it received as a fairytale. My story will show the consequences of skepticism and disbelief in the treatment of schizophrenia which allows for the generalisation of experiences without differentiation. We are better than this.

Sometimes , well often, when we read a memoir there’s an assumption that the person writing has overcome some insurmountable hardship. It motivates us to think that we can do the same – and at some point we , like the author, will walk into the sunset with clarity, humour and perhaps in hand with another. These are the kinds of books I usually stop reading after the first chapter because life , and in particular my life, has not been like this. I want to write about the ugly side of mental illness and the reason why there are so many of us who exist without that longed for happy ending. For those of us who don’t crawl out of the mire our lives are not improved by the application of lipstick or the urging of those who have. Despite our travels through a social media polluted with inspiring memes and motivational scenarios real hardship is present and remains unchanged despite its synonymous pairing with choice.

So my story isn’t going to be particularly uplifting -there has been no victory here – I write because I have to – not because I want to. I’m hoping in writing that I might gain some internal peace over the war my mind wages with me, particularly at night when the lack of distraction makes sleep elusive. I think publishing is a bit of a minefield for people like me. I’m wary of writing anything that resembles some clueless manifesto but at the same time I think it’s important for people with this illness to write something real that isn’t Instagramable and also at nearly 60 I’ve come to view my illness as a valid part of my individuality and I wish to defend it rather than have this unique part of me trampled into submission by doctors who view me like a bacteria in a Petri dish. The truth is this illness is crap but the treatment is crappier and you are trapped in it , well I have been anyway. However the older I get the more I’ve realised that much of the prejudice and stigma linked to this illness has much of its origins in treatment. I used to have a social conscience and was concerned about the plight of my fellow sufferers but it has been chipped away. When my Shrink tells me of advances in care it sort of hangs in the air like a fog in a windowless room. These days I say very little when these professionals say this nonsense which I’ve heard so many times– I’m nearly old but I was young once and I wasn’t born in the Dark Ages- I was hopeful , though that hope has disintegrated. The old mantra “you can’t reason with a schizophrenic” is alive and well in most psychiatrists offices however it is often only the benefit of hindsight that allows us to see the stark relief against the empty rhetoric. It also painfully exhibits that in my case my treatment was inhibited by doctors who could not tell fact from fiction and who had ultimately decided that some lives are worth more than others.

[sempersirens]

the fig tree | rotten

pairing: therapist!joel x f!reader

warnings: 18+ mdni. discussion of heavy and potentially triggering topics such as sa, self-harm, infertility, various mental illnesses, self-hatred and drug use. these topics are only mentioned and do not occur in real-time.

chapter summary: a twenty-something, seemingly lost cause, meets her match in the form of psychotherapist: dr. joel miller.

dividers by @saradika-graphics

updates: @sempersirenswrites

series masterlist

Maybe it was time to accept you were never as good as you'd always thought you'd been.

For four long years, you had spent most of your waking hours dissecting epic poetry and papyrology.

Still, the most your degree had done for you was rouse a satisfying disappointment from your mother’s side of the family when they realised you weren’t actually going to be that kind of doctor.

Not to say such in a self-deprecation; you hardly suffered from any semblance of an imposter syndrome. Your mother used to frequently remind you that you were far too vain to not believe in yourself.

It was more of a philosophical framework. Platonic realism. Knowing your muted beauty could earn you a free drink from below-average men who felt their trousers tighten when you addressed them through your eyelashes.

But it wasn't an obvious enough beauty for the attention of the men you imagined exchanging bodily fluids with between stops on the underground.

Besides, you had been a student of Classical Studies; a degree that doesn’t require the intellectual strain of learning Latin or Ancient Greek. The inclusive way for people like you, having attended a run-down state-funded school, to get a glimpse into the Bullingdon boys' and grammar schoolgirls’ fallback plans.

It wasn't even that you disliked Classics; you'd borderline gotten off on reading plays written by men about wicked women; but that was because the brilliant women were always the wicked ones.

You particularly enjoyed the assumptions men made about the female condition – how women were too wet, too porous; couldn’t keep their wombs from wandering. And assumptions they were. No Greek physician ever sliced a woman from chin to cunt to confirm their hypotheses. Although, ancient men hadn't been all too familiar with the insides of a woman anyway.

Sometimes, you thought you would quite simply die if you were reduced to only understanding people through your assumptions of them.

It was just that you could never stop thinking about what people thought. It was all you could ever think about. You wanted to peel people's skulls apart and scream at their horribly grey frontal lobe:

Are you ok? Have I done something to upset you? Do you still love me? Do I look like someone that has been raped? Do you think that girl we just walked past has a firmer ass than me? Do you like my new bangs?

For a short period of time, you'd been desperate to know how your therapist felt and thought of you. There is a sick irony in baring your bones to a stranger in the reclined chair opposite you who never even takes off their cardigan.

You needed to know if your traumas made him sad, or if he saw things that made him think of you outside of your sessions. You supposed he both pitied and admired you in a twisted, surrogate-daughter kind of way.

Then again, he probably wouldn’t have been a very good therapist did he not pity his clients.

At one point you thought you might be in love with him.

You'd met weekly in his high-ceiling office on a busy street. It was a romantic setting to unload twenty-four years of trauma to a kind man wearing a knitted cardigan. The sun would peak through clouds and shine onto the both of you through two large windows, between which sat a Japanese peace lily.

You soon realised he was just the first man to let you speak uninterrupted.

You spoke at him mostly, finishing observations that had been years in the making with “Does that make sense?” Even though you knew it made sense. You were certain, actually, that everything you had articulated came from somewhere deeper inside of you than any man could reach. You just couldn't leave it hanging there like an exposed nerve.

Maybe it was because he didn't speak much that you liked him. Sometimes he would offer anecdotes or remedies for PTSD-induced panic attacks that you both knew you would never use.

In most sessions, you had simply basked in the divinity of being listened to. You wondered if this was how devout Catholics like your grandmother felt at confession, or perhaps it was how all of your ex-boyfriends had felt.

You weren't even particularly attracted to him. He had been ten years older than you, and when your sessions first began, you'd been casually fucking someone a year older than him – but he didn't need to know that.

There were a lot of things you'd decided he didn't need to know. Like the fact you snorted cocaine until your nose bled, sliced into your thighs a couple of evenings a week, and let men use your body to masturbate as a feeble attempt to reclaim your sexuality - as if it had ever been anyone's for the taking.

Had he known the dirtier parts of your life, you feared he would have crossed out the word victim in his black Moleskin notebook and replaced it with bystander.

Maybe he would think you were a pathological liar and diagnose you with a personality disorder. This was something you'd been warned about by the first friend you had made at university.

“My mother is a therapist, you know. Don’t tell them you cut yourself or that you’ve told anyone you cut yourself – they’ll diagnose you with BPD.”

“But I’ve told you.”

“Trust me. They’ll put you on an SSRI and you’ll never be able to orgasm again.”

You were freshly eighteen and had never had a real orgasm anyway, but this terrified you enough to reel in your catalogue of symptoms for the GP appointment you had scheduled later that day.

In the end, you'd buckled and sobbed as the doctor sat adjacent to you. You didn’t mention the self-harming or the suicidal thoughts, but did tell her that you didn’t know where to go from here.

She'd slid a leaflet from the university's self-help website across the table before pushing her chair back and motioning toward the door.

“Call 999 if things get worse," she had said. "But let’s just hope it doesn’t get to that point. A&E is very overwhelmed at the moment.”

So you got on with it. Boats against the current, or whatever. You made the hurt so small and buried it so deep within you and swore you'd never let anyone get close enough to pick at the stray thread to your undoing.

And for a little while it worked. You became what you knew you should be; you presented your face for fucking and never let the door slam on your way out.

These days, you'd felt as though you were slowly becoming rotten.

It started on the surface; a bizarre case of adult acne that no dermatologist could diagnose for love nor money. Blood tests, topical steroids, antibiotics, potentially-baby-deforming drugs. You tried them all to little avail. In the end, it was simply the passing of time that had rid you of the rot.

Next, it had been your womb. Decomposing from the inside out. Your body had made the decision for you that goodness couldn't form in your guts.

The final straw had, embarrassingly, been your heart.

You hated to say it aloud. So much so that you hadn't. But it had been a quiet promise of yours; one you'd kept quietly close to your chest - that your suffering would never turn you ugly.

But here you were, alone and swearing at the wind, the rage beneath your skin growing like a tumour.

You hated it.

You hated yourself.

You hated that you were angry but had never been taught how to be angry, because anger wasn't a pretty emotion; it was one that should be starved and kept in the corner of your wardrobe to rot like black mould.

So here you stood: before a Victorian townhouse with your scarf furiously fighting the wind, droplets of rain threatening your freshly straightened hair, scanning various names scrawled on the building's buzzer.

S. PHYSIOTHERAPY

A & R SOLICITORS

J. MILLER PSYCHOTHERAPY

You bit the inside of your cheek and ducked further into the doorway, pressing the buzzer for the last option.

A voice had answered quicker than you'd anticipated, soon followed by a harsh buzz of the intercom.

"Come on up."

Dr. Miller's office was on the third floor.

You huffed, struggling with the combination of the stairs and attempting to wrangle your wet coat from your back. Amidst your struggle, you hear a door open somewhere above you, followed by a couple of soft and slow footsteps.

Your chin instinctively lifted toward the source of the noise, feet carrying you round and round the spiral staircase.

Light poured around his silhouette from the window behind him. It was ridiculous, actually. The sight was almost holy.

Neither of you spoke as you made your way up toward him. You felt as though you were on your knees beneath him, transfixed in supplication.

The sleeves of his blue cotton shirt were haphazardly pushed up just before his elbows, arms outstretched and fingers wrapped around the wooden bannister.

You were supposed to be actually trying with this one, not fantasising about the ways the veins in his arms probably bulged with his hand around your throat.

After being politely let go by your previous therapist, you'd promised yourself that the colleague he'd recommended to you, Dr. Miller, would be the one to fix you for good.

"Hello." He nodded, not quite managing a smile.

He reached a hand toward you, which you shook with the little strength left in your body.

"Hello." You tried your best to imitate his stoic cadence, your hand still tightly in his.

You let him break the handshake first, playing a petulant, one-sided game to see how quick he would be to scare.

"After you." He gestured to the room behind him. "Take a seat wherever you feel most comfortable."

"If there is any cowboy paraphernalia in that room I am not paying for this session."

"Excuse me?" His eyebrows knitted together, no sign of humour registering on his face.

"Your accent - it was a joke. I mean, I paid already anyway." You fumbled your words awkwardly. "Jokes are always much funnier when you explain them."

He cocked his head slightly. Hesitant to embarrass yourself further, you saw yourself into his office.

The room was dim for a space endowed with Victorian-style floor-to-ceiling windows. It felt like you could get lost in it, hide away, tuck yourself into a corner and be lost for days.

"I have your notes from Dr. Hughes." He said.

"Anything juicy?" You asked, still surveying the room.

You couldn't put your finger on the specifics of his scent, but it was familiar; like passing a man in the street wearing the same aftershave as your father, or a boyfriend you hadn't seen for years.

"I'd like to figure that out myself."

You'd eventually settled on the armchair positioned opposite his own.

You had briefly wondered if this was a test, that he would be psychoanalysing whether you chose the armchair or the adjacent sofa.

Maybe you'd failed already.

For the majority of the session, you'd gone through the necessary motions of admin, confidentiality, and what you eventually wanted to get out of therapy.

"I don't have the ability to fix you, y'know that right?" His question had caught you off guard.

"I know that." You'd replied meekly.

"It's just, I don't know what kind of promises Dr. Hughes made you. We trained together, you see. He had always been more, how do I put this, hopeful than I am."

"Oh wow. Forty minutes into our first session and you're already hopeless?" You were only partly joking.

"I'm a big believer in transparency, and I can see you were meeting on and off for a few years. I'm just intrigued as to what your end goal here is."

You bit down on your cheek, swallowing the ember of rage that was burning in your throat.

"Do you think I do this for fun? Carve out an hour a week to relive my deepest, darkest traumas?"

"Not at all. I just find it interesting that after almost three years of therapy, you still can't use the word rape. You've referred to it as the thing that happened four times already."

The rot crept up your throat, threatening to pour out of your mouth and fill the room with the ugliness that grew inside of you.

"What is this, some kind of tough love therapy?" You scoffed. Was he trying to get a rise out of you?

"It can be whatever you want it to be."

He was kind of annoying, actually.

The two of you sat in silence, defiantly holding eye contact with one another to see who would be the first to break. And when he finally spoke, it was more of a statement than a question.

"That's time. I'll see you at the same time next week."

"How are you so sure I'll come back?"

He smiled for the first time that afternoon.

"I'm not."

[whattimeisitfic]

So I was fucking around with an incorrect quote generator and these are some of the funny prompts I got for Luci and his brothers. Most of them are just Raphael and Gabriel having the pettiest sibling rivalry in existence.

—

Pre-Fall days. Lucifer is still getting the hang of proper utility usage…

Gabriel: Hi could I ask how exactly does one accidentally set a lemon on fire?

Lucifer: Microwave for 40 minutes

Michael: WHY WERE YOU MICROWAVING A LEMON?!

Lucifer: I read boiling lemons helps cover up bad smells and I wanted to cover up the scent of burnt oranges, but I didn’t on any pots…

Raphael: Did you burn an orange too? HOW?!

Lucifer: Microwave for 40 minutes.

—

Gabriel addressing the Council. Probably on some really memorable, meaningful event for him or something.

Gabriel: I just wanted to say that over the years, I have come to regard you as… people I met.

—

Does this need context? Could happen literally any time.

Gabriel: You look mentally ill.

Lucifer: I am. Let’s go.

—

Once again, could realistically happen any time, though more likely in their younger years.

Gabriel: Bet you can’t eat 15 crayons

Raphael: Bet you I can!

Michael: *sips coffee, checks to make sure 911 is still on speed dial and goes back to reading the paper*

—

These two I stg—

Raphael: Can I have some water?

Gabriel: *starts chugging their water bottle*

Gabriel: *chokes from drinking too fast*

Gabriel: *spills water all over themselves*

Gabriel, coughing: I don’t have any water.

—

My man is absolutely clueless in the most adorable way possible. We love him for it tho. Was probably Rals texting him.

Lucifer: Gabriel, what does IDK, ILY, and TTYL mean?

Gabriel: I don’t know, I love you, talk to you later.

Lucifer: Alright, I love you too, I’ll ask Michael

Gabriel: Wait, Lucifer, no—

—

You can’t tell me Lucifer wasn’t a chaotic little shit pre-Fall.

Raphael: I have a question.

Michael: Shoot.

Raphael: Is the S or C in scent silent?

Gabriel: Fuck you, I’m going to be thinking about this all day.

Michael: Okay well, cent is pronounced the same way as scent so I’m gonna say the S is silent

Raphael: Okay, but sent is also spelled the same way

Gabriel: Google says that the C was added in the late seventeenth century, so I guess the S is silent.

Lucifer: Plot twist, both the S and the C are silent and the E actually makes the sss sound

Gabriel: Lucifer is not allowed to talk anymore

—

Once again, plausible any time at present.

Michael: You’e ignoring all your problems.

Lucifer: I know.

Michael: You also know it’s an unhealthy coping mechanism?

Lucifer: I’m ignoring that fact as well

Michael:

—

Lucifer can do no wrong.

Michael: WHOEVER CAUSED THIS MESS IS GOING TO-

Lucifer: it was me

Michael: …Is going to be forgiven because very one deserves a second chance.

—

He lasted all of five seconds, and the he had to sass.

Raphael: Oh, hey, I didn’t see you come in! You should have come by and said hello!

Gabriel: Oh! Yeah, I uh…

Gabriel: Didn’t want to bother you.

Gabriel: Or talk to or listen to or be around you.

—

Back when Lucifer wasn’t recovering from near death, and actually didn’t sleep.

Raphael: Truth or dare?

Lucifer: Truth.

Raphael: How many hours have you slept this week?

Lucifer:

Lucifer: Dare.

Raphael: Go to sleep.

Lucifer: I don’t like this game

—

They had an argument. Typical occurrence.

Michael: You have to apologize to Gabriel!

Raphael: Fine!

Raphael: Unfuck you or whatever!

—

I think this about sums it up.

Raphael: Are you alright?

Lucifer: Short answer or long answer?

Raphael: Short?

Lucifer: No.

Raphael: Long?

Lucifer: Nooooooo

—

I’ll say it again: these two—

Raphael: Guys, I have a question.

Gabriel: kys <3

Raphael: I love you too.

Michael: Ah. Yes. Siblings.

—

If Lucifer ever went out drinking w/ his siblings (u know, to the places that actually serve shit to get him wasted)

Lucifer, clearly drunk: Gabriel, hit me another drink… wooOO HOOoo…

Gabriel: I think you need a therapist and not a bottle

Lucifer: I think yooOOoouu need to shuUT YOUR MOUTH!

—

Last one. You can’t tell me Raphael doesn’t get weird obsessions w/ shows like this and convinces himself he’s gonna somehow end up in a similar situation. Michael is concerned

Raphael: When I get murdered, can you make sure I become an unsolved case?

Michael: wHat?

Raphael: I want to be on Buzzfeed Unsolved

Michael: Can we go back to the part when you said “when I get murdered”?

—

Alright that’s all I got for now ducklings! I just thought it was kind of funny.

If you’re reading this with no context but are interested, consider checking out my Hazbin Hotel Lucifer-centric fic on AO3 What Time Is It. I try to update daily and do my best to answer all comments ;)

[aribluart]

When I was a kid, my favorite characters in Naruto were Gaara, Sasori, and Naruto. Now, after having read, finally, all the manga at 28, that drastically changed. Now, without a doubt, my favorite characters are Obito and Kakashi, and the main reason is: they are human. I'm not saying that the other characters of the story are not human, but they all have that indistinguishable "fantasy" layers on them. But Obito and Kakashi? Their story, their motives, their emotions, their responses at the events of the main story, are so intrinsically human. Probably what I'm writing make no sense, but Ill' try my best to explain, even if I have difficulty to write this in english. This is my opinion, and naturally everyone has their take based on their own culture and their life. When I say they are " intrinsically human", I mean that if someone else was in their place, they would have made their same choices and actions. Because, their response to destabilizing and traumatic events (the third ninja war as child soldiers, Kannabi bridge, Rin's decision, and so on) it's different, but also understandable. Who could have act differently? No one can say with confidence and no hesitation how they would act in certain situations. I'm no therapist, but people have different reactions to traumatic events. We are not the same. So, seeing how Obito and Kakashi had so conflicting reactions to the same events, conflicting with their own childhood self even though you could see even then there was something, something that you could see and say "yes, this is only the tip of the iceberg," because we are not the same as our child selves, but our child selves had something that made who we are today, and the "we" of today have something that it's a reminder of our child selves. I, have so much more to add, but don't have the words in english to say it. I don't even know if what I wrote make any sense, it was something that I wanted to say because this two make me cry, and I hardly cry for fiction. But this two made my cry like I haven't cried for years, just because their story is so viscerally human and close to what I feel in general, that I don't even know anymore.

[copperbadge]

"Imagine a nice forest" is... mostly? Bullshit? But I will say - when one of my previous therapists helped me develop my own "safe/happy place" it genuinely helped with my panic attacks. It just wasn't a forest - it was a place that made sense to me, that I made up. There was also a sensory element - what color is X, what does the place sound like, what does it smell like, etc., so it was really a sensory check-in meditation with a structure I'd added to it. "Imagine a forest" isn't going to encompass that, but there's something not totally untrue in there. Kind of. For me, at least.

I mean, I think visualization and calming/happy places are fine, like, I don't object to them a priori, they're just not what I need. They're a solution to a problem I don't have.

I don't have panic attacks or trauma; I don't have trouble controlling my emotions in public, at least any more than anyone does, we all slip and yell at times. But visualization is for managing a strong emotion that's already happening, and doesn't seem helpful with a goal of lowering emotional reactivity in the first place. I spent a lot of time reading through articles before starting therapy going "This can't be all there is, there must be better tools somewhere" before realizing I was doing the equivalent of shopping for a hacksaw in a bookstore.

IDK, it feels like when I try to articulate this, I suddenly slip into a language nobody speaks. I think the idea of controlling something that's already happening is so deeply pervasive that a lot of people struggle with the idea of preventing it from happening in the first place. Which I think is probably just a product of cultural ableism, like, the goal of treatment for most mental illness appears to be to make it easier for other people to deal with rather than lessen the suffering of the person with the issue. But I'm not an anthropologist, maybe I'm the crazy one for expecting this to exist or at least be a topic of discussion.

[amateurwritescm]

Weems, a Goddess

Hello everyone, I am tentatively posting this as my first fic. It was intended to be a complete fic but it became so long. So I thought I would post it and see what people think. So, here is the first part of made it as a first part of a few that will end up NSFW.

Warnings: Right now, I don't think there are any but I am super happy for you to tell me otherwise and ill edit. I'm new to this :). The only thing I will add is that I don't really proof read, so I am so sorry in advance.

I would love some feedback if you do read it.

Summary: Your Normie self arrives in Nevermore as the Academies new therapist. Instantly you are impacted by Larissa who is like a goddess. Fluff and flirting ensue. You are a mess and completely undone by her.

P.s. Help please I don't know what I am doing. SOS

🐴 CM

Weems, A Goddess. Part 1.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

You could faintly hear the train on tracks clacking away when suddenly, your eyes snapped open. Your heart picked up its pace, beating fast as if your life was threatened. You had forgotten where you were momentarily and cursing yourself for the way your body did this sometimes. It was so unpleasant.

Internally you laughed at yourself, knowing you wouldn’t usually have fallen asleep on a freaking train, but it had been a huge trip from Australia already. Finally, you were on your last leg to Jericho, Nevermore Academy. Filled with nervous energy, you looked out at the passing autumn trees. They were beautiful, calming you as they passed by almost rhythmically in time with the train. Memories arose of your brother telling you that you were crazy to accept a job on the other side of the world, in which you kind of agreed with. You knew very little about this school’s history. From what you could tell, it was a boarding school for outcasts. It intrigued you, being a therapist and all.

The train had been pretty empty for a while now, you guessed Jericho was further out than you thought. Weirdly enough the absence of passengers didn’t alarm you, kind of filling you with curiosity instead.

An uncomfortable screech of what you assumed was the result of poor-quality sound and speakers blared overhead. It did not fail to grab your attention as it announced your stop. Jericho didn’t have a train station, however there was one only half an hour away. You’d hoped that you could find an uber or a taxi, maybe even a bus to make your way there. Picking up your bags from the luggage section between the carriages, you waited as the train slowed to a stop.

Stepping onto the platform and chuckling to yourself, you marvelled the quiet. It was empty, oh except for some random woman at the other end of the platform. Weirdly, she didn’t get on the train. You supposed you could ask the woman if she knew how to get from here to Nevermore, realising it was probably not as simple as you first thought!

You were looking down, pulling your luggage in the direction of the woman when you heard a “Hello there!” in the most beautiful British tone. Looking up, you realised that the woman at the end of the track was much closer and you began to take her features. She was much taller than you first noticed, with beautiful curves and bright white hair curled pinned in an updo. The woman strode so gracefully towards you in her sage green tightly fitted skirt suit. Wow she was beautiful.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you, I am Ms Weems” she introduced, holding her hand out towards you in a soft gentle way. Are you Y/n? You half nodded, half shook your head realising you were staring right at her and hadn’t replied yet. In confusion, you took her hand. “Hello?” you said more like a question, hoping your accent wasn’t too harsh in comparison to the lull of her voice. She spoke again, “I’m so sorry to surprise you. I am here to pick you up, you see I forgot to mention that it’s almost impossible to get from the station to the school without encountering lots of chaos” smiling cheekily, her white teeth white filling her mouth beautifully. Suddenly it all clicked, she was the principal of the school and was here to pick you up. Taking a second glance at her beautiful face, you were taken back by how beautiful she was. You assumed the principal would be like a much older grumpy head mistress. You had only exchanged words over email recently, as your interview had been with someone standing in for her whilst the principal was on leave.

“I hope that’s okay?” she said, after your silence. You noticed her plump red lips turn from a huge smile into a concerned pout. “Oh of course, thank you very much” you finally came out with. Your eyes met her crystal blue’s which seemed to sparkle, was that even possible? You looked away as you felt the heat rise into your cheeks, hoping she wouldn’t notice. Interrupting your inner thoughts once again, she leaned in close to grab one of the cases you were holding and sung “this way!” whilst nodding towards the exit. It’s safe to say you died for a moment, momentarily made worse as you inhaled deeply, smelling her perfume as some kind of sweet flowery mix. Still standing there, you watched her walk away with her hips swaying and heels clicking against the concrete. She turned once again, “Hey, Y/N enough staring for right now, are you coming?”. You realised in that moment you were in some serious trouble.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“And this will be your quarters y/n” I suspect you’ll find it most suitable. Most of the staff live in quarters by the hall they oversee so we are kind of spread out, but since you aren’t a part of the teaching staff” She paused and stepped closer to you, her hips slightly more forward as if they were beckoning you themselves “I also thought it would be nice for you to be closer to me, In case you need me…”. Her voice shifted from playful to sultry and low and she looked deep into your eyes, with an unspoken question. No, it was expectation. With her face flashing darker, her head slightly tilted down to you, she bit her lip.

Oh my god.

The word… or name even had brought you back to your earlier interactions with the principal. You were just as flustered now, feeling as though you were short circuiting. On the drive, Principal Weems had initially talked about some of the students at Nevermore, however you had trouble listening as you stared at her lips moving so gracefully, occasionally catching her gaze. Usually, you weren’t so frazzled by the presence of beautiful women. It was technically your job to be confident and talk to people and seek meaning, but this woman was something else.

You were sitting in the small car, with your luggage stuck in the back and boot. Looking over, you marvelled at her stature closely resembling some kind of goddess. Although she was slim, she barely fit into her seat with her long arm resting close to yours as she drove.  “The place you’ll consult with student’s Y/n is on the other side of my office. Its just a small room but you are welcome to change it around, decorate and make it your own if you like”.

You nodded, catching the last sentence as you were stirred from your thoughts by her mentioning your name. “Yes… sorry for not being so present. It’s been such a long couple of days I think my brain is just jetlagged”.

Or it is because you’re sitting next to a literal god in human form that you would let sacrifice you if it was her wish?

“Of course, you must be absolutely exhausted having come so far. Ill show you to your quarters and you can rest that pretty little head of yours” she said sweetly, glancing down at your body and then up to your face before looking back towards the road. “I was wondering though if tomorrow you might join me for lunch, seeing as it is a Sunday”.

Eeeeeee, she asked you to lunch! You squealed internally. Calm down Y/n it’s just lunch... You opened your mouth, expecting yourself to accept in a kind and professional manner. Which would have been so appropriate and normal, except you didn’t.

“I’d really love you for lunch” Fuck. “I mean I’d love you to lunch me… like… I mean… for me to have lunch with you, like you said”. Your stomach flipped violently making you push yourself back into the passenger seat, silently wishing it would swallow you whole. You took your bottom lip between your teeth and looked down at your hands.

 “G God, I’m so sorry” you stammered. your eyes flicking upwards whilst your cheeks beginning to sting as you knew you had no room to move underneath her gaze.

“My name is Larissa, darling”, her eyes darkening even further as Larissa internally revelled in the feeling of having caught you like a little mouse. You on the other hand, felt terrified but electrified by the way Larissa looked at you in that moment.

The thing was with Larissa, she was so emotive with her face that all could be revealed with a fleeting look. You, being a highly trained therapist were great with reading emotions, and that included those with a suggestive nature. You stored the glimpse you saw on that drive, knowing you could bring it up again in your mind. But you didn’t have to, because you remembered that you were standing in the room with her right now and the same look was on her face.

“Has anyone told you how beautiful you are?” She picked an invisible piece of lint from your blouse before running her hand down your arm slightly. Your skin responded with little tingles. Having registered your response to her touch, she continued. “I must have missed that memo, with me having been away when you were hired. Well darling, I think I am going to quite like having you here” she said, her expression moving from the darkened gaze to a content smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow, sweetheart” she said not bothering to pose it as a question again. “Come to my quarters at noon and we can figure out a plan from there”. She was walking away slowly, turning to lean for on the door frame for a moment. “And bring those brilliant eyes, I love it when you stare at me”.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next day:

Larissa had felt quite taken with you the moment she saw you. Truly she had just expected to pick up the new therapist who would probably also leave shortly into the school term. The last one had left because of Wednesday Addams, of which you could understand to some degree but hiring someone else felt impossible knowing it may just happen again. However, when she saw you hop off that train, her heart felt like it simultaneously dropped into her stomach and beamed up into the sky outside of her being. She knew right then and there; you were hers and she wouldn’t let you go without a fight.

*Knock knock*

You knocked on Larissa’s door, and it she soon opened it to you dressed in a slightly more casual pair of dress pants and a soft pastel blouse tucked in to accentuate her waist. “Hello, my love. You look beautiful”.

Earlier you had tried on about 6 different outfits, making a huge mess in your new place, you went with your favourite pants and long sleeve combination. It was much colder than you had expected it to be though having come from summer in a hot climate. You walked in with a bit of a shiver, grateful to look over and see her open wood fire going.

“Oh, my love you look freezing!” With her beside you, she wrapped her arm around you and led you towards the fire. “Here, come sit with me and I will warm you up”. You thanked her quietly, just absorbing her touch as it lingered on you. You felt unprepared for her to leave, feeling her shift slightly you pressed into her a little. Larissa knowingly smiled and instead of moving further she simply asked “what would you like to do for lunch? And I mean what would you like to eat and not who” She laughed, recalling yesterdays use of your words. You tensed momentarily until Larissa squeezed your arm playfully. Relaxing you giggled “I’m so sorry, you’re just so beautiful and I guess you make me a little nervous”. Larissa, still smiling retorted “well that much, I can tell and its kind of fun” she pushed into you slightly causing you to look up into her eyes wondering what might happen next. Larissa looked down to your lips and then back to your eyes…

 “And as fun as this is, I am absolutely starving and we must eat!” Larissa gracefully lifted herself from your side. You audibly whined slightly at the lost of contact, until you realised she was gone. She emerged from a door hidden in a corner you hadn’t noticed earlier, holding a warm jacket out to you. “I thought as much as I am a fantastic giant water bottle, you might need this. Let’s go to lunch at the Weathervane”.

“Oh that’s so kind of you, but my place is just down the hall …” you began to make an excuse, knowing if you wore that jacket that she would never see it again.

“Nonsense, this way it is much sweeter” Larissa boasted a big smile, although she thought something much dirtier. It’s also going to be much more satisfying when I get to take it off of you.

Larissa motioned to you to turn around as she held the jacket for you to slip your arms into one by one, making contact with your arms, neck and back as she adjusted the way it sat for no reason other than to touch you. “Let’s go, Ill drive”.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Only 15 minutes later you were hopping out of Larissa’s personal car which was much bigger, feeling slightly tipsy as it smelt intoxicatingly like her. It had made sense when Larissa opened your door for you, that the little car she barely fit into yesterday was not hers and was a Nevermore car for school related things.  

“This is the Weathervane, it’s such a nice place to get food and drink. They have really fantastic hot chocolate and cute little booths sit in” Larissa said enthusiastically with a smile charging towards the entrance. Your legs although not typically small, struggled to keep up with her. She turned around “Come on darling as much as I don’t mind you watching me walk from behind, I love having you by my side”. Fluffy comment pricked you in the chest, leaving you warm feelings. You didn’t know it then but that was just the start of the heat.

After ordering some hot fresh paninis and hot chocolate, Larissa sat down at her favourite booth in the corner. You sat across from her and began to ask her questions about Nevermore. You both talked for what seemed like hours discussing students, the history behind outcasts and education. It was all so interesting to you, and you couldn’t wait to begin with the students who needed you most. One thing that kept popping up was that you couldn’t help but wonder whether Larissa was an outcast or a normie like you. One part of you knew that she had to be, no normal human being could be so tall, so beautiful and practically perfect in every way.

“If you are wondering, which I am sure you are… I am an outcast” Larissa said, shaking you from what clearly was silence through your last thought process. Caught in a new bout of fluster, you began to ramble the thoughts you had been having. “That… doesn’t surprise me you know like you’re so beautiful and perfect kind of like some Amazonian, or goddess that fell from the sky or something. Like look at you, of course you are. No normal person looks so delicious”. None of that was supposed to come out of your mouth in the way it did. You shrunk down slightly, blushing bright red.

“Oh really? Well, that is quite the admittance” the words almost crawling out of her mouth, just like her body crawled forward, leaning over the table with little effort and maximum grace. “I just love the way your brain and body disconnect from itself and then does whatever it wants”. Tilting her head, she looked into your eyes and down to your lips, licking her own red plump ones. Suddenly you felt her leg brush past yours underneath the table. Feeling slightly brave as your core was set alight “Oh yeah?” you breathed out, hoping you didn’t look too impacted by her words and her actions. But how could you not? “Mmhmm, yes, I do. However, it would be much nicer if I were the one to undo you; mind body and soul and then put you back together again”.

You could say nothing, Larissa grabbed your hand and walked you back to her car.

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Tagged:

@weemssapphic

[hiskillingjar]

do you think transfem law would change her name

alright let's talk about the girl failure herself

i think law's relationship with their gender is very...disconnected

like law is so disconnected from their body as a whole, why would they have a connection to such asinine concepts of being a man or a woman?

so like, if i'm thinking about canon lawrence (in spite of hc'ing them as transfem) they wouldn't do anything to transition.

the gender is just. tv static. nothing.

in the case of estrogen saving her though...

no, i think she'd go by 'law'.

if pressed she'd say it's short for something but she'd just be 'law'

like she didn't feel bad about being called 'lawrence' after all. why would she change that?

her ass is NOT going to a gender therapist. she ordered e off the dark web. good for her <3

she does start going to the free group therapy at her local YMCA though. just to talk to people and feel heard, even if it's surface level, it feels better these days

she was already basically cut off from her family, but this makes her stop completely. no ill will, she's just not the person they knew before and that's okay

she'd dress very similarly to how she does in canon but maybe gradually introduce more feminine pieces to her wardrobe

long skirts, turtlenecks, thick wool tights, a chunky mary-jane shoe. things that are comfortable and easy and cover her up

cus she's still law. she still dresses for comfort first and foremost and hides herself and doesn't want to be seen

and she'd for suuuuure make a ton of art and poetry about being transfem.

like, going from being so disconnected to her body to suddenly having one and being scared of the changes while also liking them

she'd make a ton of bone art about broken bodies and rebuilding new ones

she'd be as reclusive as she always is, but she'd probably find a community of weird autistic transfems (my absolute beloveds <3) to connect with and make art with

she'd read a lot more poetry and smoke a lot more weed and stop hurting herself as much

the e injections are the nice shock of pain she needs to feel like she has a body

that's not exactly to say that she'd be totally healthy about the people she hangs out with. but...healthier than she was

[nyxcharliechaos]

so me and @lemonking00 decided to make a tier list...but it's what neurodivergency/mental illness the cast of Hazbin/Helluva have

Explanations/are they medicated?/extra details or thoughts below because this will be a long post if I don't

ADHD- Millie: unmedicated, she just doesn't like it

Vox: medicated but OH BOY DOES HE FORGET, man will go 3 days without it before remembering then he's medicated for 4 days and they he's out of his ADHD medication! and it's ALWAYS when the pharmacy runs out and won't have it in for a few days

Bee: unmedicated she doesn't care she's just having fun

Clara: she's just here because LK said Odette was autistic and we wanted an ADHD/Autism sibling dynamic, I was going to skip them because we don't know much about either, she's properly medicated, Carmilla makes sure she takes her medication

Autism- Vaggie: we're all in agreement on this right?

Alastor: I know he's a sociopath but we've been joking he's autistic for a bit lol

Lucifer: his special interest is clearly ducks, yes he's canonically depressed but the autism is winnning

Sir Pentious: ok so everyone I know agrees with his so, mans got that autistic rizz

Vortex: ...ngl we just wanted him to be the ASD to Bee's ADHD being the ADHD/autism couple dynamic

Millie's dad: as stated by LK "he just seems autistic" and then explained farmers give off autistic energy, LK's the autistic redneck friend so I'll trust him on that

Lute: ...I have no explanation she just seems autistic, and like a homophobic homosexual

Zestial: so initially we put him in the group therapist tier but the autism won so we moved him

Odette: explanation for why she's here above

AuDHD (written as AUDI relating to a series of inside jokes but long story short half our friend group is AuDHD and one of said friends used to have an AUDI)- -Blitz special interest in horses, bad at emotions, he's not medicated, he should be on several medications, he's not on any of them

Charlie: ok hear me out, we all agree on the ADHD yes, but her dads got that tism ok, she would to. she is medicated, and Vaggie reminds her, but it's a gamble whether or not she'll take her medication even with a reminder

Cherri Bomb: ...bombs and just look at here that's my explanation for why she's here, no she's not medicated, there's other drugs, no it's not the same thing she doesn't care

Velvette: she's better about taking her medication than Vox is but she still forgets, always seems to run out around the same time as Vox...when they don't have the medication...being Valentino during that is great/j the two will lock the doors and make him deal with their unmedicated asses till the pharmacy has the medication again

Fizz: I don't think I need to explain why he's here, he's not medicated, he doesn't like the feeling and he likes himself better unmedicated, and Ozzie loves him either way so fuck getting his ADHD medication

Adam: simple explanation, ADHD and Autism is hereditary, so it had to come from somewhere and in the words of LK "it wasn't Eve, idk how but she's neurotypical", Adam doesn't believe people when they tell him he's AuDHD, so no he's not medicated

Emily: I'm not explaining myself, she is medicated and does take her ADHD medication on the daily, Sera will remind her and if she forgets after that Sera will just give her the medication

Depression- (depresso expresso because funny) Stolas: literally cannon, and while also Autistic unlike Lucifer the Autism is not winning

Octavia: I would be too if my family was that much of a mess

Barbie Wire: just fucking, look, no I'm not explaining this

Sera: (just makes gesture like, look at this bitch)

Twamatised- (referencing a joke in Gravity Falls) neither of these need explanations fucking look at the two that are here!

OCD- Moxxie: we actually added this catagory for him, he's just got those vibes

Niffty: I swear I remeber reading something on an old ZP era sketch dump saying she had slight OCD, I might be misremembering, probably, but got those vibes

Group Therapist- (fun fact this was initially a Husk only category but a lot more characters belonged in it then we thought) Husk: (points to episode 4) and yes depresso expresso as well but, I made this category for him so

Razzle & Dazzle, Fat Nuggets, Keekee, and the Egg Bois: all are here for similar reasons they're (basically) pets that bring joy and improve peoples mental states

Ozzie: I don't think I need to explain this one, since it's basically cannon

Rosie: ok so all the overlord are autistic (minus Vox), but they go to the category that takes priority and she's seen being a person you go to for advice so, this is just cannon

Carmilla: quote from LK "mom", that's why she's here, again all overlords are autistic (except Vox)

NDP- (narcissistic personality disorder) Verosika: we actually added this category for her so

Striker: ok this one's debatable but he definitely has a personality disorder of some sort

Valentino (KYS) was added just for Val to tell him to die

BITCH was added for reasons obvious if you look at the characters, no headcannons here we just wanted to call out these characters for being bitches