#therapy and genshin

[pizzapasta23045]

FUCK IT, GENSHIN THERAPY TIERLIST

SOME NOTES:

should go won't go is people who will actively refuse to to go to therapy, will go if prompted means they're told they need it by a trusted person.

Therapy is not just about trauma but also problematic behavior (which is why klee is in will not work) and problems socializing, as people irl do get sent to therapy to learn to socialize (Fishl)

I put tartaglia in chooses to go because he'd care about therapy due to his siblings and shit.

By therapy I mean long term therapy. A lot of them would go to therapy at least once in their lives but I'm talking like... long term shit you know?

Al Haitham is in should go because, while i do hc him as autistic, maybe learning to be a slight bit nicer would help him. Not, like, to masking level but at least not calling people assholes to their face would be good. Not because he needs to learn to have friends since that's clearly something he doesn't care for.

Yae Miko needs to learn to be nice as well. She a bitch sometimes.

Shenhe I wasn't sure but I feel like she's a medication girlie but she could, I think? At least if she's promptred. I feel like her trauma would be too severe for her to think about that much tbh...

Diluc choose to go once because Adelinde pestered him and he didn't feel like refusing. Idk how receptive he was though...

If your fave ended up in doesn't need it and actaully has insane trauma drop it under this post and I will look into it and update my decision. I love learning about trauma all the character have experienced.

[bl00dalchemist]

She is indeed trying....

[puffypoffin]

Hey this looks familiar….

[abyssruler]

melusines and misunderstandings

neuvillette x gn!reader

you ask neuvillette out on a date, but as always, fate conspires to give the prettiest faces the most oblivious minds. luckily for him, the melusines are there to offer feedback as his pseudo-therapist.

Neuvillette thinks you have a crush on Lyney.

He doesn’t begrudge the magician for capturing your heart, not when it paints a lovely look on your features as you stared up at him with stars in your eyes and asked him if he could accompany you to the twins’ latest magic show.

He says yes, of course, if only so he may see they way your face lights up in a brilliant smile. His cheeks flush a light shade of red when you grasped his hand in gratitude and told him to meet you tomorrow in the afternoon.

Later that night, he lays on his couch with a distinctively depressed air.

“It’s a date!” One of the melusines tries to reassure him, the rest of them chirping their agreements as they crowded around his slumped form.

“It is not,” he tells them solemnly, “the magician Lyney is the person they want to see.”

“They could have gone alone, but they asked you to come watch the show with them. It must mean that they want to spend time with you, Monsieur Neuvillette!” A chorus of yeah! and yes! come after that proclamation.

Neuvillette isn’t convinced, but for the sake of the melusines, he will put on a brave face and pretend that he believes them. If only so they will not worry anymore.

“Yes, I suppose all of you are right.”

✧

They were, as it turns out, right.

You laugh, a hint of incredulousness and amusement in your voice.

“Wait—you think I like Lyney?” You dissolve into another fit of giggles.

Neuvillette finds himself at a loss for words. “So… you do not like him?”

“No!” You gasp, as though the idea of liking Lyney was an outrageous thing. “I’ve given you so many clues! How have you not realized it yet?”

He blinks, tilting his head in confusion, but an idea begins to form in the back of his head. Hope and disbelief war inside him, but he needs confirmation from you to truly believe the thought that has formed in his mind.

You smile, equal parts fond and exasperated.

“I like you, not Lyney.”

And, well, he supposes Lady Furina’s claims of him being an oblivious nut has more truth to it than he once thought.

[nepenthendline]

wriothesley would give the best, most comforting bear-hugs you could imagine: with a soft 'c'mere' as he holds his arms out towards you, he has one arm tightly wrapped around your waist with his hand resting on your hip, and the other hand is cradling the back of your head, holding it close to his chest or neck, he's so warm and his arms are strong and large so they cover most of you, he'll rest his cheek on the top of your head and give it a kiss every now and then, his kisses aren't delicate at all, just like how he holds you, almost like he's trying to push his love into your head, and he won't let go until he's decided its enough, if you try and wriggle free he'll simply hold you tighter with a 'nuh-uh, not done yet'

[nikellada]

[noranb]

soft diluc my weakness

[beaxmice]

i love miserable blonde guys

[lovesickeros]

☆ even the gods bleed [ pt 2 ]

{☆} characters furina, neuvillette {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings none {☆} word count 1.9k {☆} previous [ 1 ]

This had to be a punishment of some sort – some kind of divine punishment.

She was bored out of her mind just watching the sleeping body – she hadn't blinked once in the past five hours, her eyes were really starting to hurt. Yet they still hadn't moved so much as an inch since she sequestered them away to the only place she had known to be safe.

But it'd been almost a week since then.

The only solace she found was that Teyvat had seemed much less hellbent on collapsing in on itself like a dying star.

That counted for something.

Not much, but something!

..Even if their position was no better then it was a week ago.

There was, after all, still the issue of what to do about the false Creator – the actual imposter – and the Archons following them like blind lambs. The other Archons wouldn't listen if she tried to reason with them, and it would only risk the life of Divine One if she spoke of their location to anyone else.

She also was pretty fond of having her head still attached to her shoulders.

So she avoided them all together. Partially because she wasn't sure she wouldn't have a breakdown at the sight of them..she'd never been a fighter, and fighting an Archon? Easy pass.

Instead she was forced to babysit the sleeping Divine until they woke up while Neuvillette handled taking care of the nation and dealing with the other Archons – and by extension the false Creator.

Really though, she would almost think them dead if not for the subtle rise and fall of their chest.

Though..this also left her with a lot of time to herself. A lot of time to think.

She really didn't like it.

There wasn't a lot to occupy her mind and what little there was only distracted her for a scant few moments before her eyes drifted back to the Divine like she was locked in their orbit, unable to escape.

She closed the same book for the twelfth time – she kept count – and returned it to it's meticulously designed place within her bookcase. A low, barely audible huff of frustration escaped her lips before she could bite it down, her stare boring a hole into the body of the Divine One with a sharp intensity she rarely showed.

She was tired, bored and constantly on edge, fearing that at any moment someone would find out about their presence here.

That, at the drop of a hat, she would be powerless to stop the greatest tragedy of her time play out before her eyes.

Neuvillette would have scolded her for being so petulant, especially around the Divine One, if he were here.

But he wasn't.

He was out running her nation, instead.

And what was she doing? Nothing!

She grit her teeth, nails digging harshly into the palm of her hands as she took a deep breath – now was not the time to think about that. She had..much more pressing matters. Sulking and letting her thoughts spiral helped no one, least of all herself.

Yet her attention was caught by a harsh inhale, the rustle of fabric – were they finally waking up? She was exhausted, but it all vanished at the sudden drop of life within the otherwise deathly still body of the Divine.

Her eyes followed the subtle twitch of their fingers, watching as their brow furrowed and their features twisted in something almost like..pain.

..She wasn't ready.

What was she supposed to say?

Should she even say anything? Would that be considered impolite? Does she wait for them to speak first? Should she kneel? Bow?

She doesn't get much time to find her own answer before their lashes flutter, chest heaving with every strangled breath. Every single thought vanishes from her mind the moment she meets their eyes.

For a long, silent moment she thinks that her heart must have stopped.

Their eyes glow like the cresting of the sun over the horizon, painting the world in hues of gold – yet it also reminded her of the dipping of the moon below the waves, casting the briefest, most gentle of lights upon the world engulfed in darkness. In the depths of their eyes was the birth and death of stars in the infinite cosmos – glittering stars in a sea of empty, blank space that left her feeling lightheaded and breathless.

Beneath the splendor is a spark of recognition in their eyes so vibrant it was like a shooting star piercing through the dark night sky, leaving nothing but the wonder in the eyes of the observer as the only proof it ever existed – brilliant in it's beauty, however brief.

It is the most beautiful thing she has ever seen.

"Focalors?"

The lilt of their voice nearly made her knees buckle beneath her – euphoria so consuming it left her feeling she was starving swallowed her whole, her mind blanking in a moment of utter bliss. It was..an indescribable feeling that she doubted she could ever hope to put into words – not in a way that could properly express it, try as she might.

She swallowed the words that threatened to spill from her lips – she couldn't make a fool of herself. Not in front of them of all people. She'd never forgive herself.

"Divine One," She rasps, clearing her throat and covering her mouth with a hand to mask both her nervousness and the small smile that creeps across her face. She quickly regains her composure, hand resting on her hip as she puffs out her chest with every bit of pride she can manage. "I am sure you must be confused, but worry not– your most loyal acolyte has seen the truth!"

The silence is deafening.

She opens one eye, peaking at the bewildered and almost distraught expression of the Divine.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

That..she was not prepared for. Surely they knew who they were! Surely they knew. They had to– she's been praying to them for as long as she's breathed, she's dedicated every hour of her life to living up to their ideals, they can't just–!

"Lady Furina?"

Neuvillette, thankfully, spares her the embarrassment of having a meltdown in front of the Divine, the gentle rap of his knuckles against the door making her and the Divine pause, the soft lull of his voice soothing her nerves and yet setting her on edge at the same time.

"Neuvillette." She clears her throat again, her steps hurried as she marches to the door and pries it open none too gently, a forced smile pulling at her lips. She wastes no time tugging the man into the room, shutting the door behind him with a short huff. The silence is, somehow, even worse then before as the three of them stare at each other in absolute exasperation.

Neuvillette, for his part, manages to get his act together with a sharp clearing of his throat, bowing so low even she looks unnerved. She steals a brief glance at the Divine, and she's taken aback by the uncomfortability twisting their features into a grimace.

Their expression is schooled back into one of empty apathy when he stands back to his full height, but she saw it – she knows she did! Did they not like their worship? Were they not respectful enough? For a moment, she feared the Divine would smite Neuvillette down on the spot..but they just stared at him like he was a ghost.

"Why aren't you killing me?"

The defeated, resigned tone combined with the way their voice cracks makes her heart ache in her chest – it feels as though her entire world is crumbling down at her feet, and she cannot explain why she feels such emotions so strongly, but it is suffocating. It is almost as if Teyvat itself is weeping, bearing down upon her shoulders like a heavy weight.

She feels the urge to weep herself, but she powers through, gritting her teeth long enough for Neuvillette to take his place at the side of her – though it feels more like their – bed, kneeling like he was going to pray.

"Divine One," He offers a hand with a quiet rumble of his voice, the words slipping off his tongue like honey. It's like trying to soothe a stray cat..though she'd never voice such comparisons of the most Divine out loud. "I..we mean you no harm. I swear on my authority as the Iudex of Fontaine and Chief Justice that you are safe with us."

The skepticism she expected, but the reverence in which Neuvillette must convince them – or perhaps they are simply so tired that they simply did not care any longer if it was all some ploy to drive a knife between their ribs. She didn't expect them to actually place their hand in Neuvillette's.

He didn't either, judging by the way he visibly brightened – not that they'd notice, but she did.

..Not that she could really blame him, her heels clicking against the floorboards as she shifted her weight to the other foot with a nervous energy that was practically bursting at the seams, more then a little jealous of the attention he was receiving. She was the one who found them, she was the one who stayed with them the entire time..but he gets all the attention?

How unfair.

"O-of course! We would never lay a hand on our creator," She adds, her voice a little higher pitched then she would have liked as she placed her hands on her hips, puffing out her chest and brushing off the sting of jealousy. "Least of all I– your most loyal, most devout acolyte!"

She felt baffled when she heard the sound of their laughter, her shoulders hunching and her cheeks flushing on mere instinct – she was expecting mockery, but the look in their eyes, still dulled by a pain she cannot even begin to imagine, made her hesitate.

..It was, perhaps, the most genuine thing she'd heard from them ever since before the hunt began.

She wasn't sure why her heart hurt at such an idea, but it was enthralling to see the beginnings of a half hearted smile on their lips.

For a moment, her mask of theatrics was forgotten as she stared at them in a mixture of awe and adoration– and though she didn't look at Neuvillette, she could imagine he must've shared such an expression.

Had she any doubts that they were her Creator, that they alone were the most Divine..they would wiped clean now. There was no mistaking the way the world itself seemed to grow clearer as they glanced up at her like she was worth something.

For a moment, she realized how cold the false Creators gaze had been now that she has felt warmth so gentle it almost made her knees buckle beneath her. It felt like a pale imitation, now.

Nothing could compare to the warmth that spread through her body at the mere semblance of a smile upon their lips. She didn't even mind if it was her they were laughing at anymore, she just wanted to hear them laugh again.

She'd make a fool of herself, if she had to.

She'd never felt so..ravenous for such a thing, but just the briefest glimpse was addictive.

She simply couldn't help herself from striding across the room and clasping their free hand in her own, her smile wide enough to unnerve as she leaned her weight onto the bed. For a moment, she considered pulling away at the way they startled, but her mind was made up by then – there was no going back.

"Again."

[akarialart]

Somehow I wanted to draw the boys cuddling in their sleep. Did they drink ? Did they play TCG ? Were Cyno’s jokes that bad that they all became exhausted ?? No one knows...

[su-rodriguez]

This is my resume

[brainrot-jikan]

im not the biggest alhaitham/kaveh shipper (because im a rare pair ho) but it seems to me that in alhaitham/kaveh getting-together fics tend to be... unequal.

the beautiful thing about alhaitham and kaveh is that they're both equally right and equally wrong and equally dicks about it. but the writers for alhaitham/kaveh much more frequently seem to give alhaitham the burden change (the burden of the character flaw) instead of kaveh.

in any good character arc, the main character has a fatal flaw or misconception, and by the end of that arc they have addressed that flaw in some definitive way. scrooge was a scrooge and learned that being that way was detrimental; merlin from finding nemo was overprotective to a fault and had to learn that he couldn't (and shouldn't) control everything and to let go; the wolf from little red riding hood learns that you should stop while you're ahead.

stories centering around romance tend to lean heavily on character arcs, which makes sense. and since romance generally requires two individuals to be vulnerable and open and emotional with each other, it makes double sense that alhaitham/kaveh authors zoom straight into alhaitham's lack of emotional vulnerability.

this bothers me.

in society, individuals are expected to experience and present emotions in a specific way. if someone dies, you cry. if someone smiles at you, you smile back. if you're at a party, you're supposed to be having fun. if you don't do these things, you're seen as impolite at best and a inhuman freak at worst. when these behaviors are frequent it's often viewed as emotional immaturity, or a lack of ability to feel at all. the inability or lack of willingness to conform to societies emotional expectations of you is seen as a flaw and a reason for exclusion.

alhaitham is canonically disliked and avoided for being the way he is. he prefers it this way, but that doesn't mean the people perpetuating this avoidance are in the right. they are the societal pressure to conform that alhaitham blows off. alhaitham could be the way he is for a lot of reasons: avoidant attachment style, trauma, following someone else's example (eg. his grandmother), or just his base personality. it doesn't MATTER. he is the way he is. kaveh having to accept that should be part of the story.

putting the burden of the fatal flaw on alhaitham, making the way alhaitham treats kaveh and the people around him the problem, feels invalidating. it implies heavily that alhaitham's way of interfacing with the world, alhaitham's very SELF, is incorrect. my suggestion is to flip a larger portion of that burden onto kaveh. kaveh 👏 character 👏 arcs 👏

some examples/recommendations:

- make kaveh project his insecurities onto other people but especially onto alhaitham; he's overly reliant on other people for his own self worth, and he perceives alhaitham's lack of positive feedback as a direct reflection of how alhaitham feels about him. but learns along the way that alhaitham doesn't hate him, kaveh's actual struggle is with hating himself and being unable to his own self as worthy of love. maybe throw in how you are responsible for your own recovery, other people can help but you can't rely on them to carry you through self actualization.

- or, kaveh tries to make alhaitham behave more like a "normal" person, to be more pleasant and emotive and forthcoming, and then realizes he's in the wrong for trying to make alhaitham into something he's not, possibly for all the wrong reasons (not because he likes alhaitham better like that, but bc society says that's healthier and a better/more conforming way to be)

- or you could go ahead make alhaitham's issues the main problem but they're too complicated to overcome in a short period of time, so kaveh has to accept alhaitham is doing his best in his own way and not push for unrealistic and unhealthy changes. he could alter his own behavior to give alhaitham space and time and a safe place to land.

that got sappy so it's past time for me to dip out. go forth and ship things; but maybe consider letting alhaitham be a rude stone-faced bastard if he wants to be.

[sleepyorchidmonster]

After we get the Sad Furina backstory with mandatory cutscene, I hope she mentions how Traveler and Paimon are the first ones to know about this, and how she has been carrying all of that burden alone for the last 500 years or so.

Paimon: Not even Neuvillette knows!!??

Furina was about to answer no, only to be cut off by the sound of a booming thunder. Lightning strikes, illuminating a previoulsy obscured part of the office, where we can now see the imposing figure of the Chief Justice.

He came to the office to deliver a few papers and overheard the entirety of the conversation. He is currently bawling his eyes out, mentally listing everything the melusines like to do when thy're sad to see if he can help Furina.

Meanwhile, Fontaine is just dealing with a torrential downpour of cataclysmic proportions.

[kiwifie]

lantern rite date

[after-witch]

Something Like Consolation [Yandere Alhaitham x Reader]

Title: Something Like Consolation [Yandere Alhaitham x Reader]

Synopsis: Follow up to this yandere Kaveh & Alhaitham imagine scenario. You don't want any comfort from Kaveh in this moment, but you don't imagine you can get any from Alhaitham, either.

I read this post from @j0succ last night about gentle lies and immediately got an idea for a line of dialogue that solved how I wanted to approach a lil follow up to this scenario. Mostly written on my phone so uhh yeah.

Word count: 1376

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader

The sight in the bathroom mirror is a far cry from what you saw only minutes before. Daintily applied makeup, finished off with carefully painted star, are ruined--streaking. Ugly. That’s what you see in the mirror. Splotches of color and red eyes and a face scrunched from bitter sadness. 

You look ugly. Mouth quivering as you fight to keep your sounds in, the blur of Alhaitham behind you, moving to shut the door. 

It’s the soft click of the bathroom door shutting that does you in. And pitiful mouth-pinched sobs that shake your chest become thick, choking cries echo off the panels of the bathroom walls. 

You aren’t hoping for Alhaitham to take you in his arms and rub your back and pull you close to his chest, and he doesn’t. Instead he reaches for one of the cloths hanging on the wall and turns the sink on, the heavy sound of water mingling with your own cries. 

He holds it out. “Wash that off, then we’ll get you changed.” 

The thought of taking that cloth makes your arms feel leaden. 

You look up at him, mouth downturned and pitiful and quivering. 

He sighs, and shakes his head. 

“I’ll wash it off for you. Stay still.” 

And you do, coughing out your cries as he dutifully dips the cloth in water again and again, scrubbing your face with the same methodical firmness that he scrubs the rest of you when he deems you too unruly to bathe yourself. 

If it were Kaveh, you think, he would be using the softest of touches. Cooing in between strokes as he gently wipes the makeup away. Kissing your cheek to calm you down. 

But you don’t want Kaveh right now. Not when he hurt you. Not when he lied to you. And if he lied about this... what else was a lie, then?

The way his fingers nimbly stroked your back when you were upset, the soft downturn of his lips when Alhaitham was verbally berating you for being so disobedient, the sweet kisses tinged with wine from a bar you’ll never be able to set foot in? 

Were they all falsehoods, too? Pretty things he created to calm you and soothe you and shut you up? 

When Alhaitham deems your face clean enough, he pulls away the cloth and drops it in a wicker hamper to be taken care of later. 

“Wait.” You reach out and touch his forearm, your voice is soft and thick. A frog in your throat, but the frog is a heavy chest and broken dreams.

He pauses, and regards you with a frustratingly neutral expression. 

Your tongue unsticks from your mouth and you bite your lip to keep sobs from trembling out, so that you can say something to make him stay. Something that might make you feel better, even, if that can be managed. 

“Kaveh…” You fight for the words. You can’t say anything awful. Not just for your own sake--you can’t possibly thrust Kaveh entirely away, not here--but because you never know when Alhaitham would rather lecture you on proper respect than acknowledge when he or Kaveh has done something awful to you.

“Kaveh lied.” That’s what you decide on. It's a fact, and surely not something that you can get in trouble for saying. "Why... why did he do that?"

Alhaitham sighs. At first, you don’t think he’ll say anything. You think he’ll remove your hand from his arm and go get you dressed and tell you to read a book and be quiet.

But he does speak. And what he says takes you aback.

“He should not have lied to you.” He talks down to you even now, the same way he does when he’s instructing you on what you should be doing that day, or how you should sit or how you should eat. For the moment, it doesn’t bother you, because he's clearly on your side. Your side!

“The moment you asked to go to the festival, he should have told you no.” 

A pause, and his voice lowers. There’s something akin to softness in his tone. Maybe you’re imagining it. Maybe you’re so desperate for sweetness that you’re placing the gentle curves of Kaveh’s voice into the man before you. 

“Letting you get your hopes up like that was very cruel of him.”

And you nod--you nod, for once, agreeing with Alhaitham, and you’re so busy looking downcast that you don’t see the pleasant surprise that flickers in his expression for a moment. 

You don’t think before you move. You just do it. You step forward and wrap your arms around his back, pressing your head against his chest, the same way you do to Kaveh when  you need comfort. Which is often. 

Alhaitham is not one for gentle embraces and soft hugs. But you hear him sigh, an annoyed, resigned thing, and you feel his hand pat your back. Just the once. He doesn’t stroke it or pull you close and cluck and coo, but there’s something comforting about the solid weight of his chest underneath you.

His hand, too, is what breaks you again. You cry pitifully into his chest, turning your face this way and that, getting his clothing wet with hot tears and probably snot that he will make you clean up later.

“I… I…” What do you want to say? What can you say? You think about your outfit, the carefully embroidered flowers, the painfully tight stitching that took you hours upon hours. An outfit you sweat and quite literally bled for, the callused little pinpricks on your finger pads as proof.

“I worked hard on my outfit,” you say, squeezing Alhaitham tighter as your voice gets thinner and pinched. “I really did.” 

You worked hard on it, because it was your ticket to something you wanted, and what was the crux? It was something for you, for once. Not Kaveh. Not Alhaitham. You were going to run around that festival and breathe in the smell from the food stands and ask them to win you prizes and enjoy the exhilarating pounding in your chest from the fireworks at the end of the night. 

Every stitch you made was one step closer to that. Only it wasn’t. Only it was for nothing at all. And now you’re sobbing in a bathroom while Alhaitham listens, letting you cry it out, and what was any of it for? 

You’re about to pull away when Alhaitham hums underneath you. 

“The embroidery was well done.”

Your breath feels like it stops, and there’s a soft, stuttering sort of gasp that escapes your mouth. Alhaitham… never compliments you. Not like that. Not in a way that you can hold onto and carry with you. 

You pull back, sniffling, wiping at your face with your hands as you stare up at him. 

“It… it was?” You gulp down your cries, and your eyes widen, and you want so much from him in this moment that you don’t know what to do.

He nods, and his hands push you away a little, holding onto your arms with his fingers wrapped around your upper arms. Not to get you away from him, but to steady you, you think. To keep you firm in his embrace, and not the other way around.

“Yes. The stitches were remarkably straight. And you managed the flowers without having to redo them.” 

You offer a tearful smile. 

“I-I read about the flower techniques in the book you gave me about sewing, after I asked for some supplies.”

And is that a smile of his own? Aimed at you, no less? It makes you swallow your tears in the same way Kaveh’s kisses might have done. 

“Good. You should always take the time to read the books I give you. It’s better for your education.”

And you, weepy thing, distraught thing, nod again. Yes, Alhaitham. You’re right, Alhaitham. 

He does pull away this time, and regards you with a look that might almost be described as pleased. 

“Come. We will get you dressed and then you can sit with me while I read.”

And you, wiping at your tears, catching a stray bit of makeup that didn’t come up with the cloth, nod again. 

You follow him out the door and pretend not to see the figure of Kaveh in the corner of your eye, watching the two of you warily. 

[pigeon-noises]

"Live Happily"