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jiminjamms · 3 months

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sex therapy :: 26. together

chapter tags/warnings: a very broken marriage. heavy angst. at least i am not gege. mai and maki and megumi as an iconic trio. infidelity/adultery. family drama. strong language. corruption.

word count: 4.8k

notes: thank you for the overwhelming reception from the last chapter! work has been consuming my life, sadly, which is why this chapter took longer than i anticipated. gr. in this upcoming piece, though, my main focuses are the character development in y/n as well as explanations from toji himself. enjoy! likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated. xoxo

fic masterlist | 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.

A large, warm hand massaged the delicate stretch between your thumb and forefinger.

Gently. Leisurely. Daintily.

Vanilla and cinnamon notes entered your lungs with every inhale, a velvetiness akin to everything you imagined clouds to be like if brushing against your cheek, the comforting sensations bringing back nostalgic memories from the carefree times your heart longed to return to.

Was this Heaven? you wondered in this dark and dreamy daze.

You would not mind staying in this state eternally if that meant the promise of peace and quiet forever.

A voice, not from yourself, dispersed your thoughts.

“Suguru, what are the chances she won’t ever wake up?”

Wake up?

Oh, so you were just asleep.

“Shut up, Sukuna,” another person quipped, this tone more leveled and coarser than the last. “Don’t say shit like that.”

The first person, who must be Sukuna then, chuckled lowly to himself. “Oh, who would’ve thought? Choso is having a soft spot?” he marveled with great interest, “Since when did you care so much about—”

But a third voice interrupted the banter. “She’s awake.”

After a long struggle, your eyes fluttered open to see a crowd gathered around you. Immediately beside you was Suguru Geto. He had been the one nestling your hand, but he practically didn’t look like himself with the concern etched into his brow, replacing the cheerfulness in his typical visage. Behind him stood Sukuna and Choso. The former grinned with fierce satisfaction, while the latter…scowled at you?

To be fair, Choso always scowled at you.

“Good evening, gorgeous.” Geto greeted with a melancholic smile, giving you another squeeze, firm and encouraging. Like a true gentleman, he helped you sit upright, his other hand reaching over your head to brush aside some stray strands by your forehead. “Are you feeling okay?”

Exhaustion, meanwhile, rattled you to the bone.

You were weak, your movements fragile, almost like you were a fawn in her first hours of life. You blinked rapidly while taking in the new environment, only to quickly recognize the gray and cream colors in your surroundings. Back at Toji’s apartment was where you found yourself, with the familiar spiced floral scents from the flickering candle nearby confirming that this was the master bedroom.

Given the dull throb by your temples, you frowned.

“What—?” your voice came out as a hoarse rasp. “What happened?”

The trio traded looks at each other with communicative eyes.

In the end, Choso tucked his hands into his front pocket and took the initiative to speak.

“You were in the Zenin residence with Mai and Maki, remember?” No, not really.“Got into an argument with your husband. Started having a panic attack. Collapsed. Puked.”

Oh…

Recollections from your last conscious moments flooded your head like a tsunami: the screaming, the crying, and the fighting. Loud, angry, bitter fighting.

Fighting for your dignity. Fighting for your heart. Fighting for your life. Goodness gracious. As much as the memories sucked all life from you, you instead felt completely…numb.

After all, you had already been dead on the inside. You were too worn out, both physically and emotionally, to react. Everything that you had to go through since your wedding had brought you to your wit’s end, and this recent altercation with Naoya Zenin was truly the icing on the cake.

When you caught sight of yourself in a nearby mirror, you could hardly recognize yourself. Your expression, glum. Your lips, chafed, Your face, pallor. Absent of any other color than an ashen hue.

“How…did I get here?”

“Mai and Maki got worried and called Toji, who told them to bring you here,” Sukuna answered this time. “You’re lucky the girls reacted fast, else we would have sent you to an emergency room. Suguru even stopped his shift at his clinic to watch over you.”

“I—,” you sighed, lost for words and dropping your tired gaze to the floor. Dealing with inner turmoil to this degree was more than what any sane person could handle. All efforts towards your happiness were in vain anyway, as the cosmos conspired to make your existence one neverending nightmare. Everyone else had their ambitions and shit to deal with, but here you were as an absolute nuisance to the people who should not be otherwise pestered, and you were ashamed for the unnecessary trouble that you had caused. “Gosh, this is embarrassing.”

“We are so sorry!”

Unexpectedly, the apology came from a girl’s voice, and you had to turn around to see three familiar teenagers by the bedroom door.

Just last week, you would never have imagined ever seeing Mai, Maki, and Megumi together. Yet, here you were, watching the twins and their—technically speaking—nephew (cute) standing side-by-side, twiddling their thumbs in their nervous corner (also cute).

Flustered and prepared for admonishment, Mai bowed her head at a slight angle as she hurriedly explained, “We don’t…We don’t mean to put you in an awkward position. We just didn’t know what to do. Maki and I were worried when you fell to the floor and started throwing up. We…We should’ve asked for your permission on who to call for help. But we didn’t know who else to phone, so we ended up dialing Toji. Now, we’ve put you in a weird spot and that is all our fault—”

“Do not apologize. That was the right thing to do.” The comment came from yet another person, and when Sukuna and Choso stepped to the side, who you saw at the room’s furthest end was none other than Toji Fushiguro himself.

He had taken a seat all the way by the wall, with one leg thrust over the other in a relaxed but kingly sort of manner. With his sleeves rolled up, his forearms bled to his wrists with ink, and the emeralds in his sharp gaze gleamed as he stared pointedly in your direction.

Of everyone in the room, his countenance appeared the most composed, but you could feelhim reading through the emotions present on your face. He inclined forward, resting his elbow on his knee and his chin on his palm.

When he noticed the slightest shift in your posture too, the tiny scar by his lips flexed along with a smile.

“So, you’ve figured me out, hm?”

Easily, you could sense all seven pairs of eyes in the room (the four therapists plus the three teens) landing on you. The sudden attention rendered you nervous. Even if you chose silence as your response, the entire room, the entire planet, and perhaps even the entire galaxy could speculate your answer through your expression alone.

After a long while, you breathed out, “You didn’t tell me that you were a Zenin.”

The elephant in the room had to be addressed obviously, and you were not shy to confront the situation head-on.

While you did not intend to sound accusatory, your tone came off as such anyway. How could you not, when you had essentially been misled for weeks? Sure, Toji probably did not want to be badmouthing the Zenins to the very person (you) who had been recently married into the family. But, by withholding the fact that he and your husband were cousins, Toji had created much unnecessary anguish including the current limbo that your marriage was in right now.

Meanwhile, that same man pressed his nails into his chin in contemplation.

“I am not a Zenin, though,” he eventually corrected in a domineering voice, all austere in his throne. “At least, not any longer. I took my first wife’s last name years ago. I go by Fushiguro now.” Curt, direct, and pithy. Toji wasted not a syllable. “Everything worked out though, I guess. Naobito cut me off from the Zenin clan earlier this year. Gave me ten billion yen and told me to get lost, so I did.”

Toji always kept his private matters to himself, but with everything that he had gone through, you were struck by his poise, as if being expelled from such an influential household had been a high-school breakup he had gotten over long ago.

Nonetheless, you wondered if he missed that other life, and you brought your knees toward your chest.

“So,” how should you put this, “you’re not upset?”

Toji scoffed immediately.

“Upset?” A bitter grin spread off his lips. “Why would I be upset? That household is a trash dump. All my life, there were no choices for me to make when my uncles and granduncles decided everything already,” and he began counting with his fingers, “my teachers, my classes, my extracurriculars, my friends. Everything. I was only a puppet to bring honor to the family name, bring in money for the company.”

Listening to his sonorous voice, you rested your cheek onto a knee.

"I see."

His story was depressing, and from conversations with in-laws such as Mai and Maki, you knew that he was not lying, either. Coming from nobility as well, you were also aware of the pressures that came with the people who boasted their 'old-money' statuses, but the Zenin household had always been notorious for being miserable.

Toji had said so before in a prior discussion, how ‘family isn’t family for something like the Zenins’ because both politics and business took precedence.

Then, he went on.

“Some people would kill to have my problems, but I did not want that life, you know? Around the time I started college, I decided that I wanted to make judgments for myself and be my own distinct entity, but that made people upset. Privileged. Entitled. Ungrateful. Whatever. My family members called me many things as a young adult when they figured I did not want to be their pawn for my whole life, with the only person who understood me for many years being my best friend in university.”

Megumi’s mom.

Toji nearly appeared to be an altogether different person whenever he spoke about his first wife. The chartreuse in his eyes would stir with both sorrow and fond reminiscence as he thought about the Mrs. Fushiguro you would never get to meet, his closest confidant whom he lost to the cruel separation brought by life versus death. She must have been someone whom he valued a lot—a person who completely transformed him—as Toji had discarded his last name (which was Zenin, of all things) for hers.

‘He truly loved my mom,’ Megumi explained before. 'He had given up everything.’

Thus, fate could truly be unfair.

The loss and pain Toji must have endured, a topic Megumi had alluded to in his discussion with you before.

Not to mention, the expectations, frustration, and suffocation that came from the clan's elders, too. Experiencing the intense atmosphere in the Zenin household firsthand allowed you to empathize with him. Given the stark differences between him and your lawful husband, there was no wonder Toji did not wish to deal with his older relatives' high-strung conventions.

But, if he had been suffering so much…

“Why did you care so much for what your family thought?” you asked, disregarding the look that the three teenagers by the door exchanged with each other. “Toji, you went to university in the United States. You had a wife and son at a young age. You went from a business background to a licensed therapist, so why did you not—”

“Leaving is difficult when you’re the family heir and the corporation’s CEO.”

The expression that you then returned was blank.

Huh?

His words triggered something in your head, so you repeated after him.

“Leaving is difficult when,” and your voice trailed off, “when…you…are the heir and CEO.”

Heir. CEO.

Zenin.

Toji.

Naoya.

But Toji’s older.

‘Naoya got into a huge dispute with him earlier this year.’

Sheer realization slapped you hard across your face. No way.

“Toji,” you began after letting the revelation sink into you a while later, but your voice barely eeked above a mumble, “so you were once the successor to the Zenin household and company?"

The man in question did not respond, but the silent affirmation from the six other onlookers was an answer in itself.

Yes.

In hindsight, you wanted to say you had always seen the possibility. Still, you never fully registered this until now: the thoughtfulness in his strategy, the sophistication in his speech, the charisma in his leadership.

Previously, Toji had impressed you with how much he knew about the Zenin Corporation’s market share in the Asia-Pacific or the firm’s outsized influence on the international stage. Yet, most (including yourself) would not guess that someone like Toji Fushiguro—your tattooed and brawny sex therapist (plus single dad)—had once been heralded as the indisputable inheritor to the proud lineage and conglomerate.

That had been your mistake.

Toji was more than what people made him out to be, which reminded you to never assume anything superficially about someone—a remark he had once made. For good reason, because he had been referring to himself all along.

You could almost visualize Toji Fushiguro as the seasoned executive he had once been in light of this new information: his black strands slicked into a side part, his charcoal blazer freshly pressed, his leather oxfords newly polished.

Maybe because he was more mature or maybe because he was simply older, but Toji appeared more fitting for the important roles in the Zenin household compared to the man presently poised for succession.

Consequently, you must also ask, “Then, how did Naoya end up in your seat?”

Sukuna and Megumi shared a glance.

Choso grimaced, and Suguru kissed his teeth.

Meanwhile, Toji ran a lone finger down his jaw, following the lines from a tattoo.

“Let me give you some context, sweetheart,” he offered, now brushing his chin as he spoke. “For the last—let’s say—few hundred years, the oldest male in each generation became the leader in the Zenin clan. Is the rule stupid? Yes. Should there be more criteria in evaluating a potential heir aside from birth order? Also yes. But nothing has stopped this before because the Zenins, as you know by now, are a family built on antiquity and tradition. So, when I was born as the oldest male in my generation and Naoya had come in second place...”

Toji did not have to finish his sentence for you to figure out the rest.

Despite the demands that came along with being the next family head, Toji must have been esteemed as nothing short of a crown price among the Japanese elite, with seniors in the Zenin household utilizing all their resources to prepare the once young and starry-eyed boy for taking over such an influential role. Naturally, his enviable position would spark jealousy, even from those whom Toji deemed related to by birth.

Including his very own younger first cousin.

Toji frowned in exasperation.

“Your husband is one childish and jealous brat, but Naoya Zenin has been like that for as long as I have known him. To claim the heir and CEO titles, he acquired the trust from myself and my colleagues by working with us in sex therapy, only to stab us all in the back. He’s a liar. A total manipulator.”

And, from personal experiences, you knew that those words could not be more true.

At this point, Toji sank his handsome face into his immense palm.

“Well, now Naoya Zenin has everything he wants but is still an incompetent asshole. The whole enterprise is hanging by a thread. The entire clan cannot fucking stand him. What’s crazy is that his father Naobito is not doing anything about this, and I cannot tell if that is because the old man is giving his son free passes or because he has finally gotten senile. With Naoya's pettiness, though, the father-son duo have done everything to erase my name from the family, even going as far as to dismiss the executives that I brought onto the management team to undo my legacy.”

When Toji glanced up to cast his gaze forward, you then suddenly understood that the three other men in the room were more than just his fellow board-licensed colleagues.

You recalled Toji’s words in the Teyvat meeting room.

‘I recruited these guys right when they completed their undergraduate degrees, around the time I just opened my therapy office,’ and the puzzle pieces clicked into place from the realization that sex therapy had not been the only thing that Toji had worked with them on—Sukuna, Choso, and Suguru had been executives at the Zenin Corporation reporting to Toji, too. ‘We’ve been working together since, for the past four years.’

Discerning these revelations from your expressions, Toji added in confirmation.

“I had selected these three to oversee the Zenin Corporation’s operations with me,” he said, and you remembered the same conversation in which the men discussed their University of Tokyo studies while Toji listed their previous roles. Sukuna, Economics. “Sukuna, Director of Investments and Real Estate.” Choso, Mechanical Engineering. “Choso, Chief Engineer and Supply Chain Manager.” Suguru, Biology. “Suguru, Healthcare and Innovation Administrator.”

Arguably the most consequential divisions in a conglomerate that spanned numerous sectors, with each department bringing in yen by the billions every year.

‘These guys have treated me like family more than my blood-related kin have.’

Learning this about the four therapists added to your fascination.

For you, the discovery was like uncovering a hidden treasure trove. To imagine everything that the four—as one cohesive unit—had gone through together at the top of the corporate ladder: scrutiny from the media and stakeholders, impromptu meetings that demanded make-or-break decisions, and immediate responses to industry trends and regulations.

Only for them to be cast aside by no one other than your husband.

In the end, this all made sense.

Now, you understood why the therapists were once incredibly demeaning and belligerent toward you. How could they possibly sympathize with the woman married to the man who had taken virtually everything from them?

Heck, if you were in their shoes and had no further context, you would hate yourself, too.

Only now were you hearing their perspectives, and you were grateful that—compared to several weeks before—they trusted you enough to open up.

At last, all you could do was sigh and mutter, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

Sukuna shot back without hesitation, which stunned you given how he had been the one who mocked you the most. Yet, a scintilla of kindness flared in his fiery eyes, so you continued with your tone softer and quieter.

“I feel terrible.” Such vulnerability in front of so many people at once went beyond your comfort zone. “For the unfairness Naoya had brought upon you all, and how I…I can’t change anything. I can’t do anything. All I am is…useless.”

“No, you are powerful,” Suguru interjected this time. “Your husband relies on your public image to keep scrutiny off him. He needs you. He’s been demoralizing you for months because he knows the ball will always be in your court, and never his.”

His words made you stop.

“You truly think so?” you asked.

“Yes.”

Choso, who replied, seemed honest.

He was honest.

He might throw you off from how aloof and stoic his attractive face would appear, but Choso was not a liar.

Bringing your feet off the bed, you slowly swung your feet.

“I…am surprised you all even want to talk to me.”

Toji tugged at his dress shirt’s collar and flashed his ink-covered muscles underneath. “What makes you think that?”

His pointed question made you realize how much Naoya had been fucking with your mind, blaming and villainizing you at every chance, thus devolving you into a spineless worm feeling remorse for every little thing.

Shrugging, you tossed your gaze to the side.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “You could have avenged yourself by now. I am Naoya’s wife and Naobito’s daughter-in-law. There had been a thousand chances for you to do something horrible to me: to hurt me, blackmail me, spread dirty rumors about me, but…you haven’t.”

“Why would I do that?” Toji replied instantly and candidly. Rather than appearing offended by your judgments, he started giving you that look again whenever he had his therapist hat on—the one where he would tilt his head at a slight angle to gauge the sentiments painted across your face. “I could have chosen to be bitter and vengeful for the rest of my life, but I am grateful for what I have. Why let a toxic bunch impact my life? I already told you how that household is an absolute fucking hell. I'm glad I have found an out. At the very least, my son would not have to deal with the crap from my young adult years because you know who is the oldest male in the generation after mine?”

Megumi.

All gazes now fell upon the younger Fushiguro, who tried to casually shrug the attention off.

Who cares if I was second-in-line to leading perhaps the most prestigious family in Japan? his nonchalance wanted to convey, but his ears turned pink anyway.

Toji continued, “Then, of course, there are some people whom I care about a lot.” Using his head, he gestured to the twins. “These girls are the best aunts to my son that I, as a father, could ever ask for. They’re only one year older than Megumi, but Mai and Maki used to go on playdates with him on the weekends, walk him to school every morning, and cook him breakfasts over the holidays. The twins even helped my son take his first steps. There is this one photo we have in the library—I don’t know if you have gotten a chance before to see it. But there’s Mai and Maki, each holding one of Megumi’s little hands back in his chubby toddler days and—”

“Dad!” a very flustered and irritated teenage boy finally had to say. “This is not the time to talk about that picture!”

Next to him, a proud Mai and Maki coo and tease their grouchy nephew, poking at his puffed-up cheeks and ruffling his uncombed hair.

“Aw, is someone a little embarrassed?”

Smiling at the little banter from the trio, Toji did not let them distract him from his conversation with you. “What I’m trying to get at is…life’s too short not to enjoy the happy sides of it,” but his eyes glazed with rue nevertheless, “Now is the perfect time to focus on your well-being. Take a look around this room. A lot of people want to see you leading a fulfilling life, Y/N. A fulfilling life for yourself, not for anyone else. Not for me, not for anyone in this room, and certainly not for your husband. Nothing—and I mean absolutely nothing—should hold you back from pursuing your health and happiness.”

While you assumed that your best times were over, Toji reminded you those good days can be brought back with the right attitude. He had a point. Why should you allow your marriage to hinder you from connecting with people whom you care about, working towards the passions that brought you purpose, and feeling the love that you deserve?

Instead, you should seek every sunrise and sunset as an opportunity to live better and without regrets.

As you ruminated on this different mindset, a sudden knock from the door cut your thoughts short.

Who…

Like you, most others looked around blankly, but Toji ordered from his seat, “Let him in.”

Mai, who stood closest to the entryway, obeyed.

Once she unlocked the door, the room fell silent save for the footsteps of the man walking in, his soles creating soft echoes on the linoleum floor. Overhead, pale lights revealed the lines etched on his exhausted face, the worry that sat heavily on his chest.

“Mister Daisuke,” someone eventually acknowledged out of respect.

Your father did not hear the greeting as he searched the room, his sullen gaze darting from face to face until he found you. His shoulders fell from his overwhelming relief. Still in a suit after a long workday, he stumbled forward feebly.

“You’re alright,” he whispered between steps, scarcely audible.

He crouched toward the floor once he approached you, and when Suguru transferred your hands into your father’s, you noticed the unstoppable quiver from the latter even as you gripped him tightly in an attempt to stop the tremor.

His skin was tough, weathered by his additional decades in life. But, in his palms, you found the familiar tenderness that had comforted you since you were a little girl and, in his gaze, you noticed the sadness only found in the despair of a heartbroken parent.

“Thank goodness, you are okay,” and before everyone, tears slipped past his eyes, “I was terrified. I was so scared. When Toji called to tell me you had thrown up and collapsed, do you know how afraid I was?”

You glanced over at the said therapist, reminding yourself that—if Toji had been the CEO before Naoya—he must have worked very closely with your COO father up until recently. For your father to know exactly where you were and walk in with this expression suggested that the former colleagues had had a lengthy conversation about your circumstances. A part of you wanted to be angry. Why drag your father into this worry? But a larger part of you had always wanted to reveal to him the wretched months that had gone by and longed for his support.

And now, he was here.

The older man took a shuddering breath and brought his fingers to your cheek, holding and cradling you like he would never get to do this again.

“I can’t lose you,” he lamented. “I have lost enough in my life already. I cannot lose you, too. I just can’t. Why have you not told me the truth? If you were not happy with Naoya, why have you not told me sooner? Did you think I would place my loyalty to the company over my own child? I feel so guilty and broken to hear about what you have been going through.”

Frankly, you felt just as broken, too.

In fact, seeing and hearing your father weep like this shattered you. As devoted as your father was, his front never failed to be unwavering and strong. Even when your mother’s death left a significant hole in his heart, he bit back his grief. Scars from your mother’s untimely death scarred his heart, wounds that never healed and would stay with him until his last breath, but he rarely expressed his suppressed sorrow.

All for your sake. Because you were his one and only daughter, his one and only child.

So now, for him to see you in such a sorry state was crushing his whole world that had become you.

“Dad.” You helped him wipe his tears away, just like how he had always done for you. “I didn’t want to make you disappointed. I didn’t want to make you sad. I…I just wanted to protect you.”

“No,” he responded firmly. How could a loving father accept the possibility that his daughter would even think about placing him before herself? “Protect yourself first.”

You looked up when you sensed two more approaching individuals and found Mai and Maki with doleful smiles.

“We still have something to return to you, Y/N.”

In your left palm, each girl pressed one ring—the first which promised a future forever and the second which symbolized an infinite unity.

You stared at the jewelry as your chest remembered the waves of happiness, excitement, hope, confusion, betrayal, and pain.

So, so much pain.

Your father, who would not miss the solemn undertones in your gaze, squeezed your hands in his.

“My dear daughter,” he started, and you could tell he could no longer bear to see you suffer any longer, “what are you planning to do?”

Your throat turned dry.

Any possibility seemed like a viable solution, a means for a desperate escape.

For months, you should have prepared yourself for this very question, but now that you were confronted with this reality for the first time, you did not know what to say.

You had clutched onto the false hope for your troubled marriage to be sorted out. Escaping your dreary matrimony had once been too far-fetched of an option given an impending cold war between your families, which you would never wish upon the stars to happen. Therefore, even as you found yourself stuck on a stifling dead end, you did not exactly prepare for the next steps for the occasion you found Naoya Zenin’s mistreatment too much to bear.

However, times have changed.

Your allies and enemies have changed.

Most of all, you have changed.

Therefore, with all the universe’s possibilities at your fingertips, one particular option stuck out.

“I’m going to file for a divorce.”

last chapter || next chapter

end notes: So many things. To see us freak out at the idea of a divorce during the beginning of the fic, up to now, where we suggested the option out of our volution. Also, the much-needed heart-to-heart conversation between Toji and us, and how that really shows a slow maturation in our relationship with him (and everyone else)! Let me know what you think, and see you next chapter!

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sspookyspoonss · 5 months

Text

I know nothing about Doctor Who except what friends occasionally excitedly tell me. I am also bored. Here is an undoubtably factual explanation of each of the ‘new?’ Doctors:

Doctor…. Who??????:

I know nothing about this guy. Nobody I know talks about Christopher Eccleston nor have I caught wind of any internet discussion. My conclusion is there is a conspiracy to not talk about him for no reason other than the fandom got bored and thought it would be funny. I think this Doctor would like to go to football matches and would get very upset if the team he likes doesn’t win. You would probably randomly meet him at a pub and would have a nice chat with him, however, he’d take you back to the Tardis and you would most likely die via Dalek plunger (a thing I am informed they can kill you with). I also think he would like watching reality TV, he gives of that vibe.

Tumblr Doctor:

The internet likes this guy. David Tennant is cool, so I understand. I think this is ‘wibbly wobbly timey wimey’ guy so I am inclined to think that he also says things like ‘milkys’ and ‘dindins’ to his friends. Even if he is not ‘timey wimey’ guy I still think he still would say ‘milkys’ and the like, gives off that vibe.

He has some angst to do with a woman. I’m not sure why but I’m guessing it’s to do with Thomas Edison. The Doctor knows he stole most of his inventions because he can time travel and saw it happen, not stopping him is one of the Doctor’s greatest failures, however, his lady friend is a victim of the British Education system and thinks otherwise. They break up over it, angst ensues, Thomas Edison has ruined someone else’s life even after he’s dead.

‘I don’t like this guy’ Doctor:

I do not like this Doctor, worst one. Nothing against Matt Smith or his performance, I’m sure it was brilliant, I’ve seen that Van Gough clip and it made me cry 10/10. More importantly than that however, my supposed childhood best friend who was actually just bullying and manipulating me said he was her favourite so I look at him and remember I wasted my childhood with her. He can make it up to me if he time travels and gets child me a better friend. Then he will be the best Doctor.

He or Tumblr Doctor has a wife????? I think???? I’m not sure but which one it is but because of my bias I’m saying it’s this guy. I know it’s dodgy because of time travel so he needs to go to space jail (or as Tumblr Doctor probably calls it, the ‘Naughty Step’). I’m assuming they also have a child, making every reincarnation of the Doctor from here on out a deadbeat who needs to pay A LOT of child support. That is why he regenerated, so he could avoid paying it, ‘Court can’t prove I’m the Dad if I don’t have his face.’ Arsehole.

Screwdriver scandal TM Doctor:

He looks like a nice guy. This Doctor would sit you down and give you a therapy session after you nearly get killed by a Weeping Angel. I would like having a talk with him, it would be nice. I feel like he is the most well adjusted Doctor, although that could just be Peter Capaldi’s immaculate vibes. This Doctor pays his taxes. He doesn’t like Paddington Bear for some reason. Due to his well adjustedness, I am lead to believe the twist in Paddington 3 is that Paddington is The Master (who I think is a villain) and will go on a rampage across London, turning people into Marmalade. It will be up to the Doctor and the family I’ve forgotten the name of, to stop him. This would also provide an explanation for why the Mum’s actor has changed, to fix Paddingtons mess they had to time travel which led to the Dad marrying a different woman.

He threw away the Sonic Screwdriver apparently. Previously mentioned childhood best friend complained to no end about it to me. Knowing fanbases other people were also likely very upset, I’m guessing it felt like it did to me when Luke Skywalker chucked his lightsaber over his shoulder in The Last Jedi. I also think Screwdrivergate is a tragedy because they didn’t take the opportunity to replace the Screwdriver with another, even sillier, Sonic _______. I suggest either a Sonic Scented Candle or a Sonic Keyring. Alas, it was not to be.

‘WOMAN AAAAAAAAAAAAA’ Doctor:

People don’t like her because woman. People also don’t like her because of bad writing. Last time I checked, neither of these are Jodie Whittaker’s fault. I don’t have much to say about her except my new, (actually great this time) friend who likes Doctor Who has an emotional reaction every time she is brought up. Genuine sadness and disappointment in my friends eyes. I suggest that this means this is a fantastic Doctor, to the point it is art. A sign of good art is something that garners a strong emotional reaction. Despair at the state of the franchise and societies misogyny may not have been the intention, but a strong reaction is incurred nonetheless, so success, this is art now.

‘Guess Who’s back!’ Doctor:

Erm, not sure how in canon this works but David Tennant seems to be having a nice time so it’s good. The alternative name for this Doctor is ‘Production Budget Doctor’ because from the ends of episodes I’ve seen (I watch Strictly Come Dancing because ooo pretty dresses and it’s on after) the Tardis looks very fancy and like it’s from a big budget film. Coffee also got spilled on it which is funny because it messed the Tardis up, meaning not even the technology of a near God can withstand dumbass humans with liquids. Hilarious. Also, an apt metaphor for many things.

In conclusion: I’m sorry for any brain damage caused to the good members of the Doctor Who fanbase who read this. Have a nice day.

#apologies #doctor who #bbc #david tennant #matt smith #jodie whittaker #peter capaldi #christopher eccleston #ninth doctor #tenth doctor #eleventh doctor #twelfth doctor #thirteenth doctor #fourteenth doctor

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cassandrasimplex · 7 months

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Listen, when I say, as an abuse survivor, that Astarion's storyline is written with care, delicacy, and profound understanding: Since I completed it a few days ago, which I found incredibly cathartic and fulfilling due to points of commonality with the nature and causes of my CPTSD, I've been sleeping 7-8 hours a night straight through (instead of 3-5 at a time), my resting heart rate has dropped almost 10 beats per minute, I've had zero nightmares (based not just on what I remember but also on how much I move and talk in my sleep), and my fitness tracker wants to know what I've been doing different lately and whether I can keep it up.

I don't expect this change to be permanent or even long-lasting, but not even months of therapy at a time have ever had a positive effect so strong my tracker picked up on it. Not even when I was in crisis mode and only able to sleep 2 or 3 hours a day was therapy able to improve my sleep and my well-being so immediately. Astarion's storyline from finding Cazador's prisoners to the final confrontation, which took me a bit over an hour, did. If you want to count all the narrative build-up to that climax that gave it meaning, call it six weeks' investment for such a dramatic improvement.

The idea that trauma-aware roleplay can help people with PTSD and especially CPTSD find short-term peace and even a long-term improvement in overall functioning and mental health isn't new to me. I stumbled across it on my own, unguided, 30+ years ago. It's a bit newer to most therapists, but it's an approach used in experiential therapy and some related strategies and had been studied for much longer before its incorporation in such toolkits. But BG3 isn't being sold as therapy; it's being sold as a fun video game to play in one's free time.

The thing about CPTSD and recovery from abuse in general is that you have to practice new ways of reacting to the world. Therapies like cognitive behavior therapy focus on helping the patient replace old, maladaptive patterns of thinking that helped them survive a traumatic situation but hinder functioning in safer environments with intentionally-created ones that would have been too dangerous to practice in the traumatic environment but are healthier and more supportive outside it. These patterns have to be practiced, though; it's not enough to just correct yourself once with a more affirming statement and wait for results. You have to do it over and over until it becomes your new default. And results matter. If practicing the new behavior or thought results in the kind of negative outcome it would have prompted in the original abusive situation, the effect is that the old, maladaptive pattern is reinforced instead: "See? I knew acting that way would be too dangerous. I knew thinking that way would just be lying to myself. I already know what's best. The way I've always behaved in order to survive is what serves to keep me safe."

Which is why Astarion's storyline is both so effective and so astonishingly well done. Over and over, you get the chance to reassure him that your friendship is not merely a set of opportunistic transactions, that you don't want to control him, that you see him as a person rather than a puppet or a tool, that he can refuse to manage your feelings for you or even outright hurt your feelings without being "punished" for it. You can comment out loud to him when you catch him being manipulative and tell him that's not how your friendship works while still accepting and supporting him as a person, as a friend. You can make your friendship with him an environment completely opposite in nature to his relationship with his abuser. You can teach him -- and, if you need it, yourself -- what a safe environment looks like. And you can teach him that his abuser's behavior was successful in an environment created specifically to reserve all power for the abuser, but doesn't serve as well outside that situation, to encourage him to find healthier ways of dealing with the world than the ones that were modelled for him within that trauma. (Am I projecting? Of course I'm projecting; that's precisely what makes roleplay such an effective tool. It's a natural human tendency that can be used to advantage.)

And somewhere in your psyche, if you're a person who needs to hear all that as much as Astarion does, your mind is taking note: "How I thought the whole world works was wrong. Only that one little part of the world worked that way. The world is much bigger than the limited environment that hurt me. There are better ways to live and be." The parts of the brain where trauma plants its deepest roots can't tell the difference between play and reality, between past and present. They can't tell the difference between "I can make a safer environment for this person in front of me" and "I can go back in time and make a safer environment for the person I used to be." (That's why so many abuse survivors feel compelled to help other abuse survivors -- empathy, yes, and identification, but on a deeper level than that; we try to become the person who never showed up to help us.)

And if "this person in front of me" happens to be a fictional character, well, it can't really tell the difference between fiction and reality either -- especially when the fiction has a visible face and an audible voice and convincing expression in both.

I'm not in the slightest saying, "Go out and buy BG3 to fix yourself!" because using roleplay as therapy is far too highly personal and variable to expect consistent results from a script. There might be people whose trauma is reinforced by the same things that spoke so soothingly to mine. Larian is a video game company, not a therapist. But I can't get over the way a video game company for fuck's sake has created such a sensitive, tender, supportive story that it can even accidentally function this way. They didn't have to go so hard. They didn't have to lean so far into empathy. They didn't have to bring so much realism into it. They could have just told an interesting story. They did tell an interesting story -- but someone here decided they needed to tell it so well, so powerfully, that they were going to need to know exactly what living through events like those would do to a person, and how a friend would have to act to support that person in working toward happiness and health.

Well fucking done, Larian. Extremely well fucking done.

And although I can't reasonably expect the current effects to last, I can carry something lasting from here on; I can add "What would I say to Astarion right now?" to the list of questions I ask myself when triggered, when I realize I'm experiencing an implicit flashback. What would I say to Astarion? What would I say to a friend? What would I say to someone I care about who's been through the same things I have? What would I say to myself if I thought I deserved to be happy and free?

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 spoilers #astarion #astarion ancunin #Larian #ptsd #complex ptsd #cptsd #child abuse #abuse survivor

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oshinsimblr · 1 year

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10+ simple phone mods my sims use for better gameplay

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writteninsunflowers · 20 days

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Soft Nights

Rain tapped perpetually against the window of the Bakugou house. The sound usually lulls you into a deeper sleep, instead, it jolts you awake, eyes slowly looking around the dark bedroom. Once your eyes adjust to the light from the mini nightlight, you realize that you're alone. Katsuki, your husband had come home after a hard day of hero work, showered, fed, and played with your daughter, Kiyomi, then climbed in bed after one last look into her bedroom. It was rare to wake up and not find Katsuki still cuddled into your back.

Sure when he was still a rookie, he'd be out late still completing paperwork, and dealing with constant complaints from his boss, now with seven years under his belt, his shared agency with Izuku, and now with a wife and child at home, he'd made it his duty to be home before 10 p.m. every night. You search blindly for your phone, tapping the screen to check the time, 1:51 a.m., just a few minutes short of the time your body would usually wake you to check in on Kiyomi. Maybe Katsuki had been called in for a late-night mission, or he might be in your home office reading over a case. You pad into the bathroom to relieve your bladder, then head toward the nursery. Once inside, you turn on the lamp, already prepping the changing table when you notice that the crib is empty. Exiting the room, you walk toward the opposite end of the house, your steps halting once you've reached the threshold of your living room. A smile graces your face as you stand against the wall, hiding in the shadows. You watch silently as Katsuki paces the floor, your daughter curled into his chest, right over his heart as he hums a tune that you're sure that you've heard his mother hum to Kiyomi as she rocked her to sleep. Your heart soars, continuing to watch Katsuki as he sways side to side.

Only a handful of people have ever seen your husband in such a peaceful state, blond brows relaxed, his normal scowl replaced with a soft smile. Anyone who knew the man personally knew that the angel in his arms was his peace. She and her mother were his world, his life, and the reason to be a better man. Katsuki may have been one of the Top 5 pro heroes, an accomplishment he is proud of, though he still had days when he felt that being a hero was just too much. He still had nightmares of the occasional civilian deaths and his kidnapping by the L.O.V. in high school. Katsuki was grateful that you encouraged him, even if it did take him six months of denial, three arguments that led to many nights of sleeping on the couch in the office with no sex. The trait that he admired the most about you was your passion. When you were passionate about something, you did not give up, and you were pretty damned passionate about your family and friends and their well-being. So when you'd finally grown tired of the tossing and turning and the sleepless nights, you scheduled Katsuki's first therapy session. Of course, the stubborn bull by the name of Katsuki made that difficult. It took him about two months to finally open up and almost a full year to understand that some things were out of his control and that he was indeed deserving of love and forgiveness. He eventually invited Izuku, who had forgiven him years ago, but appeased him anyway. Eventually, Katsuki started to smile more around his family and friends, a sense of calmness overtaking him when in the presence of his loved ones.

Katsuki's eyes open, taking in the peaceful look on his daughter's face. She smiled as she slumbered, snuggling deeper into her father's warm chest. He fingers at thick chestnut curls, placing a soft kiss into her hair. Deciding that it was now time to put Kiyomi in her crib, he grabs the soft elephant blanket from the nearby sofa, turning toward the hallway to be met by you. He tugs you under his arm once he's in reach, placing a kiss on your lips then continues toward Kiyomi's room. Once you've returned to your bed, Katsuki pulls you into his chest, fingers sliding into your hair soothingly. He plays with a single curl until he feels you relax further into his chest, finally drifting to sleep. He kisses your forehead, softly whispering, "Thank you", then wraps his arms protectively around you before finally joining you and your daughter in Dreamland.

#mha #bakugou katsuki #black reader #self indulgent #katsuki bakugo x reader #melanin #soft bakugou #bnha #cross posted on ao3

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soongtypehuman · 8 days

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Boo-hoo update

I’m sorry to say I have an update I was hoping to not ever have to make. Some of you already know that I have some serious health issues, but I've been pretty quiet about the extent of what I'm dealing with.

The gist of it is that I have a rare bone disease called fibrous dysplasia that turned certain bones in my skull into tumors and then those tumors grew inward and started crushing my brain, so I had a craniotomy last year to remove as much as was safe and got a cool new titanium implant in my head to replace the removed bone/tumor. The unfortunate result was encephalomalacia, which is the end stage of liquifying necrosis, and now part of my brain is liquid instead of solid (it’s dead, in a nutshell). Most people don’t survive encephalomalacia, much less remain able to function, and most who survive the initial stage don’t survive the three year mark. Even when you do survive it, it often continues spreading. The last MRI showed it had already taken over about 1/3 of my brain. But I’m a stubborn asshole and am still hanging on.

Unfortunately, things aren’t getting better.

I have to have constant MRIs, EEGs, physical and cognitive therapies, and have been on more meds than I’d like to be in order to control seizures and various cognitive issues. I didn’t mention this before, but I had to go through a series of speech therapies just to learn to talk properly again. And the most unfortunate part of this is that my ability to write has been affected. Since the surgery over a year ago, I’ve only made 10 new posts in the Positronic Rivalry series, totaling around 87k words. For reference, I posted over 200k words in 2022. I’ve posted even less this year, and it’s not improving.

With that said, I have to take a step back. I’m not quitting and I’m not walking away from the fandom. I’d like to think I’ll still be able to post here and there. I just don’t know when and under what circumstances that will happen. I most certainly can’t handle the longer multi-chapter fics I once could. Maybe one day, but not this day. Since I started posting on AO3 back at the end of 2021, I’ve posted every Sunday more often than not. I’m sorry to say I can’t make that happen right now, and can’t say when I’ll post again or what it will be. I won't be able to continue with season 4.

But I’m most definitely not leaving the fandom and the people and the characters I love so much. I’ll still be here interacting and posting when I’m able. This fandom and the people in it are incredible and mean a lot to me. Data and Lore and Star Trek in general are integral to my life and general enjoyment.

But!! I’ve nearly completed compiling seasons 1-3 of Positronic Rivalry as well as 2022/23 Kinktobers into files that will be ready to print in physical book format (completely free, obviously), which I’ll make available for everyone to download in various print sizes, complete with covers, which you can then have printed at various POD sites if you’re so inclined. Digital versions will also be available (you can already download various formats from AO3, but they’re not compiled into seasons, don’t have covers, etc.).

I’m also continuing with the Trek-themed crossword puzzles because those are fun and my therapist thinks making them is good for my cognitive rehab.

This update is a massive bummer for me, but I felt it was better to just admit my limitations instead of constantly trying to convince myself that I could continue the way I had been pre-surgery and beating myself up when I couldn’t.

Lastly, I’ve finally taken the suggestion I’ve gotten repeatedly and set up a KoFi. If you’d like to buy me a coffee or toss a coin to your android porn witcher, you can do so right here and I’d be giggling and kicking my feet in gratitude.

Anyhow, I want to thank all of you for being amazing and coming along on this ride with me for as long as you have, and for as long as it might continue in whatever form it takes.

#star trek #fanfic #fanfiction #star trek the next generation #star trek tng #data soong #commander data #lore soong #lore star trek #st tng #kofi

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allthecanadianpolitics · 8 months

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Crow Heyden-Kaye was in Grade 8 when a worksheet handed out during class asked students to consider how they would describe their gender. It was the first time it occurred to Crow that "girl" didn't actually fit with how he felt. Over the next few years, he began using the pronouns they and them. In Grade 10, he came out as trans. His pronouns are "he" and "they." "Immediately, it was like something clicked," said Heyden-Kaye, who is now 18 and lives with his parents and sibling in Ponoka, a central Alberta town of about 7,300 people. At 16, he asked his mom to make an appointment with their longtime family doctor so he could get a referral to a gender clinic. He wanted to start exploring the possibility of hormone replacement therapy. But during the telephone appointment, the family doctor began asking questions Heyden-Kaye felt were inappropriate. "What if I wanted to get pregnant someday? What if I had a husband someday? Not related at all," he said. "I think he asked me 'What if you want to keep your boobs?' " A week later, a staff member from the doctor's office called back and said the physician was also recommending that Heyden-Kaye read a book that discouraged transitioning. "A referral was all that we wanted and then it would be out of his hands. He refused to do that for us."

Tagging: @politicsofcanada

#Transphobia #Trans Healthcare #Transgender #LGBTQ #cdnpoli #canada #canadian politics

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real-fire-emblem-takes · 3 months

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I think something just clicked for me about the three houses lords. They're all ideal lords. Almost genre savy - in a like, Hamlet kind of way. For games that aren't Three Houses and don't *have* three lords, and worlds that haven't been manipulated by an extremely active dragon church for centuries (or longer).

Dimitri is so prepared for betrayal that Edelgard implicating herself is enough for him to snap. He would have charged at Arvis before he had a chance to do half of what he did if he in Sigurd's shoes. Instead, he thrusts into conflict so quickly and avoids like, talking to Edelgard for five minutes to learn the real situation... Not that she's inclined to explain either.

Which brings me to Edelgard herself. She is also genre savy in her own way - she works hard to keep her activities a secret and she *knows* she is surrounded by betrayers with TWSITD (and knows they can replace people too, crucially). She could've caught onto what was going on in Nohr faster and maneuvered around it without others catching in. Instead, her paranoia leads her to fails to communicate with the two people who are, arguably, in the best possible positions to help her - assuming she could find common ground beyond the church. (Which is, quite possibly, the point - Seiros' influence is everywhere in Fodlan, and centralizes in the very place the lords all meet.)

Claude... Would probably get along in Soren's position better than Soren himself. (Though I won't say he's the better tactician, he just seems like he'd get along with them). But he doesn't particularly deal with the problems borne from the church. (Like. The church of Seiros erased medical science progress, the printing press, and other key inventions that could have been huge and improved quality of life throughout Fodlan). Arguably the most relevantly genre savvy - in his own route at least. He is weighed down by circumstance of his smaller, fractured nation though.

Rhea is a good point here, too. In Awakening, she'd basically have been Tiki. (She also might've been able to survive longer than Alear's mom in engage...) But what happened to her mother and family scarred her beyond belief and left her shattered... And she promptly never got therapy for centuries and created a lot of oppressive systems to rewrite the narrative and manipulate the threats to her surviving kin.

Yuri... Yuri is in the correct game. Lay low, bide time, don't rush into any major plans all at once, and side with the professor who seems to have gotten a holy dye job over spring break. 10/10, Ashen Wolves stay winning.

#fe #fire emblem #fe16 #fe3h #fire emblem three houses #fe 3 houses #edelgard von hresvelg #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #claude von riegan #yuri leclerc #rhea fire emblem

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bbcphile · 6 months

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We’ve talked a lot in Mysterious Lotus Casebook about the importance of the Eastern Sea beach, but I just realized that waterfalls also play a really important role in the show, especially as related to Di Feisheng! Di Feisheng’s interactions with waterfalls reflect his past memories of and feelings for Li Xiangyi and hopes for the future with Li Lianhua.

Immediately after his enthronement ceremony, Di Feisheng escapes to a private gorgeous waterfall to drink wine and reminisce about missing Li Xiangyi and how empty things feel without him. The waterfall is beautiful, secluded but with good sightlines, and sensorily soothing (smell and sound of moving water)—everything the Di Fortress wasn’t—so it is probably one of the few places he can actually decompress. He certainly seems more at home there than he does in the alliance headquarters or at his training grounds, given his occasional half-smile and more relaxed body language replaced the crossed arms, loose fists, rigid posture, and hypervigilance to his surroundings he often has. Given his usual discomfort in new places, his comfort at this waterfall suggests that he’s spent time here prior to entering seclusion, especially since Wuyan knew to meet him there. Once we learned about the extent of his trauma, I’d assumed that this private waterfall functioned as a safe space–for any of you lucky enough to have not needed PTSD therapy, it means a place you can visit or imagine to calm down and ground yourself in the present if you’re experiencing flashbacks or other symptoms, and moving bodies of water are common choices–and that it was comforting because of the space itself and not because of any associations between waterfalls and memories of Li Xiangyi.

But then Di Feisheng visited a waterfall in the back hill of the Sigu sect (!!!) three times in three episodes (!!!), which make waterfalls even more overtly associated with Li Xiangyi. For the first instance, he meets Wuyan at the Sigu waterfall after he failed to break into the prison there. Di Feisheng must have spent time there in the past in order to have suggested it as a meeting spot for Wuyan in the first place, and it must have been a secret that he knew about it for it to not have already been crawling with guards after he defeated the entire sect leadership. This is the first big suggestion that he and Li Xiangyi had spent significant amounts of time alone together at the waterfall before the East Sea battle 10 years ago, and that he still treasures those memories. The fact that Di Feisheng spends the scene staring with overt longing at the waterfall, even while Wuyan is talking to him, makes this reading seem even more likely. It might also explain why he loves his own private waterfall, if waterfalls and memories of happy times with Li Xiangyi are so inextricably linked.

Di Feisheng leaves the waterfall that reminds him of Li Lianhua just long enough to save the man himself by taking Qiao Wanmian “hostage” and proposing a prisoner exchange at the gazebo on the back hill of the Sigu sect. This gazebo is, of course, right next to the waterfall he couldn’t take his eyes off, so back to the waterfall he goes.

After having deposited Qiao Wanmian at the gazebo, Di Feisheng resumes staring at the waterfall, not taking his eyes off it during his entire conversation with Wuyan, which is, like the conversation at his own private waterfall, mostly about wanting Li Xiangyi in his life. It’s no surprise, then, that everything Di Feisheng does at the waterfall is to try to win back Li Xiangyi’s trust: first, he protects Li Lianhua’s identity by claiming his own Beifeng Baiyang cured a-Mian’s poison, and second, in freeing the subordinate who can prove to Li Lianhua that the Jinyuan Alliance was framed for Shan Gudao’s murder, he gives Li Lianhua proof that he didn’t betray his trust or break the peace treaty. With the prisoner exchange, then, the waterfall becomes more than just a reminder of his memories of Li Xiangyi: it becomes the site of two acts of service (Di Feisheng’s main love language) designed to restore Li Lianhua’s trust and their former intimacy to what it used to be.

The last time we see Di Feisheng and the Sigu sect waterfall is when he’s been poisoned with Wuxin Huai and is struggling to stay conscious and about to lose his memory: he carves “find Li Lianhua” on his palm with a rock, then stumbles past the very gazebo he’d placed the formerly poisoned Qiao Wanmian in and into the water, hoping it will carry him to where Li Lianhua can find him. The entire time he’s writing and then walking, the waterfall is behind him, but as he begins to lose consciousness, he twists before he hits the water, which means that he’s facing the waterfall as the current carries him away. This scene perfectly and heartbreakingly shows the connection between waterfalls and Di Feisheng’s memories of Li Xiangyi, which he knows he’s about to lose from the poison; you could even read the way he wants to float down the river while facing the waterfall, even though he’s unconscious and unable to see it, as his trying to hold onto his memories of Li Xiangyi for as long as he can, by facing the waterfall that represents him until it’s gone from view.

The Sigu Sect waterfall then becomes a literal safe space when he has nowhere else to go and when he’s being hunted by his own people (a nightmare that must have at least in part reminded him of his time at the Di Fortress). For him to trust it to carry him safely while unconscious, given his trauma history, he must be so familiar with it from his time with Li Xiangyi that he would know both where the waterfall would spit him out, and that the area is secluded enough that no Jinyuan alliance members would find and kill him. In other words, the Sigu Sect waterfall brings him the same sense of safety, familiarity, comfort, and protection that Li Xiangyi/Lianhua himself provides, and he entrusts his unconscious body to its waters just as carving his name into his palm entrusts his body to the man himself.

It’s no wonder, then, that Di Feisheng’s fainting into the Sigu Sect waters is a literal trust fall that he hopes will carry him from the waterfall that embodies past memories with Li Xiangyi to Li Lianhua himself; he knows Li Lianhua will help and protect him as the water did, and hopes that he will regain not only the memories of Li Xiangyi, but also the trust of Li Lianhua, and perhaps, an even closer intimacy than they once had by the Sigu Sect waterfall.

#mysterious lotus casebook #MLC meta #Di feisheng #Di Feisheng #Li Xiangyi #waterfalls #PTSD #Thanks to @kingsandbastardz for listening to me gush about DFS and waterfalls and for setting my brain on fire by saying trust fall

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