#more comfortable in their sexualities if they can disassociate from the characters by at least their gender

[the-annoying-mom-friend]

to begin this I'm not trying to be a hater and I'm especially not trying to be a hater of the queer media that we have been getting this summer/will be getting this fall because it is really important BUT it'd be great if the queer media we always talk about would more often be about sapphics

[pazpatas]

Remember this is only my opinion you can disagree;]

I don’t know if anyone will agree but, I hate the yaoi fanart of Hannigram and Lacho. As a guy who is actively involved in the Hannibal and Better Call Saul / Breaking Bad fandoms, I am really not comfortable with these types of art. The characters aren’t ruined but it seems as if people miss completely the point of the shows.

Lacho is just… meh and shouldn’t be a ship. Like BRO THEY HAVE NO CHEMISTRY (in my opinion) and I know it’s hard to say, but Nacho Varga and Lalo Salamanca are straight men… who deal drugs and are just cool criminals. I get that there’s not a lot of people you can ship in this fandom, but these are just cool characters and y’all are ruining them with your horny bullshit.

Edit: I removed the lacho tag, you can stop commenting about me being rude. Damn y’all like to attack people who don’t have the same opinion as you.

Hannigram is a ship and it’s a very cool one! I like it, but when it’s done correctly:

There’s 3 whole seasons cooking this delicious soup of nuanced interest between Hannibal and Will. I love this series, especially as an asexual, because it shows sexual intimacy in a much more complex way and from a completely different perspective. At least, it is different from how we usually see it in media.

This intimacy is here to make us observe, these people; them and only them, in the rawest selves, between each other. That’s why it is so important. NBC Hannibal shows different characters in these moments, adding music and interesting visuals; they play with colours and sounds of fungus. Every scene is just so cool to watch and not as awkward as it usually is. I like how it looks like, people are merging in one. Sex scenes, like Alana with Hannibal and Margo with Will’s intimate shots, can also portray something that is happening subconsciously outside the very scene, disassociated from the moment.

(Hannibal spoilers season 3, 13 episode!!!)

Now, the coolest thing is that the relationship between the murder husbands doesn’t need sex. In my opinion, it’s purely intellectual! When it get’s physical its because they’re both killing the dragon. That was their intimate connection, the first time truly being with each other, not divided by two sides. They are one, together versus the dragon. After that, Will sees Hannibal; by that I mean that he sees his whole nature, and he can’t go back. His family is an illusion of something normal, but Will has reached something greater. After feeling Hannibal’s way of viewing the world he feels that he belongs. Of course, after realising that he is now with Lecter; that they are not understood by the world they exist in, both of them need to become even greater than their actual form. They had to die because their love is spiritual. By transcending into a bodyless form.

Hannibal, for me is the sanest character, he is always fine. The only moment when he’s not alright, is when Will “betrays him”. In Florence, Dr. Lecter is reckless, he kills a lot more than he needs to. He sees people, who he consumes, as pigs. It doesn’t feel bad killing them, because they’re just little animals walking around. He of course enjoys their company, humans can be befriended and he spends time with them with pleasure. It is still possible to eat them, except Will. Lecter, after Grahams betrayal, doesn’t trust him anymore. He does not want to show his true self to him anymore. Hannibal regrets opening up after he truly thought that he could be understood. So, Dr. Lecter convinces himself that Will is also just some meat. Yet again, seeing Will, after Florence, being on the same side, when they’re both confronted by Mason, Hannibal sees Will as a partner. A partner in a love crime.

SO NOW PLEASE FUCK OFF WITH YOUR PENCIL DRAWING OF NBC CHARACTERS FUCKING EACH OTHER /ref (welcome to the internet by Bo Burnham)

P.S. I realy like cute mini comics those are cool and funny keep doing them 💪

Again only my opinion, you can disagree, I literally don’t care. I would like to know your opinion actually!

[funkymbtifiction]

I got John Lucovich’s book “The Instinctual Drives and the Enneagram” a few weeks ago and read it, but it was a lot of information to absorb at once, so I’m rereading it in slower chunks this time to retain more of it. First, it’s an excellent book so I recommend buying and reading it. Second, rereading his extensive explanations of each social variant had certain people popping into my head, both characters and from my life that I could see correlate with each dominant. (It surprises me, but one of my friends appears to be a so/sx. I expected sx/so.) I can also see how accurately (at least, based on what I observe of these people) his blind-spot descriptions are.

Third, I do think I’m sp/so. I have a lot of social, but my main focus appears to be on self-pres and this has caused some conflict with social dominants in the past, where they couldn’t understand my casual detachment in that area (oh well) and I thought their over-focus on appearances was a bit much. I also want to pull away from people and be autonomous, where social dominants seem to want more of a constant connection. (Them: Wouldn’t us living together be incredible? I could see you all the time! Me: *looks on them with horror*)

One thing I really liked that brought my entire approach into context was this quote from the self-preservation section in general:

“Self Preservation types have a strong capacity for working and putting effort in a focused direction. They usually don’t have ambition for status so much as a drive for material or creative accomplishment, or for a place where their energy can be channeled into something practical and meaningful. Self Preservation builds a quality of persistent, useful energy that’s useful to building toward long-term aims.”

That... explains a lot about me, and my work process. How despite being an ENFP and having an overload of my ideas, I identify and focus on doing one massive project at a time, rather than flitting my attention between them. I stay focused. Work on things until they’re done. It demands enormous amounts of mental energy that soon deplete me and cause me to withdraw, feel tired, or just want to cozy up at home. This is why I’m not social or extroverted in a traditional sense. SP-doms are aware of energy expenditure and worn out by socializing. I can also tell where having inferior Si undermines being an sp-dom to some extent. I often work myself mentally into exhaustion, as John L. would call it, “overdoing it” rather than “under-doing it.”

My happiest and most mentally well times are when I allow myself to admit I am tired and quit work for the day, even if it’s not finished yet. When I push away my need for completion (low Te) in the knowledge that my mind and body needs down time to rejuvenate, and a one or two day delay at the cost of mental exhaustion isn’t worth it. Sensors and stronger Si types seem to be better at recognizing a need for rest than me.

I’ve been pushing myself too hard recently, unfortunately... but the bonus thing is, I am almost done with book rewrites! Just two more sections to go. :)

I took some notes on the things the types focus on under stress (this really brought to mind certain characters) to show you other useful things his book provides:

Enneagram types under stress:

 Self-pres: fear of scarcity and harm

 Social: fear of being ostracized, excluded, or abandoned

 Sexual: fear of being undesirable and sexually overlooked

SP 1: reacts to hang-ups and imperfections in one’s lifestyle and environment as an affront to their idealistic sense of rightness and perfection.

SOC 1: becomes an impeccable exemplar of the values they wish their peers reflected, a “reformer” in the social realm.

SX 1: holds themselves, partners, and all relational dynamics to intense standards, to ward off sexual rejection through their own rejection of those who can’t measure up.

SP 2: projects scarcity onto others and acts as a caretaker at the neglect of themselves, running into exhaustion in hopes of reciprocation.

SOC 2: positions themselves as indispensable to loved ones by offering support, mentorship, or granting them access to important people.

SX 2: projects fears of undesirability onto others and then fills those needs to make them feel desirable or sexy. Makes themselves over to represent the “complete package” or “ideal lover.”

 SP 3: works to excess to stave off scarcity while also performing their best version of abundance and success in a chosen lifestyle.

SOC 3: competes for status and embraces the best traits of their environment to be outstanding, inspiring, and invaluable.

SX 3: competes to the be the most attention-grabbing, majestic, and fascinating sexual partner around, and embody idealized traits.

 SP 4: takes scarcity personally, as fuel for despair or something to rebel against.

SOC 4: represents their unique, edgy, mysterious side, while being aloof, keeping others desirous and fascinated y their presence.

SX 4: amplifies their intense personal “flavor,” mystique or talents to occupy a desired lover’s attention while trying to undermine any rivals.

 SP 5: minimizes their dependence on any needs to give more energy over to concentration.

SOC 5: become “the expert,” offering their specialized understanding and insight to be an indispensable recognized expert, while trying simultaneously to distinguish and separate themselves from others.

SX 5: provides intense penetrating, captivating insight and focus, but abruptly withdraws when they feel insufficient energy to engage with a lover or that emotional demands are being placed on them.

 SP 6: invests in and worries about the things that ensure their resources, and feel conflicted about upholding their obligations to others versus self-care.

SOC 6: defend friends, relationships, and values against harmful influences, and upkeep social agreements and structures as essential.

SX 6: exaggerates sexual characteristics and tests others’ levels of attraction by acting out to prove they’re exciting and desirable.

 SP 7: launches into plans and backup plans of how to acquire a lifestyle that gives them the freedom to pursue what they like, and indulge in rewards in the meantime.

SOC 7: form many different connections, friends, and talents, to be able to contribute without giving themselves over to any one thing.

SX 7: use high energy, over the top spectacles to dazzle or entertain prospective lovers, but quickly move on if they fear rejection or boredom.

 SP 8: hardens themselves, becomes overly intense and energized about securing necessary resources for their well being, “taking what’s mine.”

SOC 8: take charge of the social realm, be the galvanizing force.

SX 8: attempt to dominate their desired lover’s attention and energy, while using provocation to be “too much to handle.”

 SP 9: uses comforts, work and exercise to “get by on little,” settling for small habits and comforts at the expense of finding and pursuing what they really want for their lives.

SOC 9: over-adapt to others in relationships and resign themselves too quickly into social roles.

SX 9: use sexuality to disassociate, hiding behind sexuality or attraction and over-adapting to their partners’ preferences.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hey Steph, got any good old (maybe new?) bedsharing fics for a fanfic obsessed lurker?

Thanks 😘

Hey Nonny!!

Hahha! I actually just did a list recently of my old ones, but I just double-checked my offline lists and I actually DO have some fics on my next Bed Sharing list, so GUESS WHAT? Your ask is the one to start the next Bed Sharing one, LOL.

As usual, if anyone has any they’d like to add, especially if they’re brand new fics, let us know! <3

BEDSHARING Pt. 5

See also:

The Speckled Blonde / BedSharing

BedSharing Pt. 2 and Insecure Sherlock

Bed Sharing Pt. 3

Bed Sharing Pt. 4

Bed Sharing “Just Happens”

Soft. Happy. Content. by inevitably_johnlocked (G, 223 w., 1 Ch. || Sleepy Cuddles, Bed Sharing, Slice of Life, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Spooning, Morning After, Sherlock POV) – Sherlock reflects on his state of mind.

And When The Night Is Over by Simply Isnt On (K, 329 w., 1 Ch. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Platonic Bed Sharing / Not Slash) – Sherlock and John sleep together.

I Knew You Loved Me by inevitably_johnlocked (T, 743 w., 1 Ch. || Morning Cuddles, Fluff, Clingy Sherlock, Idiots in Love, Slice of Life, Morning After, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Declarations of Love, Pet Name, Bed Sharing, Snuggles) – John and Sherlock share a lie-in the morning after their first time. So fluffy and gross your teeth will fall out. Part 4 of I-J's Tumblr Ficlet Collection

Sleep Tonight by Jenn1984 (T, 1,220 w, 1 Ch. || Hurt/Comfort, Bed Sharing, Worried Sherlock, Sick John, Hugs/Cuddles, Touch Neediness) – Fingers begin prying open his jacket looking for a wound and John would really like to swat at them. No, he's not hit anywhere, he's just damn sick.- John Watson has a fever.

Loved. by inevitably_johnlocked (G, 1,231 w., 1 Ch. || First Sherlock POV, Slice of Life, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Nose Kisses, Morning After, Love Confessions, Morning Cuddles, Emotional Sherlock, Sentiment, Bed Sharing) – Sherlock reflects on his relationship with John. Part 5 of I-J's Tumblr Ficlet Collection

Here to Stay by MockJayPhoenix12 (K, 1,574 w., 1 Ch. || Post Reunion, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Headache, Bed Sharing, Care Taker Sherlock, Hand Holding, Fluff) – On Sherlock's first day home, John wakes with a migraine.

The Perfect Place by SilverSmile (K+, 1,955 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Romance, 5 and Ones, Fluff, Experiments, Bed Sharing) – Sherlock attempts to find the perfect place to sleep, but his little experiment proves to be far more difficult than expected.

Insomnia by TheSingingGirl (K+, 2,635 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Humour, Bed Sharing, Sleepy Sherlock) – Sleep is merely the next frontier in what has become the battle to keep Sherlock alive. It's because of this that John ends up in bed with a sociopath.

Human Body Pillow by Lunavere (K, 4,122 w., 1 Ch. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Five and Ones, Sleepy Johnlock, Bed Sharing) – A story about the five times John fell asleep on Sherlock, and the one time Sherlock fell asleep on him.

The Myth by AGirloftheSouth (M, 4,329 w., 1 Ch || Sex Toys / Anal Beads, PWP, Romance, Bottom John, Prostate Stimulation) – Sherlock believes something to be a myth. John proves him wrong.

When We Sleep by PrincessNala (K+, 6,660 w., 1 Ch || Post-TGG,  Alternating POV, Bed Sharing, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Hurt/Comfort, Hugs) – Sherlock needed to feel every beat of his heart, every rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. It was the only way to completely assure himself that John was alive and right there next to him, and not dead, no, never dead…

To be loved by Strange_johnlock (E, 12,436 w., 8 Ch. || Post S3, Established Relationship, First Person POV Sherlock, Pet Names, Soft Sherlock, Mild ADHD, Protective John, Captain Watson, Body Appreciation, Bottomlock, Rough Sex, Travelling for Holidays, Introspection, Sherlock Loves John So Much It Hurts) – John is so deeply integrated into the work, both as my conductor of light, and as a great shot with a vicious right hook who tackles men -and women- no matter their size all in my defense. He protects me with all he can without question, and this loyalty is surely more than I deserve. Or: Sherlock is counting his blessings.

There's So Much Labour Just in Breathing Lately by Susan (E, 12,708 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TRF / Mentions of S3 Events, Romance, Angst, Grief/Mourning, Grieving John, Mutual Pining, Meddling Mycroft, Therapy, Ambiguous Hopeful Ending, Infidelity) – The dreams he hated most – the ones that left him a sweating, shaking mess when he woke – were the ones in which Sherlock was just Sherlock. Laughing or drinking tea. Sitting across the table from him at Angelo’s eating pasta. Trailing his open hand behind him on the way to the bedroom. “C’mon, John. I’m about to have my way with you.”

Kintsugi by distantstarlight (E, 14,772 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Regret / Remorse, Loneliness, Separation, Drug Use, Healing, Protective John, Sad Sherlock, Dev. Rel., Complicated Relationships, Love, Angst With Happy Ending, Sherlock is Called Freak, John’s Penance, Voyeurism, Doctor/Caretaker John, Guilty John, Detox, Fingering, Love Confessions, Cuddling, Slight Non-Con Turns Enthusiastic Consent, Virgin Sherlock) – Sherlock Holmes becomes estranged from the man he had once considered his best friend after John lets him down horribly in public. It seems that the world's only consulting detective will be on his own once again...or will he?

The Burning of the Leaves by blueink3 (M, 15,915 w., 3 Ch. || Post S4, Angst, Reichenbach, Parentlock, Past Jolto, Idiot John, Sherlock’s a Mess, Puppies, Fluff, Possessive / Jealous Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock POV, Matchmaker Sholto, Melancholic Feelings, Emotional Sherlock, Domesticity, Love Confessions in the Rain, Kissing in the Rain, Pet Names, Panic Attack) – After the events of series 4, Major Sholto invites John and Sherlock to lunch one day. It nearly proves to be too much for their tenuous relationship as the past haunts the present, putting the future that Sherlock so desperately wants at risk.

A Silver Sixpence by _doodle (NC-17, 16,400 w., 2 Ch. || LJ Fic || For a Case / Case Fic, Fake Relationship, Humour, Romance, Marriage Proposal, Awkward Idiots, Cuddling, Touching, Kissing, Love Confessions, Bed Sharing, Friends to Lovers, Fake Until It’s Not, Schmoop and Fluff, Bottomlock) – “John, we need to get married. It’s for a case, not any romantic notions on my part pertaining to our partnership,” Sherlock said, with brutal honesty, and without even looking up.

Division by MrsNoggin (E, 19,542 w., 11 Ch. || Coffee Shop AU || First Kiss/Time, Fluff, Barista Sherlock, Clingy Sherlock, POV John, John’s Limp, Bed Sharing, Fluff, Sleepy Cuddles, Sensuality, Touching, Virgin Sherlock, Insecure John) – John likes mysteries. And every morning he dips into the local independent coffee bar with his newspaper and ponders another... one Sherlock Holmes.

Out of the Woods by SilentAuror (E, 20,471 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Romance, Slow Burn, Flirting, Drunk Sex, Practical Jokes, POV Sherlock, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Pining Sherlock, Frustrated Wanking, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, First Kiss/Time, Virgin Sherlock, Love Confessions, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Bum Appreciation, Hanging out with the Yard) – Sherlock is fairly certain that John has taken to flirting with him of late, but can't be entirely certain of it. At least, not until a case takes them into a forest, along with Lestrade's team and something happens that will change everything about their lives...

Insanity in the Middle by DotyTakeThisDown (E, 28,010 w., 8 Ch. || Equestrian Sports AU || Alternate First Meeting, POV John, Pining John, Bottomlock, Clueless Sherlock, First Kiss/Time, Passionate Kisses, Hand Holding, Caught Making Out, Bed Sharing, Spooning, Blow Job) – John is a world-class eventing rider with a gold medal and several four-star wins to his credit, but he's never won at Rolex. Sherlock is an up-and-coming rider taking the sport by storm.

A Home for Us by sussexbound (M, 30,581 w., 12 Ch. || Scars, Bedsharing, Grief, Doctor John, Hurt/Comfort, Post-TRF, Implied/Referenced Torture, Sherlock POV, Pining Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation, Heavy Emotions, Clingy Sherlock, Hallucinations, Disassociation, Emotional Turmoil) – He has been on the road for two years, and he is exhausted. He’s almost accepted that he will never see London (John) again—almost. But then there are nights like tonight, where he is weak, and all he can think of is the warmth of the flat they once shared, the crackle of the fire in the hearth, the teasing smile playing at the corner of John’s lips, the boxes of half-eaten Chinese takeaway balanced precariously in their laps. He aches at the memory of it, at the realisation that it is something he may never experience again.

Anchor Point by trickybonmot (E, 49,856 w., 80 Ch. || Truman Show AU || Psychological Drama, Suspense, Slow Burn, Dark Characters / Fic, Alternating First/Third Person, Protective John, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Tender Moments, Love Confessions, Hand/Blow Jobs, Cuddling, Jealous John, First Kiss/Time) – The world tunes in nightly for Sherlock, the ultimate in reality TV: Sherlock Holmes, a real person with a legendary name, unknowingly lives out his life in a staged setting contrived by his brother. Things get complicated when a retired army doctor joins the show to play the part of Sherlock's closest friend. This fic borrows its concept from the 1998 film, the Truman Show. However, you don't need to have any knowledge of the movie to enjoy this story.

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse by SilentAuror (E, 50,635 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4/S4 Divergence, Case Fic, For a Case / Reverse Fake-Relationship, Conferences, Marriage Equality, Travelling / New York, Pride, Homophobia, Bottomlock, Marriage Proposal, John POV, Sexuality, Love Confessions, Emotional Love Making, Public Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Passionate Kissing, Needy/Clingy Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Touching / Hand Holding, Bed Sharing, Little Spoon Sherlock, Intense Orgasms) – John and Sherlock go to New York to attend a conference run by the National Defence of Traditional Marriage Coalition in order to investigate the potential bombing of the annual Manhattan Pride parade. As the conference unfolds, John finds himself repulsed by the toxic ideology being presented, which becomes relevent to his own unacknowledged issues and his friendship with Sherlock...

A Goose Quill Dipped in Venom by Polyphony (M, 52,748 w., 16 Ch. || Celebrity John AU || Alternate First Meeting, TV Host John, Supermodel Mary, Character Death, Mystery, Romance, Case Fic, First Kiss/Time, Meddling Mycroft, Drug Abuse, Doctor John, PDA, Deductions, POV Sherlock, Toplock, Sexual Tension, Angry/Rough Sex, Hopeful Ending, Asperger’s Sherlock) – Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective, is called in to a very ordinary although brutal murder. Something is badly out of tune with the whole scenario and Sherlock finds himself becoming more and more obsessed with the crime - and also with the victim.

Isosceles by SilentAuror (E, 56,609 w., 7 Ch. || Post-S4, POV John, Original Male Character / Sherlock Dates Another Man, Love Triangle, Jealous John, Virgin Sherlock, Sexual Coaching, Angst, Romance, Domesticity, Unrequited Feelings, Miscommunication, First Kiss/Time, For a Case, Friends With Benefits, Bottomlock, Love Confessions, Spooning) – After solving a case for a major celebrity, Sherlock gets himself asked out. When John asks, he discovers that Sherlock has no intention of going, at least not until John agrees to coach him through whatever he might need to know for his date...

Lunar Landscapes by J_Baillier (M, 57,046 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || S3/TAB Fix-It, Slow Burn Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Confessions, Drugs, Pain, Medical, Injury, Sherlock Whump, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, Romance, Secrets, Tragedy, Trauma, BAMF John, Doctor!John, Drug Addict Sherlock, Injured Sherlock, Grieving John, Idiots In Love,  Protective John, POV John Watson, PTSD Sherlock, Sherlock is a Mess, Medical Realism) – An accident forces John to face the fact that Sherlock's downward spiral had started long before his flight to exile even left the tarmac.

Repairing the Broken Things by BakerTumblings (M, 75,252 w., 15 Ch. || S4 Compliant, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Trauma, Hospitals, Big Brother Mycroft, Misunderstandings, Realizations, Severe Accident, John Whump, Pneumonia, Medical Procedures, Bed Sharing, First Time, Healing, Happy Ending) – "I'm calling today to notify you that there's been an accident."

Just To Hold You Close by sussexbound (E, 70,841 w., 18 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting, Sherlock POV, ASD Sherlock, PTSD John, Demisexual Sherlock, Bisexual John, Cuddling/Snuggling, Platonic Cuddling, Enthusiastic Consent, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, First Kiss/Time, Sexual Tension, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Cuddle Negotiations, For a Case Until It Isn’t, Hair Petting, Sexual Negotiation, Anxiety, Trust Issues, Slow Burn, Panic Attacks, Frottage, Hand/Blow Jobs, Referenced Self Harm / Abuse / Suicidal Ideation, First Kiss/Time, Anal) – When a woman is murdered and the last person to see her alive is recently invalided army vet turned reluctant (and prickly) professional cuddler, John Watson, Sherlock Holmes is pulled into a world of intimacy and intrigue he never could have imagined. John is a conundrum and mystery: frank yet reserved, tender yet angry, open yet afraid. Sherlock is instantly drawn into his orbit, and begins to feel and desire things he never has before.

Gold Rush by ShirleyCarlton (E, 71,783 w., 17 Ch. || Post S3 / No Mary, Friends to Lovers, Mentions of Past Sexual Abuse, First Kiss, Case Fic, Slow Burn, Alternating POV, Switchlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Marriage Proposal, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Abduction, Anxious/Insecure Sherlock, Miscommunication, Emotional Lovemaking) – John has divorced Mary and pops round to 221B one evening to find Sherlock in the middle of a case. As Sherlock tries to find the identity of a young woman’s stalker, John realises he can no longer deny his feelings for Sherlock – which then, to their befuddlement, turn out to be mutual. Shy kisses and tentative embraces ensue. But will Sherlock be able to cast off a shadow from his past that he thinks might prevent John from wanting to stay?

Thermocline by J_Baillier (M, 83,557 w., 14 Ch. || Scuba Diving AU || Adventure, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Marine Archaeology, Asexual Sherlock, Horny John, Relationship Drama, Technical/Scuba/Wreck Diving, Slow Burn, Underwater /  Medical Peril, Doctor John, Hurt Sherlock, Anxious Sherlock, John POV, Protective John, Body Appreciation) – John "Five Oceans" Watson — technical dive instructor, dive accident analyst and weapon of mass seduction — meets recluse professor of maritime archaeology Holmes. As they head out to a remote archipelago off the coast of Guatemala to study and film its shipwrecks for a documentary, will sparks fly or fizzle out?

Kintsukuroi by sussexbound (E, 91,823 w., 20 Ch. || S4 Compliant / Post-TLD, Grief / Mourning, PTSD, Internalized Homophobia, Therapy, Past Abuse, Alcohol Abuse, Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Anxiety, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, Cuddling, Suicidal Ideation, Masturbation, Minor Character Death, Sexting, Frottage, Inexperienced Sherlock, Rimming / Anal / BJ’s, Emotional Turmoil, Finding Each Other) – ���I love you.” Sherlock sees the words hit John with almost physical force. He reels back a little, jaw twitching and eyes filling. “I love you,” he repeats, a little softer, a little more gentle, as earnest as he possibly can. Because they’ve been teetering on the brink of this thing for years, and it had become painfully obvious over the last few months that they were at a tipping point. This had to happen. Now it has. Now they can see where they end up. The tears in John’s eyes spill over, and he wipes at them angrily. “Do you even know what that means?”  

The Summer Boy by khorazir (T, 94,706 w., 6 Ch. || Post S3/Post TAB/Alternate S4, Friends to Lovers, Flashbacks, Sussex, Bullying, 1980′s Kid Sherlock, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Inexperienced Sherlock, Grief/Mourning, Pining Sherlock, Background Case Fic) – About half a year after the fateful events at Appledore, Sherlock and John embark on a private case in Sussex. For Sherlock, it’s a journey into his past, bringing up memories both happy and sad that he has locked away for almost thirty years. For John, it means coming to terms with the present – and a potential future with Sherlock. Part 1 of the The Summer Boy series

Northwest Passage by Kryptaria (E, 95,157 w., 27 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Canadian AU ||  BAMF!John, Canadian John, PTSD, Anal / Oral Sex, Rimming, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Drug Rehab, Falling in Love, Pining Sherlock, Love Confessions, Sherlock’s Violin, Panic Attacks, Switching, Anxious / Protective Sherlock, Hugs for Comfort, Suicide Mentions, Healing Each Other) – Seven years ago, Captain John Watson of the Canadian Forces Medical Service withdrew from society, seeking a simple, isolated life in the distant northern wilderness of Canada. Though he survives from one day to the next, he doesn't truly live until someone from his dark past calls in a favor and turns his world upside-down with the introduction of Sherlock Holmes." Part 1 of Tales from the Northwest

The Bang and the Clatter by earlgreytea68 (M, 137,049 w., 37 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Baseball AU || Slow Burn / Dev. Rel., Possessive/Obsessive Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock, Mutual Pining, Body Appreciation, Depression, Closeted Sexuality, Family, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Ogling Each Other, Anxious Sherlock, Panic Attack, Drunkenness, Talk of Forever, Big Feelings™) – Sherlock Holmes is a pitcher and John Watson is a catcher. No, no, no, it's a baseball AU. Part 1 of Baseball

Against the Rest of the World by SilentAuror (E, 151,714 w., 20 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Hiatus Fic, POV First Person Sherlock, Present Tense, First Kiss/Time, Big Brother Mycroft, Escaping from Capture, Soft Sherlock, Toplock, Insecurity, Infidelity, Travelling, Introspection, Pining Sherlock, Depression, Fantasies, Yearning for the Past, PTSD Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation) – Sherlock has been away from London for nine hundred and twelve days and counting, and has no idea what sort of reception to expect when he finally returns.

Proving A Point by elldotsee & J_Baillier (E, 186,270 w., 28 Ch. || Me Before You Fusion || Medical Realism, Insecure John, Depression, Romance, Angst, POV John, Sherlock Whump, Serious Illness, Doctor John, Injury Recovery, Assisted Suicide, Sherlock’s Violin, Awkward Sexual Situations, Alcoholism, Drugs, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Body Image, Friends to Lovers, Hurt / Comfort, Pain, Big Brother Mycroft, Intimacy, Anxiety, PTSD, Family Issues, Psychological Trauma, John Whump, Case Fics, Loneliness, Pain) – Invalided home from Afghanistan, running out of funds and convinced that his surgical career is over, John Watson accepts a mysterious job offer to provide care and companionship for a disabled person. Little does he know how much hangs in the balance of his performance as he settles into his new life at Musgrave Court.

[sofipitch]

Apassionata & Plantation for the VC asks 😌

Apassionata: share three songs that remind you of this franchise and explain why

Kill of the Night - Gin Wigmore

Vamp vibes, again song that blends predation with desire

"I wanna taste the way that you bleed, oh/ You're my kill of the night"

Control - Halsey

Also about not being able to control being a fearsome creature

"I'm bigger than my body

I'm colder than this home

I'm meaner than my demons

I'm bigger than these bones

And all the kids cried out, "Please stop, you're scaring me"

I can't help this awful energy

God damn right, you should be scared of me

Who is in control?"

Oh, Maker - Janelle Monae

This is a song about lost love without regret and I also associate this with loustat post-IWTV. JM is likely referring to a god when singing "maker" but the fact that VC vamps call the one's who turned them that makes this perfect for imagining this song from Louis's perspective about Lestat >:^)

"Suffering in sinking sand

All the hurt

See, I'm really lost baby

We suffered a rare, rare blue

So much hurt

On this earth

But you loved me

And I really dared to love you too

Perhaps what I mean to say is

Is that it's amazing that your love was mine"

Plantation: which character do you relate to the most? why?

I'm Louis kin :(

I definitely share that depression and the expression of it with Louis, I tend to be more of a moping/disassociate depressive compared to Lestat's quick-fire anger. One trait that both Louis and Lestat have is that appreciation for the beautiful, so much so it gives us a will to live. The reason I associate more with Louis's version is that Lestat says nature and natural beauty scares him and makes him feel purposeless, he prefers human created things. I feel just the opposite, or at least I appreciate nature the same as art. And Louis does have more monologues and just descriptions of natural beauty (him missing the blue sea for example) that make me feel closer to him. I love Lestat's narration but I def relate in more broad strokes more to Louis's narration in IWTV.

I also struggled with seeing myself and accepting my sexuality, not just same-gender attraction and finally admitting to myself despite years of basically knowing I was bi, just sex and sexuality in general. An example of that is literally on my last ask. 😅 I most of this is from being Raised CatholicTM, another thing I share with Louis. (TMI but when I first started m*sturbating I was def googling if it was a sin and convinced myself it was okay as long as I didn't come). A lot of Louis's struggle to accept himself as a vampire in IWTV can be read as a metaphor for accepting one's sexuality, which is def how I read it. And I'm 100% full of contradictions when it comes to that and other things. For example I was a part of a Rocky Horror Picture Show shadowcast for 3 years (and hopefully in the future) where I would dress and dance as a slut, yet it would make me very uncomfortable if others touched me. I both chose/accept "the dark curse" yet impose my own rules and limitations.

There are other little superficial ones, my main hobby is reading like Louis, but the two above are the main ones that I see myself in Louis.

Superficially I also am like Gabrielle for the superficial reason I also really like nature, in undergrad I was a bio major and took a lot of animal and ecology classes. I would love to disappear into a jungle and wear khaki all the time. 😂 But I'm not cold and cool enough to be Gabs kin and am too comfortable in my gender.

[chroniccombustion]

Caught in The Grey (ch 6)

Genre: Trans!AU, hurt/comfort, romance, angst with a happy ending Rated: T Characters: Souji Seta (Yu Narukami), Yosuke Hanamura, Naoto Shirogane, Kanji Tatsumi, Investigation Team, Izanagi/Shadow!Souji Warnings: depression, dysphoria, disassociation, self-hatred, implied suicide attempt, suicidal thoughts, mentions of homophobia, implied past child abuse and transphobia, canon-typical violence, mild sexual content Status: multi-chapter, incomplete

Playlist: Spotify | Youtube <- previous chapter | next chapter -> (unavailable)

Souji is talking to Kanji.

Souji is walking with Kanji.

Yosuke feels something inside of him twist sharply. He feels… sick.

Chapter 6: On the Outside, Waiting

“I was only in my mind, You were on the outside waiting. I could feel you all the time. Your voice could save me...”

- (“Echo”, Starset)

Thursday absolutely creeps into existence.

Yosuke wakes with a vicious headache. It doesn’t start off slowly, either; from his first moment of consciousness, even before opening his eyes, his head feels like something has been trying to claw its way out from inside his skull while he slept. It thrums just behind his eyeballs, leaving everything tinted ever-so-slightly yellow around the edges with each pulse. He digs the heels of his hands into his eye sockets in an attempt to lesson the pressure, but all he gets for his troubles is a stinging, lingering starburst behind his lids – not even ten minutes into the day and Yosuke’s mood is already beyond all hope of saving. So, bleary and exhausted, he forces himself to ooze out of bed like melted wax. He gets up, frowning against the sickening dizziness, the weird sallow hue, and drags himself through the house to get ready for the day.

Going about his morning routine feels like he’s wading through wet concrete. The constant pain keeps his stomach just barely at the point right before nausea, and as he sidesteps around Teddie in their new “brotherly tradition” of communal teeth-brushing, Yosuke has to actively fight the urge to just go back to bed and stay there until Monday. Maybe if he hits a hard reset he can write off the Endless Week from Hell as just another nightmare; fuck knows he’s had enough weird dreams lately that one more wouldn’t mean much at this point.

He doesn’t though. He powers through the motions on pure muscle memory and diverts what little willpower he does manage to scrape together towards putting on a mask of normalcy. It sticks in place precariously, like dried, cracking glue that’s flaking off under too much heat and wear. He keeps the façade going as best he can, however, because despite wishing he could just evaporate into nothingness, Yosuke doesn’t want Teddie to think he’s pissed off at him. (Because he isn’t, not specifically, even if the bear’s enthusiasm for everything is a dozen kinds of irritating this morning.) So Yosuke does his best to try and keep his mental and physical discomfort as close to secret as possible.

More than being worried that Teddie will take it personally, though, Yosuke just doesn’t want his little brother to ask at all. The reserves of energy Yosuke normally has tucked away have not yet been replenished after days of continuous draining. Even the overflow of nervous, anxious energy that comes from his brain and not his body and makes it impossible for him to sit still half the time; he just… doesn’t have it. There’s simply nothing left that he can spare, not even for Teddie.

So Yosuke swallows down the pressure in the back of his throat that threatens to choke him and pretends that nothing is wrong, that his head isn’t pounding like it’s about to explode and he’s two steps away from giving up for the day. He speaks when Teddie prompts him to, answering questions or responding as needed and staying quiet with it’s not. He lets the chatty blond fill the silence for him, instead, and uses Teddie’s unnatural lack of a need for air to his advantage. For the most part, it seems to work in his favor.

Teddie doesn’t notice – or at least, Yosuke doesn’t think he notices – and by the time Yosuke has to leave for school he’s almost convinced that his act has been bought. It’s only at the last minute, when he glances up for no real reason while slipping on his shoes and spots Teddie in the entryway next to him, that he catches the odd sideways look his brother is pinning him with. Yosuke gives him an overly sunny smile as he opens the door, pretending to both his brother and himself that he doesn’t see the frown on Teddie’s face, and finally slumps out into the chilly morning air.

He tries not to think about it for long.

The sky outside is drearier than it has any right to be as he begins trudging along the path to school. He’s actually a little glad for it – the diluted sunlight is just low enough that it doesn’t hurt his eyes and make his still-present headache worse the way a brighter, bluer morning might. Sadly, with his proverbial battery as drained as it is he can’t take much comfort from the lack of extra pain, and it does nothing to lift his mood from the murky depths of his own self-pity. So, even though the sun doesn’t bother him directly, Yosuke keeps his eyes trained on the concrete beneath his shoes as he walks and distributes his weight onto the balls of his feet to keep his own footsteps from jostling his brain.

He makes his way carefully down the familiar first part of the trek. He doesn’t look up, doesn’t pay attention to anything except the quiet music from his headphones – cranked down today so as not to exacerbate what he’s starting to think might be a migraine. Nothing happens; he’s never been so glad for uneventful monotony. He counts the cracks in the sidewalk as he crosses them and lets himself get lost in the repetition.

He doesn’t want to think – not about Souji, not about the dreams, not about the squirmy, guilty feelings low in his gut leftover from last night’s shitty texts. None of it.

He doesn’t want to think at all.

(He feels his knees start to buckle mid-step and has to forcibly blank out his mind to stop himself from remembering everything that’s made him question his own reality over the past few days, lest he turn right the fuck around and lock himself in his bedroom for a year.)

Surprisingly it seems to work; the awful, mocking voice isn’t there this morning, chewing at his memories and bringing them all into sharp relief. There is no harsh whispering in his ears, telling him all the ways he’s fucked up or how worthless and forgettable he is, how much Souji must secretly hate him or how disgusting Yosuke really is down inside. Instead there’s an eerie quiet, only broken by Yosuke’s own mind when he slips and lets his caged thoughts out for a moment. He can’t tell if he’s glad or unnerved.

He tries not to think about that, either.

(The yellow hue hasn’t gone away – he doesn’t know what that means but he’s pretty sure it’s nothing good.)

The mental silence feels like a cool breeze against a scalding sunburn for the short amount of time it lasts. It follows Yosuke the first third or so of the journey, numbing him to the streets and background highway noise within the couple-block radius around his house. But as much as he wishes it could last the entire day, Yosuke has long-since learned that nothing good or decent lingers around him for very long before vanishing and leaving him desperate for steady ground. All too soon, in little visual bits and pieces, he starts to habitually recognize his surroundings once more.

Just past the point where the sounds from the highway he lives by start to fade entirely, Yosuke’s eyes catch on minor landmarks, reminding him of just where he is and where he’s heading. He slows his already-sluggish pace even further and lifts his head to properly align himself with the rest of reality. Up ahead, about a block away, lies the little stretch of road where he and Souji’s paths usually intersect; he’d avoided it yesterday, and looking at it now, even from a distance, Yosuke can feel his nerve endings beginning to spark and crackle, even as his mind stays unnaturally silent. His muscles tense slightly, like his body is getting ready to break into a sprint at any moment before his head can even fully catch up and register the bitter unease that’s steadily taking hold. He hates this. He hates the way his stomach drops out at the sight of he and Souji’s meeting place. There isn’t even anyone there that he can see – though he’s ashamed to admit the teensy flash of disappointment – because... well, because – and, even worse, how afraid he is to stick around and find out if that’s going to change any time soon.

(The whole world turns sickly bile-yellow for a second; the color disappears when Yosuke blinks and swallows with a dry throat, but for a single instant it’s there.)

I can’t do this.

Just like yesterday, just like the coward he is, all talk and no spine, Yosuke lets his feet turn away from his typical route and down a nearby side street. It’ll take him a little extra time to go around like this, to wind through a different part of town and come out at another spot along the river before heading practically a back way up to Yasogami. He’ll still have to take the path to the front gates – there isn’t really another way he can go – but if he can do enough meandering and time it right then he can (probably, hopefully) avoid Souji until he’s actually in the classroom. He’ll have to figure out the rest of the day as it comes.

He stalls and stalls and wanders and picks his way carefully along a zig-zagging line in the general direction of the high school. He’s familiar enough with where he’s going that the roundabout way itself doesn’t bother him; he’s already spent a lot of time mindlessly exploring the streets of Inaba.

When his family first moved from the city, out to this tiny little hole in the middle of nowhere, Yosuke had found himself with too much free time and too few distractions to keep his mind from dwelling on his own misery. Being new meant he had no friends, and being the person everyone seemed to blame for Junes’ existence meant he wasn’t really welcome anywhere either. When he wasn’t at school he was working, and when he wasn’t working he was home alone because his parents were working, and when he was home alone his options were either homework or unpacking boxes. Eventually he ran out of both.

Video games were only fun for a little while before they grew frustrating and boring without someone else to play with. Movies and tv were alright but sooner or later he’d already seen everything twice over. Books where never really his thing because his attention span was always just too short to let him enjoy them; manga was better, but had the same problem as movies. In the end, Yosuke’s only choice for something to do besides sit and stare at the wall had been to go walking – if only to try and familiarize himself with the place he was inevitably going to be stuck in for the rest of his natural life.

So he walked. From the school district down towards his house, looping and doubling back to kill time, or from Junes after an earlier shift and across to the other side of town just to see how far this tiny pocket of rural bullshit extended before he hit the wilderness. He might not have gotten the whole place memorized, but after those first couple of months in Inaba, when his entire experience with the town outside of school, work, or the pile of moving boxes at home had been made up of long walks and lonely hours, Yosuke’s mental map had soon become, at the very least, decent.

He calls on that mental map now as he rounds another corner, pulling at a few staler memories to see if he’s going the way he thinks he is. The house at the end of the street with the blue shutters, the rickety doghouse in the front yard across the road – yep, all still there. He’s probably going to be late again, or very, very close to it, but as long as he keeps moving, as long as he twists and winds and pretends he doesn’t eventually have to join the rest of the student population on the same road to the school entrance, he can keep himself from succumbing to his anxiety. Souji is punctual, Souji likes routine. If Yosuke takes his time getting to school and avoids the usual path, then he theoretically doesn’t have to worry about accidentally running into Souji on the way.

But even as the thought helps to keep the jitters at bay, there is just something so… inherently wrong about it that Yosuke has to bite down hard on the inside of his own cheek to keep himself from choking. This is a violation of his own routine, of everything that has made his world anything considering normal up to this point. Never in a million years would he have ever thought himself capable of outright hiding from his best friend, going out of his way to purposefully avoid him – it feels like a betrayal, like he’s adding just one more slight against Souji to his ever-growing pile of mistakes. A faint echo of loneliness washes over him and clings to his skin like a humid breeze – the morning feels far too much like the walks he used to take before he even knew that Souji existed, all those months ago.

He never wants to go back to that.

He thinks he may have forgotten how to breathe.

Digging his shoes a little more roughly into the sidewalk, Yosuke powers his way up the street – headache be damned – and past the house with the blue shutters, counting his footsteps in his head loud enough to eclipse the lyrics of the song in his headphones. He keeps his head down and his shoulders hunched, only letting his eyes lift from the sidewalk to keep himself from tripping over as he walks like the entire world is clawing at his heels.

He almost doesn’t notice when he’s reached the path that leads through the school district.

He almost doesn’t notice the achingly familiar sound of Souji’s voice further up along the road.

He almost doesn’t notice the figure striding along at his partner’s side.

But then he does.  

Yosuke looks up instinctively as his friend’s voice reaches his ears, startling violently for a moment when he sees just how close he got to Souji without even realizing it. His heart stutters, trembles like the wings of a frightened moth at the flash of silver not even twenty feet in front of where Yosuke has been disassociating as he walks. (And how funny is it that even when Yosuke forgets where he is, his feet always seem to lead him right back to the one thing that’s ever made his life make any sort of sense?) He nearly trips on the next footfall as he overrides his own autopilot and manually slows his pace, falling a little further back from the ethereal swath of black-and-moonlight ahead of him just enough to not be noticed. He makes sure to stay close enough that he can still hear his partner speaking, though – not even the words themselves, just the sound of Souji is all he really needs.

(Just how needy can he get?)

Souji’s voice carries on the slight breeze that blows through and ruffles his hair, moving it enough to catch the muted morning light and make it shine like sunbeams across the Samegawa. Souji's volume is as quiet as ever but unmistakable in its steady timbre, its velvet-softness, and even with his headphones still on Yosuke can hear it. He’s trained himself to pick up on Souji’s commands through his music while in battle. By now it’s almost second nature to him to react every time his friend speaks.

But Souji isn’t speaking to Yosuke. No, Yosuke is still a ways behind him and from the looks of it Souji hasn’t noticed Yosuke at all. Instead, walking side-by-side, so close that their arms nearly brush every time one of them gestures, Souji is talking to someone else. Someone tall, with broader shoulders and a louder voice, bleach-blond hair slicked back to show off the glint of several earrings, a uniform jacket worn like a cape instead of over the arms.

Souji is talking to Kanji.

Souji is walking with Kanji.

Something inside of Yosuke twists sharply. He feels… sick.

It sits like concrete in the pit of his stomach, growing rapidly in its weight until he can barely breathe, can barely see, the edges of his vision almost pulsing with that same ominous yellow. He can't think for a moment, can't focus on anything but the way his best friend – his best friend, goddamnit! - walks just a little too close to Kanji, smiles just a little too widely at Kanji. It's wrong, it's wrong, it's so wrong, and Yosuke can't even begin to peel back his own thoughts from the slow crescendo of screaming now building inside his mind to parse just why he's suddenly so angry. The yellow becomes tinged with something almost like an acidic green, the color of jealousy and vomit and everything Yosuke can feel at the back of his throat like a wad of wet paper. He feels shaky in a new way, no longer afraid but something closer to how he tenses before a strike in battle. Defensive. A snarl curls at his lips before he can stop himself, and it's only because he's still rooted to the spot in a kind of shock that doesn't even feel human anymore that he doesn't go launching himself across the way and yanking Souji back to himself by the arm.

Somewhere, deeper than the anger and the horrible heat trickling down his spine, Yosuke knows he's being unreasonable; after all, Kanji is Souji's friend, too, and it's not like Yosuke has exactly been available for Souji to interact with recently, so there's nothing in the world wrong with the other boy walking to school with another member of their team. He wishes he could pinpoint where this is even coming from, why he's suddenly flipped like a switch from wanting to avoid Souji at all costs to violently wanting to hoard him all to himself. It doesn't make any sense, and Yosuke's actually starting to get a little bit frightened of his own reaction.

It's just too bad he can't feel it properly below everything sinking into his heart, poisoning him from the inside out; maybe it would be enough to snap him out of whatever this is.

He stands stock still, only vaguely aware of the other people around him, some shooting looks at him no doubt, and watches as his Souji (his, something in him hisses,) passes through the gate with someone other than Yosuke. He watches, body frozen and eyes burning, refusing to blink as Souji, his friend, his leader, his partner approaches the school together with Kanji, the same way he used to (used to, should be,) with Yosuke.

It shouldn’t knock the wind from Yosuke’s lungs like he’s taken a Zio straight to the chest; it shouldn’t, because when all is said and done it's almost guaranteed all this is completely innocent – Souji is a friendly guy, and it's never been like him to say no to anyone asking for his time. (Except for when he did, Yosuke thinks bitterly, because wow, that wound is just not closing.)

But that's the thing, isn't it? Because no matter how much it is absolutely Yosuke's fault for putting this newest distance between him and his partner, even if Souji's refusal to talk to him had set everything in motion, no matter who or what is truly to blame for this, it does little to change the very real fact that Yosuke is not the one by Souji's side right now.

That Souji has picked someone else.

The scene is so similar that it’s almost as if Yosuke is looking at a displaced echo, a badly done juxtaposition of two different images made to look like one. Like someone stripped the negative of a photograph and pasted in a poor substitute. Like someone replaced the original and, and...

Told you, the voice inside his brain sneers. For the first time that morning, Yosuke feels that formless smirk stretching wider, curling into his fingers and toes like something settling into its frame after being wadded up, stuffed into a space it didn't fit. It feels simultaneously right and wrong – wrong because he doesn't think it's supposed to be there, hiding just behind his limbs, adhering to his bones and pricking at his nerve endings; right because the thing now wearing his skin alongside him disagrees.

It was only a matter of time before he got tired of your shit.

It was only a matter of time before he got tired of you.

He takes a few steps after them as they start to get just a little bit too far away, hyper -focusing on the way Souji acts, the sound of his voice and the way it lilts and flows, comfortable in a way Yosuke's rattling memories can't recall if he's ever been before. Yosuke zeros in on the lack of distance between the pair ahead of him, scanning them like Rise does in the TV and storing away all the minute details he can suddenly see, focus now sharp as his kunai. He sees the way Kaji's face reddens. He sees Souji looking over at Kanji with a bright expression, with a smile that shows teeth and pulls the corners of his mouth wider than Yosuke has ever seen when Souji is talking to him. He feels a growl rumbling deep in his throat.

Souji tilts his head in Kanji’s direction as the punk says something, swinging a large hand out in front of himself with obvious excitement and nearly smacking into Souji’s side with his elbow. He catches himself before the hit lands and sheepishly pulls his arm away, face going redder. Souji lightly, deliberately, bumps Kanji's elbow with the back of his own hand, no doubt reassuring the blond that his exuberance has caused no harm. Kanji rubs at the spot awkwardly. He says something. He blushes harder.

And Souji laughs.

It not a real laugh, it never really is with Souji, nothing louder than a very quiet chuckle or a huff or a breath, but Yosuke has heard it before, has been the one to bring it out before, so he would know that sound anywhere, will always recognize that silent shudder of his partner's shoulders as the other boy uses his body to communicate instead of his voice. Yosuke doesn't have to hear it – his mind supplies the sound.

That's mine! he snarls.

Not anymore, something mockingly singsongs in reply.

The yellow-green in his eyes grows darker and Yosuke can see the corners start to creep inward with solid color, until all he can see is the fondness on Souji's face that isn't meant for him.

He has to claw his way back to the forefront of his mind in order to get to class on time, just barely slinking into the room with the teacher coming up the hallway behind him. His eyes bore into the soft grey hair at the back of Souji's neck and – for the briefest of moments – he has to quell the urge to lean forward and sink his teeth into his partner's flesh, leave his imprint for all the world to see and claim what's his.

He doesn't even notice the way the thing inside him that before would have been copper and sick now seems to purr at the thought.

---

He doesn't remember the rest of the day.

Yosuke is aware that he somehow makes it through the school day, bounding out of the room at lunchtime to go and... well, he doesn't even know, really. He thinks he may have gone up to the roof but he isn't sure. He knows that he did eventually go back to the classroom – presumably after lunch – but beyond that there's nothing. The end-of-day bell sounds and he's immediately on his feet, out the door, down the hall, head foggy and vision tinted yellow; if anyone says anything to him then he doesn't even notice.

Something ugly is happening to him inside. He knows it, doesn't know how to fight it. Right now, after that morning, after everything swirling around in his chest and his head for most of the week now, Yosuke feels a disconnect between himself and reality. He's spent so much time trying not to think, then over-thinking, the repeating, and repeating, and repeating, that it's like something has finally snapped. He's so tired and wrung out that he can't tell how he even feels right now, whether he's mad at Souji or Kanji or himself. Or all three. Or just fucking everything. It's as if there's a block of ice holding him separate from the dark things twisting like vines behind his heart; he can't look at them, can't pull them apart with his hands and study them, he can only feel them coiling tighter and tighter until his body goes numb.

His phone goes off in his pocket as he stalks his way down the hill away from school, thighs burning despite months of combat toning his muscles inside the TV. He checks it on instinct, feels the vines in his ribs twist in another direction as he reads the “I miss you, Partner,” that Souji had texted him.

Guilt or anger or self-disgust or something climbs its way to the back of his throat and threatens to spill from his lips onto the sidewalk and it's such a mess, such a god-fucking-awful mess that the only thing Yosuke can do is type a quick, dismissive, “sorry @ work” and back out of the text before he chokes on molten, raw emotion. Without even looking he scrolls and clicks on a random chat log further down the list and pulls it up so he doesn't have to look at Souji's name anymore, doesn't have to try and figure out if he's upset or happy or just sick to his stomach. Chie's nickname screams at him from the phone screen, her words from last night still justifiably pissed.

Yosuke takes a second to think of the dirtiest pick-up line he can and sends it off, not even caring anymore. It doesn't feel like anything, he gets no satisfaction from it, doesn't even bother harboring the idea that maybe she'd find it funny like he used to do ages ago. It doesn't mean anything. Nothing means anything anymore. He's just hollow.

His phone 'ping!'s and he barely glances at the response. She's mad again. Whatever. Let her be. Yosuke deserves it – the frigid rush he gets from her anger coats his skin and, in a horrible, disgusting way, it makes him feel better. Good. At least someone feels something in his direction. He sends her another message, pretending it was all a joke, that he wasn't punching at the walls of his tiny world just to feel anything anymore. He's gone so far from the constant buzz of anxiety and fear that he's grown immune to it now. Everything is so loud and at the same time it's all too brutally quiet. It's like he's rigged for self-destruction, caught in a loop of feeling betrayed and wanting to betray in return out of spite, folding back around to hating himself for it, wishing everything was back to normal, that he and Souji were back to normal, and then wanting to rip his own skin off when he realizes they aren't and can't. It tilts him side to side and he can't balance. He can't regulate his emotions, can't sort out his feelings, has no outlet – all he can do is take a swipe at everything around him and hope he finds a handhold, something to pull him back to the surface. Maybe if he causes enough damage outside himself then it will make up for all the damage already caused inside.

He wants to scream.

Instead, Yosuke types out another dirty text and hits send with shaking, vindictive hands.

Nothing changes as the afternoon stretches on. Chie spits more fire at him through the phone, apparently borrowing Yukiko's element for a while as she tells Yosuke in loving detail just how many ways she intends to break his knees. He hates that it's almost comforting in its normalcy – albeit in a dark and over-exaggerated way. The ice block sits comfortably in his chest, hindering him from properly feeling the fallout of his actions as the vines dig their thorns in deeper; he knows that if he tries to look behind it then he'll be disgusted with himself all over again, (Chie really doesn't deserve this kind of treatment, for one thing) and so he just. Doesn't. He holds back the part of him still consciously rallying against everything he's doing, yelling at him to stop, throwing itself against the frozen wall to try and make him feel all the remorse and guilt he knows is there behind the ice. It's building, drop by drop, bucket by bucket, action by action, but Yosuke can't make himself stop.

You really are a worthless piece of shit, aren't you?

It's to the point where Yosuke can no longer tell the mocking, hissing, whispering voice inside his head from his own. He thinks there might not be a difference at all anymore.

He wanders through the streets and between the buildings in the same weaving, winding pattern he did that morning, letting the music in his ears and the faint ache in his legs from his ceaseless power walking distract him from all the things he wants to pretend aren't happening. Eventually he reaches the bottom of another hill and doubles back to kill more time before his shift at Junes – because, unlike the night before, he really does have one this time. He debates on calling in as he takes the long way around to the shopping district. Right now he barely feels human, let alone like he's capable of interacting with other people; donning the mask of artificial pep needed to deal with shoppers is draining even on the good days, despite the fact that he's used to being on autopilot while at work with too many years of involuntary customer service making it almost muscle memory by now. In the end, though, he decides against it. Calling in will mean having to make up a good excuse for his dad, which might lead to a far longer and more complicate conversation than Yosuke has any desire to have. There's no way he has the energy to play verbal minesweeper with his parents, whether it be now or later once they get home.

He checks his phone to see how much time he has left to fortify himself, to keep his brain and his heart blissfully, chaotically numb, and sees a trio of new texts from Chie that must have come through while he wasn't looking. He taps her name to bring the chat back up and expects to see more of the usual fair. He doesn't.

Meat-Fu: What's going on Hanamura? This isn't normal.

Meat-Fu: U know u can talk 2 me right?

Meat-Fu: Ur my friend & I'm worried.

Yosuke feels like he's been stabbed.

Nonononono,this isn't right! With all the shit he's pulled to get attention, validation, to force the world to prove he's a bastard, none of it was supposed to result in this. He's sick, he's worthless, why can't everyone just hate him as much as he hates himself?!

Yosuke nearly throws the phone away from him, his body suddenly shaking as the ice cracks and the vines squeeze and he comes dangerously close to feeling something. This wasn't – he doesn't' know how to deal with this. Everything is off-kilter; Souji has gone and replaced him with Kanji and Kanji is stealing his best friend and it's all Yosuke's fault because he's disgusting, of course Souji isn't going to want anything to do with you anymore – and Kanji probably has the same kind of dreams that Yosuke's been having because that's what gay people do, right? And now Chie, of all people is picking up on the stuff Yosuke is trying so hard to shove down because how does he even begin to deal with all of this and he can't let her know, he can't! Not after everything he's done and said and everything he's turning into, oh god.

Blinking through the sudden blur in his vision, (when did he start tearing up, what the hell?) Yosuke grips his phone in both hands and sucks in breath after breath of too-thick air. He's so tired of borderline breakdowns. Typing as best he can with his limited sight, he fumbles out a reply, just something, anything to grind the conversation to a screeching halt before it can even begin.

Yosuke: wth r u talking about? lol ur crazy Chie

He sends it. It's not enough, it's too casual, too easy to brush off, but he can't see the screen anymore and his fingers won't move right. So he sends it and he stands there in the middle of the sidewalk near the bus stop in the shopping district, staring unseeing down at his phone and forcing himself not to blink. The tears stay in his eyes, dry up, fade away. He takes a shaky breath in and lowers his phone.

“Yosuke-kun?”

Oh no.

It's like a nightmare. An actual nightmare. He looks up and sees Yukiko standing a few feet away from him, likely waiting for the stupid bus (why did he have to stop here? Why?) with what looks like a couple of Junes bags draped over the crook of her elbow. She must have just finished shopping and come straight to the bus stop, ready to head home.

Which means Yosuke would have been damned either way – if he'd gone straight to work he would have run into her there, and because he'd stalled for so long he'd run into her here. He shouldn't have answered Chie's text, should have kept moving, should have taken another route or hidden in the stock room at work. He should have--

Yukiko takes a step closer, concern sweeping over her delicate brows. “Are you alright, Yosuke-kun?” She takes another step. Her lips pull into a frown as she looks at him and Yosuke can't even begin to imagine what's she's seeing.

“H-huh?” he squeaks out. His knees don't want to hold him up.

Yukiko's frown deepens. “You look troubled, did something happen?”

Yosuke shakes his head. “No! No, I'm perfectly fine, I'm just uh...” He flounders for a second, staring at her like she's an approaching Shadow four times his size – even if she hasn't moved since that second step in his direction. He knows his eyes are wider than a cat's, he can feel it. Finally he manages to blurt out, “stalling? Cuz I really don't wanna go to work.” (Well it's not... exactly a lie.)

From the way Yukiko is looking at him, he knows she isn't convinced, can already tell she's thinking of saying something. She's quiet and polite most of the time, yes, but she's been getting better at speaking her mind, and that scares him right now. He can barely keep himself together over a text conversation; there's no way in hell Yosuke will be able to make it out of a face-to-face one alive.

So he defaults. He defaults and it leaves him feeling gross and slimy even before it's finished leaving his tongue; “You know, if you're worried about me, you could always come cheer me up.”

(Oh god does he wish he could put the words back in his mouth and swallow them down.)

Yukiko leans back slightly, her expression turning uncomfortable, and it just serves to make Yosuke feel even worse about what he's doing. She opens her mouth to speak. Yosuke cuts her off.

“You never did send me that picture.” He tries to wink. He doesn't like how it feels.

This time, Yukiko recoils as if something foul has been splashed at her. “That's--”

But Yosuke is already turning on his jelly-kneed legs and willing them to carry him just around the corner, just out of sight. “See you tomorrow!” he calls, trying to keep himself from retching as the words come out. Behind him, he hears the sound of the bus' breaks squealing and pushes his legs faster. Yukiko won't follow him, he knows (he hopes,) lest she miss her ride home and have to wait for the next one. Yosuke has been spared for now.

(Except he hasn't really, now has he?)

He's almost makes it up to the top of the shopping district, almost makes it to (possible) safety at Junes where he can hide between the aisles, go and find things to do and redo in the stock room, keep himself busy without actually doing anything. It'll be a welcome distraction at this point, despite how vehemently he doesn't actually feel like dealing with customers, coworkers, hell, he'd even probably dodge Teddie because Yosuke just genuinely can't today. (And on the chance he spots one of his friends walking into whatever area he happens to be in, well... then he'll just have to find something to hide behind and stay there until they go away.)

He's almost to his goal when the universe decides he's not done suffering quite yet. There, coming around the corner, Nanako perched happily on his shoulders, is Souji.

Yosuke stops dead in his track, so abruptly that it's only by some tiny speck of luck that he doesn't fall face-first onto the pavement and break his nose. Panic erupts in his blood like he's been doused in gasoline and set on fire and suddenly his lungs are collapsing in his chest. He doesn't know how he manages to do it, but he dives to the side into an alleyway and tears out the other end as if his life depends on it.

Souji can't see him, Souji can't know he's there, because Yukiko and Chie both talk to Souji and Yosuke hasn't even managed to deal with all the stuff that's already happened this week, hasn't dealt with this morning even! So if Yukiko and Chie talk to Souji and tell Souji about all the horrible shit that's Yosuke's been doing...

Yosuke is doomed. Yosuke will absolutely be doomed. He hasn't spoken to Souji in days and he can't let their next interaction be Souji looking at him with disappointment, with anger, with disgust.

Yosuke runs through back streets and down alleyways until his legs betray him and he collapses against a wall just outside the Shiroku Store. He wasn't even aware he'd managed to book it that far – no wonder his chest feels like it's about to explode. He waits until he can manage to catch his breath, leaning into the bricks so he doesn't sink to the ground. When he thinks he can move again, (ten minutes, twenty minutes, half an hour later, he has no idea how long he's there,) he pulls himself around the corner and looks first to the left, up towards Junes, and then to the right down the shopping district. No Souji. Good. Hopefully the other boy is still up shopping with his sister and will be for a good long while, (especially if Teddie has anything to say about it.) Tentatively confident that he's not about to be ambushed by his former partner, Yosuke slips shakily out onto the sidewalk.

First thing's first, he shoves his hand into his pocket and digs around until he finds every bit of loose change he's got and shoves it gracelessly into the receiver of the vending machine. He hits a random button, doesn't even care what he gets so long as it's liquid and cold. He chugs the can without even tasting anything and he stifles a wince as the drink hits his burning throat, before the raspy dry feeling finally goes away. He tosses the can away in the nearby trashcan and slinks back into the alley to hide while he calls his dad and tells him he can't make it in for his shift.

(Chie texts him again because of course she does. He doesn't even look at it this time; he just fires off a quick, “@ work can't talk” and puts his phone on airplane mode.)

---

Yosuke makes a quick stop inside Shiroku Store before chancing the trip back home. He grabs a couple of instant ramens for himself, knowing full well no one will be home for a while to make dinner and that his own appetite is questionable after his stomach has been tied up in knots for so long. It'll also give him an excuse not to have to sneak back downstairs later and risk running into his parents. Again, not a conversational minefield he's willing to navigate right now. (He also grabs a pack of mochi to placate his little brother when Teddie inevitably whines about Yosuke not coming in to work.) Once he's out he heads straight home – straight, because the sun has started going down and it's freezing outside, so he feels confident enough in the low temperature to take the gamble on none of his friends being out where he can stumble into them.

He makes it to his house without incident, makes it inside and up to his room, even manages to take a bath without a fuss since Teddie isn't home yet to knock insistently on the bathroom door. For now, he's safe. But even knowing he's at home, alone, with his phone far away from him in the other room, Yosuke finds that he still can't relax. He soaks in the warm water, (he'd washed as quickly as fucking possible because even days later the shower makes his stomach squirm,) and tries to will the anxiety to bleed out through his pores. It doesn't.

Something is keeping his shoulders tense, his nerves frayed and spiked. Even when he gets out of the bathtub after Teddie comes bounding into the house, loud even from downstairs, Yosuke feels like he could jog all the way back to school and have energy left over.

He gives Teddie the mochi, which effectively shuts up any line of questioning that might have been incoming, and Teddie babbles excitedly as he eats. He tells Yosuke all about how “Sensei and Nana-chan” had come by to do some grocery shopping, how he and Nanako had run off to find the groceries together while Souji had wandered off. How they'd found him later after they were all done, around the side of the building, crouched low to pet the stray cats. Yosuke listens to all of this with far more attentiveness than normal; he only breathes once Ted is finished and there has been no mention made of Yosuke whatsoever.

It's... weirdly easier to relax his body after that, though understandably not his mind. His little brother is a small sliver of something normal, oblivious and innocent and forever just happy to be there. It lets Yosuke pretend that nothing bad is waiting for him just outside the house's front door.

Normally he'd play a few rounds of a video game with his brother until one of them felt tired enough to go to bed; tonight, though, Yosuke can't keep his attention on the game, and so gives up after only two failed races. He moves to sit on the bed and picks half-heartedly at his cold instant ramen, only partially watching as Ted plays against the game's AI until the bear starts getting bored. Teddie decides that they're going to have a movie night together after that, and Yosuke lets the blond boy put in some brightly-colored Ghibli thing for them to watch. Yosuke inevitably zones out.

It isn't until the credits end and the dvd menu comes back with a loop of the movie's main theme that he finally looks up, blinking at the red numbers on his alarm clock that read far later into the night than he'd thought, and then down to find his brother passed out cold on the floor. Yosuke sighs and gets up, throwing his unfinished noodles away before awkwardly – albeit carefully – dragging Teddie's slumbering form over to the closet and plopping him onto his futon.

It's as Yosuke is getting ready to turn off the light that he sees Teddie's phone lying on the carpet.

He doesn't know why he thinks it, what makes him link the sight of his little brother's cell phone to the flicker of memory that bubbles up to the surface. He doesn't know where the idea comes from. But he has it.

Rise had taken pictures of everyone and everything at the pageant. Rise had taken pictures of Souji.

Teddie had been begging Rise to send the pictures to his phone.

Yosuke has no idea whether or not Rise had ever actually did, but with how proud of herself she'd been for taking them, he'd bet money on there now being a whole folder of pageant photos residing in the bear boy's phone.

I shouldn't, he thinks, and not just because it'd be incredibly invasive to go poking around in his brother's phone –  if he does, and he finds what he's looking for, then what? He knows neither the girls nor Naoto took any photos of the second pageant, but despite what he let Yukiko believe (and what he's been trying to convince himself of for days,) Yosuke doesn't need those; he'd snapped a few of his own when the event was happening. There aren't many - he'd been a bit preoccupied worrying over Souji's disappearance at the time, and he'd purposefully avoided taking any pictures of Naoto because they'd looked so miserable that it felt almost cruel, but he has some. (And thinking about it now, he realizes he hasn't so much as opened the photo gallery on his phone even once to look at any of them since he took them.)

So no, it's not photos of the beauty pageant he's looking for.

Slowly, as if terrified Teddie will somehow wake up and throw open the closet door to catch Yosuke in the act, he reaches down and picks his brother's phone up off the ground. He's just picking it up, he tells himself; he's just getting it off the floor so no one steps on it. He's doing Ted a favor. He's not going to look, he's not.

(Liar.)

It's not hard to get into Ted's phone – the bear doesn't have any sort of lock on the screen – and because it's a cheap Junes model, Yosuke already knows exactly how to work it. It takes him less than half a minute to find Rise's nickname in the text logs and pull up their last conversation.

There, staring up at him, is the bottom part of a photo, with what looks like the stage in the school auditorium.

Yosuke immediately feels his palms start to sweat. He crosses the room in two quick, silent strides over to the light switch, turning it off with fumbling fingers and plunging the room into darkness save for the faint glow of his alarm clock and the glare from the phone in his hand. He pads back over to the outline of his bed and throws the covers back, then climbs in, throws the blankets over his head like a child avoiding bedtime, and curls up into a ball on his side with his prize held tight in his nervous hands.

His stomach swoops as he holds his thumb over the up button, ready to scroll past Ted's enthusiastic words of thanks to Rise and see--- but hesitates.

He could stop right now, he thinks; it would be so easy just to shut the phone off, put it on the charger, go to sleep. He could roll over with his face in the pillow and pretend none of this happened. It would be so easy.

Okay, he thinks, momentarily closing the phone. Okay. Okay...

This isn't creepy, it's not; he's just... making sure. Right. Yes. That's all. The dreams started after Yosuke had seen Souji dressed up as a girl – after Yosuke had thought things about Souji dressed as a girl. That had to be the reason, right? He couldn't be gay if he was only attracted to his best friend when Souji was in a skirt, when he looked a little too convincing as a chick. That's where the wires had gotten crossed in Yosuke's head, when his teenage hormones had been confused at the sight of his already-pretty partner making an even-prettier lady. That's all it was, it had to be, and Yosuke was holding the proof, the means to his mental salvation, in his hands. All he had to do was look.

Yosuke closes his eyes and takes a second to brace himself, scared for reasons he doesn't particularly want to explore. He pulls in a deep, unsteady breath. Another. A third. On the final exhale, he opens his eyes and taps a key to wake the screen back up. He stares at the bottom of the photo for just a few moments more and then finally sucks in one more breath, pressing the 'up' as his lungs fill to the brim.

The first few pictures aren't what he needs: a crowded group shot, Teddie flouncing around the stage, Kanji looking ready to break an ankle in his ill-fitting heels, Yosuke hating everything while holding the mic. He keeps scrolling up, growing irritated and more anxious with every photo revealed not to be the one he wants. Eventually he just holds the button down and lets everything scroll by until all the images start to blur together; it's because of this that he very nearly misses a flash of grey and silver as the photo streaks by.

Yosuke immediately takes his thumb off the 'up' and jabs at the 'down' until the picture comes back into view. There, bathed in the harsh spotlight of center stage, stands Souji, expression tightly neutral and face pale. It sucks the breath from Yosuke's lungs.

This. This is what Yosuke has been trying so desperately to find, simultaneously to avoid. It feels wrong, somehow, like an invasion of more than just Teddie's privacy, but the whole school had seen Souji in a skirt so it's not like it's a secret that anyone's trying to keep. Still, as Yosuke stares at the familiar shape of his partner's face, his hips, his hands, Yosuke feels, not the wave of relief he'd been expecting, but sour. He can't even put his finger on it, why his face seems to curl up in frustration without him even consciously bidding it to; Souji's body is just as lean and graceful as he remembers it looking, with the long silver wig framing his face and softening his features and the line of the skirt hugging his waist to give him just the faintest of hourglass figures. It should be beautiful, in a way it is, but the more that Yosuke stares at the photo the less and less attracted he finds himself being.

This isn't right.

(Oh, but isn't it?)

Yosuke scrolls up to look for another photo, finding a better one, a closer one, on the very next try. This time the camera is zoomed in, giving Yosuke a much clearer view of Souji from the waist up. Whatever bra the girls had stuffed him into makes his chest look natural, a petite curve to his body that fits stunningly along with the slender way his figure normally seems to taper slightly at his waist. Objectively, Souji looks great, hot, even in the pageant clothes he'd been forced to wear; Yosuke had thought as much when seeing his partner in person on that nightmare of a day. He squints at the phone in his hands and tries to recall just what specifically he'd found attractive when he'd been staring at Souji backstage in the dim, shitty lighting. His hips, definitely – he remembers thinking how perfect they would be for him to rest his hands on. Souji's waist, his chest, yes, but also his hands. Yosuke remembers how ethereal Souji had looked, too, with his eyes and the wig (an uncannily perfect match for Souji's actual hair color,) shining dull silver in the dark. The curve of his jaw, the hint of skin just above his collar bones, the line of his thighs barely there below the straightness of the skirt.

Looking at the photo now, Yosuke can see all the the things that he found so alluring before – and feels, strangely, next to nothing.

He can't understand it, why is he not swooning over the image of his best friend making the most amazingly convincing girl Yosuke has ever had filthy dreams about? (Something turns over in his mind, and suddenly, sickeningly, Yosuke feels like he's on the highest peak of a roller coaster, staring down at the hundred-foot drop below him just as the cart begins to move.)

The sex dreams hadn't featured a skirt.

They hadn't featured long hair or perky boobs.

In his dreams, Souji had just been... Souji. A flat, smooth chest, all toned muscle and softly masculine edges. The silver had been shorter, the cheekbones sharper, all of it had been Souji as he always is – a guy. No matter how gorgeous Yosuke thinks (or thought) Souji looked in his pageant outfit, the blinding fact remains that the boy in his dreams had stayed a boy.

Slowly, stomach twisting into nausea, Yosuke reaches out from the safety of his blanket shield and picks his own phone up off the night stand beside the bed. Like some kind of gremlin, he snatches his hand – phone and all – back into the darkness beneath the covers, clutching it to him with fingers so clammy it threatens to hinder his grip. His heart flutters in his chest, hard enough that he can feel his own pulse; he swallows and his throat is dry. Trembling, Yosuke holds a phone in each hand, holds them up next to one another. He opens his, and fumbles his way to his photo gallery, clicking through until he comes to a picture of himself and Souji, standing close and smiling as Yosuke snaps the selfie.

Oh god.

It's all still there. The photo is, again, a waist-up shot, but even still Yosuke can see the gentle line of Souji's jaw, the hint of his collarbones just past the open top button of his shirt, the long, delicate fingers on strong and calloused hands. Souji's hair is shorter, of course, and doesn't frame his face the way the wig did, so his cheekbones are more visible, his chin slightly sharper, but his eyes. Souji's eyes are still that same summer-storm hue, round and kind, and full of far more life than any of the photos of him in pageant garb. Pageant Souji looks like a marionette; real Souji looks like rainclouds incarnate.

Yosuke's gaze travels down to the very bottom of the picture, where the image cuts off right below Souji's belt buckle, leaving the dip of his waist, the jut of the top of his hip, all still visible. He's wearing his uniform shirt and jacket, but even with the layers of straight-cut clothing Yosuke can see that same faint, curving line of his partner's body that almost looks like the start of an hourglass. Yosuke can't see the other boy's thighs in this one, but the line of Souji's hip fills outward slightly, instead of carving a path straight down like Yosuke is so used to seeing on most other guys – himself included.  Souji, for all that he's built like an athlete, is only sharp in certain places, soft in others; a graceful blade of curving steel, handle wrapped in velvety leather.

Yosuke tears his eyes away from the photo of him and Souji together and back over to the one of Souji at the pageant. The features are the same but different, radiant in one and hollow in the other – both have the same shape, the same color, the same lines and vivid angles. But even without the false femininity, Souji is still gorgeous. Souji is still ethereal. And Yosuke can feel that swooping in his stomach turn to something warm.

A terrible realization comes dawning over Yosuke's mind like a cold and wretched sun. The people in the photos – excluding Yosuke – though differing in dress, are the same. The things that Yosuke had noticed on the day of the pageant, when he'd stared and stared and stared at his friend like Souji was the most beautiful ghost he'd ever seen, every single one of them was still there. Even without the wig and the makeup and the clothing meant for women, every tiny detail that Yosuke had poured over was unmistakably present; they'd all been there the entire time, never not.  

Which means that Yosuke just hadn't noticed them until he'd stopped and stared. And stared. And stared.

Oh my fucking god.

---

There is a certain kind of quiet mania that comes from not having slept at all; a distant sort of grinding at the threads keeping a person from breaking down, from cracking like a gunshot. It's a mental time bomb, one that can lead to either exhaustion and collapse, or the utter shattering of all rational behavior and thought.

Yosuke sits on the living room couch, already fully dressed for school, watching the sun come up through the window as his body and mind are eerily calm. That internal timer is already running low.

He hasn't slept. After his brain-breaking revelation the night before, Yosuke had lain there, pulling out every memory he had of Souji and turning it over and over in his mind. Each interaction, each time he'd thrown his arm casually across the other boy's shoulders, the way it felt when they sat close enough that Souji's body heat warmed his side. So many times Yosuke had felt his breath hitch, his heart beat just a little bit quicker, but every time he just brushed it off. Adrenaline from talking over the murder case, the heat in the summer air, his now-absent crush on Rise kicking in when she did anything cute. (Because he'd noticed that, too; that his cheeks no longer flushed while thinking about her – not since she went from The Idol Risette to his friend Rise.)

Memory by memory, it felt like Yosuke's self-dug grave had gotten that much deeper, and as he pulled on that first thread of realization, more and more had come. Like untangling a spider web piece by fragile piece. It had left his brain in a jumble, keeping him awake for hours until he'd just given up on sleep altogether.

He hadn't been restless, per se, but there had been enough static in his head that it had eventually threatened to spill out into the dark of the bedroom, and, resigned to being awake forever, Yosuke had peeled back the covers and crawled silently out of bed. Grabbing his wrinkled uniform from the day before and slipping it on, he'd gone to grab his toothbrush and a comb out of the bathroom (fervently not looking at either the mirror or the shower,) and headed downstairs to use the bathroom there instead. Slowly, with all the time in the world, he finished getting ready for school on autopilot, even bothering to make – and eat – a bowl of cereal. From an outside perspective he might have looked relatively normal; internally, however, there was nothing but empty, dissociated quiet. Still waters, deceptive with their glassy surface, poised and ready to drop into the churning rapids below.

Yosuke checks the time on his phone, still on airplane mode.

He stands from the couch without a sound, collects his coat and school bag, and slips out the door into the frigid November morning.

(His reflection in the entryway mirror turns to watch him as he leaves.)

---

He cuts through the back way to school again, though this time he doesn't drag his feet; instead, he stalks down the side streets with his hands shoved in his coat pockets and his shoulders hunched. The lack of sleep and the cold feeling now lingering just at the base of his skull both serve to sharpen the knife's edge of emotional instability he's currently teetering on. He feels... nothing. And everything. All at once. He feels like he could run full-throttle straight at somebody and deck them square in the jaw; he also feels like he could break into hysterical laughter at any moment, or maybe tears. It's hard to regulate what's going on in his everything, because his head is both empty and far too full from all the thinking he'd done the night before, but it's also quiet, which is never a good sign. Normally his brain is too loud, but today...

Today is different.

Today is bad.

If he had to try and put words to it, Yosuke would have probably described his mood (if only to himself) as fragile. It's like the wall of ice that had been blocking him from his thoughts and emotions before has turned to tiny, thin splinters. Sharp and cold and so delicate that one wrong move will shatter them – but they'll also slice everything in their path to ribbons.

The slow, methodical trudge to Yasogami High actually takes far less time than he means for it to, leaving him ample time to loiter unseen around the side of the gate, just out of view of any students passing through it. Somehow, (and he's not sure just which god to thank for this,) he hasn't seen Souji yet, either in flashes on the way as Yosuke ducked away from the normal path, or up already near the entrance. It means that Souji is either already inside or he's still en route. (And Yosuke hopes it's the former, because he's not sure just how well that wafer-thin pane of frost is going to hold. Or, for how long.)

It's just his luck, then, that he catches a glimpse of starlight silver and bleached blond coming up the crest of the hill. Yosuke digs his teeth so hard into his cheeks he can taste the coppery tang of splitting skin – Souji and Kanji are walking together. Again.

So easily replaced.

Yosuke bites viciously into the flesh inside mouth and turns to stalk into the school before either of the other boys – so close together they almost touch – can see him.

---

“Hanamura!”

Yosuke twitches, jerked from the ominous quiet inside his own achingly-empty head. Turning, (slowly, stiffly, with the faintest spark of mania waiting to be fueled,) he turns to see the bearer of the voice that had shouted at him from the stairwell behind. Chie stands on the second floor landing with her hands on her hips, glaring up at him with a look so cold it could rival her Bufu. Yukiko appears just two steps below and finishes the climb to stop beside her, a stern expression locked on her face as if made of iron resolve. Neither one of them looks to be in a forgiving mood.

Yosuke wants to just turn back around and ignore them, wants to say 'fuck it,' and just throw away what's left of his friendships so he can go back to the blissful emptiness of rock-fucking-bottom. It'd be easier that way, and he has neither the time nor the energy to even begin to untangle the knot of mistakes he's made this week.

But the looks on his friends' faces (Chie, especially,) tell him they aren't going to let this go, even for now, so, begrudgingly, Yosuke stands and waits for one of them to speak. They don't disappoint.

Chie, upon seeing him pause, marches up to him with Yukiko hot on her heels and together the pair of them back him up until he's nearly hit the wall. “Alright, you dick, we need to talk.” From around her, Yukiko steps into position and stays at Chie's side, looking for all the world like a disappointed mother as she silently lets Chie do the talking.

Somehow, Yosuke finds his voice. Somehow, despite that momentary fight-or-flight-or freeze instinct when the girls had stormed towards him, Yosuke is calm. (It isn't the normal kind, either, it's the kind of calm that can only be found when someone has reached the threshold of just how much adrenaline their body can handle and they loop back around to apathy.) “Can it wait till we don't have class?” he asks, and the voice that leaves him is so devoid of life and emotion that it actually makes Chie balk. She and Yukiko share a disquieted look, like they aren't sure whether to be startled or mad and Yosuke takes their moment of distraction to try and slip to the side where there's still space to move away.

This snaps the pair out of their hesitation. Chie blocks his path with an outstretched arm, open palm smacking the wall hard enough – though not violently, to his mild surprise – to make a soft 'thwap.' Yukiko, still silent, moves to block Yosuke's remaining escape route on the other side.

“No,” Chie hisses, “it can't. Because the moment we let you out of our sight you're just going to run off into nowhere and go back to avoiding everyone, just like you've been doing for days. We're tired of it, Yosuke.”

Yukiko nods. “I know we're not as close as you and Souji-kun, but you're our friend, too, and this behavior needs to stop.” She strengthens her stance - and it is frightening.

Yosuke can't meet either of their eyes. “...I don't know what you're talking about.”

Chie makes a sound low in her throat. “Like hell you don't; you've been totally MIA with barely a word to anyone, you've been acting shady as hell whenever someone tries to talk to you, and on top of that you've been straight up avoiding Souji – which is insane, considering you two're normally joined at the freaking hip!”

Yosuke must be doing something with his face, because Chie squints at him and says, “Yeeaaaah, don't think we haven't noticed.”

Something sniggers inside Yosuke's head and it makes his vision pulse a faint, sickly yellow. His lip curls in a barely-there sneer. “Look,” he says, a little more life in his words this time. He smacks at Chie's arm with the back of his hand. “It's nothing, will you get off my back? I'm just having a bad week.”

“Bullshit,” Chie growls in response.

From the corner of his eye, Yosuke can see Yukiko take in a long, carefully-controlled breath, as if she's silently counting down from ten to keep herself collected. “This is more than just a 'bad week,' Yosuke-kun,” she says, and the evenness of her tone belies the fire he knows she can conjure during battle. “You've been rude, crass, evasive, and downright belligerent...”

(Yosuke isn't sure he knows what all those words mean but he's pretty sure she's right on every one.)

“Even on your worst days you've never been this bad.”

Yosuke is so, so tired. He's tired of feeling like he's being buffeted by the wind that's supposed to be on his side, unable to find his footing and ready to fall at any given moment. He's tired of the wildly swinging pendulum of his emotions sending him back and forth from feeling everything to feeling nothing. (And deeper, deeper down, he's tired of people leaving him behind, even more so of driving people away; it's a skill he's never asked for but has somehow mastered nonetheless.)

He doesn't answer Yukiko's spot-on accusations. He doesn't answer Chie's too-observant glower. He doesn't look at either of them, he instead stares off to the side, unseeing, just past the arm that blocks his escape.

Chie lets out another sound of frustration and leans further into his space, craning her neck to somehow stare him down despite their height difference. “Well?” she demands, “Anything you wanna say?”

Yosuke takes a long, deep breath through his nose, letting it out so slowly that the yellow creeping into the edges of his eyes dots with black. With the exhale, he feels the last of his energy – physical, emotional, mental – drain away. It hollows him out with each passing second, until he's nothing more than a husk resigned to his fate of forever being the King of Fucking Up; he's already pushed everything this far towards the edge, he might as well take that last step over.

“...Yeah, actually,” he says, and it's a lifeless drawl, almost entirely devoid of anything. (He sees Yukiko stiffen and Chie flinch in his peripherals.) Exhausted, he lolls his head forward and finally turns his eyes to Chie's face, fixing them just above her eyebrows because he can't focus them any lower. False eye contact, something he's picked up in his time working at Junes.

He takes another deep breath, feeling that disconnecting wall of ice closing over his heart, and says, “You should probably lay off the meat, Chie, cuz you're not doing your thick thighs any favors.”

Yukiko gasps.

Beside her, Chie looks stunned, jaw dropped and mouth open like it's trying to form words her head can't find.

(Yosuke tastes bile in the back of his throat.)

Disgusted with himself and just wanting to not be here, Yosuke tries to use the girls' frozen reactions to his advantage. He isn't sure he can move or duck under Chie's arm, so he makes a break for it the opposite direction and attempts to slide past Yukiko – only for her to snap back to attention just as he's almost free.

“Yo--!”

But Yosuke is too far gone. Instead of letting himself be forced back against the wall, he doubles down, gives in to the fatalistic inevitability that he's going to be losing more than just Souji at this point. (Good, he thinks sadly; I don't deserve any of them, anyway.)

Swerving, scraping the wall with his shoulder to try and get as much space between himself and Yukiko as he can, Yosuke reaches out a hand (desperately hoping he misses,) and makes a pinching gesture at her skirt, causing her to jerk back and away. “See? Here's a perfect set right he--”

His face erupts in red-hot pain.

Yosuke staggers backwards, hitting the back of his head against the cold concrete of the wall with an audible 'thump.' Thoroughly bewildered, he blinks over at the space he had just been and sees Yukiko, hand raised, stance wide, and completely, utterly livid.

Oh, he thinks, slowly reaching up to touch his scalded cheek. I've been slapped.

“You!” Chie snaps, just as Yukiko whispers, “How dare you,” in the most bone-chillingly quiet voice he's ever heard.

He... may have gone too far this time.

Chie stalks forward, so close he has to shallow his breathing to keep his chest from touching hers when he inhales. She turns her face up at him and for a moment, through the exhaustion and the resignation and the apathy, he truly believes her to be capable of tearing his throat out with her bare hands.

It's almost impressive.  

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she snarls, “You've been acting like a jackass all week!”

Yosuke focuses on Chie's cheekbones as best he can with her so close; he practically has to go crosseyed to do so, even without meeting her murderous glare. It's strange, how he's aware that his cheek is in pain, (and rightfully so, he deserved that slap,) just as he's aware that on any other day before this week he'd be terrified for his safety in a situation like this. He remembers just how hard Chie can kick, having felt it firsthand in delicate places. But his energy is spent at this point, and all the awareness in the world can't conjure up the ability to be anything other than drained.

So he doesn't react, just looks back at his (probably former) friend and huffs, “Chill out, Chie, it was just a joke.”

Both girls visibly tense, shoulders squared and backs straight. Yukiko brings her hand up like she's going to slap him again, rearing it back as she hisses, “It wasn't funny!”

Chie, simultaneously, bares her teeth in vicious rage. “Like hell it was!” she barks, her own voice layering over Yukiko's outburst.

Yosuke just lolls his head to the side slightly and focuses on empty air. “Yeah, well,” he drawls, unable to find the right emotion to put into his voice. “You're girls, of course you wouldn't get it; it's guy humor.”

Chie leans impossibly closer. “You think you're such hot shit,” she seethes, and her tone has gone icy, blisteringly cold. She jabs a finger into his chest hard enough for him to feel it bruise. “We put up with your nasty 'jokes' and your weird staring because you're our friend, but there's a limit, Hanamura!” Her lips curl, the finger digging into his sternum like a silent threat. “And you're freaking pushing it.”

Yukiko leans in as well, her hand still raised and ready, a bow string held taut. “Girls don't like it when you say things like that,” she says, so dark and even that it raises the hairs on the back of Yosuke's neck – but even though his body physically, instinctively reacts, the hollow pit in his chest where the ice now sits keeps his heart and mind numb. He doesn't look at her as she says, “If your brand of humor makes other people uncomfortable, then it isn't really humor at all, it's gross.”

There are people starting to collect around them; Yosuke can see them moving closer just past the haze of his unfocused vision. He can't tell if he cares of not, doesn't think he does anymore. Everything Chie and Yukiko are saying is too right, too justified for him to fight back or defend himself. I deserve this, he thinks, hears his own voice echoing like there's another nearly identical one layering beneath it.

A few other students, faces unrecognizable, gather just a bit too close to the direction he's been staring in. He doesn't feel like letting them think he's acknowledged them, so he rolls his head lazily back so he can pretend to face to the two girls in front of him. He's just going back to fixing his eyes on Yukiko's shoulder when a swath of silver catches in his vision – just barely, just enough to make him look up before he can consciously think about it. He refocuses, and feels his heart come to a painful halt inside his ribs.

Souji is standing there, looking at Yosuke as if he's never seen him before. His eyes are wide and confused, thin brows pulled so low that they're actually visible below his hair; his lips are slightly parted as if he's been caught mid-gasp.

Yosuke stares back at him for a long, panicked moment. A slow, frigid kind of adrenaline begins to seep into this veins, making his hands and knees shake even though he can't feel it. It kick-starts his heart back to life and suddenly it's pounding as he looks into Souji's eyes for the first time in he can't even remember how long, seeing no trace of recognition in the other boy's face. Only pain. Only confusion and betrayal. Souji looks at him like Yosuke is a stranger now, gaze boring into his own like he's looking for someone familiar but just can't find them, can't figure out who Yosuke is.

He saw, the voice that had layered his own whispers, hissing though laughing, jagged glee.

Souji saw.

The floor drops out from under Yosuke's feet and he switches to autopilot to keep from falling, somehow managing to stay upright through sheer force of unconscious will. Chie and Yukiko must notice the change, because he can peripherally see them pause, turning their heads to see what he's looking at. It's enough.

Moving feels like he's underwater, drowning, but Yosuke sees his chance and snatches at it with trembling fingers; as the girls are distracted by Souji, Yosuke pushes himself sideways along the wall until he's no longer pinned by Chie's proximity. Once there's space to do so, he shoves his way forward, sticking out an arm and breaking through the line that Yukiko and Chie's bodies have made. They part in their shock, and he's able to slip between them at last.

“Whatever,” he hears himself say. A verbal barrier, a wall to keep them all at bay while he books it to something resembling safety. He reaches up and palms the headphones resting around his neck. “You guys throw your hissy fit, I'm goin' to class.” He tugs the headphones up as he takes a couple long, quick strides out of their stationary reach, shoving them over his ears without actually turning on any music – using the comforting weight at the sides of his head as a shield. If they try and call out after him, he can just pretend he can't hear them and keep walking.

He makes it all the way to the classroom without being caught; he doesn't dare look at Yukiko, Chie, or Souji (especially not Souji,) as the three of them enter the room. Yukiko first, then the others, and Yosuke busies himself with his school bag until the sound of the door opening signals the arrival of the teacher and the start of class just moments later.

Yosuke keeps his head ducked down the entire morning, just in case of the the girls decides to risk a glance back in his direction. He can't tell with his eyes glued to his desk, but he thinks that none of them do.

(He doesn't know whether he should be relieved or not.)

---

Yosuke is up and moving almost before the lunch bell even rings. Like he's done for the past week, he grabs his stuff and hightails it out the back of the room, pointedly not looking and any of the friends he's managed to alienate in only a handful of days. Headphones snug over his ears and player in his hand, he takes the steps up to the third floor, then the roof, two at a time. It's only once he's up in the cold air and alone that he feels like he can breathe.

Picking a spot as far away from the door as possible, Yosuke drops to the ground and leans his back against the frigid metal links of the fence, barely even feeling the chill through his clothes. The breath he's finally caught starts to pick up – only for a moment – and he has to bring his knees up to the his chest, hands over his eyes and fingers twisting in his hair as he ducks his head and pulls in lungful after lungful of air. It passes just as quickly as it came.

What do I do now?

Despite the hollow feeling encompassing his heart, Yosuke still feels the twinge of anxiety that had brought about the thirty-second panic attack; it sticks to his blood cells, causing his palms to sweat and go clammy in the nippy November breeze. He brings them to his mouth and cups them over his lips, breathing into them to try and warm them back up. It doesn't work.

He sighs and drops his hands back into his lap, tucking them between the bend of his knees. He didn't bother bringing lunch with him again today, though between the rare breakfast that morning and the churning in his stomach he isn't so sure he'd be able to eat anything anyway. Still, even a snack would have provided him something to do with his hands, and so Yosuke is left with nothing but his music and his surroundings to occupy his time. He frowns – being alone with his thoughts recently has been anything but good, and today having gone the way that it has so far, he can feel the incoming uphill battle against his brain. He cranks the volume up on his player in hopes of drowning it all out before it begins, but turns the whole thing off and tugs the headphones from his ears a minute or so later, not wanting to associate any of his favorite songs with the maelstrom already brewing inside his mind.

It starts with a replay. Every single thing he'd said and done that morning in the hallway with Chie and Yukiko. It twists at his gut with each image, each remembered word he'd vomited out like a bio-weapon; he barely recognizes himself in his own memories, and honestly that is the part that scares him the most. No wonder Souji had looked at him that way.

And oh, if that hadn't been the worst part of it all. Yukiko and Chie he already hated himself for, already felt sick over how he'd treated them both since even before this all began, starting with the festival. He wishes he could go back in time and stop himself from ever putting their names down – all of them – because not only was it just a shitty, immature thing to do, but it also violated their trust. He sees that now, and it feels like a hammer to the head, because with everything that he's turned into in the days since, he knows it all started with that one first terrible decision. Most of the low points in his life have started with terrible decisions, he just hadn't been aware enough to put the pieces together until now. Had things been different, Yosuke wonders if Souji would have been proud of him.

That, however, is the thing that brings Yosuke's already-simmering self hatred to a rolling boil. Of all the people he's hurt so far, Souji is the one that makes Yosuke feel like he's beyond all hope of redemption. Souji had been his partner, his best friend, and Yosuke, stupid, stupid Yosuke had taken that bond and thrown it right in the garbage. They were supposed to be equals, but Yosuke had been too busy sinking into his own head, too mired in self pity and selfishly wanting things to go back to a normal that likely didn't even exist anymore. Not after all of this. For all the maturing Yosuke feels he may have done – the only silver lining in the storm that he himself created – focusing only on his own hurt and blaming Souji for it is by far the most childish thing he's done.

(Inside his skull, stretched out as though sliding into Yosuke's skin like a glove, he can almost feel something like a head being tilted, an eyebrow raised. There is a quiet, contemplative, 'hmmm,' as if his mind is thinking thoughts without him. He doesn't know how to interpret the sensation, so he tucks it away on the back burner for now.)

Somewhere past the door leading back into the school, Yosuke faintly hears the warning bell sounding, signaling the end of lunch and the resumption of classes for the day.

Yosuke doesn't move.

He sits there and leans his head back against the fence in utter exhaustion; he doesn't have the energy or will power to get up and go back inside. He doesn't want to feel the others' eyes on him when he walks in the door, or, equally painful, being entirely unacknowledged instead. Having done the same to Souji for days,Yosuke will admit his hypocrisy in that he doesn't know if he'd survive having his former partner do the same to him - even if Souji had scared the shit out of him, neglected to communicate with him, left him to wonder and worry and want after the pageant.

Then again, some part of Yosuke quietly relents, Souji... really isn't obligated to tell Yosuke anything. And while their leader should have at least been courteous enough to let someone know he was still alive, he'd eventually told Naoto. Which had hurt Yosuke – pretty badly, in fact – to not be the one Souji had talked to first, but at least he'd talked to someone. (Even though Yosuke is still adamantly sure the “food poisoning” excuse had been complete bullshit.) But... it wouldn't be fair to expect Souji to never have secrets; after all, Yosuke still has secrets of his own, even after confronting his shadow.

Some are just far, far more shameful than others.

Thoughts swirling, Yosuke can feel a headache beginning to build behind his eyes. He keeps going around and around; he's mad at Souji, he's not mad at Souji, he's mad at himself, he's not mad at himself for being hurt – on and on and on. It's a loop that doesn't seem to have an end, and it's making Yosuke dizzy.

He sighs again, and there's an echoing sigh inside his skull, albeit one that sounds far more frustrated than his own audible one. He's too tired to suss it out, though, and because all this thinking is starting to spiral, he digs his player back out and tries one more time to drown out the thoughts with music. He's relived when his attention stays on the lyrics and doesn't go careening off again; he closes his eyes and lets himself go blank for a little while, almost-but-not-quite dozing, tucked away in his little patch of rooftop in the brisk November air.

Sometime later – he doesn't know how long – Yosuke is pulled from his trance by the sound of a far-off school bell. His player apparently ran out of battery long ago, because the screen is dark and his headphones silent. Yosuke feels like shit.

He's chilly to the point where his skin doesn't really have much feeling anymore; his neck is stiff from the cold and the position it'd been kept in while he was out of it. His ears ache a little, too, and it's probably more from the headphones than the weather. Groaning, Yosuke sits up and peels the headphones off, setting them in his lap and rolling his neck to try and get his full range of motion back. He feels something pop. With another groan, he makes it slowly to his feet and stretches, every muscle in his body protesting as he does.

Fully aware that he hadn't gone back in after lunch, Yosuke has absolutely no idea what time it could possibly be; judging by the position of the sun over the treetops, however, and the sound of the bell from earlier, he can guess that it's probably well into the afternoon. “Fuck,” he mutters to the empty rooftop. He's more than likely missed most of the rest of the school day, though if that's the case then he can't bring himself to care. There was nothing waiting for him back in the classroom anymore, anyway.

Reluctant still to make his way inside lest someone catch him, Yosuke takes his time gathering his bag, tucking his player away, setting his headphones carefully on top because, well, they aren't any use to him right now, are they? It's only once he's run out of stuff to do that he finally fishes his pone out of his pocket to check the time.

Weirdly enough, there are no new messages – which, he isn't surprised at but also is? If no one had wanted to talk to him after that morning, he would have understood. However, with as rightfully angry as they both had been, he would have expected there to be something from Chie at the very least – even if not from today, then something else from last night, surely. Curious and a little uneasy, Yosuke stares at his phone until the screen goes dark. Oh, he realizes finally; he'd forgotten he'd put it on airplane mode the night before.

(He'd wondered why his phone had been so blissfully, ominously quiet all night.)

He taps the keys lightly to get the screen to wake back up and goes to take it off airplane at last – only to hesitate just before pressing the button, thumb hovering as Yosuke chews on his lip. His gut curdles. Whether there are a slew of missed texts or none at all, Yosuke knows that whatever is waiting for him once he hits confirm isn't going to be good. He has to brace himself; he just isn't sure what for.

With a deep breath in and a quick breath out, Yosuke takes the plunge and hits the button, not looking at the screen as his thumb presses down. He doesn't want to see just yet. At first there is nothing – no belated notification sound, no vibrations, nothing. He thinks maybe he's safe for the moment, simultaneously unsettled by the lack of any apparent messages...

...Until his phone vibrates, just once, in his hand.

Yosuke's breathing sticks in his throat for half a breath, head instinctively tilting to look down at the notification that just jostled his anxiety. It isn't from Chie, which is not what he expected, nor is it from Yukiko, which also would not have surprised him. It isn't even from Teddie, whining that Yosuke had left without partaking in their new morning ritual of communal teeth-brushing. No, the sender, devastatingly, is Souji.

Prtnr: I'm sorry. I won't bother you anymore.

Everything stops.

[kalinara]

So I have now made it to season 4 of the Walking Dead.  I have many opinions.  I like how the show doesn't glamorize Rick, and the other characters, becoming harder and colder.  It's a necessity, and it's satisfying watching them be badass.  But it's sad too that they've become so distrustful and wary.  I was SO relieved when they took in the Woodbury group at the end of the season.  It felt like a move in the right direction.

Though...dumb question.  Why didn't they all go settle in the fortified town instead of the prison?  (I hope they at least went and looted the library.)

I enjoyed Rick's foray into insanity a little too much, I think.  I don't think it was all because of Lori.  He was clearly fraying at the edges at the start of season 3 and it just got worse...a lot worse.

At the beginning of season 3, I was thinking "that man looks like a stiff breeze would knock him over.  He clearly needs to go hide some place and cry for a while."  Then it became very clear that no amount of time in a crying room was going to fix that.

Rick is surprisingly productive and group oriented, even when in the grips of mental illness.  Clearing out a cell block, hallucinating helpful people.  (...I am a little alarmed that season 4 Rick seems to have stolen his three questions from his hallucinations, but okay then.)

That said, I kind of think that there was a point where the others should have been willing to remove him from leadership.  The man has literally broken with reality, Hershel.  Please stop guilt tripping him.  He is sick.  Let him rest!

Also, I honestly expected the Ricktatorship to be more, I dunno, dictatorial?  But it seemed like Rick only made one or two decisions total against the wishes of the group, and at least one of those were when he was seeing dead people.  The rest of the time was basically leading by committee.

(It's actually a really interesting contrast with the Governor.  The Governor wears the title of an elected official but is an autocrat.  Rick claims to be a dictator, but mostly leads according to the group wishes.)

I'm increasingly bewildered at the fics and meta I see that characterize Rick as a "natural leader" though.  Because he is clearly so much happier at the beginning of season 4.  He doesn't even have that "Oops, here I am giving orders again, sorry" that most abdicated leaders have in this sort of story line.  He’s like “Nope.  I’ll help in a crisis but I won’t give orders,  I AM WORKING ON MY CROPS DAMNIT.”  He's a GOOD leader for the most part, (in as much as while he makes mistakes that have consequences, those mistakes are reasonable based on the immediate problem and the knowledge that they have at the time), but he's definitely not naturally inclined to it.

Which leads me to the logical conclusion that Rick Grimes is totally a submissive in the bedroom.  That is a man who is begging someone, ANYONE, to take the burden of decision making away for a while.   

But while he seems happier at the beginning of season 4, and Carl certainly seems healthier, I'm not sure Rick's coping mechanisms are any better.  "No, going outside without my gun is completely reasonable."  It's good to see Rick acting a little less like a feral cat, but sweetie, direct martyrdom isn't a good idea either.

In the end, I didn't hate Lori as much as I expected to.  I actually thought MOST of her behavior made some sense.  There were three big points against her though:  1) Her reaction when Shane wanted to leave in 2x01.  Honey, just let him go.  He's a horrible person.  2) Her reinforcement of gender roles within the camp.  I hate Andrea, Lori, but she's right.  Standing watch is more important than laundry.  Also, you could actually get the boys to help.  I mean, the men are the ones benefiting from the rigid enforcement of gender roles here, but I don't get the sense that it's on purpose.  They probably don't even notice.  I think if you pointed the inequity out to Rick, at least, he'd take steps to try to change it.  3) Her reaction to Shane's death.  Because seriously?!

Now ANDREA was awful.  While I loved season 2 in general, it was a bit painful in terms of the women.  Maggie was great, but Carol and Beth were mostly non-entities, and Andrea and Lori were outright frustrating.  The gender divide in terms of skill sets was annoying too.  Season 3 was a vast improvement on that ground.  We had Michonne.  Maggie and Carol seemed to have taken an upgrade to their skills.  And while Beth seemed to take a more traditionally feminine role in taking care of the baby, she did it in a way that didn't feel like a reinforcement of gender roles.  She just did what suited her best.    I'd like to think somewhere along the way the men figured out that they too can do laundry and everyone is much happier.

Andrea being annoying in season 3 was far less frustrating, because the female characters actually got to do things.

Though one part made me laugh.  When Carol told Andrea what happened to Shane, she just kind of stammers "But Shane LOVED Rick."  And while I actually agree with her, I was amused because I'm not sure when that would have come up in conversation.

I like to imagine that it came up during sex.  "Do you think you could be a little more sanctimonious when we're doing this?"  "Have you considered wearing button down shirts?  You'd look really hot, especially from behind."

(And while I'm pretty sure Andrea meant a fraternal love, I remember that creepy fucking washcloth scene after Carl got shot, so *I* think there was a sexual component there too.)

The show spent a little too much time in Woodbury in my opinion.  Michonne was great, but honestly, the Governor and Andrea were not compelling enough to warrant that much direct attention.  Especially not when compared to what's going on back at the prison.

"Lori's dead!  Carl's becoming a child soldier!  Rick's disassociating and hallucinating!  Maggie and Glenn are traumatized!  Daryl just LEFT!  WHY ARE WE HERE AND NOT THERE!"

Tyreese and Sasha are so great.  It's lovely seeing Michael Burnham in a different kind of role.  It was a little uncomfortable though how the show seemed to have a trend of killing off one black guy just as they introduced another.  T-Dog - Oscar - Tyreese.  I was happy to see Season 4 finally realize that yes, you can have more than one black guy on the show at once.  I hope they don't fuck that up.

They're probably going to fuck that up.

I have mixed feelings about the Maggie storyline in season 3.  I'm not a huge fan of sexual violence storylines in general.  But I will give the show credit for realizing that they can hit all of the important beats of a sexual assault storyline without including a rape.  I feel like too many shows don't realize that.  I wasn't a big fan of Glenn having the bulk of the focus in the aftermath though.  He’d been through a terrible experience too, but I wanted more about HER.

I like Daryl a lot more now than I did at the start.  But I still don't get why he's the fandom favorite.   I still think that a good three-quarters of Daryl's fandom characterization is stolen from either Glenn or Rick.  Which is a shame because ACTUAL Daryl is a lot of fun.  I wish I got to see him more in fanwork.  But I think I've come to terms with the fact that I will never see eye-to-eye with a vast majority of the fandom.

(Also, please tell me Beth-Daryl won't be a thing in the show.  I like their dynamic AS FRIENDS, but she's SEVENTEEN.  He is old enough to be her FATHER.  And while age differences don’t have to be bad, she is literally still a child!)

The Prison is actually looking quite comfortable now.  Plague aside.  I can't wait to see the show ruin it.  :-)

[fakedself]

JARED’S BPD

so this is essentially a meta about jared’s bpd ( borderline personality disorder ) . this delves a lot into some sensitive stuff, and touches upon some of his emotional abuse and child neglect, and delves into his issues with addiction, his alcoholism and his possible nicotine addiction, self harm, and suicidal thoughts. i’m going by the dsm-iv symptoms and definition, as well as my own personal experiences with having it. this isn’t required to read, but it’s a big part of how i play jared! do whatever makes you feel comfortable. mwah.

it’s split into sections to help both me and whoever’s reading this hgktjh

1. PREFACE. 2. WHAT IS BPD? 3. SYMPTOMS. 4. CONCLUSION.

1. PREFACE.

as stated before, i’m going to be referencing the dsm-iv as well as my own personal experiences for this meta! please keep in mind that no 2 cases of bpd are the same, because there are 9 requirements and you need to have 5 of those to be professionally diagnosed. bpd is different for everyone experiencing it. 

jared’s bpd and how he expresses his symptoms can and will be different from other people.

2. WHAT IS BPD?

borderline personality disorder, abbreviated as bpd, is a cluster b personality disorder. it’s characterized by unstable relationships, mood, and behavior, as well as a black-and-white mentality. it’s also characterized by a general instability with emotions. you need to have at least 5 out of 9 possible symptoms to be diagnosed with it.

3. SYMPTOMS.

a. FEAR OF ABANDONMENT. 

jared, bluntly put, has abandonment issues. whether real or not, he constantly fears people leaving him and, to an extent, believes said people eventually will. this leads him to push people away, get under their skin so it hurts less / doesn’t hurt when they eventually leave him. 

his abuser took advantage of this by constantly threatening him that he’ll leave. in the end, he did, only furthering jared’s fear of abandonment, as he wholly believed it was his fault and didn’t recognize it was abuse and manipulation until later. 

this is more of a trauma thing, but jared fears both getting hurt and used along with his fear of abandonment. this causes him to push people away and, often times, say things that’ll hurt them so they’ll leave. 

as he grew up with little to no human contact due to his neglectful parents, he has an intense fear of being abandoned. if a person he’s particularly close with suddenly leaves, he’ll isolate himself and take on more self destructive behaviors. 

b. INTENSE AND UNSTABLE RELATIONSHIPS.

often led to by jared’s idealization and devaluation by himself, jared’s relationships can be unstable sometimes. having an incredibly black and white mentality, partly because of his bpd, he either believes that said relationship is perfect and that the other can do absolutely nothing wrong, or that their relationship is destined to fail and it’s all his fault. once again, it’s intensified by his abuse. 

he holds people close to him to an unhealthy standard. he believes they can absolutely do nothing wrong and doesn’t believe when they do something bad. often times, he’ll excuse the other’s actions, or brush aside it, simply because he loves them too much. he can’t recognize when someone he loves actually did something BAD. 

while unintentional, he often has times where he believes that the other person hates him, and will isolate himself because of that. these moods are less common, but very intense, and will lead to panic attacks, disassociation, his unhealthy coping mechanisms, and isolation. 

c. UNSTABLE SELF-IMAGE.

jared fluctuates between seeing himself as better than other people, and seeing himself as the scum of the earth. he doesn’t see any particular characteristics that stand out about him, and has a very apathetic and numb outlook on himself. while he doesn’t hate himself, he doesn’t exactly love himself either. he doesn’t care about himself, and doesn’t give 2 shits about what happens to him. 

however, he fluctuates between being narcissistic and seeing himself as pathetic. sometimes, he believes that he should be a god, and truly sees himself as the most important person in the world. other times, often supported by his suicidal behavior, he sees himself as deserving to die. 

jared sees himself as either a king or a monster. 

d. SELF-DAMAGING IMPULSES / UNHEALTHY COPING MECHANISMS.

jared has incredibly unhealthy coping mechanisms. coupled with the addiction problem that runs in his family - that is, he can and will get very easily addicted to things - this is a big problem. 

most notably, he turns to alcohol. he has a high alcohol tolerance, so it takes him 1 and a half bottles of vodka to get him properly drunk. this is obviously very unhealthy and in verses where he’s in a very rough time, he’ll often drink every night. to a lesser extent, he willingly instigates fights. he says things that will provoke another person - usually a stranger - in order to get beat up. he feels like he deserves it, and will use it as a method of self-harm. 

it’s also possible he gains an addiction to nicotine. he chain smokes regularly in that case, and will go through a couple packs per day as an attempt to get rid of stress. 

e. RECURRENT SUICIDAL BEHAVIOR / THOUGHTS AND SELF HARM.

his mood can drop severely and along with that, he has suicidal ideations. he had an attempt in junior year and hasn’t had one since, simply because his parents got rid of any pills in his house and he has to ask for ibuprofen. the only reason why he’s still alive is to take care of susie, certain kids, and people. he doesn’t care about himself and while he can’t fathom it, other people do. he doesn’t kill himself for the sole reason that other people would be sad. 

he self harms in ways that fade. i.e, he intentionally provokes other people to beat him up and doesn’t fight back even though he absolutely could, bruises himself, and intentionally triggers himself. if he gets into smoking, he puts out the cigarettes on his hands. 

f. EASILY CHANGED MOODS.

jared has intense mood swings. one thing can change his mood entirely. nothing more to say about that. 

g. CHRONIC FEELINGS OF EMPTINESS.

he continuously feels empty and apathetic about life. he often feels nihilistic as a result, which ties into his suicidal thoughts and self harm. to deal with these issues, he self harms as an attempt to get himself to feel something. 

h. DIFFICULTY CONTROLLING ANGER.

hoo boy, a big one. his first response to an emotional situation is anger, especially if the other starts yelling first. he doesn’t know how to handle it any other way, so any sadness or guilt comes out as rage. after he’s calmed down, he does feel incredibly guilty about it, but occasionally, he feels as if it was better for them, as now he knows as much of a monster he is.

his anger is explosive. he makes jabs just for leverage, and gets easily irritated about a lot of things. he won’t resort to violence unless you make a jab about his home life, his trauma, his loved ones, and his gender + sexuality.  he also gets violent at discrimination. 

with his abuse and child neglect, he doesn’t get angry at the person that makes a jab at it, he gets angry at himself for the former and at his parents for the latter. he takes it out on the person saying those things, however. 

despite this, he flinches when someone yells at him. while he does yell back, it affects him more than it would, simply because it brings back bad memories of his abuser and his parents. if he sees you as his parental figure, he’ll quickly lose trust in you if you yell at him. 

i. SEVERE DISASSOCIATION. 

self explanatory - he disassociates a lot, mostly in cases of his trauma. he feels very disconnected to the world. 

4. CONCLUSION.

if you read this far, thank you!! jared’s bpd is a big part of his character and how i portray him, so hopefully, this gives you more of an insight of his character. while he does have this, he doesn’t recognize he has ANY mental illnesses due to how he was raised.

in discordverse and any verses that branch off of that, he does get better and learn to keep his symptoms and check and learn useful techniques to better himself.

[ncrcissv-blog]

                🐍  --- wands at the ready, NARCISSA MALFOY has joined the fight! the TWENTY THREE year old works as a HOUSE WIFE & PHILANTHROPIST, but spends HER time fighting for THE DEATH EATERS. NARCISSA is known to be DEVOTED & PROTECTIVE, as well as HAUGHTY & PREJUDICED. ( fc: josefine frida pettersen )

AESTHETIC: emerald green velvet, collar bones, goblets, blood red lipstick, whispering, walking alone at midnight, diamond encrusted jewelry, vines that crawl up the side of an old manor, six inch stilettos, clumps of cash held together with a silver chain, masquerade masks, silk sheets, fur coats, the hair on the back of your neck standing up.

her pinterest board can be found here.

guess who’s back !! it’s me !! with this absolutely phenomenal woman !! get ready for a wild ride y’all because this is gonna be a rollercoaster of emotions.

FULL NAME: narcissa ophelia malfoy (nee. black)

narcissa: as a girls' name is of greek origin, and the meaning of narcissa is “daffodil”. feminine of narcisse, which comes from the legend of the beautiful greek youth who became enamored of his own reflection --- hence "narcissism".

ophelia: of greek origin, meaning “help”.

SEXUALITY AND GENDER: 

demisexual, heteroromantic | cisgender female

BLOOD STATUS:

pureblood

HOGWARTS HOUSE: 

slytherin (though she had to convince the sorting hat. it almost put her in hufflepuff)

WAND:

cedar wood: cedar wands are found with those who possess strength of character and unusual loyalty. it was said by gervaise ollivander that you “will never fool the cedar carrier,” and these wands often find home where there is perspicacity and perception. it is unwise to cross someone who carries a cedar wand, and especially so if you do harm to somebody they care about. not to be foolishly challenged, owners of cedar wands are frightening adversaries.

unicorn hair: unicorn hair generally produces the most consistent magic, and is least subject to fluctuations and blockages. wands with unicorn cores are generally the most difficult to turn to the dark arts. they are the most faithful of all wands, and usually remain strongly attached to their first owner, irrespective of whether he or she was an accomplished witch or wizard.

length & flexibility: ten and three quarters of an inch, slightly flexible.

SKILLS:

having been raised as a proper, high society lady, narcissa possesses a plethora of skills.

languages: narcissa is fluent (can read, write, and speak) in english, german, and french, and she can also speak conversational russian. 

music: narcissa has played the piano since she was five years old. it is the one thing in her life that has always been constant. she’s terrific at it, and often when she’s feeling emotional she’ll turn to piano to feel better.

occlumency: a skilled occlumens, this is one talent narcissa keeps a secret. her eldest sister is also an occlumens, and it was from her that narcissa’s want to learn sprouted.

lying: it was a big part of her childhood. being the baby of the family, narcissa was incredibly spoiled when she was a little girl. her father was quite absent most of the time but her mother doted on her like crazy. narcissa, however, wasn’t a fan of the doting. she preferred to be by herself, and was annoyed by her mother constantly being around her. but, she felt ungrateful, and therefore put up a front of enjoying all the spoiling and attention because she wanted to make her parents happy. she carried this with her throughout her life, often telling people something for the sake of their happiness and not meaning it at all. 

PERSONALITY:

narcissa’s personality is complex

she was a sickly child. her parents weren’t young when she was conceived, and because of this she was born a month and a half premature. this lead to breathing issues and when she was a girl she fell sick with pneumonia every winter. her constant illness displeased her father (he didn’t want a weak child. never mind the fact that narcissa was his last chance at a male heir and she was ... well ... a she) and worried her mother. this caused her to have a lot of independence issues. she leaned on her older sisters and her mother a lot, and avoided her father like the plague.

spoiled to high heaven that girl was. she wanted for nothing, and got everything she could ever ask for. to say she didn’t enjoy it would be a lie. it was nice getting all the new dresses she wanted and fancy toys and the latest models of brooms. but it made her feel like she owed her parents something. 

in her heart she truly is kind. you can tell in the way that she interacts with the people she cares about. her heart is in the right place, but kindness often coexists with being impressionable, which she definitely was. because of her constant exposure to her mother due to being bedridden, and the fact that she was often told she was weak because of her health, she had prejudiced and racist ideals forced upon her from a young age and soaked them up like a sponge. she grew up being taught that anybody besides those of pure blood were equal to nothing. she didn’t know why, but she never questioned it for fear of angering her parents whom she loved so dearly. the only person who ever questioned anything in their family was andromeda, and that ended with her being disowned and burnt off the family tree.

she’s ??? really emotionally repressed ??? i mean what black family member isn’t, really, but she takes it to an entirely new level

because of her father’s hard (literal and figurative) hand and her mother’s doting, narcissa was raised with a weird combination of parenting techniques that left her feeling as if she deserved everything the world had to offer while simultaneously being angry with herself for expecting that. 

this turned her into a very torn up young woman. pack teenage angst on top of a feeling of both inferiority and superiority and you get somebody who doesn’t know how to handle their emotions at all

she wasn’t really that pretty when she was young. she wasn’t unattractive by any means, but she had stringly, bleach blonde hair and large doe-eyes that made her look slightly otherworldly. her pointed features were slightly covered by a layer of baby fat. she wasn’t anything special, anyways. it broke her mother’s heart that she wasn’t as beautiful as her sisters had been at that age.

super elegant and polite. she’s the definition of classy and her manners are far above those of most people her age. she was taught to always respect her elders and slip-ups in the manners department usually resulted in a smack from her father so she grew to be very good with them.

barely smiles because smiling causes wrinkles and also lowkey she has nothing to smile about ?? her life is a mess

a+ at hiding her feelings. she’s a closed book. it’s “unrefined” to feel much of anything so she prefers to put up a cold and judgmental front that keeps people away. getting close to somebody means eventually having to open up and she has way too much secret baggage. trunks and trunks full. this is what makes being married to lucius so difficult, because he likes to know everything and she doesn’t like people knowing anything about her.

loves kids. so much. she would have loved to work with children but having a job is for lower class women and mudbloods. it’s much better for her status-wise to just be a pretty thing on lucius’ arm than to actually act like she has a mind of her own. she was never allowed to have one growing up so why change now ???

she’s very set in her ways because they’re all she’s known and it’s easier to be the way she always has been than to try and change now. deep down she wants to, because she doesn’t like who she is that much (surprisingly. you’d never know it because she seems very conceited) but going against the norm of how she was raised is not only frowned upon, but dangerous.

too loyal for her own good. it’s what’s kept her devoted to a terrible cause and her terrible family her entire life. she believes strongly in the power of forgiveness, if not for the other person than for yourself.

she’s very protective of those she cares about. namely, her parents and bella. she would gladly lay her life on the line for her family and not bat an eye.

despite this her personality has a lot of negatives too. she is definitely prejudiced. regardless of whether she wants to change deep down, she is still very terrible to those she views as being “below her” --- aka, anyone who isn’t also from a rich, pureblood family. she isn’t directly cruel to them, but she’s mastered the art of backhanded compliments very well and uses them often. 

believes herself to be better than most people, especially when it comes to looks. because she was so average for so long, when she finally grew into her sharp features and large doe-eyes she had a moment of clarity about how beautiful she really was. she knows she’s gorgeous and isn’t afraid to flaunt it, quite arrogantly might i add.

OTHER:

she has more money than she knows what to do with, so she makes very large, anonymous donations to groups known to be against the dark lord. mostly orphanages for mudblood and halfblood children who had their parents killed in the war. 

publicly she also makes donations to many organizations, to help keep up the image of her and lucius whilst he does shady things under the table, such as ... y’know ... being a death eater. their philanthropic work keeps them in the good books of the higher ups, and makes them harder to pin for crimes that are blamed on the dark lord’s followers. after all, why would they help fund a new initiative for tracking death eaters if they were involved themselves ???

narcissa hasn’t taken the mark herself. she doesn’t have any desire to. she prefers to watch from the sidelines and take a neutral stance that is still supportive of the blood purists. she figures that, if the dark lord falls, it will be easier for she and lucius to keep their comfortable lives if one of them is “completely disassociated” from that life style.

her parents married her off to lucius malfoy as a political move, similarly to bellatrix’s marriage to rodolphus lestrange.

she has settled into her role of being lucius’ trophy wife well. while she doesn’t love him or find herself attracted to him, she’s good at keeping up an image. in public she seems like a beautiful, complacent, well-bred wife. behind closed doors she rarely speaks to him unless she really has to, because there are aspects of his personality that remind her of her father and that frightens her.

she loves dogs, and has an afghan hound named dionysus.

collects brooches. you will never see her wearing an outfit without a statement brooch.

more will be added to this as i explore cissa’s character !! like this if you’re interested in plotting and i’ll message you <3

[childliike]

hi everybody !! ( hi dr nick! ) im ARI, pst, she/they pronouns ( your pick go wild ), and boy do i love murder :)) i bring 2 u my mixed up ghost of a son, JOHN “JD” DOE !! i understand his bio is basically a novella, so the TL;DR is that he was raised in captivity by a serial killer, and when said serial killer was caught he just kinda,,, wandered the streets? he’s only really been participating in the world for like three years, so in a lot of ways he is like a small child. a small child who really likes playing w dead bodies. ( istg this all makes some kind of sense in long form sigh )  anyway,,,, if you did read the bio and youre like ‘that was great but how do i give even MORE of my valuable time to this stranger?’, you can find some headcanons under the cut !! ( i mean, youre also free to read them if you didnt read the bio ofc, but i cant guarantee they’ll make sense ok ) OH HEY you know what else you’ll find under the cut ?? some vague ideas for connections. yeah. sexy stuff like that. in a group this size i generally prefer to establish our charas dynamic before jumping into threads, so if you see something you like, let ya boi know !! otherwise hop in my DMs or ill hop in yours and we’ll work something out, it’ll be great. OKAY i’ll stop rambling now enjoy the stuff kids !!

headcanons —

JD always eats quickly and desperately, like it might be the last food he gets for days

also hell eat like, anything. catch him scraping mold off bread and then eating it.

he has a dog, some kind of rottweiler mutt, that he picked up on his travels. his name is dog. JD sometimes feeds him human meat.

he loves fire!!! so much ok hed probs marry it if he could if theres a fire anywhere in the vicinity he either lit it or is looking for it so he can feed it

aside from some unwanted touching from random sketchy hippie-types, JD is a virgin

he feels sexual attraction occasionally, but he mostly associates sex with violence, and stays away from it for that reason. he’s pretty sure that he’s never felt romantic attraction, but he kinda hopes he will someday

he feels more comfortable with women than men, but is conditioned to do just about anything a man tells him to do

that said, gender seems rather trivial to him, in the sense of both attraction and identity. if he lived in a more enlightened time, he would identify as agender.

he is somehow both the most innocent and the most disturbed boy you will ever meet. its an unsettling combo.

hes so curious about everything. seriously. hes basically only been in the world for like 3 years ok theres SO much he doesnt know and he wants to LEARN

especially curious about families and hometowns and human relationships bc that shits all like, bizarre and surreal to him lol

will hover silently around you until you directly address him or tell him to stop, and maybe even after that

catch him crossing boundaries constantly (figurative and physical, hes just as likely to ask you if your mother loved you cause it seems like probs not as to play with your hair without permission)

hell apologize like crazy if you call him on it tho, he just literally has no sense of like, how human interaction is supposed to work

like hes faked it ok-ish for the last few years but only because he mostly keeps his mouth shut and moves around a lot yknow? hes self aware enough to know he’s not human-ing right, but not self aware enough to actually learn how to human right

hes basically illiterate :( he never had any formal schooling and pretty much everything he knows about letters and numbers he learned from sesame street. if he tries really hard he can decipher basic things like street signs and menus to some degree, but most of the time he just fakes it

hes an open book in that hell answer just about any question truthfully (at least within the club) and will sometimes casually spout some very personal, truly disturbing shit like its nothing, but hes not the type to ever just bare his soul, and its doubtful anyone in the club knows his whole story

for him, killing is less about the actual act, and more about the access to a body. he loves exploring. he plays with his food, so to speak.

he has a complicated relationship with killing in general, due mostly to his mixed feelings about hank. he doesnt want to be like hank, but he also feels a bloodlust that he cant deny. he thinks about killing most people that he interacts with, but he suppresses the urges as best he can. when he does kill, its in an almost disassociative state- his usually careful demeanor becomes delirious and vicious.

connection ideas —

( note: many of these could overlap, or be filled by multiple people )

the person who introduced him to the kill club !! probably someone drifter-y or sketchy who would swim in the same semi-homeless circles he does. ie. knows him from that spot under the bridge where kids get stoned or that abandoned strip mall with all the mattresses and burned-out oil drums in it or some place like that. my son doesnt really fuck with institutions.

someone whose couch he crashes on currently/occasionally. could be anyone who doesnt mind a hover-y waif of a boy and a big growl-y dog in their space (or,,,, come to think of it, someone who DOES mind,,,)

which is a prefect segue to: someone who hates this kid. in my totally biased opinion, hes crazy lovable, but maybe your character doesnt like being asked a ton of personal questions? maybe they just find it creepy how he hovers around everyone? maybe theyre unsettled by how his eyes go all black like an excited cat when he gets to play with someones innards? maybe they knew one of them women he helped hank kidnap/murder???? idk man the skys the limit

on the other hand, how about someone who takes on a parental/big sibling type role? someone who disregards all the fucked up shit about him and just sees a lost and confused little boy who so desperately needs someone to take care of him and teach him stuff

a best friend???? hes never really had any friends at all so idk how this would go down but its worth a shot????

someone who,, kind of takes up the mantle that hank left empty? a manipulator who sees JD as the well-conditioned beta bitch that he is and uses him for their own gain

uhhhhh maybe someone he somehow knew before the kill club and is shocked to find there?? they probably wouldnt be as shocked tho he has a certain ~vibe about him lol

idk i think thats all ive got for now but im super open to other ideas hmu yo god bless

[characteroulette]

Vektor, EVERY NUMBER

trash prince. it’s gonna be a long one.

1. What is your OC’sfavorite color?

  > Vektor is fondof gold, golden browns, and khaki or really ugly yellows.

2. Does your OC collectanything? What do they collect?

  > Not.. really??If anything, he collects interesting bits of code he sees and storesit all in his backup modem space. Like a nerd.

3. What kind of thingsis your OC allergic to?

  > He’s allergic tosuccess–no, haha, he has no known allergies currently.

4. What kind ofclothing does your OC wear?

  > Suits! He likesrefined, rich-styled clothes, mostly suits and button-ups and a tieor two here and there, but he hates shoes so he runs everywhere withbare feet like a heathen.

5. What is your OC’sfirst memory?

  > Hisgrandfather’s battle with a Mainframe enemy and his parents’ bodiesdisappearing into the code. (Always gotta have dead or estrangedparents I swear)

6. What’s your OC’sfavorite animal? Least favorite?

  > He thinks bearsare pretty neat and he’s not really a fan of vampire bats.

7. What element wouldyour OC be?

   > Computer.……nah probably metal or light, he’s got a nice glow to him withhis creation magic and all.

8. What is your OC’stheme song?

  > He finds comfort in thesound and the shape of the heart, how it echoes through the chestfrom under the ground. And as the hills turn into holes, he’ll fillthem with gold..

9. Do you have afaceclaim / voiceclaim for your OC?

  > NOPE I’m notreally good at those kinds of things. I always use my own voiceswhenever writing them (and reading their dialogue out loud to myself)and therefore have a hard time separating the tone/inflection/accentI give them and that makes looking for voices for them REALLY HARD.

10. What deadly sinwould best represent your OC?

  > Probably Pride?His carelessness and disregard for others’ feelings tends to be forprideful reasons..

11. What are your OC’shobbies?

  > Getting annoyedwith Dante and wandering around reality in WONDER with a perpetualtourist expression. Also chasing after Vektoria.

12. How patient is yourOC? How hot-headed are they?

  > Not all thatpatient, actually! He gets antsy very easily and likes to pace ifthings are taking too long, as well as getting aggravated at othersaround him if matters are not progressing quickly enough. Hisimmaturity holds him back from being a good King candidate…

13. What is your OC’sgender / sexuality / race / species / etc.?

  > Vektor is codedMale, with no clear sexuality, mostly looks Israeli, and is acomputer being!

14. What foods doesyour OC like to eat? What are their least favorite foods?

  > Vektor likes allfoods, whether or not they taste good, haha. He’s dumb and likes todrench his foods with different condiments to watch how the codingchange, with no regard as to how much food he ruins Vektor why do youact like such a rich kid don’t waste food

15. If your OC couldhave any pet, what would they choose? Why?

  > Vektor’s perfectpet fit would probably be a puppy, as they’d both be so excited andtire each other out. However, I can definitely also see him gettingalong well with ferrets.

16. What does your OCsmell like?

  > He smells alittle like the school labs and a little like a certain cologne nearconstantly, despite never using cologne or being seen in the labshimself….

  (I know nothing aboutsmells tbh don’t mind me)

17. How do they make aliving? What kind of job do they want / not want? What is their dreamjob? What do they think of their current job?

  > These are allgood questions that I’ll think about later after Vektor is out ofschool

18. What are your OC’sgreatest fears? Weaknesses? Strengths?

  > Vektor’sgreatest fear is that he’ll fail his people and that they’ll alwaysconsider him a failure. His weakness is his impatience with otherpeople’s faults, while his strength is his pure belief in the best ofothers.

19. What kind of musicdo they listen to? Do they have a favorite song?

  > Vektor’s beenenraptured by every piece of music he’s heard out here in reality andwhile his favourite sounds tend to be techno or electronica (or videogame), he loves it all.

20. If they came fromtheir world to ours (if not already in our’s) how would they react?What would they do?

  > Vektor is theliving embodiment of this question holy shit hahaha

  He’s a perpetualtourist expression, wowed by everything he sees and impressed by eventhe littlest of wonders. His favourite thing to do is wander theschool campus at nights and just look at the scenery and he continuesthis even after his sleeping schedule stabilizes.

21. What personalproblems/issues do they have? Pet peeves?

  > Despiteeverything being so amazing and wonderful out here in reality, he’snot sure why he gets so frequently told not to use his powers.Surely, the others remember being able to utilise their powersoutside of the game? Also he’s struggling with the fact that hefucked up and projects pretty hard onto the others, especially Dante.Also he gets to go through an existential crisis YEAH

  His pet peeve woulddefinitely be someone having the power to circumvent issues, but notmaking use of that power.

22. What kind ofstudent were they/would they be in high school?

  > Vektor’s apretty grade-A student, mainly because he’s kinda a computer.

23. What is a randomfact about your OC?

  > In his currentform, Vektor is at a disconnect with his emotions, which is why hetends to slip into a more robotic tone and expression (kinda like hedisassociates due to being unable to tap into his emotions properly?)

24. What is theiroutlook on life? What is their philosophy / what do they think ingeneral about living?

  > Vektor’s prettypositive about life, believing that any sour situation can be rightedwith the correct steps and a fervent belief! If only that weretrue….

25. What inspired youto create them / how did you create them? Were they originally afancharacter? What was their personality / design like when you firstmade them?

  > YO OKAY so allof my Game Kids were supposed to be Code: Lyoko OCs, BUT HERE’S THESCOOP ON VEKTOR SPECIFICALLY:

  Vektor was meant tobe more sarcastic and deadpan, like my OC KS, but as I wrote him hejust turned into his excited tourist expression child haha. I wantedto create an Aelita-like character who held the keys to unlocking thedifferent areas in the game, and some of that has stuck (Vektor is aKey and has unlocking powers), but then there was also supposed to bethis huge thing about Day/Night shifts and a huge emphasis on notgoing against the stream which got phased out because it was toocomplicated.

26. Who is the mostimportant person in their life? Why? Who is the least important tothem (that still has an impact and why?

  > Dante isprobably the most important person in his life, for spoiler reasons.Both Jonathan and Frank are very important to Vektor as well, and Vektor has to admit that Vektoria is also kinda important.

27. What kind ofchildhood did your character have?

  > Vektor lived asheltered childhood in a rich setting and never wanted for anything(besides being able to go bare footed). He loved walking around thetown with his people and enjoyed the lessons his grandfather gavehim. The scariest thing really was learning all the different enemiesthat existed in the Mainframe and training his abilities in order tocombat them should they ever get loose again.

28. What kind ofnervous habits do they have? Do they stim? Do they have any kinds ofaddictions?

  > Vektor paces alot. It kinda drives Sonya a little crazy. Which is why Vektor tookto walking around the school after hours.

29. If they couldchoose their epitaph for their grave, what would they choose?

  > Uh. Vektor’s waytoo pompous to believe he’d die, ever. But after certain events, he’dprobably just want it to be his full name and title: Vektor Ketziah,Crown Prince of the Mainframe Kingdom.

30. Do they want to getmarried? Why or why not? Would they ever want kids? Do they havekids? Why?

  > Vektor has neverthought about relationships, much less marriage. (In the future,maybe, but first he has to solve the issues going on in his Kingdom.)

31. What is their mosttraumatic memory/experience? What is their favorite memory?

  > Probably thestory of his parents’ deaths that his grandfather told him is the most traumatic thing he can remember. Hisfavourite memory becomes the group hug with Dante and them, whoaccepted him and forgave him for his incomplete nature.

32. If they could haveone thing in the world, what would it be?

  > His people’seternal happiness.

33. Would they everkill someone? What would someone have to do to push them to killsomeone? If they would kill someone, why?

  > Even if Vektortried to kill Vektoria, I’m not sure his coding is capable ofdeletion at all. He could defeat her in the game, but that wouldn’tkill her…

34. What social groupsand activities does your character attend? What role do they like toplay? What role do they actually play, usually?

  > Vektor wanted toattend EVERY school event, causing a lot of scheduling hell for Paigeand Abraham (and total disaster as Petel couldn’t attend some of theevents due to band stuff and therefore no one was able to keep Danteor Vektor in check at times), but Vektor is eternally the tourist. Hehas to see the sights and try every stall and see everything! He’sgood in a debate, but he’s also kinda the worst customer at timesbecause of his tendency to list math equations explaining certainthings.

35. How is yourcharacter’s imagination? Daydreaming a lot? Worried most of thetime? Living in memories?

  > Vektor livesmostly in the present, as he’s not that great at daydreaming.Something in his processing is broken there. He has flashes ofmemories from when he was growing up in the Kingdom, but they’re notvery strong and as such he can’t get caught in them. Vektor is waytoo confident to be worried most of the time, at least.

36. What does yourcharacter want most? What do they need really badly, compulsively?What are they willing to do, to sacrifice, to obtain?

  > The thing Vektorwants most in his life is to take back his throne in the MainframeKingdom and heal the wrongs that Vektoria caused. Compulsively,Vektor needs to put others down to forget about the fact that hefucked up. To obtain his people’s trust once more, Vektor is willingto sacrifice himself to make things right once more.

37. What’s somethingthat your character does, that other people don’t normally do?

  > Vektorcalculates the formulas for how things work. I’m pretty sure not verymany people do that.

38. What would yourcharacter do with a million dollars?

  > Vektor has noconcept of monetary worth! (He’s a hopeless dork who would ask thecrew what he should do with the money and Paige would proceed to leadVektor through a very complicated series of steps that would end withthe crew suddenly owning some very illegal hacking tools)

39. What is in yourcharacters refrigerator right now? On their bedroom floor?Nightstand? Garbage can?

  > On top ofVektor’s desk in the dorms is his school books and notebook. Hisgarbage can is always clean it’s sorta terrifying to Sonya. Andmostly on the floor of their room is Sonya’s music sheets ofunfinished pieces he and Petel have been working on. (Vektor ownssurprisingly little in reality)

40. Your character isgetting ready for a night out. Where are they going? What do theywear? Who will they be with?

  > Vektor’s off towander the campus in the dead of the night because he’s all readyfulfilled his sleep requirement! He just wears his regular suit,nothing fancy for those late night rendezvous with that lab nightowl….

41. What does yourcharacter do when they’re angry? Why?

  > Vektor shoutshaha. He gets mean when he’s really angry, most of the time you seehim he’s just irritated.

42. Does your characterhave any scars? Where did they get them from?

  > Vektor does nothave scars at the moment! Not sure if he ever will.

43. What was the mostoffensive thing your character had ever said?

  > Good question.

44. How does yourcharacter react to / accept criticism?

  > Vektor doesn’tdo well with criticism in the beginning because he’s so goddamnheadstrong and he’s right, you’re wrong. Royalty always has to beright, after all! As time goes on, though, he does start taking astep back to analyse his actions when told he’s doing somethingwrong. He starts to accept his faults rather than outright reject them.

45. If your characterwas given a slice of pineapple pizza and they HAD to eat it (orsomething bad would happen), how would they react? Do they even LIKEpineapple pizza?

  > Vektor’s neverexperienced it before, so he’d be open to try it. Not sure if he’dlike it, but Vektor likes weird shit so he probably would find itinteresting even if he didn’t like it. (Good luck finding somethingthat trash prince doesn’t like, though. He likes onion ringssmothered in mustard.)

46. Your character isgiven a voodoo doll of themself. What do they do with it? Do they seeif it actually works?

  > Vektor wouldtake it to Frank or Jonathan, convinced one of them would know whatit is (or know who made such an interesting code that was attemptingto ensnare Vektor’s health values). In the end, Dante’s the one whofigures out how to de-link the doll from Vektor’s health safely.

47. Can your characterdraw? What do they like to draw? Do they doodle?

  > Vektor’s neverthought about drawing or doodling, but he’s a mixture of disgustedand fascinated by all of Dante’s drawings.

48. What were theirparents like? How has that affected how they are as an adult?

  > Vektor wasraised by his grandfather, as far as he can remember, so thatdefinitely shows through in Vektor’s antiquated manner of speech andmannerisms. Vektor is still a child, so he’s plenty flawed and moreof a mess, but that vindictive streak and callous disregard for humanfeelings definitely comes from his creators.

49. Does your characterlike candy? Do they get sugar rushes? What are they like when theyget a rush?

  > Vektor does likecandy, even if he thinks they’re a bit boring. He understands thatsugars attribute to energy gain, but has never experienced a sugarrush (and probably never will, his body processes that stuff fardifferently than a normal human’s would).

50. If your characterwas presented with imminent and unavoidable death/fatality, how wouldthey react? Would they try to avoid death anyways? Would they try tomake their last days count?

  > Vektor acceptshis death graciously, trying not to let on to any of his friends thathe’s going to die. After all, sacrificing himself to save someonewould cause a stir, but would be a much better use of his life thanthe current inevitable failure he’s destined for, right?

[inevitably-johnlocked]

JL Fic Recs: Angst With Happy Ending Pt. 3

Hey all!!

OKAY, so... I somehow LOST the original ask that this list was supposed to attach to, so I’m going to just offer it as a standalone list, because I need it posted for another ask I have, LOL.

So, for whoever asked about 2 months ago for Angst with a Happy Ending, this one is for you, LOL. I’m sorry, I have no idea why your post disappeared from my drafts. Enjoy, all, a rare List Without an Ask :). ENJOY!! And as usual, add your faves! <3

ANGST WITH HAPPY ENDING Pt 3

See also:

Angst With a Happy Ending

Angst With a Happy Ending Pt. 2

Angsty Fluff

A Room of One's Own by whitchry9 (K+, 2,174 w., 5 Ch. || S2 Timeline, Hurt/Comfort, Supernatural, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Coma, John Whump, Worried Sherlock, POV John, Angst, Friendship/Bromance, Hospital) – When a severe head injury lands John in a coma, somehow he ends up in Sherlock's mind palace. It's actually pretty nice there, and John is entertaining the notion of staying there, rather than returning to his broken body. But Sherlock isn't taking it as well, and John can feel him breaking around him.

To the Nines by suitesamba (M, 2,724 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Magical Realism, Pining, Angst, John Whump, Time Travel, Fortunes, Time Jumps) – John skips forward in time, and Sherlock reads the signs that point to nine. John knows he’ll eventually be with Sherlock, but the waiting is nearly impossible, and his body is a lot more than transport. A foray into magical realism where all the canon events occur, and a hell of a lot more.

Reversed by whitchry9 (K+, 3,072 w., 6 Ch. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Medical Anomolies, John Gets Shot) – The man pointed his gun at John's chest, right at his heart, and shot.' Wherein John is shot, and Sherlock is the one panicking.

Bridges by sussexbound (M, 6,602 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TLD / S4 Fix It, Love Confessions, Mending Relationships, Moving Back In, Pining Sherlock, POV Sherlock, Past Abuse, Shaving) – The silence between them is deafening, interrupted only by the hum of the traffic outside, and the soft click-clunk of the plastic cups Rosie is playing with on the floor beside them. It is the first time they have been alone together, since Sherlock’s birthday. It’s only been two days, but it feels huge, important, like there is a precarious bridge stretched out before them both that they need to at least attempt to traverse.

London Gods by a_different_equation (E, 11,092 w., 5 Ch. || American Gods Fusion || Magical Realism, Sex Magic, True Love, PTSD John, First Kiss/Time, Marathon Sex, Sensuality, Genie Sherlock, Human John, Internalized Homophobia, Star-Crossed Lovers, Soul Mates) – Sherlock Holmes is a jinn who does not grant wishes. However, when Dr. John H. Watson, recently returned from the war in Afghanistan, gets into his cab by "accident", it might not even need magic to grant both men their deepest wish: love.

The Hand You're Dealt by Lady Sam Mallory (T, 12,092 w., 1 Ch. || Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Light Violence, BAMF John, Doctor John, Injury, Friendship) – Sherlock, John and several others are trapped in a building when an explosion disrupts the crime scene they are working.

Kintsugi by distantstarlight (E, 14,772 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Regret / Remorse, Loneliness, Separation, Drug Use, Healing, Protective John, Sad Sherlock, Dev. Rel., Complicated Relationships, Love, Angst With Happy Ending, Sherlock is Called Freak, John’s Penance, Voyeurism, Doctor/Caretaker John, Guilty John, Detox, Fingering, Love Confessions, Cuddling, Slight Non-Con Turns Enthusiastic Consent, Virgin Sherlock) – Sherlock Holmes becomes estranged from the man he had once considered his best friend after John lets him down horribly in public. It seems that the world's only consulting detective will be on his own once again...or will he?

The Burning of the Leaves by blueink3 (M, 15,915 w., 3 Ch. || Post S4, Angst, Reichenbach, Parentlock, Past Jolto, Idiot John, Sherlock’s a Mess, Puppies, Fluff, Possessive / Jealous Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock POV, Matchmaker Sholto, Melancholic Feelings, Emotional Sherlock, Domesticity, Love Confessions in the Rain, Kissing in the Rain, Pet Names, Panic Attack) – After the events of series 4, Major Sholto invites John and Sherlock to lunch one day. It nearly proves to be too much for their tenuous relationship as the past haunts the present, putting the future that Sherlock so desperately wants at risk.

The Palmyra Atoll by elwinglyre (E, 16,609 w., 3 Ch. || TSo3 Divergence / Episode Fix-It, Stockholm Syndrome, Kidnapped John Watson, John Whump, Evil Mary, Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Toplock, Limited 3rd John POV) – As John's preparing for the wedding, Sherlock is preparing to have his heart broken, and Mary is prepared to do the unthinkable. Intervention required. Enter Sherlock. Set before Sign of Three with a far different outcome. John is drugged, kidnapped, and left on an island, but not just any old island.

Wonderful, Etcetera. by VictoryCandescence (T, 16,955 w., 3 Ch. || Wonderful Life AU || Alternate Timelines, Brotherhood, Homophobia, Suicidal Ideations, Mentions of Drug Use, Friendship, Different TRF, Sherlock’s Past, Victor Trevor is Past Boyfriend, Depression, Hallucination?, Love Confessions, Christmas, First Kiss) – Sherlock thinks everyone would be better off if he had never existed, including and especially himself. When he finds himself in a world in which his wish has been granted, he begins to think perhaps even he could be wrong – but it takes an unlikely chaperone to make him not only observe, but understand.

I Think I've Come A Long Long Way To Sit Before You Here Today by ArwenKenobi (T, 18,251 w., 3 Ch. || Grief/Mourning, Passage of Time, Major Character Death, Alternating POV, Sherlock Whump, Pining Sherlock, Hospitalization, Coma, Revenge Murders, Hallucinations, Love Confessions, Brutal Accident, Mystrade, Ghost John) – One year after John is killed Sherlock starts to wonder whether John has actually gone anywhere.

Permanent Fixture by vitruvianwatson (E, 18,836 w., 9 Ch || Post-S4, Parentlock, Slow Build, Friends to Lovers, They’re Good Parents, Blushing Sherlock, First Kiss/Time, Explicit Consent, Sexual Content, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Big Feelings, Crying, First Kiss, Fluff, Anxious Sherlock, Inexperienced Sherlock, Emotional Communication, Love Confessions) – Now, as Rosie sat curled up against Sherlock’s side, John watched and wondered exactly how he had ended up here. Domesticity had never suited him before, not at any point in his life. His disastrous marriage had been proof of that. But somehow, here in the warmth and safety of 221B Baker Street, here with Sherlock Holmes reading medical jargon to his daughter, Sherlock’s bony feet nudging against his leg, John couldn’t imagine anyplace that would make him happier.

Silhouettes by allonsys_girl (E, 28,585 w., 7 Ch. || Canon Compliant, POV John, Heavy Drinking, Sad/Depressed John, Grief/Mourning, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Reunion, Foot Jobs, Blow Jobs, Infidelity, Cheating, Drug Use/Abuse, Anal, Switchlock, Rimming, Parentlock) – Sherlock and John find comfort in each other's arms, but as ever with these two, it's not your typical relationship. It's fluffy at the beginning, gets deeply angsty in the middle, gets porny at the end.

A Home for Us by sussexbound (M, 30,581 w., 12 Ch. || Scars, Bedsharing, Grief, Doctor John, Hurt/Comfort, Post-TRF, Implied/Referenced Torture, Sherlock POV, Pining Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation, Heavy Emotions, Clingy Sherlock, Hallucinations, Disassociation, Emotional Turmoil) – He has been on the road for two years, and he is exhausted. He’s almost accepted that he will never see London (John) again—almost. But then there are nights like tonight, where he is weak, and all he can think of is the warmth of the flat they once shared, the crackle of the fire in the hearth, the teasing smile playing at the corner of John’s lips, the boxes of half-eaten Chinese takeaway balanced precariously in their laps. He aches at the memory of it, at the realisation that it is something he may never experience again.

The Winter Garden by Callie4180 (T, 31,213 w., 13 Ch. || Post-S4, Retirement, Christmas, Slow Burn, Grown-Up Rosie, Parenthood, Rosie’s Cat, Angst with Happy Ending, Holidays, Beekeeping, Magical Realism, Sherlock POV, Sherlock’s Violin, Future Fic, Sussex, Honey, Magical Healing Honey, Love Confessions, Sherlock’s Scar, First Kiss, Touching) – As Sherlock nears the end of his career, he's given the gift of a cottage in Sussex. The honey from the beehives out back is amazing.Almost...magical.

Only To Be With You by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John (M, 40,768 w., 4 Ch. || Black Mirror / Future AU || Character Death, Future Technology, Sickness/Cancer/Illness, Heavy Angst with Happy Ending, First Person POV John, Pining John, Heart-Wrenching Angst) – I tell myself that next time I’ll come near this same place again. Wait around for the mysterious stranger in his coat to dash past me, hot on the heels of a new criminal in black. I think this all the way back to my Exit, planning where I’ll wait and what I’ll say when I see him. Scheming on how to get his name. It’s only once I reach the Exit Point door that I realize two hours and forty-five minutes have passed, and I realize that this won’t be the last time I Visit. It won’t be the last time at all.

Inscrutable to the Last by DiscordantWords (M, 48,842 w., 6 Ch. || Post-TRF, Alternate S3, John’s Blog/S3 is a Story By John, Divorce, Marital Difficulties, John is a Mess, Emotional Reunion, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Grief / Mourning, Pining John, First Kiss, Adorably Clueless Sherlock, Nostalgia, Love Confessions, Eventual Happy Ending) – He wasn't Sherlock, he couldn't work miracles. All he'd ever been able to do was write about them.

Anchor Point by trickybonmot (E, 49,856 w., 80 Ch. || Truman Show AU || Psychological Drama, Suspense, Slow Burn, Dark Characters / Fic, Alternating First/Third Person, Protective John, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Tender Moments, Love Confessions, Hand/Blow Jobs, Cuddling, Jealous John, First Kiss/Time) – The world tunes in nightly for Sherlock, the ultimate in reality TV: Sherlock Holmes, a real person with a legendary name, unknowingly lives out his life in a staged setting contrived by his brother. Things get complicated when a retired army doctor joins the show to play the part of Sherlock's closest friend. This fic borrows its concept from the 1998 film, the Truman Show. However, you don't need to have any knowledge of the movie to enjoy this story.

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse by SilentAuror (E, 50,635 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4/S4 Divergence, Case Fic, For a Case / Reverse Fake-Relationship, Conferences, Marriage Equality, Travelling / New York, Pride, Homophobia, Bottomlock, Marriage Proposal, John POV, Sexuality, Love Confessions, Emotional Love Making, Public Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Passionate Kissing, Needy/Clingy Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Touching / Hand Holding, Bed Sharing, Little Spoon Sherlock, Intense Orgasms) – John and Sherlock go to New York to attend a conference run by the National Defence of Traditional Marriage Coalition in order to investigate the potential bombing of the annual Manhattan Pride parade. As the conference unfolds, John finds himself repulsed by the toxic ideology being presented, which becomes relevent to his own unacknowledged issues and his friendship with Sherlock...

Gold Rush by ShirleyCarlton (E, 71,783 w., 17 Ch. || Post S3 / No Mary, Friends to Lovers, Mentions of Past Sexual Abuse, First Kiss, Case Fic, Slow Burn, Alternating POV, Switchlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Marriage Proposal, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Abduction, Anxious/Insecure Sherlock, Miscommunication, Emotional Lovemaking) – John has divorced Mary and pops round to 221B one evening to find Sherlock in the middle of a case. As Sherlock tries to find the identity of a young woman’s stalker, John realises he can no longer deny his feelings for Sherlock – which then, to their befuddlement, turn out to be mutual. Shy kisses and tentative embraces ensue. But will Sherlock be able to cast off a shadow from his past that he thinks might prevent John from wanting to stay?

Repairing the Broken Things by BakerTumblings (M, 75,252 w., 15 Ch. || S4 Compliant, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Trauma, Hospitals, Big Brother Mycroft, Misunderstandings, Realizations, Severe Accident, John Whump, Pneumonia, Medical Procedures, Bed Sharing, First Time, Healing, Happy Ending) – "I'm calling today to notify you that there's been an accident."

Points by lifeonmars (E, 53,791 w., 42 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || HLV Rewrite / Canon Divergence, Married Life, Pregnancy / Baby Watson, Drinking to Cope, Boxing / Fisticuffs, Clueless John, Angst, Minor Medical Drama, Tattoos, Christmas, First Kiss/Time, Eventual Happy Ending, Love Confessions, Doctor John, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Burn, Case Fic, Drugging, Blow/Hand Job, Emotional Love Making, Parenthood, Passage of Time) – What if His Last Vow never happened? This fic picks up a few months after John and Mary's wedding, in an alternate universe where Magnussen doesn't exist, but Mary is still pregnant. Life continues -- just in a different direction. And slowly, Sherlock and John find their way to each other.

Lunar Landscapes by J_Baillier (M, 57,046 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || S3/TAB Fix-It, Slow Burn Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Confessions, Drugs, Pain, Medical, Injury, Sherlock Whump, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, Romance, Secrets, Tragedy, Trauma, BAMF John, Doctor!John, Drug Addict Sherlock, Injured Sherlock, Grieving John, Idiots In Love,  Protective John, POV John Watson, PTSD Sherlock, Sherlock is a Mess, Medical Realism) – An accident forces John to face the fact that Sherlock's downward spiral had started long before his flight to exile even left the tarmac.

Hell Sent, Heaven Bound by ConsultingHound (M, 64,381 w, 16 Ch. || Angels / Demons AU ||  Fallen Angel Sherlock / Angel Cop John, Alternate First Meeting, Slow Burn, Case Fic, John & Lestrade are Friends Before Sherlock, BAMF John, Mind Palace John, Friends to Lovers, John in Denial, Sherlock Picks Out John’s Clothing, Clubbing / Dancing, Mildly Jealous John, Awkwardness, Kidnapping, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Sacrifice, Worried / Anxious Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Immortal to Mortal) – Ex-War healer and current angelic guard John Watson is not having the best day. He overslept, he’s underpaid, and now there’s someone tagging the Council’s building walls. However things may be about to get interesting: there’s an unusual stranger hanging around (the definition of tall, dark, and handsome), a literal underground cult is brewing, and rumblings are coming from hell. Can he keep his neighbourhood safe, how and why is he being connected to all this, and who the hell is Sherlock Holmes?

White Knight by DiscordantWords (M, 69,840 w., 13 Ch. || S4 Compliant/Post S4, Marriage For a Case, Jealous John, Pining John, Janine / Sherlock Fake Relationship, Serial Killers, Case Fic, Undercover as a Couple, Weddings, John is a Mess, Misunderstandings, Wedding Planning, Jealousy, Drunkenness, Love Confessions, Angst with Happy Ending) – Green. The word green was used to convey a great many things. Illness. Envy. Inexperience. Standing there amidst Janine's chattering bridesmaids, watching Sherlock furrow his brow and study fabric swatches, watching him smile and simper and flirt, John thought it a remarkably apt colour choice. Because he felt quite sick to his stomach, he feared the source of said sickness might very well be jealousy, and he had absolutely no idea at all what to do about it. Or: Sherlock needs to fake a relationship for a case. He doesn't ask John.

Just To Hold You Close by sussexbound (E, 70,841 w., 18 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting, Sherlock POV, ASD Sherlock, PTSD John, Demisexual Sherlock, Bisexual John, Cuddling/Snuggling, Platonic Cuddling, Enthusiastic Consent, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, First Kiss/Time, Sexual Tension, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Cuddle Negotiations, For a Case Until It Isn’t, Hair Petting, Sexual Negotiation, Anxiety, Trust Issues, Slow Burn, Panic Attacks, Frottage, Hand/Blow Jobs, Referenced Self Harm / Abuse / Suicidal Ideation, First Kiss/Time, Anal) – When a woman is murdered and the last person to see her alive is recently invalided army vet turned reluctant (and prickly) professional cuddler, John Watson, Sherlock Holmes is pulled into a world of intimacy and intrigue he never could have imagined. John is a conundrum and mystery: frank yet reserved, tender yet angry, open yet afraid. Sherlock is instantly drawn into his orbit, and begins to feel and desire things he never has before.

The Monument of Memory by J_Baillier (M, 79,663 w., 14 Ch. || Post S4 Fix It Fic / S4 is Canon, Angst, Family Drama, Guilt, Case Fic, John Loves Sherlock, Complicated Feelings, Mentalism / Hypnosis, Murder, Grieving John, Sherlock is a Bit Not Good, Team Work, Trust Issues, BAMF John, Psychological Trauma, Protective John, Autistic-Spectrum Sherlock, Parentlock, John POV) –  A genius traumatised by a past he's only beginning to recall. The psychopath sister that time forgot. A missing woman and a mentalist who may or may not be a murderer. And, in the middle of it all, stands John Watson.

Thermocline by J_Baillier (M, 83,557 w., 14 Ch. || Scuba Diving AU || Adventure, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Marine Archaeology, Asexual Sherlock, Horny John, Relationship Drama, Technical/Scuba/Wreck Diving, Slow Burn, Underwater /  Medical Peril, Doctor John, Hurt Sherlock, Anxious Sherlock, John POV, Protective John, Body Appreciation) – John "Five Oceans" Watson — technical dive instructor, dive accident analyst and weapon of mass seduction — meets recluse professor of maritime archaeology Holmes. As they head out to a remote archipelago off the coast of Guatemala to study and film its shipwrecks for a documentary, will sparks fly or fizzle out?

Kintsukuroi by sussexbound (E, 91,823 w., 20 Ch. || S4 Compliant / Post-TLD, Grief / Mourning, PTSD, Internalized Homophobia, Therapy, Past Abuse, Alcohol Abuse, Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Anxiety, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, Cuddling, Suicidal Ideation, Masturbation, Minor Character Death, Sexting, Frottage, Inexperienced Sherlock, Rimming / Anal / BJ’s, Emotional Turmoil, Finding Each Other) – “I love you.” Sherlock sees the words hit John with almost physical force. He reels back a little, jaw twitching and eyes filling. “I love you,” he repeats, a little softer, a little more gentle, as earnest as he possibly can. Because they’ve been teetering on the brink of this thing for years, and it had become painfully obvious over the last few months that they were at a tipping point. This had to happen. Now it has. Now they can see where they end up. The tears in John’s eyes spill over, and he wipes at them angrily. “Do you even know what that means?”  

The Summer Boy by khorazir (T, 94,706 w., 6 Ch. || Post S3/Post TAB/Alternate S4, Friends to Lovers, Flashbacks, Sussex, Bullying, 1980′s Kid Sherlock, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Inexperienced Sherlock, Grief/Mourning, Pining Sherlock, Background Case Fic) – About half a year after the fateful events at Appledore, Sherlock and John embark on a private case in Sussex. For Sherlock, it’s a journey into his past, bringing up memories both happy and sad that he has locked away for almost thirty years. For John, it means coming to terms with the present – and a potential future with Sherlock. Part 1 of the The Summer Boy series

Northwest Passage by Kryptaria (E, 95,157 w., 27 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Canadian AU ||  BAMF!John, Canadian John, PTSD, Anal / Oral Sex, Rimming, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Drug Rehab, Falling in Love, Pining Sherlock, Love Confessions, Sherlock’s Violin, Panic Attacks, Switching, Anxious / Protective Sherlock, Hugs for Comfort, Suicide Mentions, Healing Each Other) – Seven years ago, Captain John Watson of the Canadian Forces Medical Service withdrew from society, seeking a simple, isolated life in the distant northern wilderness of Canada. Though he survives from one day to the next, he doesn't truly live until someone from his dark past calls in a favor and turns his world upside-down with the introduction of Sherlock Holmes." Part 1 of Tales from the Northwest

The Adventure of the Silver Scars by tangledblue (NR [M], 142,458 w., 41 Ch. || S3 Fix-It, Post-HLV/ Post-TAB / Canon Compliant, Case Fic, No Baby, Angst, Humour, UST, Slow Burn, Angry John, Reconciliation, Not Nice Mary / Leaving Mary, Dependent Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Caretaker John, Fist Fights, It’s An Experiment, Virgin Sherlock, Dancing, Drugging, John Whump, Pet Names, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Scars) – It’s been thirteen months since Mary shot Sherlock and John finds he’s still pissed off about it. Sherlock had thought everything was settled: John and Mary, domestic bliss. But when John turns up at Baker Street with suitcases, the world’s only consulting detective might not be prepared for the consequences. A new case. Some old scores to settle. Certain danger. Concertos, waltzes, and whisky.

Proving A Point by elldotsee & J_Baillier (E, 186,270 w., 28 Ch. || Me Before You Fusion || Medical Realism, Insecure John, Depression, Romance, Angst, POV John, Sherlock Whump, Serious Illness, Doctor John, Injury Recovery, Assisted Suicide, Sherlock’s Violin, Awkward Sexual Situations, Alcoholism, Drugs, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Body Image, Friends to Lovers, Hurt / Comfort, Pain, Big Brother Mycroft, Intimacy, Anxiety, PTSD, Family Issues, Psychological Trauma, John Whump, Case Fics, Loneliness, Pain) – Invalided home from Afghanistan, running out of funds and convinced that his surgical career is over, John Watson accepts a mysterious job offer to provide care and companionship for a disabled person. Little does he know how much hangs in the balance of his performance as he settles into his new life at Musgrave Court.

Against the Rest of the World by SilentAuror (E, 151,714 w., 20 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Hiatus Fic, POV First Person Sherlock, Present Tense, First Kiss/Time, Big Brother Mycroft, Escaping from Capture, Soft Sherlock, Toplock, Insecurity, Infidelity, Travelling, Introspection, Pining Sherlock, Depression, Fantasies, Yearning for the Past, PTSD Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation) – Sherlock has been away from London for nine hundred and twelve days and counting, and has no idea what sort of reception to expect when he finally returns.

[kira-ning]

Jackev 1x07: Power, Friendship, Sex

Over the past couple of weeks I’ve been seeing posts/comments over the internet showing concern over Jack’s age. The truth is his age hasn’t been explicitly stated, neither have there been many clues for us to work with. I don’t see the age difference between him and Lady Ev being as big as some suggest, but at this stage your guess is as good as mine. The reason why I start by saying this is because this is often how concerns about this relationship are articulated, while I would suggest that even if the two of them were to be the same age, their relationship would still be disturbing.

As Jack and Lady Ev navigate where they stand in each other’s lives, we will continue to see the tussle between ‘my property’ and ‘my friend’. Inter-mixed with genuine feelings, there’s a definite power play going on. This will never be completely resolved unless and until Lady Ev makes Jack a free man. And for that to happen, there’s still a lot of growing to do. And I would also suggest – that they are indeed helping each other to grow, in a very unconventional way.

*Please note this long meta includes potential spoilers for future episodes. 

Interestingly, it is becoming more evident that neither of them very self-aware but Jack is even less so than Lady Ev is. Jack doesn’t realise he has a streak of self-centeredness – to be honest I didn’t realise it either until he got so angry at Tip. Not to say I can’t understand how he feels, and he’s had it rough, but haven’t they all been through something rough? 

And that’s what Lady Ev tries to tell him in the carriage. He’s angry at her not accepting his efforts to comfort her (we’ll get to her end later), so he finds the first opportunity to snap back at her. He’s consumed with his body – but here’s the thing - Lady Ev has absolutely no problems with his body. And I think the moment she tells him to get out of the carriage is the moment she’s to her limit with him feeling sorry for himself for something she personally accepts – especially at a time when she’s mourning her father and also (by her own admission), wants to feel sorry for herself. Was that a callous act? Oh absolutely. But did she have a point? Oddly yes.

What’s interesting about the whole conversation in the carriage is that there’s so much misunderstanding between them. When Lady Ev tells Jack that everything he says is wrong, everything about him is wrong I don’t think she’s talking about his body at all. But Jack takes it that way, which is why he says, “I thought that’s why you liked me?” – From Ep 4 till now he still can’t fathom her buying him or wanting to be friends with him other than some common understanding that they are both (physical) freaks. On a side note, that is possibly why he’s also protective of her need to mask herself – he may be thinking that it’s something physical she’s hiding as well.

More likely than her referencing his physicality, I think she’s actually referencing his attempt to comfort her. To her, it’s wrong because it doesn’t make sense. Remember, it’s highly unlikely she’s experienced genuine acts of kindness in her life. Lady Ev has an odd way of correcting words. It’s not ‘sick’, it’s ‘leaving without actually leaving’. It’s not ‘died’, it’s ‘murdered’. It’s not an abstract ‘loss’, it’s a personal ‘father’. Again she’s an extreme of frankness. She has no understanding of, or at least no inclination towards niceties. She wants everything said exactly. She had no qualms telling the wizard she wants revenge, while staying in Oz. That’s the kind of person she is. So for us, what Jack says may be easily identifiable words of comfort, but she doesn’t recognise them.

When Jack tells her that the more he ‘sees’ the more he realises how hard it is for her, she turns away from him, then asks him why he’s even talking. Later on in the conversation he’s just trying to be kind to her. But as with them at the carnival, I think she doesn’t yet realise that there would be a person out there who isn’t her father who would voluntarily show her kindness. And she certainly hasn’t learned the socially appropriate way to respond to that.

Then there’s the more obvious part of her taking out all her anger and feelings on Jack. That’s definitely part of it too. Also, she is clearly struggling with some jealousy regarding Tip. I had previously theorised that she would get jealous over Tip, but when that didn’t seem to happen last week I was surprised. Turns out she was jealous after all – and not only is that not surprising I do think she has genuine feelings for him. This isn’t simply about him being her ‘property’.

Additionally, I think what’s great about the both of them is Jack doesn’t care that she’s a princess (now queen) either. He demands to know why she’s throwing him out of the carriage. He insists he was trying to be kind. And it’s only when she tells him he missed that he huffs out the door.

Complicated? We’re only getting started.

What amazes me is that Jack has such confidence in the good that’s in her. The first thing he says to her when he sees her at the screaming forest is, “I knew you couldn’t be so mean to leave me here” – And I’m like, really?? Cos that’s totally something I could imagine her doing. He has 10 times more faith in her than I do. She on the other hand has no qualms admitting that she did in fact leave him and was mean. But he’s also right – she did go back for him.

But here’s where my confusion starts. How on earth did she know which part of the forest he was in? How did she know he needed oil?

And, most disturbing of all, why would they choose this timing to have a scene like this? What I mean is, I don’t think her laughing when she sees Jack rusted is out of character. I don’t see her oiling him where she shouldn’t, and enjoying her control over him, out of character. What is confusing is that she has clearly been distraught about her father and overwhelmed by her new responsibilities. How is she able to suddenly switch to this teasing (even devious) side of hers like that?

If this theory proves right and she does have multiple personalities than that would explain this scene quite well. But then it raises even more questions. She doesn’t change her masks so a change in personality has nothing to do with the masks. Furthermore, as per my understanding of split personalities, it is usually associated with some memory loss, and usually the second personality surfaces when it is triggered (please correct me if I’m wrong). I don’t see any of that applicable to her.

I think this scene was mainly put in to show us that the mechanical parts of Jack still have a sense of touch. Which would then clear up the bulk of the questions people may have when they eventually have sex after. But it also highlights that she does delight over having control over him. 

She intentionally stops just as he’s really enjoying it, is teasing when he asks her if she’s really stopping then. Plus the proximity in which they are standing and the framing of this shot, which is after she has already oiled him – it’s definitely still quite sexual.

Then we see them head back to Ev, and I’ll be honest with you, Ev is so beautiful. It’s beautiful in an empty way, and certainly does put us back in an atmosphere of melancholy as Langwidere and Jack travel up on the funicular. 

The guards are just – there. Lifeless, almost mechanical themselves. And they are so disassociated from her. If you remember, she sent Jack to look for her father. Her guards just stood with her. It does seem like Jack is the only one she can trust. Even as they go up staring out through the window, there’s the split moment where it looks like she reaches out to his hand (it cuts too fast though). 

That’s emphasised when she brings him to the most private of rooms, and the hugeness of the room emphasises how small she feels at the moment. This scene, in direct contrast to the scene in the screaming forest, is one of incredible vulnerability for her.

She grieves the loss of her father, admits how overwhelmed she is by her new responsibility by telling Jack it’s not something she wanted. The truth is even with her father around she must have felt helpless and alone, but put on a front in the face of threats to Ev like the wizard.

Jack feels for her when she cries, but instead of saying anything, he now turns, voluntarily, to walk away. It’s so nice how he remembers that she wanted to be by herself in the carriage, and doesn’t want to upset her again. And in contrast to the carriage, now, instead of commanding him to leave, she asks him to stay. She says, ‘please’.

As @livinglights puts it so well here, it’s beautiful how she’s willing to be so open and vulnerable so as to take off the mask, when not long ago she said she’d only do it when they were friends. As she told Tip last episode, Jack is her friend. When she says it she truly means it, now more so than ever.

Also as frustrating as it is that Jack stopped her from taking off the mask, it’s still a beautiful moment because he doesn’t want her to do anything uncomfortable on his account. Granted I think she really wanted to show her true self to him, having no one else to be so intimate with, but this too is a nice contrast to the scene in the carriage. Remember when he tells her ‘the more I see of everything’ she immediately looks away. But this time when he says, “I do see you”, she doesn’t. Previously, she wasn’t ready to be seen. Now, she is.

When he moves to kiss her she responds to him. And after the lack of agency in the forest, is nice that he does have some here. 

I would argue that even her undressing is of a completely different dynamic from that in the forest. Here, she bares herself in an offer to him. And the shot also suggests a little more vulnerability too.

So in conclusion I can totally see why Jack and Ev’s relationship can put people off. As it stands, it’s not healthy. It is however, to me, the most fascinating dynamic in the show. There’s still so many questions still left unanswered that potentially change how I feel about them, but for the time being, I’m still willing to see their progress.

[chroniccombustion]

Caught in the Grey (ch 2)

Genre: Trans!AU, hurt/comfort, romance, angst with a happy ending Rated: T Characters: Souji Seta (Yu Narukami), Yosuke Hanamura, Naoto Shirogane, Investigation Team, Izanagi/Shadow!Souji Warnings: depression, dysphoria, disassociation, self-hatred, implied suicide attempt, suicidal thoughts, mentions of homophobia, implied past child abuse and transphobia, canon-typical violence, mild sexual content Status: multi-chapter, incomplete

Playlist: Spotify | Youtube <- previous chapter | next chapter ->

The light has changed from dingy blue-grey to anxious pink by the time he realigns himself, creeping along the wall to spill down across the floor. There is a twisting sensation low in his stomach, a burning in the back of this throat. He runs his leaden tongue across his gums and they tingle in response. The ache is still there in every limb, echoed by a shaky feeling that makes his world feel like it’s slipping in and out of solidity.

He flips open his phone with his thumb. 7:19am the screen now reads, as well as a flashing notice from half an hour ago, proclaiming, 1 new message.

Shirogane-kun: SENPAI PLS CALL ME

Chapter 2: Been a Long Damn Day

“From the beach to the city, I been putting on a face. You’re no stranger to a mask, you ain’t lost or amazed. I been lost in a maze, been a long damn day, I been lost in a maze, been a long damn day…”

- (“Sinking”, Jeremy Zucker)

Shirogane-kun: SOUJI-SENPAI WHERE R U?

Shirogane-kun:  R U OK?

Shirogane-kun: PLS RESPOND

Shirogane-kun: SENPAI PLS I AM WORRIED

4 missed calls from Shirogane-kun

 Aibo: bro u ok? wtf happened?

Aibo: no srsly wth? what was that?

Aibo: prtnr we cant find u where did u go?

Aibo: shit the girls pageant is starting we cant leave

Aibo: not funny bro

Aibo: call me back man cmon ur freakin me out

Aibo: souji?

7 missed calls from Aibo

            14 new messages, 9 missed calls from Kanji-kun, ~*Rise!*~, Amagi Yukiko, Satanaka Chie, TEDDIE

 Souji stares down at the phone in his hand, squinting against the brightness of the screen in the pre-dawn gloom. 5:42am, it reads. Fantastic.

He shifts his weight to lean more against the side of the couch rather than the chilly wall and groans involuntarily when his entire body protests. He’s stiff, cold, and his everything is angry with him for sleeping on the floor. His uniform pants are still on from yesterday, though he has no idea just where his shirt and jacket went – or the flesh-colored bit of fabric that he wears underneath. At some point after running home in a blind, dissociative panic he knows he must have pulled them off because he remembers being shirtless before properly passing out, so, theoretically, they must be in the room with him somewhere. He doesn’t have the energy to look.

As long as his pants are still on.

As exhausted as he is, (mentally, physically, emotionally,) he knows he won’t be able to get back to sleep at this rate. He can’t work up the energy to pull out the futon or change into real pajamas, and besides, he’d just have to get right back up for school again soon after. His body aches too much to let him relax anyway.

So Souji sits there, folded over on himself in the corner between the couch and wall, and doesn’t read the slew of missed texts from his worried friends. He can’t; their escalating concern leaves a guilty stone in his stomach on top of the embarrassment he already feels. He knows they’ll be upset with him for not telling them where he is, that he’s okay, and it spikes his anxiety just thinking about it – which just makes it all the more impossible to open the rest of the texts. He’d barely made it through Naoto’s, forced himself to read Yosuke’s, before he’d had to quit.

Something else, though, is the quiet, creeping dread that has nestled into his already-anxious heart. He can’t read the rest, can’t bring himself to respond and ease their worry because he doesn’t know what to say. How can he possibly explain to his friends why he bolted like a frightened cat for seemingly no reason? They’d want to know what set him off, why it had caused such a violent reaction, and every reason Souji can think of just leads his brain deeper and deeper down the winding rabbit hole of Things He Doesn’t Want to Talk About.

How is he supposed to tell them what brought about his soul-shattering panic attack without revealing everything else?

Still. If he stays silent for too much longer then he’ll lose the window of opportunity to try and play this whole thing off as something they shouldn’t worry about. He also potentially runs the risk of one of them reporting him missing, or even just straight up going to his uncle. There is no easy way to go about handling this garbage fire of a situation and trying to think of ways to avoid it is only making everything so much worse inside his head.

Souji lolls his head back and watches the encroaching dawn slither through his windows and play across the wall across from him. It’s the only light in the room aside from his phone. Eventually, that, too, goes dark.

 The light has changed from dingy blue-grey to anxious pink by the time he realigns himself, creeping along the wall to spill down across the floor. There is a twisting sensation low in his stomach, a burning in the back of this throat. He runs his leaden tongue across his gums and they tingle in response. The ache is still there in every limb, echoed by a shaky feeling that makes his world feel like it’s slipping in and out of solidity.

He flips open his phone with his thumb. 7:19am the screen now reads, as well as a flashing notice from half an hour ago, proclaiming, 1 new message.

Shirogane-kun: SENPAI PLS CALL ME

He… wants to. Out of all his friends, Naoto would be the safest one to talk to right now. They know, and he wouldn’t have to think up some excuse as to why he fled from school the way he did. It would be… refreshing, he thinks, to finally be honest about a situation like this. (He also shamefully knows that of everyone he still owes an explanation to, he may have frightened Naoto the most. After all they’ve done for him the past two days, he owes them at least this much.)

His thumb only hesitates over the call button for a moment – just one – before he shakily presses it down. The line picks up on the second ring.

“Senpai! Oh thank god; are you alright? Where are you?’

Souji winces at the desperation in his friend’s voice. “I’m fi—“ He swallows against the dryness in this throat, hesitant to say “fine,” because he really, probably isn’t. He hasn’t been fine for days. “I’m alive,” he finally settles on. “I woke up at home but I don’t remember getting here.” There’s no point in lying, and it feels good – if only a little – to admit even the tiniest bit of weakness to someone he knows won’t use it against him.

There is a pause on the other end of the line. “You… ‘woke up’,” Naoto slowly repeats. “How long have you been there?”

“I don’t know. The whole time, I think.”

Naoto sighs and it sounds like a rush of tension being released. “Alright. Alright, it’s worrying that you do not remember, but at least you’re safe.”

There is another pause, a longer one this time, that Souji doesn’t know how to fill. When Naoto finally speaks again, their voice is tiny, quiet, sounding so very young and sad that it damn near wrenches Souji apart.

“…Senpai, you scared me. I knew something must have happened but...”

There’s no one there to see it in the dark, but Souji instinctively hangs his head, shame and guilt lashing at his chest. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

Something that sounds suspiciously like a sniffle comes over the line before Naoto vehemently says, “Don’t apologize. I know what panic can do to the mind, and I suspect you were not in complete control at the time. I just wish I could have helped.”

“You’ve already done more than enough,” he says, because it’s true.

Naoto doesn’t seem to agree. “What I have done is paltry compared to what needed to be done. I try not to make deductions about the Team anymore, but I imagine you require a great deal more support right now than a pack of makeup wipes.”

He doesn’t respond to that. He doesn’t exactly know how he can.

Naoto sighs again, this time sounding more frustrated than relieved. “I… That was invasive of me, I apologize.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not, but your patience with me is appreciated anyway.”

They go quiet for a bit, and Souji can hear faint noises in the background – rustling cloth, the creak of leather. He is reminded that it’s early-o-clock on a school day and that Naoto is probably in the middle of getting ready to leave.

“Souji-senpai?” they finally say, soft and cautious. If Souji were to have any other siblings beyond Nanako, he thinks maybe he wouldn’t mind having Naoto as family.

“I’m still here,” he answers, and it feels like a drop of warmth. He thinks he might smile if he wasn’t so drained still.

“Do you… need to talk about it? Whatever it was that happened, I mean.”

He thinks. Yes, in a way he does, if only to let Naoto in the way they deserve to be. It would be nice to get it off his chest, to have someone understand, but at the same time he doesn’t think he can. Telling Naoto – while safe – would also mean reliving the gut-dropping horror of Teddie’s words. Souji has just barely gotten purchase in the real word again, shaky as it is, and he’d rather not have that tentative stability taken away again. So he takes a breath and lets it out slowly through his nose.

“I… probably,” he says, “but I’d rather not think about it anymore.”

Naoto hums. “I understand. Sometimes it’s better that way.”

There is more shuffling. Then, “I’m terrible at this, aren’t I?”

Souji huffs – a quiet laugh that isn’t exactly a laugh but is closer than he usually gets. “I don’t think so,” he assures them. “You’re trying; that’s more than I’m used to.”

He thinks he probably shouldn’t have said that. He can’t bring himself to dwell on it right now.

A low, displeased sound comes through the earpiece, and Souji can vividly picture the stern furrow of Naoto’s brows, their lips pressed into a thin, stony line. Yeah. He really shouldn’t have said that.

Thankfully they seem to let it go (though he’s pretty sure Naoto never lets anything go and is just filing it away for later,) because the next words he hears from them are, “Did you sleep at all?”

“Uhm. A little. I think so, at least.” It certainly wasn’t long or well, but he isn’t going to mention that.

Another low, wordless sound. “Have you eaten?”

Oh.

He thinks back to the way his stomach had purged itself the day before last, how he’d been too dead inside to eat breakfast or even pack lunch yesterday. No wonder his body feels weak and shaky, his skull tight behind his eyes.

He swallows. “I… no. Not since… no.”

“Senpai.”

“I think… I might need to stay home today,” he whispers sheepishly. He feels like a child facing down the disapproving stare of an older sibling – which throws him a little since Naoto is younger than he is. He can’t tell if it’s comforting or just plain unsettling. Maybe a little bit of both.

“Do you want me to tell the others you have food poisoning?”

He startles. “That…” He clears his throat to try and regain himself. He’s surprised by how easily Naoto is able to handle this, how quickly they volunteer to cover for him. He hates that he’s surprised. He thinks Naoto would hate that he’s surprised as well.

“You’d do that?” he whispers, unable to hide the slight tremble of grateful awe.

Naoto’s voice is kind, gentle like warm water on an aching body when they say, “I’ll tell them whatever you need me to, Senpai, and nothing else.”

Souji makes a sound that he’s pretty sure is wet and mildly hysterical. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, Senpai. I mean that truly.”

He lets out a long, slow breath, careful not to do so directly into the phone, and lets the feeling of something safe and grateful and happy wash over him; like a place to rest when exhaustion peaks, or the warmth of a fire chasing away cold misery. Or, he thinks with a tiny smile, the glowing, sparkling, champagne-fizzy feeling that a bond sends zinging through his veins whenever its rank has risen.

Comfortable quiet reigns as the rank up run its course.

All too soon though, reality returns and through the phone speaker there comes a clock chime from somewhere in the background. Naoto makes a muffled sound as they apparently take their phone away from their ear for a moment.

“Do I need to let you go?” Souji asks when it seems like Naoto can hear him again.

They sigh. “Possibly. Will you be alright?”

He pauses. Aside from how shitty he feels due to lack of proper sleep and no food for two days, he feels… lighter. The anxiety from before has calmed somewhat now that he no longer has to drag his protesting body to school and face down his friends. “Yeah,” he says, and it’s nice to find that he means it. “I’ll be alright. I’ll…” he huffs – the faintest hint of a chuckle, “…spend the day recovering, probably.”

Naoto hums again. “Good, do that.” A beat of silence. Then, “Thank you for calling me, Senpai. If you hadn’t I was planning on coming by your house after school.” They make an odd noise that Souji thinks might be an audible expression of discomfort. “I would have done so yesterday, to be honest, had Kashiwagi-sensei not hauled us all off to change for the beauty pageant.”

Oh hell. He’d forgotten about the second pageant. He winces as he realizes just how awful it must have been for his friends – Naoto especially. “I am so sorry,” he says, his voice a rush of breath. “I shouldn’t have run out on you like that; after everything you did for me, I should have stayed to support you—“

But Naoto cuts him off. “Senpai, it’s alright. Panic and the mind, remember? Don’t apologize.” They make the noise of discomfort again, and Souji thinks he can almost hear the way Naoto’s face scrunches up when they deeply dislike something. “Obviously I survived, though it was… unpleasant,” they say, tone flat and unamused. “I won.”

“Oh my god.”

“Yes, I would like very much for that to never happen again to either of us.”

There is a muffled voice on Naoto’s end of the line and Souji hears what might be a hand covering the receiver. Naoto says something in return, though Souji doesn’t catch it. A few seconds pass before Naoto returns. “I’m afraid I have to leave now, Senpai. Would it be alright for me to text you during lunch to check on you?”

Souji feels the edges of his mouth stretching upwards, just slightly. He can’t remember if he’s ever smiled as much as he has in recent months. “If you want to,” he replies. “I’ll be okay, though; I just need to eat something.”

“Please do.” A sigh. “Take care, Senpai.”

“You, too.”

Naoto makes one last short noise of affirmation before the line disconnects and Souji is left to stare down at the call’s time stamp on his dimly glowing screen. 7:38. He’ll be late if he wants to try and make it to school.

He isn’t going to.

Looking up at the room around him he is surprised to find the morning light has started to fill it properly – more gold now than blue or pink. It’s brighter than yesterday, when it was a pale, sickly yellow reflecting the way his body felt like lead and his head like poison. He stretches his arms upwards, grunting as several things pop. Maybe today will be better, he thinks; maybe his mind got its fill of blackness over the past 48 hours and will leave him alone today.

Deciding that a good place to start would be finally acknowledging how empty his stomach is, Souji pulls himself to his feet and braces himself against the back of the couch as the waves of dizziness roll over him. He lets them pass, then pushes off the couch, shaky and weak. He’s glad it sounds like no one else is home – he’d hate to try and explain why he was hugging the wall on his way down the stairs. He steels himself, plants his weight on the balls of his feet as best he can, and slowly starts to make his way down towards the kitchen.

He only pauses once for breath at the bottom of the stairs, taking the opportunity to change his newest friend’s name in his phone from “Shirogane-kun” to “Naoto”. 

He feels along the bond of the Wheel of Fortune arcana and smiles at the newfound strength glowing back at him.

---

Souji expects school the next day to be an awkward affair, and to some degree it is. Thankfully no one outside the IT seemed to really notice his terrified escape two days prior; or, at least, no one outside his friend group says anything. He does, however, catch a few whispers floating around as he passes certain groups of people – whispers that sound suspiciously like they’re about the cross dressing pageant and how “good” he looked on stage, usually from tight clusters of giggling girls or between the odd pair of jittery-looking guys. He does his best not to listen.

The real unease, though, sets in when he slips into his seat in the classroom and Yukiko, Chie, and Yosuke – who is here early for once – all turn to look at him. He tries to give them a reassuring smile but it feels just as forced as it actually is. Yosuke especially seems unconvinced.

Luckily the teacher walks in just as Souji feels the back of his head starting to smoke from how intensely Yosuke is staring, so he’s spared having to face his partner just yet.

Unluckily, this just means that by the time lunch rolls around, Yosuke wastes no time in poking Souji’s shoulder to get him to turn around. Slowly, Souji does so, and fixes his best friend with a shaky half-smile. He’s so tired of his nerves running at full capacity.

“Hey,” he says, a little less steady than he’d like.

Yosuke raises a brow at him. “Hey, yourself. What the hell, man? Why didn’t you text me back?”

Besides them, Yukiko nods in agreement and Chie opens her mouth to join the conversation.

Souji doesn’t wait for her to speak. “Did Naoto tell you what happened?” It’s partially a stalling tactic – something he hates being so good at anymore – and partially to see what they think went down so that he can build a believable story off it. Naoto had messaged him during lunch the day before, as they said they would, and given him a rundown of the excuse they had spun for him, but he doesn’t want to just play off that. Yosuke is too observant for his own good sometimes, and his ego is fragile enough that Souji knows he’ll need to be extra careful when trying to lie his way around his best friend’s suspicion.

It’s Yukiko that answers. “Naoto-kun said you went home because you weren’t feeling well, and that was why you weren’t at school yesterday.” She tilts her head, dark eyes narrowing in concern. “But you disappeared so suddenly! You seemed fine before.”

“Yeah,” Chie exclaims, nodding vigorously. “One minute you were in the classroom with us and the next you were just gone!”

“And tearing down the hallway like the building was on fire. Seriously, bro, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you move that fast.” A flicker of worry passes over Yosuke’s face before it settles back into the oddly pinched look he’s been wearing. He stares at Souji with creased brows and a downturned mouth. “And apparently you just left? You didn’t even stay to see the girls! I woulda thought you’d at least wanna cleanse your eyes after seeing Kanji in a dress.”

Souji feels his face turn stony. When Chie makes a noise of offence and smacks Yosuke in the back of the head, Souji makes no move to intercept.

Instead, he chooses to look at Yukiko when he speaks, as though he’s answering questions in turn. “I was fine for a while.” He has enough to work with, he thinks. Maybe. Naoto has laid the groundwork for him to (hopefully) weasel his way out of this without too many roadblocks. He chooses a middle path between lying (he doesn’t like lying to friends now that he has them) and the truth (because no, no, not in a million years, no) and works the half-truths through a set of carefully constructed loopholes. He’s become far too good at loopholes.

He tugs at his own expression until it resembles something sheepish. His nerves help it look more real. “I made the mistake of not eating anything yesterday because I was nervous.” (Not a lie.) “Naoto actually found me in the bathroom… throwing up stomach acid.” (Also not a lie, as long as he doesn’t tell them when Naoto found him in the bathroom.) He looks away and rubs at a spot just behind his ear. He’s aware that it makes him look embarrassed – which is fine – but it also gives him an excuse not to keep eye contact.

Chie and Yukiko both make sounds of distress, talking at him and over each other in their concern and he thinks he may have managed to fool them. He glances at Yosuke and, yeah, no, that’s not convincement looking back at him.

“So you bolted cuz you had to go throw up?” Yosuke asks, his voice thinly tinted with disbelief.

Lay it thicker, maybe I can shock him into buying it.

Souji nods. “I’m sorry I worried you,” he says to all of them, but directly at Yosuke to make sure his partner feels special here. He stifles a grimace at how manipulative he has to be – how much of a coward he knows he’s being. He hates this. “I screwed up and made myself sick. By the time I got home I was in such bad shape that all I could do was lay down and pass out. I didn’t even wake up until yesterday morning.”

Again, it’s not technically a lie, even if he more disassociated than “passed out,” and he doesn’t actually remember anything from his panic attack. He’s aware that when the story gets around to the kohai, Rise will likely blame herself for insisting he participate in the pageant. A tiny peek over at Yukiko and Chie’s faces tells him that they’re feeling a little guilty, too. He hates this. He hates it.

And he especially hates the tiny little piece of him that whispers, “good.”

Trying to swallow the guilt in his own gut, Souji places his hands on his knees and bows low in his seat. It’s the last card he can play without despising himself entirely, and the final touch to what he hopes is a believable enough story.

Chie says something to him that Souji only barely listens to, while Yukiko puts a hand to her mouth and gives him a look like a sad puppy as he slowly sits up. Yosuke, however, seems unsure. His mouth is open slightly like he wants to say something, and he looks torn between worry and confusion.

Deflect. Distract.

Souji puts on a self-depreciating smile. “I’m really sorry, Partner,” (because he knows Yosuke is weak to the nickname), “I left right after Naoto found me. I would have said something but I was afraid I’d have to answer to Kashiwagi if she caught me trying to leave.” He twists his face into something that might be a non-verbal “yikes.”

And that’s what does the trick.

Yosuke’s expression switches to a more exaggerated version of Souji’s own. “Oh god. Smart thinking, man, she probably would’ve made you stay even if you’d throw up on her.” He shudders. “Her in a swimsuit is gonna haunt my nightmares forever.”

Souji actually balks at that. “Swimsuit?” has asks, genuinely aghast as he looks to Chie for confirmation. Oh. Well hell, now he feels even worse for leaving Naoto to their fate the other day.

Chie nods. “Yeah, we had to go up there in swimsuits and dresses and everything. It was humiliating.”

The way Souji’s face contorts in unbridled, empathetic discomfort is completely real and completely involuntary. “I am so sorry.”

Yukiko looks at him, puzzled. “Why? You didn’t sign us up.” She and Chie both shoot Yosuke a look that could curdle blood.

“Oh come on!” Yosuke sputters in response. “It couldn’t have been that bad.”

Something tightens in Souji’s chest and, not for the first time, he wishes he had the courage to shut Yosuke’s bullshit down. But he doesn’t, so he doesn’t, and the trickle of self hate from earlier drips just a little bit faster.

Souji bites down hard on the inside of his cheek.

 “At least everything you wore was meant for girls,” Yosuke is saying, holding his hands up as though trying to placate a snarling dog. It seems to be going about as well as expected.

He turns his head to shoot Souji a look that says ‘back me up’ but Souji simply raises an eyebrow at him. He might not be brave enough to tell his best friend off for being a prick, but he also has no desire to get pulled into the hole Yosuke is digging right now.  

Yosuke seems to understand that Souji isn’t going to help him, because his face is distinctly paler when he turns back to the girls and says, “You wanna talk humiliating, us guys had it so much worse in drag!”  

Wrong move.

Yosuke lets out a squawk as the girls rightfully begin to tear into him like feral cats; Chie with her fist and Yukiko with words like daggers. Souji lets it happen.

Silently, he digs out his bento and tries very hard not to be bitter. About the way Yosuke’s words leave a weird hot-stinging sensation in Souji’s chest, about how no one seems inclined to apologize for signing him up for the pageant; just… everything.

He squashes the thoughts back down before they can affect his outward expression. It’s fine, it’s okay, everything is okay; he doesn’t feel childishly irritated over the whole damn situation. He just wants the subject dropped.

“I should go apologize to the others,” he says as he stands. No one seems to really hear him, but Yukiko does spare him a nod as he passes. Chie is too busy digging her knuckles into Yosuke’s scalp to notice him leaving.

He heads out the door, bento in hand, and starts in the direction of the stairwell. He really does plan on apologizing to Kanji and Rise at some point today – and Teddie, too, of course, though Souji stills feels shaky at the thought of talking to him just yet – but for now he really just wants to find Naoto. He hopes they like onigiri; out of all his friends, Naoto is the only one he hasn’t yet had a chance to make lunch for, and food will be a good way to start thanking them properly now that the chaos has mostly died down.

It definitely doesn’t have anything to do with Souji finding his own appetite gone for the third time in several days.

---

Lunch with Naoto is a welcome break from the tension of his own classroom. He tries to apologize in person – because it’s more polite than over the phone – but Naoto doesn’t let him. Instead, they wave away his attempt with a light flush on their face and pull down their cap to hide it. It doesn’t quite work. Still, the air between the two of them is surprisingly easy to breathe and Souji feels the last of the jitters drain from his limbs.

They talk a bit. It isn’t for very long, since Souji had spent the first third of the lunch period spinning his not-story for Chie, Yukiko, and Yosuke, but the conversation is easier than he’s used to and he realizes with a kind of happy warmth that it’s because he isn’t having to hide. He doesn’t need to keep his voice in check, keep it purposefully low and quiet, so he’s actually able to talk a little more than he usually does and not worry what will happen if he lets his vocal chords do as they want. He’s practiced for years at this point, anyway, so the danger is minimal, but sometimes, sometimes his throat starts to hurt when he tries for a tone just the wrong side of comfortable.

He’s even managed to regain some of his appetite by the time the end of lunch rolls around and together, he and Naoto make a decent-sized dent in the humble bento. (It turns out that, yes, Naoto does in fact like onigiri, and that the seasoned rice with tuna is their unexpected favorite.) Naoto thanks him but he turns the tables and waves their thanks away in a similar fashion to what they’d done with his apology. They part with plans to spend lunch together again before the week is over and Souji finds he’s wearing the same small, genuine smile that only seems to come out because of Naoto.

He’s almost late getting back because he actually runs into Rise on the way to his classroom and takes the opportunity to apologize to her, too. She does start to blame herself, just like he thought she might, but a well placed smile that he knows makes her blush and a few words of reassurance have her giving him a watery smile in return. He makes it back just in the nick of time with one more friendship smoothed over.

The second half of the day is… interesting. Things seem to have gone back to relatively normal between him and Yukiko and Chie. Chie asks him how it went right before the teacher walks in and Souji flashes her a quick thumbs up. She grins.

No, everything is fine with the girls; it’s Yosuke that appears to still have issues. On any other day his best friend would be poking him in the back with the top of a pencil, tapping him in the side with a note he was passing, whispering snarky commentary about something one of their teachers says, but today…

Souji wants to ask just how badly Chie knuckled him, but he thinks that may be the least of the reasons why Yosuke isn’t interacting like he normally does. A lump forms in Souji throat that refuses to go away no matter how many times he tries to swallow it down.

It takes forever but the final bell eventually rings and, nervous as he is about, well, everything anymore, Souji slides around in his seat to give his partner a smile. He tries to make it as real as he can, calling on all the good things he feels about Yosuke and tucking his earlier frustrations away for the time being. As much of an ass as Yosuke can be, he’s still Souji’s best friend, and Souji would very much like that dynamic back now, if possible. He misses normal.

Just as he opens his mouth to ask if Yosuke wants to walk home together, the other boy stands and slings his bag over his shoulder. Yosuke hurries out of the room, only pausing briefly to turn around and walk backwards while flashing Souji a grin that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I gotta get ready for work, I’ll see ya later, Partner!” And then he’s dashing out the door with one last, “I’m glad you’re better, dude!”

It hurts a bit, like a bruise he accidentally smacked that now throbs a dull rhythm. But, he supposes he might deserve it after the scare he gave everybody, and it wouldn’t surprise him if Yosuke were still upset about Souji not letting him know he was alright. He also can’t actually say his partner doesn’t have an after-school shift, so in the end Souji resigns himself to that little spark of pain and vows to text Yosuke later before he goes to bed. Maybe he’ll bring another lunch to share tomorrow. Just to be safe.

He stays and talks to Yukiko and Chie for a few minutes before Yukiko remembers that she has to go help set up for a large business dinner being held at the inn that night. Chie offers to walk with her and Souji bids them both farewell.

The biggest surprise of the day, however, is finding Kanji waiting by his shoe locker, looking more than a little trepidatious.

At first Souji thinks it’s about his disappearing act the other day; after all, Kanji is the only schoolmate he still owes an apology to. (Teddie is, again, a different matter altogether.) So Souji puts on the appropriate facial expression and readies himself to repeat the story one more time.

“Kanji, hi,” he says, nodding when his friend looks up at his approach.

Kanji stands up straighter from where he’s been leaning against he side of the lockers, but he keeps his arms across his chest like a shield. “H-hey, Senpai.” He looks away and doesn’t say anything more.

Taking that as his cue to start, Souji politely tilts his head and puts on the familiar sheepish expression. “I should apologize—“

“You busy right now?”

Souji blinks stupidly. He closes his mouth with a quiet ‘click’ and takes a second to recover from being cut off and thrown wildly off-balance.

Kanji flushes. “Sorry, Senpai, I just…” He clears his throat and looks back up, shoulders squaring. “I gotta talk to somebody about somethin’ and you’re kinda the only person I trust with it.”

Souji’s eyes go impossibly wider. He feels his brows somewhere up near his hairline and absently wonders where his perfect control over his own face went. “I…” he starts, still not entirely reoriented. He quickly switches gears and tries to tuck the confusion away to make room for Friend Mode. “O…kay?”

Well. It’s something. He clears his throat and stars again, the smallest of frowns creeping along his mouth. “Is everything alright? You know I’ll help in any way I can.”

Kanji gives him nothing but a stiff nod and poorly concealed nerves.

Souji keeps a tight leash on his expression. “Okay, well, let me get my shoes and we can walk together?” he tries. He not sure if he should be anxious or not but whatever Kanji needs him for, Souji knows that he’ll at least feel more at ease somewhere further away from school.

“Oh!” Kanji startles a little and steps far enough back that Souji can get to his locker. “Right. Sorry.”

Five minutes later sees them passing through the school gates, side by side in silence.

Without a clear destination, Souji simply steers them towards the floodplain. If the little seating area is free then that’s where he plans to take them; it’s a familiar enough place that he feels comfortable talking there, but also has plenty of open air so he can make a hasty – but polite – escape should he need to. He doesn’t like that his first reactions to half his friends these days have been self-debates on whether or not he can outrun them.

Kanji keeps fidgeting as they walk, like his fingers are tracing out knitting patterns to keep his mind busy. Souji doesn’t know if he’s ever seen Kanji so jittery when Naoto wasn’t nearby for his friend to sweat over. Their mutual crush is adorable in how obvious it is to everyone but them and Souji hopes one of them will make a move some day. They would make a good couple.

Matchmaking aside, Souji wonders if maybe he should try his apology once more – if only to break the cacophonous silence. He’s had more than enough silence from his own parents, thanks; he doesn’t like it from his friends.

The thought cuts a deep path through Souji’s chest and he grinds his teeth against it, though the pain is an old one and he’s long since grown accustomed to it. It’s been a while since his mind has turned to that particular dark corner.

(He tramples another thought before it can fully form – one that seems hell-bent on comparing certain old hurts with the newer ache of Yosuke apparently avoiding him.)

“I owe you an apology,” he says suddenly, his voice a bit too loud in his own ears. He turns his head to catch Kanji twitching like he’s been startled before looking over at Souji in confusion.

“Huh? What for?”

Souji keeps his features carefully schooled. “For what happened after the pageant. Running off and not telling anyone where I went.” He tilts his head and does not frown. “Freaking everyone out?”

“Oh, that.” Kanji rubs at the back of his neck. “I appreciate it, but you don’t gotta apologize to me, Senpai. Naoto and Rise both already filled me in.” He pauses to give Souji a long, appraising look. “How’re ya feelin’, by the way?”

That catches Souji off guard. It seems Kanji is just exceptionally good at that today. “I’m alright,” he says honestly. Once more, he avoids the word “fine” because that, to him, would imply more than just physical alright-ness and he just… doesn’t want to think about that anymore.

Kanji seems satisfied with his answer and turns back to watching the world in front of them. “Can’t say I wasn’t worried, ‘specially after seeing you bookin’ it down the hallway like that, but I figured you’d let someone know eventually.” He shrugs. “And if you didn’t me an’ Naoto were gonna go check out your house after school today.”

Souji actually chuckles at that, breath stuttering past his lips to form the sound. “So they told me.” He lets one corner of his mouth tug upward as he catches Kanji’s eye again. “Thank you. And I am sorry.”

Kanji flushes and looks away. “Nah, ‘s nothing.”

The rest of the walk is significantly less tense after that.

Subsequently, it’s also shorter than it had seemed a few minutes ago. They arrive not long after and Souji takes it upon himself to sit down and fold his hands over the tabletop, leaving Kanji to lean his hip against the opposite corner.

Well, here goes.

“Alright,” he says, taking a deep breath to steady himself. “What can I do to help?”

Kanji snorts, but it’s neither derogatory nor mirthful. He doesn’t look at Souji as he crosses his arms back over his chest. “Ain’t really somethin’ I need help with so much as I just need to... get it off my chest, ya know?” He frees one hand and makes a sharp, vague gesture near where his heart is. “I can’t keep it in anymore; I gotta tell somebody or I’m gonna go crazy and… well, I figured you’re the safest bet...”

Souji’s expression melts into something soft, warm, amiable. “Well thank you,” he says, genuinely a little touched, only for Kanji’s entire face to go cinnamon-red.

Kanji makes a noise of frustration, scrubbing furiously at his hair to hide his burning cheeks before just giving up and turning so that Souji is now staring at his back. “Damnit, that wasn’t—! UG.” He takes a moment to gather himself; Souji gives it to him. Eventually Kanji lets out a heavy breath and straightens up once more. He makes no move to turn around.

“Look, Senpai, you… You’ve always accepted me, yeah? You never treated me like I was some kinda delinquent or, or whatever Yosuke-senpai fuckin’ thinks I am—“

“Of course I wouldn’t,” Souji says, low and dark and steely. He feels the bitterness and self-dislike bubbling up from their deep-seated pools. Kanji is a good person – rough around the edges, yes, but still just a kid like the rest of them and a genuinely kind one at that. Souji hates how afraid he’s been of jeopardizing Yosuke’s opinion of him, of how he’s been too much of a coward to stand up for his younger friend and make Yosuke apologize for his homophobia. A team is only as good as its leader and Souji must really be a poor leader if he can’t even stop his own lieutenant from being a jerk.

It’s not just that you’re afraid of losing him as a friend, his mind whispers. You’re afraid of him finding out.

Souji glues his tongue to the roof of his mouth and clamps down on the horrible way his chest constricts.

Luckily Kanji is still facing away from him. “Y-yeah,” he agrees, oblivious to his senpai’s internal self-disgust. “Yeah, you’re cool like that. An’ that’s why you’re kinda my best bud.”

Oh, now that just makes Souji feel even worse. He’d forgotten that Kanji had told him that once, back when Naoto had first officially joined the IT, and hearing it again now is like a fist to the spine. He’s failed Kanji, he really has, he—

“And I mean! I know you an’ Yosuke-senpai are ‘partners’ or whatever, but I just… I guess what I’m tryin’ to say is that I trust you, Senpai.” Kanji sighs, the line of tension in his shoulders giving way. He tucks his hands into his pants pockets and stares at something out over the grey-sapphire shimmer of the river below.

Souji swallows. “Kanji…”

He doesn’t know what to say. What can he say, besides another useless “sorry”?

But Kanji just shakes his head and leans his weight back on his heels. He looks up at the sky, or maybe just lolls his head back in resignation, like a man coming to terms with the thousand-foot-drop that awaits him.

Souji knows the feeling.

“I think,” he says – and it’s so quiet that Souji has to lean forward to try and hear him better. There is a pause as Kanji takes a deep, long breath and lets it out.

“I think I might be bi.”

Souji is floored. Of all the possible things that Kanji could have just said to him, Souji was very much NOT excepting that to be one of them. It comes so far out of left field that it actually shocks all of Souji’s dark and guilty thoughts into absolute silence.

The quiet rings out between them, stretching into an impossibly long handful of seconds. Souji needs to respond, he knows he needs to, can see the way Kanji’s shoulders have started to tighten and hunch, but for the first time in forever Souji’s mind is empty and he cannot remember how to form words with his tongue.

So he just blinks like an owl and breathes out a soft, “…Oh.” Because really, how else can he react?

Something about how he says it has Kanji tentatively turning halfway around to look at him. Kanji’s face is guarded, like he’s ready at any moment to throw up his bravado, his shields, and the vulnerability it exposes is enough to finally, finally snap Souji back into action.

A warm smile spreads over Souji’s features, hardly even bidden, and he leans back to sit more naturally upright. He lets the smile crinkle at the corners of his eyes. “Thank you for telling me, Kanji.” He keeps his voice light, calm, kind; he is completely honest when he glances away and says, “I know how hard it must have been to say it out loud.”

Kanji’s eyes widen in realization. “Senpai… You, too?”

Souji makes a sound somewhere between a cough and a wispy bark of laughter. It’s stifled, but his shoulders jerk with the veiled force of the noise and he matches Kanji’s gaze with a tired, understanding one of his own. “Not bi, no,” he says pointedly, cocking an eyebrow and hoping it’s visible beneath his hair.

Kanji lets out a shaky breath. “Oh,” he echoes. He slides down onto the bench across from Souji, almost like he’s a block of ice melting in the sudden sunlight. “So you’re…?”

“Yeah.”

They sit in companionable silence for a minute, each processing the conversation so far.

After a few beats, Souji tilts his head curiously and asks, “What made you want to tell me?”

Oh, that…

Souji immediately dislikes how that sounded and his face twists minutely at the sour taste the words leave on his tongue. He hastily adds, “I’m honored that you did, don’t get me wrong, but—“

“Why’d I pick now?”

Souji sucks part of his lip between his teeth and nods.

Kanji sighs and leans back on the bench – which looks horribly uncomfortable, considering there’s nothing for his back to rest against. He re-crosses his arms and looks up at a passing cloud. “I started figuring it out a while ago and it’s been buggin’ me ever since. Like, it’s too big a secret to keep by myself, ya know?”

Souji does know. Oh god does he know.

He nods again, even though Kanji can’t see it properly while looking elsewhere. Kanji seems to catch it, though, because he keeps going.

“And after all that shit with my shadow, I just… I dunno. I’m sick of tryin’a hide from myself, so I thought, hey, this is a thing about me, might as well accept it.” He pauses and shifts awkwardly, clearly trying to consider his next words. His eyes flick over to Souji once or twice but he quickly averts them again right after.

Souji waits. He refuses to make this any more difficult for his friend than it already is.

He has a hard time keeping the surprise from his face, though, when Kanji mutters, “Weirdest part is, I knew but it didn’t really hit me until the stupid pageant.”

“The pageant?” Souji blurts. “How?!” Everything in his head scrambles a little, and there is a moment where he’s just gaping at Kanji like a fish with his mouth trying to form shapes and failing miserably.

He not sure how two people could have such wildly different reactions to that living nightmare of a day.

Kanji actually laughs at his outburst – a bit awkwardly, but still a laugh. “Yeah, the whole thing sucked ass, didn’t it?” He scratches at this cheek. “Kinda liked my dress, though…”

“It looked good on you,” Souji mumbles, still not fully recovered.

Kanji flushes and glances away. “Thanks, Senpai. You uh, you looked good, t—“ He trails off as he looks back over at Souji, eyes widening and brows furrowing.

Souji’s making a face; he knows he is, there’s no way he isn’t when there’s a layer of frost creeping its freezing fingers over his heart. He can feel the stretch of his lips over his teeth in a twisting grimace that’s well beyond his own control. Don’t think about it, please don’t think about it...

Kanji coughs into his fist. “Uh, I mean, you always look good, Senpai.” His expression does something funny, like he’s just realized what he’d said, and he apparently just gives up trying to salvage it. Instead, he props his elbows up on the table and drops his face into his hands. “Fuuuuuuuuck! See? That’s my problem! Naoto always looks good and you always look good, and I can’t catch a break!” He ‘thunks’ his forehead down onto the hard wooden tabletop. Souji hopes he hasn’t hurt himself.

 Kanji’s voice is muffled when he says, “That ain’t a confession, I swear, I just think you’re handsome, same as everybody else does.”

Oh.

OH!

Souji’s expression does a 180 and he can feel himself beaming. He’d been scared; after what Teddie had said, Souji had been expecting Kanji to say something similar, to say his bisexual realization had come about because of Souji in costume. (He suppresses a shudder at that.) But no. Kanji had called him “handsome” instead, which meant – awkward friendly attraction aside – Kanji had found him attractive as a guy. Not because he’d been dressed as something he wasn’t, Kanji had seen him at face value: a guy in a costume.

If he wasn’t so certain that Naoto would pistol whip him, Souji thinks he could dive across the table towards Kanji right now and kiss him.

He reins it in and settles for chuckling instead. “I’m flattered.” And he really kind of is. His eyes are fond as he adds, “I’m proud of you, too.”

Kanji sits back up again and flashes Souji a sheepish – albeit heavily relieved – grin. “You’re somethin’ else, ya know that, Senpai?”

Souji just beams brighter and gives him a noncommittal shrug.

Kanji exhales, the remaining tension bleeding out into the dirt below their feet. “Damn. It feels good to let all that out.” He laughs again, the sound light and relaxed. “I was gonna tell my ma first, but I think she already knows.”

Souji nods. His mouth turns imperceptibly downward and he says, with just a touch of chill, “A good mother usually does.” He tightens his face against the way it wants to crumple, and if there is a new ball of bitter thorns in his stomach then he chooses to leave it be.

Kanji thankfully doesn’t notice the way Souji’s expression has turned plastic. “Yeah,” he agrees, “and she’s said stuff before about ‘bringing a girl or a boy over for dinner’. I thought she was talkin’ about friends at the time but now I’m not so sure.”

He matches Souji’s gaze right as Souji manages to school his face back into something more natural. “I’m real glad I told you first, though.”

Warmth settles in on top of the thorny clot of pain and soothes the worst of the jagged edges. It’s still there – has been for years – but it’s easier to manage than it was a minute ago. Souji huffs through his nose, his quiet little not-laugh, and looks down at the table. Maybe he’s being selfish, but it makes him feel special in a way he thinks might be just what he’s needed.

“Me, too,” he says, and relishes in the feeling of fizzing, giddy brightness as the Emperor arcana jumps up another rank.

---

Souji goes home in a better mood than he ever expected to be. He makes dinner, watches TV with Nanako, manages to get a head start on the schoolwork he’d missed the day before. The only damper on his happiness is the fact that, despite Souji texting him several times throughout the evening, Yosuke has yet to answer back.

The sting from that afternoon returns and Souji is left frowning at his phone screen as he lies on his futon before sleeping. It’s… fine, he tells himself. I deserve this for scaring him like that. I’m overreacting.

He sets the phone aside and turns over, determined not to let it get to him. He’s asleep in minutes – well before midnight – and so doesn’t notice when the sky starts to open and drizzle gentle rain over top the resting world.

He doesn’t even stir when the clock strikes twelve and his television crackles to white-static life, a faceless monochrome figure peering out into his room with lightning-colored eyes.

[argaliaofficial]

i started typing this earlier but then had to go to work so now im just gonna finish it so i get it off my chest

back when i was with my first ex, meg, we went to this private christian school i prolly made a post about this on here before but its topical right now i didnt sleep at all and im tired enough to spill my fucking guts out some more 

so anyway we went to this private christian school and thats when it happened. ive honestly repressed a lot of my time there i was not doing great but what i do remember just makes me feel sick. like, meg aside, the school just sucked. 

for context the way it was set up was that we had “placement tests” to see where we were in subjects like math and english, and however we did made us get placed in PACEs according to our skill level. in theory this is fine i suppose, but the thing was that there were no alternatives to the PACEs. 

PACEs were part of the learning curriculum of our school which was ACE- Accelerated Christian Learning. they were basically little study pamphlets that went over instructions on how to learn certain subjects and whatnot, while also having a christian perspective on things. scripture verses were abundent in them, and they had like a continuous series of comics going in there about their character Ace Virtuson and friends. 

Along with the PACEs, the classrooms were set up like an “office” of sorts with cubicles that you sat in. For me honestly that was one of the many hells because it was so cramping and clinical and I just do not learn well in that sort of environment. so you’d sit quietly for like 8 hours a day with occassional breaks with nothing but your PACE pamphlets to work on. you couldnt speak to any body, and if you needed help, there was a flag system in place where you’d put a flag up and have to sit around and wait for a teacher to come assist you, and usually their assistance only lasted briefly because theres countless OTHER students to get to, and nepotism is a thing and if they dont like you or think of you as a problem kid, you’re less likely to get the aid you need.

i was one of those problem kids. 

early on, i could manage that set up when my work was easier, but when i hit “high school age” and got into more advance work i began to suffer horribly. it didnt help that at this time, i got with meg, but less about her right now and more about how this school system fucking failed me and others tbh 

i do not learn by reading information. at least, i dont retain it. i need to discuss with people, with my peers and professors. i need one on one sometimes, especially with math- my biggest struggle. but how the school was set up made that sort of learning almost impossible. your peers were all at different levels, so group discussion was rare. their were attempts, but they never lasted long, and the extent of the help basically surmounted to the teachers just reading what the PACEs already said and vaguely explaining more, and that blew. 

so, me, being a hands on group learner who has to talk and listen to even retain information and needs to be allowed to move around often instead of being cramped up, started to fall behind in my studies. badly. and of course, instead of the teachers trying to asses WHY it was you were falling behind, you got written up and had to have your parents sign a slip. you could get written up for a few things and these were always detentions of sorts. usually they were lunch but if you were bad enough you’d get an after school one. i accumulated these almost once a day and after a while i got tired of having my parents sign them EVERY SINGLE day and just forged their signatures. i got away with that like 75% of the time lol 

like they were just for the same shit ‘oh ur kid didnt do their homework blah blah ur kids out of dress code blah blah” and so i was just “whatever” because like... nothing seemed to change i was just being perpetually punished for being unable to keep up in my studies. my parents tried to get a math tutor for me but halfway thru i think freshman year she moved and that was that

i got so fucking sick of just being behind while my other peers seemed to be moving forward that i started bullshitting my work just to get thru. ofc that didnt do anything because i wasnt learning the work, and because i lied about my answers and cheated i got punished again. and i was just like “whatever” 

i cried all the time. parent teacher conferences were hell. i always cried. it felt like i couldnt convey to them why i was such a fuckup. like i wasnt making sense, or i was being overemotional. instead of trying to make changes they just talked about how i had to work harder. least i think. i’ll be honest i always just disassociated during those meetings before going into meltdown mode.

on top of that, i was in a “gay” relationship with a classmate, and lots of bad stuff happened. ive always had an overactive imagination. great for being a wannabe artist. not so great when youre already an easily manipulated undiagnosed autistic child. me, her, and my current gf actually had our own little world! thinking back on this now, for me at least it was escapism to try and just cope with how miserable i was at school 

i dont know how soon in the “relationship” it was before things got sexual. my concept of time during those years at foursquare is so scattered. according to posts ive seen on dA me and her were together or at least “friends” for 2 years? so actually i think my saying “freshman year in high school” is inaccurate and things got bad the tail end of middle school and continued until i was a sophomore before switching schools.

ANYWAY, so yeah, along with all this school nonsense, i was in a gay relationship, one that was abusive in many aspects. ofc at the time i didnt know that i was being abused! i just thought yknow her forcing herself into me sexually was kinda par the course and i was already kinda a sexually curious kid growing up so like.. i was looking for that i guess? it hurting cuz she went in dry is just to be expected, yadda yadda. pretty sure i cried? and i know for a fact that i still sleep in the room where she raped me like that and its sometimes just “yea i was literally right in that spot when i was raped lol”

and she would constantly want me to touch her sexually too, and when i said “no” and pulled my hand away that she had been trying to force down her pants because i wasnt personally ready to do that she’d always complain and make me feel bad cuz i wasnt comfortable touching her. “i always get you off but you never get me off!” 

and at the time i didnt just tell her to fuck off cuz i didnt know any better. i didnt know that it was ok for me to not be ready to do that. i thought i was a bad person for not being ready to pleasure my partner, even tho its not my fault if shes ok w/ pleasuring me, and im ok with being pleasured (even tho tbh it was hit or miss sometimes she just did it lol), but im not ready to touch her, i guess? and like i tried to communicate with her and im pretty sure i told her that if she didnt wanna jerk me off cuz i couldnt do it to her yet that was fine but whatever

on the fourth of july she started groping me out in public while we watched the fireworks and i remember trying to get her to stop cuz i wasnt comfy with doing this in public cuz a) this was years ago and homophobia was a lot more common especially in this boonies town and b) i dont like seeing other couples being handsy in public so i dont want to be handsy in public either

and i remember while shes groping my chest and im trying to get her to stop theres this group of older kids in front of us and they see. and they start snickering. they started snickering at the sight. and i was so mortified and wanted to die.

looking back those kids should get hit by a fucking bus for laughing at someone getting molested and being obviously uncomfortable with it but i guess its funny cuz “lesbians! haha look at that pervy lesbo touching that other lesbian!”

and thats the story of why every fourth of july i want to kill myself

things kept progressing, ofc. i remember one night, while we were camping, i finally caved and fingered her. i forced myself to think “yeah ok i can do this” and i just thought the crippling anxiety i felt was cuz i was nervous to be intimate with my girlfriend for the first time like this, but really i was probably scared she was gonna hurt me since by that point she had. she had made herself perfectly clear in her mannerisms and tone of voice that she was stronger and bigger than me and could hurt me. 

and a few occasions she did. one time she started choking me so badly that i honestly thought “oh my god, shes going to kill me here at school”. i still sometimes feel her nails digging into my throat, and i dont think ive ever been as terrified in my life as i was in that moment. i dont think she would have stopped had a teacher not intervened. 

there was only one time i ever hit her, and that was before school started, and i had finally lost my shit over how much she kept fucking with me. all i remember was i came to school angry at her. over what i dont remember. she was always toying with my emotions, and i think that it had built up over the time that i finally snapped walked into class before school started, walked over to where she and alyss were talking, and a slapped her across the face before i walked over to my desk

i dont think i got in trouble for that cuz no one snitched? idk i mightve, but i didnt care. i was angry at her, angry at the school, and suicidal. 

i remember one time during a break i was crying. a teacher from another class came up to me and asked what was wrong. i told her i wanted to die. she just looked at me all uncomfortable. i think she mightve said something before walking off?

nothing came of that. 

i was more worried that i would get in trouble for being in a gay relationship than as apposed to thinking that these teachers- people who are supposed to protect their students- would help me. i gave up on them even recognizing the signs of me being abused. i feel like they wouldnt have even taken it as seriously as we were both “girls”, and this was back before talk of how women can be abusive was more common place. abuse was still strictly seen as male on female violence. and to some people, gay violence was comedic. 

eventually, one night, it all came to light. at least, that she and i were sexually involved. that week was a blur. she was taken out of school. it was brushed under the rug. everyone trying to save face i guess and keep other kids from finding out, but somehow i always felt like they knew. they knew that she was taken out of school because of me. because we were gay

i tried to move on, but my studies never got better. i just grew more jaded. i never did any work. i mouthed off to the teachers, continued getting detentions and just plainly stopped caring. no one could get me to do anything. i would play hooky. 

and that was just.... my life. perpetual anger at a system that failed me spectacularly. to this day i still hate that place. i cant be there. i was groped and molested and it was treated like nothing

so yeah

thanks for listening to my ted talks

[helloamialone-blog]

How I became a woman, when I wished I was a boy

This is my experience as a girl, growing into a woman in the American midwest in a small college town.  I know I am complicit in everything that happens to me in my life, and responsible for my own health and happiness.  I have always held those beliefs, which actively worked to disarm me of knowing to seek real support, I believe.  This is not an essay, this is just stream of consciousness to help me through today.  After a lot of reflection, I’ve chosen to make this public, in case there is a girl who doesn’t feel at home in her body who might have a shared experience, who could benefit from knowing she’s not alone.

This is not a judgement of anyone but myself and how the world looked to a girl that grew up without accessible role models or accessible emotional support her entire life.  I was raised by television, books, comics and the internet in the 90′s.  I desperately wished I was a boy.    

These are a fraction, just events that I most consciously can remember off the cuff:

Age 6: Not allowed to play video games when boys want to play them. I loved video games. When doing well, sabotaged.  I start spending most of my time alone.  This will be my pattern for the rest of my life.  I take it as a challenge, and am comfortable standing up for myself as the boys do to each other to earn respect.  It works okay, I get to play without being shit on. I start identifying more with boys than girls, because I know in my heart I will not be tread on.

Age 9:  My period.  Boys tell me they want to take baths with me.  Girls ask me to show my breasts at sleepovers and exclaim, “EEEWWW” when I agree.  I wanted to crawl out of my skin. Every look in the mirror made me feel cold terror at the form I did not recognize.  My heart begins breaking when I realize I truly don’t fit in, with boys or girls.  I notice my precociously large breasts being stared at by older men.  I am diagnosed with IBS, I have difficulty everywhere we go, I am sometimes incontinent.  I stop going to sleepovers.

Age 10:  I dress exclusively like a boy now.   I hate my body has changed the rules on who I am and why it invites criticism when I engage in things I love (playing outside with bugs, video games, playing cops and robbers with my male neighbors, getting to talk excitedly about something, being outside alone). I was the first girl in my grade to get her period, I was so different to the rest of the girls.

Age 11:  I relate to no one, hiding in oversized clothes I begged to get from the boys department.  I get a rush when someone mistakes me for a boy.  I experiment with packing things in my jeans to pretend I have a penis.  I start doing it in public.  My sexual feelings are confused, my sexual dreams are about dominating women, as this is my only exposure to sexuality from porn on the internet. I didn’t want to be seen as trash like the women in porn.  I spent all my time talking to older men on the internet through online games, pretending I am 21 and sometimes male for human interaction.  

Age 12:  I walk home from school every day after harassment from boys on the bus.  Trying to hold my breasts and asking me if I’m a virgin.  Strangers react to me walking alone almost daily.  At least weekly, it is sexual.  From older men and boys my age alike.  Disgusting things yelled from cars, offers for rides.  I didn’t understand why the harassment continued when I was obviously acting like boys do.  My IBS worsens, I have my first colonoscopy.  My parents divorce.

Age 13:  I dye my hair black and start wearing dark clothes to instill a sense of strength and to keep people from talking to me.  It works for the most part. I feel safer in my nonconformity.

Age 14:  I realize I want to fit in, want friendships and boyfriends, start dressing as a female.  I excel at classes and am unusually talented at music. I have my first kiss and shortly after, raped for the first time after a date to the arcade.

Age 15: I become hypersexual, I don’t understand why and loathe myself for my feelings.  This is the only time I have received any sustained attention (neglectful home environment, raised on the internet.)  I am used by my male friends, and disapproved of by my female friends. A lot of the misfortunate was my lack of experience with friendship and personal boundaries.  My family had no family friends, even.  I spend most of my time alone in my room on my computer.  The rest of the time, in the cars of various boyfriends.  The rest of the time, sobbing myself to sleep most nights.  

Age 16-26: The cycle continues. Digestive issues are life-altering, I have several colonoscopies that show no physical causes.  I drink too much, play in bands, date other emotionally stunted people in efforts to “save” them, take a few tries at college, try over and over again and fail to define myself as self-sufficient or even as a true woman.  I throw myself at trying to be a pillar for my family to heal the dysfunction, and continually fail.  Many relationships, one with an alcoholic that eventually beat me. 

Age 24: I suddenly ended a marriage engagement to an old-fashioned “modern” boy that was essentially indentured servitude, in order to earn the love of his (seemingly) supportive family.  Everything I did to express myself as a human was a threat to his abilities and status. I was alone in a house, isolated in the country.  I stopped expressing myself.

I had felt so powerless and disgusting  that I felt this was my only chance to keep myself off the streets, as I was unable to maintain any life that would lead to stability for longer than a couple of years.  I manage to land an interview for a difficult job, and I got the offer.  It was scary, my first chance at performing in society in a position that would, for once, earn me respect.  My fiancé strongly encourages me not to take the job, that it would be too stressful.  I take it anyway.  I leave him shortly after he is openly unsupportive.  He hated that my wage was the same as his, even though he had been at this job for 5 years.  

I knew in my heart I was angry at myself, but it seemed so necessary to adopt the social messages that I needed to acquiesce to everyone’s ideas and needs in order to be loved.  Every single male I had dated, which most were liberal, considered feminism hateful and frivolous in a modern age.  When they would use me and toss me aside, sometimes they would cycle my name with “whore” or “crazy” to their friends and send me hateful text messages reminding me that I’m a slut and their abuse was my fault.  I felt that feminism might help me somehow, I just had no idea how.

Finally, I found the right words to express what was happening to me: rape culture, sexism, hate, disdain, projection, fear, trauma, neglect, abuse, powerlessness.  I finally am healing.

Woman is an oppressed class.  Woman is not a feeling, it was a reality I did not get to choose, and in which without role models, media was a destructive, insidious force.  The public reinforced the idea that I am property and don’t deserve to feel safe outside.  My male friends (with my self-hating, unknowing permission) made me an object, and projected their feelings of hatred on me as my own character flaws (real or imagined, I was performing for love and validation).  My female friends resented the attention that I didn’t seemingly earn, and my character was never defended by anyone, least of all myself.  I agreed with all of their criticism, willingly to them and felt like a defective person.  I wanted to die every day.

I’m 28 now, and I am still somehow a happy loving girl to this day.  All I ever wanted was love and company, and boys would often tell me way too early they loved me in order to have sex with me, because I would pour my honest heart out and say that I could only be that close to someone who truly loves me.  I believed it, but I didn’t understand I was using sex as a bridge to intimacy, as I had never learned it from my family life.

I accept now that I am a very feminine looking woman, and that may have had a hand in my confusion from the very beginning.  I didn’t choose my large breasts, or my hips, or my big blue eyes, curly hair or smooth pale skin.  I didn’t choose to be smaller than everyone I know.  I didn’t choose to be weaker.  To have a childish voice.  To be brilliant.  Every message to me was that my beauty could be my power, if only I did it right.  Instead, it was a weapon against me, as all of my self worth was involved in things about me that don’t have shit to do with me as a human being.  I naturally looked like the porn stars boys wanted.  This led to my worth to them being about on par.  A slut that must have sex, because she is too weak to stand on her own as a person with self worth.  This was made worse by my artistic abilities and intelligence.  People felt my abilities were a waste on me, and I agreed with them.

So what changed?

I would never understand this all in context if I hadn’t become very suddenly ill a year ago.  My oppression continued when I went to healthcare professional after healthcare professional.  Nurses, doctors, specialists, heads of departments.  I am fortunately well-connected in health care in my area, due to the tireless work and hard-earned accomplishments of my strong, stubborn, witheringly intelligent mother.

But despite my class privilege in health care, I was -immediately- told my symptoms were psychosomatic and that I would only improve on antidepressant medication.  This was with only a blood panel and physical examination by a family doctor.  All of my appointments took place in the midwest, in both small towns and large cities. What this physician did not know, is that I have been following advice for a decade on antidepressant medication and mental health care.  I had been medicated on at least a handful of different antidepressant and antipsychotic meds, either leading to “just” strong feelings of disassociation, depersonalizing sedation to strong, unprecedented suicidal ideation weeks after starting one particular medication.  I was so shocked by her recommendation I wept…  I begged, “I’m falling in the shower, something isn’t right.  Please just believe me, there must be tests.  I’m not saying you’re wrong, I want you to be right, but what if something is seriously wrong and we miss it?”

I realized that my whole life, the invasive scopes into my anus and down my throat, the rough physical exams on me, the medicalization of my pain, the removal of my appendix without appendicitis when I went to the ER because of what was later discovered to be an ovarian cyst after they opened me up…  My digestive issues WERE stress.  I had no caretaker at home, only a breadwinner… She loved me so completely, but was also raised in this hell.

I finally understood that my very real suffering as a woman was being made to be my fault, that all of those physical and emotional signs of distress were self-inflicted.  They weren’t, they were from external factors that we do not name. Normalization of the rape and dismissal of the lived experiences of girls and women. I felt if I spoke out, no one would believe me because I was already a slut.

 Medication cannot cure external factors, only numb our internal response.  It’s almost too heartbreaking of a truth for us to accept when we have women in our lives we love and respect.  That there is someone who does not know the women in your life like you do, and will use their assumptions informed by culture to continue the cycle of silent, unknowing invalidation and dehumanization.  Of having no words or platform to understand her experience.

I can’t describe how much I have wept.  This began a year long journey to find the one medical test that would prove to any professional that my lived experience was real, and that I was genuinely frightened for my life.  Not of dying, but of living in any sort of semblance to the way that I had taken for granted before.... Going to the store, having the energy to wash my hair or drive.  To think or feel.  I was unable to work like I have done since I was 14.  I could not stand at the sink anymore to brush my teeth, my mother placed stools all over the house so my legs would not collapse under me as I struggled for breath.  

I used my life savings and much of my mother’s money to go to specialist after specialist who asked if I had tried anxiety medication.

It finally hit me one day what those specialists saw…  A very small, beautiful privileged white girl who couldn’t keep up with the demands of having everything she could possibly want or need (in their mind.)  A fragile, weak person that is psychologically unable to handle life, and must have her words reinterpreted through their much more reliable knowledge and experience of a life lived completely differently than mine.  I do believe everyone wanted the best for me.

I only recovered through healthy eating and slow, slow, slow exercise to retrain my weak body to carry itself.  In the end, I was diagnosed with a heart arrhythmia and hypertension.  Just names for symptoms, not a reason.  After slow, unspeakably isolating and sad months of struggling with even believing MYSELF, I finally released I was placing everything on needing medical validation to prove that I was ill and failing.  Finally, finally I realized that you do NOT need to prove your suffering to anyone but YOURSELF.  Because it is only you, no one else, who is ultimately responsible for saving you.

In the end, I had to do what I have always done: hide in a secret place and slowly make myself a whole person again, out of the eyes of a society that gives everyone the right to have an opinion on my existence without really hearing my words to describe it.  The life I had struggled to build around me slipped away.  And… it was a wonderful thing.

I found freedom.  I can run around the block now.  I have finally used my deep, natural talents to make music and art that is from inside my heart, no one else’s.  And it is good.  And I am loved now, after daring to love myself.

Through tears, I thank you for reading this.  Anyone.

I am alive for the first time in my life.  Thank you to everyone who came and struggled before me.  I know it is better than it has ever been before for someone like me.  But it is still so, so hard.  For everyone, male or female.  But especially girls.  I so seldom see any evidence that others have been through something like I have, and I want to change that in case there are others..

We can be free to be humans, as women.  Don’t abandon womanhood, it is oppressed because it can never be understood unless you experience it.  Fight for it.