you're allowed to completely abandon the project of searching for an objective 'true self'. you're likely never going to find some indisputable thing inside you that proves that you Really Are a lesbian or a man or autistic or an empath or an artist or whatever you're troubled over. you can just call yourself whatever (or nothing). you can just do the things that give you the most joy without obsessing over whether that makes you x or y.
there's nothing wrong with naming your experiences but do it with a light hand. do it with the knowledge that these labels are constantly shifting, simplistic social constructions which describe things you do; they don't cause them. these identities are projects of understanding between you + the world around you + you're allowed to abandon your role in that project. you're allowed to say "whatever i am to you is meaningless to me". even though we are all still forced to suffer the material consequences of others' perceptions of 'what we are', i personally feel absolutely freed by letting go of my gender + madness- i am unconcerned with what i am, only with what i feel + think + do.
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You know what's interesting to watch is that I feel like a lot of people have very thoughtfully and maturely moved away from "I don't like this specific character/ship/fictional work and here's a reason why it's problematic" but we still have a lot of "if you don't like this specific character/ship/fictional it's problematic" floating around (and the more extreme example, "everyone who dislikes this one specific thing is a bigot") and the latter is actually way dumber. Like, it is valid, in fact, to dislike a specific work because it has unfortunate implications; the issue is just that analysis cannot simply stop there. It is rather less valid to say "if you don't like this one specific female character you are a misogynist;" that definitely requires a lot of more involved analysis into what specifically their criticisms are, patterns in their preferences, and even then, you are only basing this on internet mannerisms; I think someone who has no favorite characters who are women is unlikely to be deeply involved in feminist causes irl, but this is technically possible, and it's very easy to find the reverse case of people who are terrible to real women and champion fictional ones.
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If it's okay with you, could you write a drabble about the hypothetical aftermath of Amane getting attacked by Kotoko?
Welp thank you pal for making me absolutely insane with this request 👍 I ran through a few hypotheticals and realized I had to shift some things around since there were so many absolutely tragic outcomes. I worked something out but damn if it didn’t make me emotional to think about how uniquely rough Amane has it. Even making sure she's in a good place at the end, this got pretty serious, so warnings for child abuse and cult references.
(So in canon, Kotoko goes in order and attacks Fuuta, but Kazui steps in. Then she attacks Mahiru while he’s distracted with his injuries. She’s about to attack Amane, but Mikoto gets in the way (my hc that he did it on purpose survives!). By the time they reach a draw, Kazui is back, and the two of them can prevent Kotoko from any further action against Amane. Sticking to this apparent system of three attacks and one rescue, I’m just shuffling around the injuries for this story. Fuuta’s attack went unnoticed, and he’s in the same state as canon Mahiru. Mikoto steps in before Kotoko can fight Mahiru, so Mappi’s the one who get out physically unscathed. While Mikoto checks on Mahiru, recovers himself, or discovers Fuuta, Kotoko is able to attack Amane next. Kazui comes to help, but not before she leaves Amane looking like canon Fuuta.)
Mahiru could practically feel her heart shatter into a million pieces when Amane finally cried in front of her. She hadn’t shed a single tear yesterday – it was the shock, Shidou said. Mahiru was skeptical. After all, she had been shocked, too, and cried plenty.
Amane woke as she came in with breakfast. She took a moment to survey herself, bandages peeking out from beneath her pajamas and an eyepatch securely over her right eye. As calmly as one might say “good morning,” she started to cry. Mahiru might have missed it, if Amane hadn’t wiped at her good eye with her sleeve.
“Oh, sweetheart…!” Mahiru rushed over to her. “It’s okay, I’m here.” She wanted nothing more than to wrap the girl in a secure embrace, but she remembered the mass of bandages that were around her chest. Shidou had mentioned broken ribs and bruises. It took everything in her not to cry along with Amane, at the thought.
“I can get you another ice pack, if you need. Or more medicine.” Her mind spun with ways to help with pain. Many of the first aid supplies had been used to keep Fuuta from the brink of death, but surely there were extras to spare for Amane.
The girl just shook her head.
She muttered, “I can’t… I…I’m going to be punished, I’m going to be punished…”
“No! You’re safe now.” Mahiru placed her hands gently on Amane’s arms. “Kotoko’s not coming back. We’re all watching over you. You’re safe. She’s not going to hurt you anymore.”
“That’s not…” Amane pulled away. Her voice stayed level, despite hiccups interrupting her. A hand reached up to her eyepatch. “It’s this. It’s all of this. It’s sinful. I took it off last night, but he must have…” She started unwrapping it. “They’re going to punish me...”
With a careful motion, Mahiru held it in place and took Amane’s hands into her own. She’d been picking up on the signs ever since they arrived here together, and a final wave of understanding washed over her.
“I can’t let you do that.”
Amane’s expression twisted, though words came out far more frantic than fiery. “Let me go.”
Mahiru didn’t. “I’m sorry. Amane, you need this treatment.”
“That is not your decision to make. That is not any human’s decision to make.”
Mahiru pressed her lips together. “I know. But I can’t watch as you… I can’t sit by again while someone…” She was careful not to apply any pressure, but she could no longer fight the urge to gather Amane up in her arms. “You don’t need to be afraid of those people, anymore.”
“I’m not afraid.” Amane hiccuped. “They love me, and I love them. I need to be good for them.”
“I love you, and I don’t want to see you in pain.”
“You just pity me because I’m young.”
“Why does your age matter? You are a lovely young woman – you are my friend – and I can’t bear to see you in pain.”
The two sat in silence for a moment. Mahiru doubted she would take that as an answer; Amane had refused to call any of the others her friend. At least she didn’t argue. In fact, it seemed she was leaning into the embrace a bit more. She sighed a shaky breath into Mahiru’s uniform.
“Listen, Amane. Can you do me a favor? I’m trying to be a good girl, too. To make up for something awful, I need to make sure you’re alright. Can you help me? Can we be good together?”
A long pause followed. Amane’s voice spoke up, ever so gently.
“I suppose I can consider it.” She added quickly, “for the sake of your redemption. Of course.”
“Of course.”
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