#tw slight discussion of transphobia

[starkstruck27]

Me? Back on my ftm Billy Hargrove bullshit? Why, yes actually. Let's do it! Minor TW for implied/referenced transphobia, nods to hate crimes, and slight invasions of privacy.

Nobody ever saw Billy Hargrove in the locker rooms. He was always in gym class and at basketball practices dressed and ready to go, but nobody ever saw him get changed from his regular clothes to his gym clothes. Nobody ever really thought to question it, either, save for one person.

Steve Harrington didn't really know why it seemed so strange to him that Billy was never in the locker rooms. He didn't like the guy, and it was really none of his business, but he hadn't had a date in a while, and when he got bored like that, he got nosy. It was one of the reasons he'd been able to climb the social ladder so easily, aside from the good looks and the money, because he almost always had dirt on somebody. And with the way Billy had decided to treat him from the moment he rolled into town, Steve figured it might be beneficial to have some dirt on the new king.

So he decided to investigate. He made a whole plan, doing his best to stick to it so that he could figure it out sooner rather than later. The problem was, his plan wasn't bulletproof, and there were a few snags in it that delayed his investigation by a few days.

The first day, Billy just wasn't at school, so obviously Steve couldn't follow him to see where he went when he avoided the locker room like the plague. The second day, Steve's history teacher held him for a minute after class to discuss something or other, and by the time he sent him off to gym with a hall pass, the halls were practically empty. The third day, he just couldn't find Billy in the halls.

Finally though, on the fourth day, he was able to put his plan into action. He, as always, was the first one out the door once history ended, and he quickly walked through the hall until he saw Billy's mop of curls traipsing away towards the gym. He didn't waste time in following him, being as stealthy as a ninja as he tailed him. He followed him to the very end of the hallway next to the gym, past where both the girls and boys locker room doors were, and to where the old bathrooms were.

Steve was quite familiar with these bathrooms. They were practically condemned even back when his parents attended school here, but by now, they were in such a horrible state of decay that it was a wonder the school didn't get slapped with some kind of building violation. Half of the sinks were broken or on the floor or hanging off the wall by a thread, the toilets looked like they were test jars for multiple living organisms, the ceiling tiles were crumbling from water damage and starting to fall out at random, and there was so much graffiti in there, it looked more like an overpass in Chicago than a high school bathroom. Steve had used to bring girls here for a quiet place to make out, but once a ceiling tile almost fell on top of them, he never came back. Sometimes the stoner kids would still come down here, since the stench of weed was pretty well masked by the stench of mold, but most people didn't want to take a chance on getting some sort of disease just from being in the vicinity.

So, of course, it only heightened Steve's curiosity when Billy looked down the hall one more time before pulling the door open and going inside. Steve had just barely been able to duck around a corner before Billy saw him, but he got out of view at the last second, and waited a few seconds before going down the hall after him when he didn't immediately walk right back out again. He stayed as quiet as possible as he reached for the door handle, using his sleeve to grab onto it and just barely crack the door open, trying to be discreet as he peeked inside.

He wasn't quite sure what it was he was looking at. Billy was there, yeah, but something wasn't quite right. He was standing there in just his jeans, starting to pull his gym shirt over his head, but Steve could still see these weird jagged scars on his chest, it looked like he'd been flayed open and then put back together again. But it only got more peculiar from there, and Steve almost gasped audibly as Billy loosened his belt and started taking off his jeans. The gasp got caught in his throat, though, as he continued to watch, about a million more questions surging through his brain at a mile a minute as he saw Billy standing there in a pair of pretty lavender panties.

Steve didn't know what to think. It's not like he's never seen a man in women's underwear before. Hell, every so often he'd put on a pair for a dare or if he got smashed at a party to make people laugh. But when he, or any other man for that matter, put on panties, there was usually at least an outline of his manhood that was visible from some angle or another. But as Billy leaned over to his backpack searching for his shorts, Steve couldn't see one. So either Billy Hargrove was born without a dick, or it was just incredibly tiny. Neither one really seemed likely, but, Steve supposed, stranger things have happened.

Steve was so caught up in his questions and the visual of Billy pulling those shorts up his legs that he almost didn't notice it when Billy froze, until he started moving faster, and in a flash was standing in front of him, yanking him inside the decrepit bathroom and slamming the door so hard, the ceiling caved in a little more. Steve was still trying to get a handle on what was happening as Billy locked the door, his face red with anger and tears starting to shine in his eyes as he shoved Steve up against the door and holding him there with an iron grip.

"What the fuck are you doing, spying on me?!" Billy seethed, getting up in Steve's face, "How fucking much did you see?!"

"Whoa, dude, chill the fuck out," Steve said, holding his hands up in a show of innocence.

"Chill out? I catch you creeping on me like a fucking perv, and I'm the one who's supposed to fucking chill out?!"

"Yes! Look, just let me explain, alright?" Steve said, trying to wriggle out of Billy's hold, but he wasn't going anywhere. "Look, I didn't see anything, alright? I was just supposed to meet Munson here for some weed, but-"

"Bullshit! Everyone knows Munson only deals at the picnic table in the woods ever since the roof of this place nearly killed him! Now you've got about two seconds to tell me the fucking truth before I shove your head in one of these nasty toilets and mess up that pretty hair you're so proud of!" Billy threatened, pushing himself even farther into Steve's space. If it weren't for the proximity, Steve would've questioned if he really saw Billy's lip starting to shake, but he knew he definitely had.

"Okay, okay, fine, I'll tell you the truth, but you can't, like, punch me or anything, alright?" Steve said, just trying to buy himself some time. Billy may have been shorter than him, but he was without a doubt stronger, and he obviously didn't care if the ceiling crashed down on them, so he wouldn't be afraid to throw his weight around either if he was so inclined.

"I make absolutely no fucking promises," he said, but his grip on Steve's collar loosened just the tiniest bit.

"Okay, I haven't had a date in a while, and that gets boring. And when I get bored, I get curious. I happened to notice that you're never in the locker rooms with everyone else and I was just trying to find out why because honestly I had nothing better to do. But I swear on my life I'll never tell anybody anything! I didn't even see anything, I swear, I-"

"Harrington," Billy said, a lot calmer now than he was, "Shut the fuck up and let me think for a goddamn second."

Steve listened to him, keeping his mouth shut as Billy removed his hands from his shirt and scrubbed them down his face, taking a deep breath in and holding it for a minute before letting them drop back to his sides.

"Look, I'm not gonna fucking hit you, because I need you on my side here, but I also don't fucking trust you not to go telling everybody what you saw, because I know you saw something," he finally said as he paced around. He looked terrified, and still on the verge of tears. "So what the fuck do we do here? How do we make it so that I know you won't go running your mouth to anybody else?"

"Billy, I would never do that, okay? It's none of my business and-"

"You're damn right it's none of your business! But here you are, knowing my biggest secret, something that could literally get me killed, and I don't believe that you'd never tell anyone, so we got a problem here, and neither of us is leaving until we figure out how to solve it!" Billy interrupted, some of that anger coming back as he paced around, tugging on his hair and waving his hands.

"Okay, so what do you propose we do? Cuz I'm coming up fucking blank and I don't want to be in here any longer, so the quicker we figure this out, the quicker we're both happy," Steve replied, putting on an attitude to match Billy's. "What do you want me to do?"

Billy didn't answer him. He continued to pace, pulling at his hair and huffing and puffing like the big bad wolf. He walked around for a long while, still not responding and finally coming to rest with a sigh, leaning on one of the broken sinks with his head hung.

"Jesus Christ," he said quietly, shaking his head, "I don't fucking know what I want you to do."

"Well then," Steve said, turning and unlocking the door, "I guess you're just gonna have to trust me."

************************************************************************

After that, nothing happened. Literally. Steve went on with his life and Billy went on with his, and that was that. Steve wished it would've felt normal, but it didn't. Because in the halls, around town, even in practice, Billy avoided him like the plague.

Steve couldn't really care about Billy avoiding him. In fact, it was almost like a relief, since he didn't have to worry about getting his face bashed in again, but it also kind of bothered him. He'd been telling him the truth when he said he wouldn't spill his secret, so why did Billy still feel the need to keep as far away as possible? Did he think that staying away would put him on Steve's good side? And, if that were the case, then why was it making Steve more upset than if he were to be constantly in his face and threatening him? He couldn't explain it to himself, and certainly not to anyone else, but it bothered him. He should be glad that Billy was keeping his distance, so why did it make him feel even worse about the whole situation.

Two weeks after the bathroom incident, and Steve was about to burst. He didn't know why it made him so upset not seeing Billy, but he was annoyed by it, and he wanted it to end. He hated the idea of it going on forever, and it got to the point that he even thought about letting his secret slip to Tommy or somebody just to get Billy to acknowledge his existence again.

He only had that thought as he was walking out of school at the end of the second week, and he'd been horrified with himself when it entered his head, but he didn't know what else to do. He definitely wasn't going to do it, but he'd be lying if he said a little part of him didn't want to know what Billy would do if he did. Even if he killed him, at least he'd be paying him some sort of attention. Still, he knew he couldn't do that to him, so when he got home that afternoon after dropping Dustin off, he began to try and figure out a different course of action.

He didn't get very far, though. Just as he flopped down on the couch to try and figure out a new idea, the doorbell was rung, followed shortly after by a few quick knocks on the door.

Steve didn't want to get up to get it, but he did. He figured it might be some kind of package his mother ordered and he'd need to sign for it, as this was the way most of the impatient delivery drivers let him know they were there, so he hauled himself up with a groan and went to the door, throwing it open with a roll of his eyes.

He was shocked to see Billy standing on the other side, shuffling his feet like he was uncomfortable just being on the doorstep. He took advantage of Steve's apparent surprise, shoving past him into the house without even being invited in and reaching back to yank Steve in after him, kicking the door shut as he manhandled Steve into the threshold before him, crossing his arms once it was just them, but still staring uncomfortably at the ground as he shifted nervously from foot to foot.

"Sure, come on in, I guess," Steve said, the shock sending him back to his default bitchiness he used to naturally exude.

"Look, I'm not staying, I just needed to talk to you," Billy said, his eyes shifting around like they couldn't focus on any one thing.

"Oh, I get it. You ignore me for two weeks, not even a word, and now you wanna talk? What, you finally figured out what kind of hoops you wanna make me jump through to prove that I'll keep your secret?" Steve snarked, crossing his arms to mirror Billy's stance. "Well, newsflash, bucko, but I've been keeping it that entire time just because I'm a decent person, so fuck you."

"That's not- I didn't come here for that," Billy said, finally making an attempt to look at Steve, but his eyes still wandered a bit.

"Then why did you?"

"Because I need to know why you didn't tell anyone."

"I already told you that. It's because I don't fucking care. It's not my business, so it doesn't matter. It's called being a decent human being."

"That can't be the only reason. Nobody ever does anything just because they want to be a decent human being. That's just not how this works."

"Well then you clearly don't know very many decent humans, because that's how it works with me," Steve said, dropping his arms as his tone evened out a little, taking out the snarkiness. "Look, I realize I overstepped and stuck my nose in where it didn't belong, and I'm sorry about that, so this is my way of apologizing. I can't erase what I saw or the fact that I know, but I can keep it under lock and key in my brain and that's the next best thing."

"But-"

"Hargrove, listen to me," Steve cut him off, "I don't want to humiliate you. I don't want to get you killed or run out of town or beaten to a pulp as some sort of sick revenge. I just want to go back to how it was, okay? I want you to be a dick and roll your eyes at me in the hallway. I want you to act all cocky and superior when I'm around, but shut down Tommy if he tries to do the same. I want you to fuck with me during practice because you think you play better than I do. God, I never thought I'd be saying any of this, but I just want us to be able to be normal again, or at least as normal as the two of us can be. Okay?"

Billy just stared at him now. No words were coming, despite how many times he opened his mouth like he was gonna speak. And nothing seemed to be going on behind his eyes, as if the gears in his brain had all of a sudden decided to come to a screeching halt. It was almost alarming, but Steve knew he was just trying to process what he'd said. Steve almost hadn't been able to do that himself, and he's the one that said it in the first place. So he left him there, turned and went to get a glass of water in the kitchen, only to be pulled back a moment later by a strong hand wrapped around his wrist.

He wasn't expecting the force at which he was pulled back, nor was he expecting to be whirled around so that he was facing Billy again. And he certainly wasn't expecting it when Billy stood on his tiptoes, held his face in his hands, and guided him into a kiss.

It wasn't hard or bruising or anything like Steve expected it to be. It was forceful, it was desperate, but it wasn't violent or demanding of control, as so many things often were with Billy. It made something in Steve's chest begin to flutter, and something else settle down in there like a bird in a nest. He almost didn't want it to end, which was an alarming thought for a few reasons. He shouldn't be enjoying being kissed by a boy so much. Especially when that boy was Billy Hargrove. And he knows in his bones that not wanting a first kiss to end was a direct gateway into wanting it to happen again. But for as impossible and improbable as the kiss was for happening in the first place, he knew that it was even less possible and probable for it to happen again.

But when Billy released him, still holding his face and staring into his soul with those big, watery, beautiful blue eyes of his, he knew he would do everything within his power to make sure this was not just a one-time thing. It felt almost primal, like it was coded into his DNA, this need to see Billy so vulnerable and timid for as long as possible, this need to make him feel safe and protected and relieved, like the world couldn't touch him.

"Thank you," Billy whispered, those two words so weighted, they hit Steve right in his core.

"Don't mention it," he replied, like an absolute dork, and he wanted to kick his own ass. He knew he only had three ways of speaking, either bitchy and standoffish with frenemies and other assholes, kind and normal with good friends, and completely fucking stupid with people he really, really cared about, and he knew that he was tumbling dangerously fast into that third category with the boy in front of him.

"I won't, then," Billy said, still kind of quietly as he bowed his head, "But I still have more to say. I'm so sorry, Steve. I've treated you like shit since the first moment I met you, and I shouldn't have. I guess I was just scared of you, y'know?"

"Why would you be scared of me?" Steve asked, trying to duck down so Billy would look at him again.

"Well for one, you had everything. You were rich, you had a good girlfriend, you had a few actual friends, and you just always seemed so happy. My family moved across the country with barely a dime to our names, I didn't have anyone that cared about me out here, and it was fucking miserable. And even when I met Tommy and Carol and the rest of the popular crowd, it was clear that none of them really cared about me. I was just the shiniest, newest plaything that they wanted to exploit, and I went with it, because when you're like me, it's safer to be cruel and get yourself to the top of the food chain than to make actual friends because then you don't have to answer to anybody else, they all answer to you. But it's not all it's cracked up to be, as you know, and I guess I was jealous of you because you had the choice to let go of that, but I don't. If I let go of that, then eventually someone will find out what I am, and I won't have any kind of protection against it anymore, and I won't have the authority to shut it down as a stupid rumor or scare people out of sharing it further. And I was also scared of you because I knew I never had a shot with you. I froze up the first time I met you because I heard the rumors, but I never thought they'd be as true as they were. You were the most handsome man I'd ever seen, and I knew I was gonna do something stupid if I ever let myself get close to you, so I just didn't let that happen. Instead I tried my hardest to keep you away from me, but in the times where I couldn't help it, like at practice, I would just try and be as annoying as possible so you'd steer clear of me, too, and then nothing would happen. Obviously my plan didn't work out so well, but I mean, I couldn't really help that. And when you found out about me, I was the most terrified of you I'd ever been, because I knew I gave you no reason to keep my secret and keep me safe. I didn't deserve you being that nice to me. And for the past two weeks I've been waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it never did. And that scared me even more because I didn't know if you were actually keeping it a secret or if you were gonna go all Carrie on me and lull me into a false sense of security before, like, pantsing me in the middle of the cafeteria for everyone to see. So I came over here to try and do everything I could to convince you to keep quiet, but then you said everything you did and I just felt like I didn't need to worry anymore. I could hear the sincerity in your tone and I guess it shocked me, but in a good way. Like, I knew you weren't lying to me and I didn't have to worry about it anymore and despite everything I was safe with you and I've never felt that before, like, ever. Even with Max I have to be careful, because if I piss her off enough, I know she would spill my secret. But I feel like with you I can tell you anything and you wouldn't use it against me. And maybe that's naive, and maybe I'm stupid for believing that, but I feel like you've proven to me that I can trust you, and I hope to fucking God I'm right."

"You are," Steve said, smiling a little as he brushed away some of the tears Billy had felt falling as he gave his little speech. "I'm not gonna tell anyone anything they don't need to know. And I'm not gonna hurt you for any kind of shallow reason, you don't deserve that. And believe me, even if I wanted to pants you in the cafeteria, I don't think that's even possible with the way your jeans are practically painted on your body."

Billy sniffled a little and blushed as he smiled, looking down as he wiped away the rest of the tears, and Steve allowed him all the time he needed to get himself right. When he looked up, Steve smiled back at him, and reached out a little cautiously to put a hand on his shoulder. Billy didn't flinch away, but he did look down at Steve's hand and back to his face like he was confused by it. He looked back and forth a few times before finally swallowing and following the gesture hesitantly, as if he didn't know if he should. But Steve didn't move or change his expression, so Billy finally let his hand come to rest on his shoulder, and, after a moment, even untensed his fingers.

"So, what now?" He eventually found the voice to ask. Steve could see him swallowing thickly again, and he could tell he was wary of the answer.

"I don't know. I mean, like I said earlier, we don't have to be best friends or anything, but I'd like to try and start over from scratch if that's okay with you. Or at least call a truce, y'know? We don't have to talk to each other if we don't want to, but we can at least be civil at practice and stuff. And if we want to be friends, I'm willing to try it out," he said, then paused a second before adding, "Or... maybe even more than that?"

"Yeah," Billy whispered it, but quickly, like he was eager to say it, but didn't know if he should. "Yeah, maybe. I-I mean, if that's what you want, too. I'm open to anything, so it's up to you."

Steve didn't respond this time, instead he just pulled Billy forward and wrapped his arms around him, smiling a little as he heard him gasp. It took him a minute to return the embrace, going as still as a statue at first until it seemed to catch up in his brain, and when he hugged back, Steve could hear him sigh out in what he assumed was relief.

"I think that is what I want. I think we could be good for each other, if we work at it. But I've also been in enough relationships and had my heart broken enough times to know that we should probably try and take our time with it, get to know each other and figure out if we really want to put the work in before jumping in with both feet. It's gonna take time, but I think it could really be worth it, don't you?"

"Yeah, I do," Billy said, hugging Steve even harder, "I really, really do."

[mxs-space]

More info on the AUs below the cut! (I'll also answer to asks! Or comments! Just ask me if you have any question on the AUs!)

[Young Morioh]

Illustrations + Texts + Infodump

Half theory half AU about the past of Yoshikage Kira an his relationship with his family and Aya Tsuji (will be more centerd on those two/not romantic; not a ship), slide story of Reimi and Shinobu, Tomoko and Tonio mentioned (not Purple Haze Feedback compliant). Mainly made out of the canon scraps about Kira's childhood and the two songs that inspired Aya's stand. Will start wholesome(?) and end quite sad (canon compliant).

TW: Childhood Abuse; Abandonment Issues; Disussion of Identity; Overlooked Neurodivergence; Anxiety; Performing your Personality; and in the end Murder.

[Drag AU]

Illustrations + Texts + Infodump

AU centered on a fictional not fixed in time Drag Queen/Drag King scene. Mostly about the Jofoes, and most of them are just out of character (literally turned half of them into lesbians). Lot of discussion about trans identity too, but in quite a lighthearted way. I honestly just wanted to have fun. Still hesitating about making it KiraBoss, but as I said this will be really out of character. Quite wholesome.

TW: Gender Dysphoria; Mention of Biphobia, Transphobia and Queerphobias in general; slight Misgendering but mainly because they're still figuring things out.

[The Magnus Archives' Discarded Files]

Texts + Requests (may include Illustrations and Records)

Testimonies of people regarding their supernatural encounters. Basically Statements made by persons from an other media (which is why they've been discarded on the first time). No actual spoils on the TMA lore, but if it contains spoilers on the other media, a Trigger Warning will be put at the beginning, along with the list of of other specific TW. Really Dark.

Fandoms I have at least one statement started: Jojo's Bizarre Adventure (+spin offs), Hunter X Hunter (1999; 2011; manga), Doctor Who (only since 11, sorry), Five Night's At Freddy's (most games). As aforementioned, I might make other fandoms, especially if requested.

TW: (well if you know TMA, you know but I'll put some anyway) Horror, Body Horror, Psychological Horror, Fear of the Unknown, Supernatural. More specified TW will be made.

[help-itrappedmyself]

DC trans week day 3

Prompt: Non-binary. Coming out discussion!

tw: for what could be slight transphobia, just in case

~~~~~

“Society doesn’t care what you want. You have to decide what you want and what you’re willing to do for it.” Kon tells him. "Society doesn't care about you, so don't let it dictate your life."

“That’s great, when it comes to things like world peace or whatever. But sometimes it’s hard to muster up that much fight just for yourself. Just little you against all of society’s expectations. Against the fear of judgment cast down by family and friends. I grew up knowing that I couldn’t tell my parents. At this point, I guess I’m just resigned. I’m used to living this way, It’s fine now.” He waves him off, turning away, but Kon flies around so he’s in front of him again.

“Tim, you know you deserve to fight for yourself too. We’ll fight with you.”

“This would be me going against everything I’ve been told since I was a child. I know what I was born into, what expectations people have of me. I’ve lived through society yelling and shoving me into a box. Telling me their constant opinions through tabloids and press. My parents telling me what I am, how to be, what I should be doing, how I should be dressing. They told me exactly how to appear to the world and they expected it. This is not something to be public with, it's private. I’ve long since learned, how you act in public and how you are in private are two separate things. It’s not a battle that needs to be fought, especially not one I need to force anyone else into.”

“Your parents shouldn’t have done that. But they’re not even here anymore, and you know that we don’t care! I mean, half of us are gay anyways. None of us would care how you identify. They would care that you’re keeping things from us, hiding such a big part of yourself for no reason!”

“Even those accepting of otherness sometimes don’t understand the answer ‘I don’t know’ or, even worse, ‘multiple of these things’. The world is binary, black and white. People don’t understand when they tell you to choose and not only do you not ‘choose’ but the answer is somehow ‘all of the above’. Even you, now, telling me it’s fine to ‘come out’. Come out as what? Unsure? Some secret third option, but not even I know what that is?”

“Sure, if that’s how you feel.” Kon is too calm about this, Tim feels. But he has run his anger and frustration dry and now just feels like crying. Or sleeping. Or crying himself to sleep. “Start with me. What pronouns do you want? Do you have a term or a label that you feel fits you, or do you prefer to go without labels?”

Tim huffs. Falls to the ground cross-legged. Kon comes over and sits down next to him. “Non-binary, I guess. Can’t really get more specific than that.” 

“Pronouns?” Kon encouraged after a moment of silence.

Tim just shrugs. “None of them, all of them. Honestly, they annoy me because the whole point of pronouns is to talk about someone while they’re not there. Just use my name.”

“Name it is then.” Kon nudged Tim with his shoulder, and Tim slumped against him.

[apollos-constant-crisis]

Had this “discussion” with enough cis people that I need to yell into the void about it. slight tw for transphobia below, however

YOU CAN NOT SEPARATE TRANS RIGHTS FROM GAY RIGHTS YOU DUMB FUCK. LEARN QUEER HISTORY, READ A SINGLE BOOK BEFORE YOU TALK TO ME YOU CHUCKLEFUCK.

“I sUpPoRt TrAnS pEoPle I jUsT dOn’T lIkE tHaT wE’rE lUmPeD tOgEtHeR bY bIgOtS” Oh so you don’t support us enough to stand with us. Did they pick you? Are you one of the good fags who knows their place? I hope you’re very secure with the enemy before they inevitably turn on you. Go fuck yourself.

[thechangeling]

Say my name or I won't survive

This is an extension of my headcannon for non binary Kit. He uses he/they pronouns. Kit comes out to Jessa as nonbinary.

Tw: mentions of transphobia/enbyphobia

A lot had happened since that conversation with Magnus. Kit usually didn't like to make a habit out of breaking down in people's arms. But it had become clear in that moment that they needed to talk to someone. That they needed to face the things they had been pushing down, trying to avoid.

Kit was currently standing in front of the mirror in his bedroom. Magnus had let them take some clothes that had been magically altered to fit Kit. Just so he could experiment with wearing them.

So far he hadn't made it out of his room wearing a dress or a skirt, but Kit was trying to take baby steps. Well mostly they were just scared. Scared of what Jem and Tessa would say.

Scared of what everyone would say. Like what if he was just making everything up? Or maybe he was just confused? Shadowhunters were big on tradition. Asking people to use different pronouns for Kit and stop using his full name might be a challenge for some people.

Like Jace, their brain supplied.

Kit stared at their reflection on the mirror. Magnus had started teaching them how to apply makeup and experiment with it. Kit confessed that when they were younger they used to steal eyeliner and lipstick from drug stores and put it on when Johnny was otherwise occupied. Kit was still no where near Magnus's level of talent but they were pretty good.

Kit had done simple makeup today, not looking for anything too crazy, just a little mascara to make his eyes pop and concealer to cover his light bruising from training. He hadn't wanted to look too girly during this conversation, he figured it was better to ease Tessa and Jem into this whole thing.

Also Kit didn't always feel like looking too girly, even though as Magnus constantly reminded them, clothes and makeup didnt have a gender. They liked playing around with different concepts, different styles. The societal ideas of femininity and masculinity were just that, ideas. There were no real rules, not when Kit stopped playing the game.

They stared at themself in the vanity mirror, trying to think of exactly what Kit was going to say to Jem and Tessa. Just saying the words, "I'm nonbinary" didn't seem good enough. They felt like they needed to give a proper explanation of their feelings and experiences or else they would be accused of faking it.

The urge to prove ones validly, the need to make sure people knew he was real and he wasnt crazy, it was more importent then anything. It was infuriating. Knowing that his experiences could be so easily dismissed as delusional feelings.

Not trans enough. Not cis enough. Not gay enough. Not straight enough. Kit's mere existence was a controversy on it's own. It was exhausting enough to make Kit want to abandon the whole idea of coming out again all together. Maybe it was easier just to smile and nod everytime someone misgendered them. Ignore the clenching of their stomach and the punch to the chest that came with it.

Smile and nod and be the man he was meant to be. But he had been doing that for 18 years and he couldn't survive it much longer. Kit needed to come out. People needed to acknowledge his reality and use the proper pronouns for him.

Or else Kit was going to wither away, shrivel up into something unrecognizable. A shell of their former self. They were going to die if they had to hear "Christopher" one more time.

The only time it was tolerable was when Ty said it. Kit could almost pretend that he could be the person Ty thought he was, if it would make Ty happy. He used to think that he could let himself wither away and die as long as Ty was ok. As long as Ty was safe and happy.

But that wasnt ok. That wasnt fair. Kit deserved to be safe and happy as well. One of the things they had learned with Jem and Tessa was that Kit deserved to put themself first sometimes. Kit deserved good things despite what Johnny Rook had made them believe. Kit wanted Ty to be ok. They wanted Ty in general.

But Kit needed this.

He took a deep breath and exited his room, heading downstairs to the kitchen where Jem was cooking breakfast and Tessa was trying to get Mina to settle down. Everyone looked up as soon as Kit entered the room.

"Kitty!!!" Mina screamed excitedly, waving her arms around. Tessa shushed her fondly, scolding her for yelling.

"Good morning Christopher," Jem said with kind a smile. "How did you sleep?"

Kit tried to ignore the way their stomach clenched at the sound of their birth name. Dead name, their brain supplied. They needed to tell Tessa and Jem. Kit slid into a nearby chair with a heavy sigh.

"I need to talk to you guys about something," he muttered, trying not to sound too nervous or dejected. Tessa and Jem shared a worried glance.

"Is everything alright Kit?" Tessa asked sparing Mina a glance, probably wondering if she should be removing her from this conversation. Kit shut his eyes briefly and took a breath.

"Yeah I hope so. I just need to tell you something," Kit ran their fingers through their curls. Jem and Tessa watched them, waiting patiently. Kit tried to ignore the shakiness of their breath and the way their palms.

"Here's the thing," Kit began. "You might not get it but I need to ask you to respect it ok?

He didn't wait for their responses. "I'm nonbinary. Which basically means that I'm neither male nor female. I'm something else, something seperate. I don't know I guess I just think of myself as a person who doesn't really have much of a gender," he was staring at the tabletop refusing to make eye contact. "It's just sort of like, if you think of the colour spectrum as gender, I would be a blurry watercolour. A mixture if all kinds of different things and sometimes some colours are more vibrant then others. And then sometimes it's just gray."

Kit wasnt sure if any of this was really making any sense but they knew they had to try. Jem and Tessa were both still silent. Mina was happily chomping down on her breakfast and ignoring all of them. Kit took this as a sign to continue.

"I don't exactly know why I'm like this or how I know. But maybe there are some things that you just can't explain. You just know. Like I know that the sun will set and then rise again tommorow and I know that I love you guys," Kit voice faltered at the last part. He looked up at Tessa and Jem, panicked over seeing their reactions.

But they were both just staring at Kit with huge, loving smiles on their faces. Kit's breathing slowly began to return to normal but their hands were still shaking. Tessa csne towards them slowly, grasping Kit's hand in hers.

"Baby it's ok," she cooed. "You have nothing to be ashamed of. It's just like we told you when you first came out as bisexual, we will always love you no matter what." Jem nodded.

"I have admit this whole thing is rather fascinating," Jem chimed in with a smile. "I've never heard the term before." Kit fought the urge to remind him that two weeks ago he had never heard of playstation, but decided against it.

Mina was paying attention to them now and she was smiling at Kit. "No bany!" She cried excitedly. Kit couldn't help it, he through his head back and laughed. Mina scowled at him slightly. "Not quite Min-Min," Kit told her playfully.

"Do you have different pronouns that you would like us to use?" Tessa asked. Kit's heart fluttered at the question. They didn't actually think either Tessa or Jem would think to ask.

Kit cleared their throat. "Yeah do you think you guys could use alternating he/they pronouns for me? Like use he in one sentence and then use they?" Kit instantly felt kind of guilty for complicating things further. "I'm sorry I know that's kind of confusing."

Jem shook his head, "no it's fine! We just want you to feel comfortable." Tessa nodded in agreement. "Is there anything else?" Kit pulled Mina's hands off of their shirt. She had begun to tug and pull out of boredom.

Kit nodded. "Yeah do you think you could stop calling me Christopher please?" He hoped he didn't sound to harsh. There was something so guilt inducing about having to ask for these things. It felt like Kit was making unneccessary demands. But he wasn't. He had every right to.

Jem instantly looked sheepish. "I'm so sorry Kit," he said softly. Tessa looked guilty too. Kit shook their head.

"Its ok. You didn't know. Just don't do it anymore ok?" Kit felt significantly lighter, like a giant weight had been lifted off of their shoulders. They slid out of their stool to walk around to the other side of the kitchen island and hug both Jem and Tessa.

Kit knew it wouldn't always be this easy. He knew that this life would be complicated and difficult, but it would also be full of exploration and freedom.

Kit would always have a place he belonged.

"I am also a we."

- Sense 8

Tag list you know the drill, let me know if you want on or off: @scrat-is-god @playwithravenclaw @lavender-scented-rat @knifescythe @ti-bae-rius @dianasarrow @doitforthecarstairs @jazzkaurtheglorious @waterlillies @zfoxdraws @julieandthefandoms @older-brother-kit @ilikebooks8 @nott-the-best @stxr-thxif @magnus-the-fabulous-entp-bane @autumnangel20 @hufflepuffyskam

[magicalshitposts]

Hyrule Pride Week 2021

Day 1 - Gender Neutral

(TW: slight swearing, slight transphobia (not under the cut))

Maybe it was a bold guess, but from the second the two royal researchers met the knight, they knew. Robbie called it instinct, Purah called it seeing Link flinch a little every time anybody referred to them as a term that did not fit.

It was the first time Robbie and Purah had met the champions (Bar the  and Purah’s sister of course), so like the man normally does for both him and his boss, he talked pronouns.

They went in a line, starting with the researchers,

“I’m a cis male, go by he/him.” Robbie clicked his fingers in the direction of Purah.

“Oh, you guys can call me whatever, but I lean more to she/her! Revali?”

“This is ridiculous, I’m a man.” The bird spoke, rather harshly.

“Doesn’t answer the question feathers.” Robbie clicked his tounge, waiting for the Rito champion to say something different before Purah jumped in.

“And with an attitude like that darlin’, you’ll be ‘a man’ standing outside while the grownups work”

Robbie smiled proudly, goddess he was lucky to have a best friend like her.

Everyone looked expectantly towards him, so Revali had no choice but to soften up, “I guess that means he/him, yes?”

Mipha was next, she smiled widely, “I use she and her pronouns!”

“Urbosa, I don’t quite uh… get it.” Daruk looked to the other person in the group who might be as lost as him. She was about to answer when she saw the researchers jump at the chance to educate.

“Go on then.” She grinned towards them, “She/her please, by the way.”

“Thank you Chief.” Purah winked to be met with scolding looks by her sister, “So Daruk, pronouns are a set of words that a person -Terrako beeped- or thing uses to be referred to as. So, there are two types of pronouns, pronouns and neopronouns, and there are two type of people who use them, cisgender people and Trans folk.”

Robbie jumped in to continue, “The difference between Cis and Trans is this, I go by he/him and I was born a guy, that means I’m cisgender and I use pronouns that were assigned to me at birth, if you take my apprentice as an example one of them is Trans, means she was born male but was just a girl trapped inside a male’s body. She was born using he/him pronouns, but found out she was she/her instead.”

Purah went on to talk about neopronouns, “Lets take Terrako – She picked the little guardian up and placed it on the table – Terra? Do you like to be called him?” A small movement of the top part of its body signified a no. “What about her?” The same thing. “So when people refer to you, you like to be called it?” A happy flurry of beeps exploded from it. Purah looked back to Daruk, “Right so, Terrako uses what we call neopronouns, it uses it/its which isn’t ‘officially’ seen in the Hylian language as a pronoun, but their Terrako.”

There was a small silence as Daruk put the pieces of information together in his head, “I… think I get it.”

Robbie gave an understanding look to the Goron chief, “Hey it doesn’t matter if you don’t get it right away, the fact your trying is great.”

Daruk’s eyes crinkled under the smile he had on his face, “Thank you Robbie. So I am a cisgender man who uses he/him pronouns?” Daruk looked around expectantly for feedback.

“Perfect Daruk, well done!” Purah grinned, moving on the next champions.

“Are you kidding?” Impa spoke coldly when eyes landed on her, “You’re my sister and my nuisance, you know my pronouns.” Robbie grinned slightly, time to be even more of a nuisance.

“Tough luck sweetheart, I asked, so cough up. Pronouns?”

“You are the bane of my existence.”

“So what do you not know them? Hey if not that’s fine, everyone has to find themselves out at some point!”

“Oh my goddess, stop it!” Frustration was rising in Impa.

“Stop what? Wait you’re not being like the bird are you, think you’re ‘too good’ for pronouns, eh?”

“Robbie. Fucking stop it.” Impa looked up to the researcher, fire flooding her eye.

With an awkward lean back to Purah, Robbie whispered, “found her limit.”

Purah rolled her eyes, god was she unfortunate to have a best friend like him.

“This lil’ munchkin goes by she/her, for those of you who don’t know her.” Purah put her arms around Impa’s shoulders pushing her back next to the princess.

“Your highness-“

“Are you being serious?” Impa interrupted her sister, “The princess is clearly-“

“Impa. Please don’t. It’s my place to speak on my identity.” Zelda stood straight, preparing to talk. “I am a woman and my pronouns are she/her.”

“Thanks Princess.” Robbie winked kindly towards her then turned his head to the last one, “And you, buckaroo.”

“Oh Link goes by he/him”

Alarm bells, the smallest of signals, Robbie and Purah knew something was off. Maybe Link winced their face on purpose for them to notice, most likely it was just a natural reaction.

“Can’t they tell us?” Purah asked looking towards Link and seeing their face immediately soften in confusion.

“Link is mute, he can’t speak.” The princess stated, looking sombrely towards them.

“Oh, well I know sign language, if they could sign it to us?” Purah looked towards Link with a kind encouraging expression. They lifted their hands, hesitant on what to sign. They were scared.

“Purah,” Robbie stood behind her, hands on her arms, “Maybe we should just trust the princess.”

Purah saw the relief in Link face as she said, “Yeah you’re right. Sorry your highness.”

 The meeting was over before it started. With Robbie discussing the Devine Beasts with their pilots and Purah talking about the Sheikah towers the meeting felt like a blip in a long day. Time goes fast when the researchers talk about what they love. The Champions had been gone for a while now. The workday was over and Robbie and Purah sat in their apartment above the lab. Loud music playing and a beer in their hands.

A knock at the door.

“Come in!” Purah shouted, not bothering to move. If it was a guest, they were uninvited.

Link opened the door and coughed slightly to get the residents attention. They waved when the two people looked at them.

“Link, right? Come on in.” Purah waved her arm to usher Link closer, “What can we do you for Linky?”

Link smiled ever so slightly at the nickname. They brought their hand up and signed ‘How did you know?’

Purah and Robbie smiled at the knight. 

“About the whole pronoun thing?” He asked.

Link nodded.

“I don’t know man- Robbie quickly caught himself- pal, the Princess said you go by he/him and you flinched. Me and Pu have had to deal with questioning and closets before so we really just kinda realised.” Robbie shugged towards the knight, smiling, “So you’re trans? She/her or?”

‘Non-binary. You guessed right the first time.’ They signed all to apprehensively.

“Well your safe with us Hylian.” Robbie winked.

“And if you want us to call you he/him around the other champions until you’re ready we most certainly can.” Purah added, tapping on the seat beside her. Link sat down.

“We’ll wait on you Buckaroo.” Robbie got up to get another can, “For now though, wanna drink?”

[potatobubblewrapnightmare]

Hi all!

Tw transphobia, intrusive thoughts (violence), p*riods, misogyny, s*xual *ssault, swearing

Long post

Its been a while since my last update on my life and it’s very interesting to say the least

I came out to someone yesterday who I’ve been putting off for over a year now and let me tell you my heart rate was out of control.

my best friend was there with me at the time so she could back me up if anything went wrong But I was still on the verge of crying and I felt so nauseous.

Basically the amount of misogyny in my school is ridiculous so the teachers wanted to try and tackle that with half assed attempts at “having chats” with the assholes who think r*pe jokes are funny.

This coincided with our school winning a grant to put pads and tampons in all bathrooms and yesterday we had to split into boys and girls to discuss this. The idea was that The Boys (tm) would stop period shaming and be taught how wrong all their misogyny and sexual harassment is. Instead they just watched a ted talk about toxic masculinity and filled in a form about three pros and cons of being male.

I was part of the trans and gender diverse group that met up in the art room instead and discussed these things with a gender neutral perspective.

Now I have a friend (ex boyfriend) who likes to get political sometimes and he brought this up with my friend and I as we were walking home. There was a question on the form EVERYONE had to do which was “what is your gender?” followed by “do you menstruate?” Which he couldn’t get over because “if you just put sex instead of gender it answers the second question,” and yeah, in most cases, but the point was getting an idea of how many trans kids needed support. Then he made a comment about the non binary option and my friend and I went off at him hugely.

Now I have my name (Charlie) across the back of my school shirt and my name an pronouns in my bio on Instagram.

I pointed these things out and then told him I was transgender and Charlie he/him if you don’t mind and he was silent.

He flipped like a switch.

But the newfound support was so genuine feeling I don’t know what to make of it.

He asked if I would hang out with him at lunch now that I was one of the boys.

Obviously slight problem with wording there but I understood what he meant.

But it was an invitation to spend more time with him and I’m suspicious that I’m going to just be “look my friend is trans so I’m not a dick” points. I’m also interested to see if we’ll be on speaking terms and if so what name he will call me.

When I came out to my other friends they slowly became more comfortable talking about LGBTQ+ topics and while I know it is not my responsibility, if I can make an ally out of my cishet friend then hopefully change will start happening.

There’s a secondary issue however in that I keep having intrusive thoughts about punching the friend I came out to in the face and knocking him cold. It’s been in my dreams and I have to keep my temper when I’m around him. I say he’s my friend but anyone I met in the last four years I don’t consider my friend. But I digress.

I just see visions of him, bloody, falling to the ground as I laugh and I’m not a violent person at all and I’m so confused. :/

I feel sick and don’t want to go to school though lol.

Stay safe, stay strong!

Charlie

[queerhargreeves]

Not A Hardship

TUA Pride Month, day 5: Coming out

Diego has been sitting on a thought for a while now: How did Five adjust to his identity so well? I mean, he knows that the kid read Vanya’s book. And she had the courtesy to at least use his name and pronouns in the godforsaken thing. But he must’ve looked like a complete stranger - an imposter. He was 13, forced to see his dead, transitioned sibling. Five hasn’t once slipped up on his name or pronouns since he’s been back.

TW: Slight discussion of misgendering/transphobia

Diego Hargreeves has had to “come out” many, many times throughout his life. Certainly more than most people barely out of their 20’s. He’s been out as male for 15 years now, bisexual for 10. The process of coming out certainly isn’t a one time thing: you don’t just tell people once. It’s a never ending cycle.

He’s gone through the uncomfortable coming out process to his new coworkers when he found their eyes lingering on the scars beneath his pecs a little too long to just be a passing glance. He has to come out on every first date, a little part of him terrified of the reactions to come. He's been subjected to too many ignorant, spiteful words - too many T slurs for it to get any easier. He has to disclose his identity to new doctors, hoping his extensive google research of trans friendly professionals proved to be right.

And every single time he goes through this he still experiences the heart dropping anxiety he did the first time he came out. 15 year old Diego stumbled through his words, his bangs shielding his glazed over eyes as he found solace in Klaus on his bedroom floor all those years ago.

The only sibling he hasn’t really come out to yet is the now littlest one of the bunch, Five. Diego came out two years after he disappeared. The two were never the closest as children, not like Five and Vanya or Klaus and Diego. Five was always too wrapped up in overcoming what Sir Reginald deemed plausible for him to notice much else. And Diego himself was too immersed in his own personal training and ranking to spend much energy on the boy three ranks below. The second Five disappeared however, Diego’s anger caught up to him. His brother’s disappearance then followed by his other brother’s death was the slap in the face he needed to truly realize the monster they grew up calling Dad.

But that was then and this is now. And now, they’ve avoided the end of the world. Now, they’re all living under the same roof again, relearning what it means to be a family. Because their sense of brother and sisterhood is certainly warped due to their upbringing. It meant relearning everything they thought they knew about themselves and one another.

Diego has been sitting on a thought for a while now: How did Five adjust to his identity so well? I mean, he knows that the kid read Vanya’s book. And she had the courtesy to at least use his name and pronouns in the godforsaken thing. But he must’ve looked like a complete stranger - an imposter. He was 13, forced to see his dead, transitioned sibling. Five hasn’t once slipped up on his name or pronouns since he’s been back.

And every sibling had their own adjusting period with his identity. Klaus of course was the most receptive, taking little to no time to gender him correctly. The first week though, there were a few slip ups. Allison took a few months, Ben around the same. Vanya avoided using gendered language for him for quite a while, just saying ‘Diego’ or ‘Number Two’ instead of pronouns. And Luther, well, the guy tried his best. He saw how his face fell every time he messed up, how quick he was to correct himself. And that’s all Diego could ask for really.

But Diego can’t exactly imagine that being something on Five’s priority list during his time in the apocalypse.

“Oh yeah, I’m 13 years old and I’m stuck in the goddamn end of the world right now! But let me focus on my dead sibling and uhhh not misgendering or deadnaming them. Also, how am I going to survive winter?” doesn’t quite seem all that plausible.

So Diego’s just going to ask him. Well, he’s been trying to that is. He’s been standing in front of Five’s door venturing on ten minutes now, working up the courage to just knock. They have all been trying to do that lately - communicating. They actually talk through their thoughts and problems. And so far it’s proven to be beneficial. Who knew that efficient, healthy communication actually worked?

Five swinging the door open, properly knocking the man square in the head, snaps him out of it though. He stumbles back a few steps, hand jumping straight to his forehead.

“Jesus fuck, Five!” He hisses, rubbing at his throbbing temple.

Five rolls his eyes, taking a step back in his doorway and shoving a hand in his pocket.

“Maybe you shouldn’t just stand in front of doors, Diego. I heard that’s a good method in avoiding getting hit by one.”

“I was gonna knock, dude. Maybe cool it with the violent opening?” He scowls, dropping his hand.

“I’m assuming you actually want to talk about something instead of just throwing insults? Because you and I both know we could do this all day.”

“No I,” He clears his throat, “I wanted to talk, yeah.”

Five nods and steps aside, motioning Diego to come in. He’s pleased to find his walls are no longer covered in chalk equations. They haven’t been since they found Five passed out in his room, every single wall littered with equations. He worked himself out so thin that he didn’t wake up for another three days. He’s been getting better at taking care of himself, his family always reminding him to take breaks and whatever else he needs throughout the day.

“So,” Five takes a seat at his desk chair and Diego on the mattress, “What’s on your mind?”

Diego stares at his interlocked hands in his lap, his thumb twisting at the ring on his index finger.

“I just, I never really-” He stops himself, trying to picture what he wants to say in his mind. Not purely because he’s afraid of stuttering, no. But because he’s not even quite sure how to word what he wants to say.

“Is this about you being trans?” Five finally asks after a few beats of silence, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.

Diego looks up at the question, meeting Five’s eyes.

“Yeah, it is.”

“I just wanted to ask why, or like, how you adjusted so well I guess? It must’ve been a lot seeing me...I mean I know seeing us like that couldn’t of been easy, of course.” Diego prefaces, placing both hands out in front of him and waving them slightly,

“But I probably looked like a-a completely different person to what you knew.” His voice is noticably smaller by the end of his rambling than when he started.

Five listened patiently as Diego spoke. He sucked on his cheek in his mouth, his brows furrowed ever so slightly.  “Well, I was able to figure out it was you by the tattoo. And you were always so angry when Grace made you wear bras. It was easy to put two and two together.” He explained, waving a hand in the air and the other one still tucked.

“And as to how I adjusted? I read Vanya’s book of course. And I had to relearn the way I addressed you in my head. I worked on it for ages, adamant on gendering you correctly. Number Two, Diego Hargreeves. Brother. He/him.” Five went on, putting up a finger with each word.

“There were times I messed up of course. And I definitely was not happy with myself when I did.”

“But-”

“No Diego, I already know what you’re going to say.” Five interjects, leaning down to rest his elbows on his knees so he can stare at the man at eye-level,

“That wasn’t a hardship for me. It was important to me.  Important I gender you correctly, to give you the respect you deserve to be seen as who you are. Yes, I had a lot hard shit to deal with. But coming to terms with you being my brother certainly wasn’t one of them.”

Diego swallows, processing the weight of Five’s words. The fact that he cared that much about him, that he loved Diego enough to do that for him, spoke volumes.

“Five, I-” He stops himself, standing up and closing the space between them. Five stands up, beating Diego and wrapping his arms around the taller man’s waist. Diego smiles softly, wrapping one arm around his shoulder and the other cradling his head. He leans down and places a kiss on top of his hair, “Thank you, Five. I love you.”

Five grins, scrunching his brother’s sweater in his hands and letting out a muffled,

“I love you too, Di.”

[secretshinigami]

Title: It’s the little things Author: @hazblogs, Arthur For: @naive-archiviste Pairings/Characters: L Lawliet, Light Yagami, Watari, Misa Amane, A (mention), Beyond Birthday (mention) Rating/Warnings: Teen, TW for mental health discussion, dermatillomania, slight transphobia, vague description of a panic attack, some internalised ableism Prompt: 1. A story of how L and Light meet a psychologist and unexpectedly get diagnosed with something, L with Asperger’s syndrome, Light with high-functioning sociopathy. Author’s notes: Hey hey hey !!!! Here’s your gift for the sse !!!! I’m so happy to have written for you and as you’ve certainly noticed I had a lot of fun filling out your prompt. The Ryuk one was simply amazing but I don’t have the skill to write poetry (one day, one day ;^; i will maybe be strong enough !). Thank you for participating in this exchange, and I do hope you enjoy this little text. There is no pairing because you didn’t say if you wanted one and I thought it was safest not to put any, just in case. I also had… lots of fun putting some of my headcanons in, I hope you don’t mind.

This text got… kinda long haha, it’s about 7k ? And I can’t find the readmore button, which might make viewing the post complicated, sorry for that.

See you on AO3 where I will also post this story, I hope everyone likes it !

Thank you also to the mods of sse for making this exchange possible !

It’s the little things

Light looks at the therapist with nothing but distant interest – this could be useful, this could help him get hold of new techniques, this woman knows about making people talk after all. He can’t bring himself to care. Misa insisted he come, he’s here for her, no matter how stupid that sounds to him, and he’s not here to… what. Get help ? Help for what ?

He’s been silent too long and the therapist fidgets. She’s a cute woman, he thinks offhandedly, but he can’t bring himself to care. He wants to get out of here.

“The outpatient program is very nice, you’ll see,” she says eventually, probably sensing that if she doesn’t speak first, no conversation will take place. Light still isn’t sure he wants to answer, but she adds, “There’s group therapy, so you’ll meet other people who have similar issues. Well, not exactly the same,” and Light sighs internally, because what issues is she talking about, he barely opened his mouth, “but still, I think it’ll be good for you to meet other people who empathize with what you’re going through.”

This time, he actually sighs. There’s a headache starting behind his temples and his leg feels jittery, which is never a good sign. But Light is good, he doesn’t lose his temper, and waits until the end of the appointment to say, “I don’t think I need to come back.”

“I know it’s hard,” the woman answers with a sympathetic smile, “but you’ll see, it gets better. With time – and with dedication, but I’m sure you’re a very driven person, considering how much you managed to achieve in such a poor condition.”

He wants to scream. “Poor condition”, my ass. Light is perfectly ok.

His left leg has started to bounce slightly and he can’t make it stop.

ooo

L looks at the man with something akin to disgust. No, that word is too strong to be conciliated with his unending disinterest. The therapist is talking to Wammy and L drowns them out easily, focusing on the last case he had. She was found dead in her bed, front door left ajar, and not a speck left to prove there had ever been an intruder. It was such a boring case he didn’t even need to leave his room to solve it. Better this way. Less people to see him and figure out. He always hates when people figure him out.

“Ryuuzaki, please, pay attention,” Wammy says, probably not for the first time. L doesn’t really care, and wouldn’t have reacted if the nickname hadn’t been so bothering to him. Why they had to come to Japan to do this, he doesn’t know, but at least it’s better than in the States where someone might have connected the dots. He’s not as popular in Japan, if “popular” is a thing he even is.

“Ryuuzaki.”

This time, Wammy’s voice is stern enough for him to be considered somewhat serious. L thinks about why they’re here, but this time with his head tilted up, so he can pretend he’s listening. Wammy has some strange ideas. Some work, like the washing machine, some… some are like this one. “Oh, learn how to fire a gun, Lawliet, it’ll sure come in handy. Learn this, learn that, what am I gonna do with you dear god”. Ok, he might have added the last part himself – but it’s true. L sees it in the way he holds his head when L forgets to sleep or when he makes some rude comment again. Though L doesn’t personally think he’s very rude. People are.

That’s it, he thinks.

“…ki, can you repeat what I’ve just said ?” the therapist says, his eyes fixated a little too low to be looking at L’s face. Not that he’s been staring back – he actually has no idea what the man looks like – but still, this is strange, people usually insist they look at each other “in the eye” or something resembling that. L belatedly realises that he should answer. He has no idea what the man said.

Wammy sighs, like he knows L wasn’t paying attention, and the therapist repeats, “You’ll be attending group therapy as well as weekly sessions with me. I’ll also have meetings with Mr Watari, since he is your designated caretaker. Is that alright ?”

L wonders if he’s allowed to say no. Probably not, so he nods, and puts his head on his knees. They are bunched up against his chest, his bare feet clinging to the edge of the seat. He didn’t even notice he kicked his sneakers off… Wammy is gonna chide him about that afterwards, he’s sure. Oh well. Never mind. At least this time he wasn’t forced to wear socks.

“Stop biting your thumb,” Wammy says when they exit the therapist’s office. “You’re bleeding again.”

“Hm,” L murmurs, without really paying attention. “This therapist didn’t even ask for my first name.”

“That’s because he knows who you are,” he answers.

“Oh. That’s a bother, then. Why not call me L ?”

“What if people listen ?” Wammy gently says back, because he knows L hates nicknames.

L doesn’t answer, kicks his shoes off again, and dozes out for the rest of the car ride back to their hotel room.

ooo

“Light !” Misa’s shrill voice exclaims. “I knew it !” She sits down in front of him, and almost tears his newspaper apart in her haste to put it away. “I knew you weren’t going to therapy ! The doctor called me, you know ? She says you haven’t been to the last three sessions. And you’ve never even gone to group therapy.”

“It’s none of your business,” Light answers through gritted teeth. “Who are you to nag at me like that, my girlfriend ?”

Misa’s face flashes briefly with hurt before closing off. “Well,” she says, “I’m your friend.”

Right, Light thinks. Friend. He doesn’t really have any, does he ? No people close enough to him to be called that, though Misa is in fact closer than most – closer than anyone but Sayu, actually, but Sayu is his sister so it’s normal, it makes sense, while Misa is just someone who invited herself in his life without even bothering to ask if it was ok. Light doesn’t like how people look at him when he is with Misa, how their eyes go big and how they ask if they’re dating. Misa always says yes, partly to bother him, partly because it helps her with, he doesn’t know, PR stuff maybe ? Or just to be left alone. They did meet because someone was stalking her, after all.

“Light ?” she eventually says, soft and cautious. “You don’t have to go if you really don’t want to, but I am your friend, I want to help.”

“Fine,” he answers, teeth still clenched. “I’ll go to the next appointment. I’ll book one when I go home.”

“I already did,” Misa says, sheepish. “Same time next Saturday. You know, I also talked to the doctor you saw at the hospital – he’s been wondering where you’ve gone, after you left so abruptly.”

The hospital ? Light hoped he’d never hear about it again in his life, unless maybe he went there because of a job accident, but certainly not because Misa thought it was appropriate to call his father on him. There was no reason for his stay there – short stay, if he may had, he had been discharged after only three days, but it was the most humiliating experience of his life. He’d barely left his room, talked to no one but the nurses, and pretended to swallow the pills they gave him without even considering taking them.

He isn’t – what, crazy ? No, he isn’t crazy. He was just tired, and he is sleeping better now, and there is no need for Misa to interfere. His next appointment would be better used by someone else, who wouldn’t waste the therapist’s time with non-existent problems.

ooo

L watches a speck of dust float through the air, suspended in between people’s heads, like it’s held up by a beam of light, before it flutters away and disappears. It forces him to pay attention to the person the dust disappeared behind, a young man with chestnut hair and very tired eyes. He doesn’t have dark circles though, and L briefly wonders if he wears concealer.

He does, L realises after the man moves and a sheen of sweat makes the skin under his eyes appear too textured for it to not be make-up. It’s applied so sloppily even Beyond could do better, which is saying a lot. There’s traces of concealer on his cheeks too, and L briefly wonders if he should do the same, wear concealer and stop people from looking. But then again, that’d mean using pretty much an entire bottle of concealer in a week, and though he doesn’t lack money, he certainly does lack the motivation to hide the various rashes on his skin. Or whatever it’s called when it’s you who scratched it.

“Welcome !” someone says, with a cheerful voice that doesn’t sound too forced. “Group therapy for the adults who are younger but not young adults – or as we liked to call it, the ‘not old yet’ group therapy !”

She has a casual shirt on, with some words in Japanese that mean “sun” and “moon”, and L has to tear his gaze out of her breast area where a pretty necklace is dangling – it’s a present, she has a fiancé – yes she has a ring, no tan mark yet, it must be new, hence the present – ok, this has to stop. He’s not here for that.

Contrary to what he assumed, L has been enjoying group therapy. It’s like detective work but easier and with more crazy people in it – he’s not quite sure he’s part of them yet but the group has organically absorbed him without asking questions. So there’s that. He has a group now. Not friends – he’d laughed at the idea of having friends, once, and Beyond acted offended, and then Adeline cried, and he never heard the end of it. But it’s a funny group nonetheless.

“Today, we say hello to a new member – say hi to Yagami Light ! Yagami-kun, this is the three pm group therapy… well, it’s your group now.”

Light looks utterly disgusted as a chorus of “Hi, Yagami-kun” echo around the circle. They’re all seated down on little cushions, and Light is in a seiza so perfect it must hurt. L has opted for his usual pose, knees drawn to the chest, and he sways lightly from side to side as he inspects the members present in the circle today.

“The topic for today is – who remembers ? Yes, Mikami-kun ?”

“Diagnosis,” he says, lowering his head with a frown – not that he has any other expressions, but L still finds it funny to remark on it in his head.

“Right !” the nurse says. L is bad with names, so “nurse” will have to do for now. “So, anyone wants to share their diagnoses with us today ? Or the process of getting one ?”

Nobody answers. It’s usually like that, L noticed, no one answers in the first ten minutes and then a few scattered comments. Mostly from the people in outpatient – the people in inpatient seem to have a harder time making things out, deciding if speaking isn’t worth their time or if it’ll alleviate some of their boredom. They look so bored, that’s what intrigued L the most about them, how their eyes looked empty. He sees something else there now.

Light still has that disgusted expression on, and it only deepens as someone dares to speak. She’s a young woman, probably not much older than L himself, and she shares her story with being diagnosed as bipolar II with the crowd. They all nod, like they know what it means, and L’s brain supplies the textbook definition before he raises his hand to ask – “Bipolar II disorder is a form of mental illness similar to bipolar I, with moods cycling between high and low over time. However in bipolar II the ‘up’ moods never reach full-blown mania. These less intense elevated moods are called hypomania”. Interesting, L thinks. Or not, as the woman drones on and on about how difficult it was for her family to accept her diagnosis. He’s sure it must have been, considering how private and closed-off the Japanese are, compared to the English, and even there, some people never care until it’s too late.

Himself included. Adeline would smirk sadly and turn her back on him if she saw where he was now.

ooo

There’s some pressure in the air and Light isn’t sure it comes from the unblinking gaze of Mikami, who hasn’t stopped staring at him since he arrived. When he finally locates the source of the eyes he felt resting on top of his head, he’s not surprised to see it’s one of the weirdest in the group – staring is usually considered too polite by most people, though obviously Mikami and the strange man don’t seem to understand.

Light doesn’t participate in the discussion at all. First because he has nothing to say, having started therapy sessions the day before, but mostly because he finds the idea of sharing something so personal to be abhorrent to his basic need for privacy. Mikami also doesn’t speak much, except for correcting people on their own diagnoses, which is funnier than it should be considering the man is so stuck up he is half expecting to see an off-switch button on the side of his head. There isn’t one, but Light has a nagging need to check from up-close, to dig his fingers into his own head and find that damn off-switch and tune his fucking brain out for ten seconds.

Admitting that, even in the comfort of his own head, scares him. What is it that he needs to run away from ? If not his intellect, what is left that makes him valuable ?

The end of group therapy is a welcome distraction. “It’s not as long as you probably expect,” the therapist had warned, “so don’t hesitate to speak if you feel the need to”. Right, he thinks. If he feels the need to.

Immediately after the nurse dismisses them, Mikami turns to him, and unfolds a whole speech on the importance of freedom of speech. He hasn’t even introduced himself. Light sighs, and sighs again when he turns to find the strange guy on his other side.

“Light-kun, he says, my name is –” he narrows his eyes, then, and continues, “are you with the police ?”

Mikami’s eyes open wide and he gapes a bit, before frowning some more and excusing himself. Light is left staring at the other guy’s strange face and mannerism – he is biting his thumb and scratching what looks like a scab on his shoulder, which, with the dark circles under his eyes, gives him the appearance of a very frog-like raccoon.

“I am,” Light says carefully.

The other man smiles, like this is a big secret he’s proud of guessing.

“You can call me Hideki Ryuuga,” he says, which is a ridiculous false name to give. “But most people call me L.”

“Oh,” Light says, because there’s nothing else he can say without being impolite – and then it clicks. L. That man is casually saying he’s the best detective in the world. Go figure. People here definitely give him the creeps.

ooo

L ticks when the therapist says his name for the seventh time. Or at least that’s what he says, that he’s called him seven times, but L really didn’t hear – he was focused on the paper the man gave him, with some basic questions about his mental health.

“What does it mean, ‘repetitive behaviours’ ?” L asks, while scratching his left leg. There’s a rash visible there already, he’s probably been scratching for a good ten minutes. Fuck. At least Wammy isn’t here to nitpick at everything.

The therapist sighs, and takes back his paper without a word. Oh well, L tried. He’s checked off a good quantity of boxes, but there are some questions that just seem absurd – of course people like routine, of course people have foods they don’t like. What kind of psych eval is that ?

His brain zooms out of his present situation and goes back to the nearest interesting puzzle. Presently, its name is Light Yagami, and L has already used up most of his detective resources tracking the life out of this guy. It’s a wonder he’s not a serial killer, if L may say so, considering the absolutely perfect record he has, like he’s never taken a wrong turn in his life. Apart from maybe being gay, but that’s hardly a bother. L doubts he knows himself, considering how uptight he seemed. Yeah, that’s it, closeted, model policeman Light Yagami. God this man is uninteresting, yet somehow L finds his attention snaps back to him without fail.

Like there’s something more.

He didn’t look like he belonged at a group therapy, maybe because he thought so hard that if he willed himself away he wouldn’t have to stay, but L can detect something brewing underneath, a darkness that doesn’t have a name yet.

What is he on about anyway ? It’s not like him to want to talk to someone, and to reveal his identity within the first five seconds of speaking. It’s not like him and yet this is maybe the most spontaneous he’s been in years. Wammy should be proud, really. Or… yeah, L made the good choice by not telling him. Old man would worry his hair out.

Next time they see each other is in the corridors of the institution. L blinks once, twice, and catches up with Light. He blinks, too, and his mouth turns into a sour little line.

L does what he does best: puzzles.

“Do you like tennis, Light Yagami ?”

ooo

Weirdo L is here again and is asking him – what ?

“I don’t think they have a tennis court here,” he answers.

“Oh,” the man says, “I’m not in inpatient.”

Really ? Light would never have guessed, and he says so without any intention of joking. That seems to amuse the man – Hideki Ryuuga, his mind supplies, also known in his mind as “gigantic-assface”. Well, that was a bit mean. He hopes the man can’t see it – he hopes he hasn’t been to disdainful, too harsh, too impolite, he hopes he didn’t come across as…

Breathe. If there’s one thing three sessions of therapy have taught him, it’s that his face is the perfect ask he wants it to be, so he has nothing to worry about. He is perfectly neutral and the man isn’t upset.

“I haven’t played in years, why ?” Light says, trying to keep his tone conversational.

“I don’t know, it was the first thing I thought I’d say to see if you’d answer. You seem like a pretty harsh guy, Mr Policeman.”

“Don’t call me that,” Light can’t help but hiss, because so far three people have reacted negatively to learning that, and he isn’t fond of the look of vague fear and distrust it evokes. Why, he doesn’t understand, but the police doesn’t seem well-liked in the institution. Maybe it has to do with… His mind comes up blank. The police doesn’t seem to be in the wrong.

“Would you mind a match ?” the man says, swinging his arms next to his face like he holds a tennis racket and isn’t afraid to use it. This makes him appear even thinner under his baggy clothing, his shirt three sizes too big and his jeans barely hanging on his hips. Light can see that this is misleading. His movements are a bit sluggish, like he hasn’t slept (which would explain his very pronounced dark circles) and like he eats poorly (which could explain his acne, is that acne ?).

Light knows his skin isn’t in the best of shapes either, but it’s because… of oil, probably, he has been eating a bit of greasy food. Takeout isn’t that great, but he doesn’t have the time or energy to cook, and it’s easier to order than to go down to the convenience store or the hole-in-the-wall next to his place. Less chance of meeting people this way, though that does make him seem like a recluse, which isn’t true at all. There’s a sneaky voice whispering in his ear that it’ been a while since he’s had clear skin, and that it all started in middle school, but who doesn’t have some acne back then ? It’s normal – he’s normal. It’ll be ok soon.

It’s already ok.

“Why not ?” Light finally answers, and he feels like it’s been a while – since the man talked and since he played tennis both, but it’s fine, he doesn’t look bothered.

“I already have your number, I’ll text you the details,” the man says, and Light squints. “I’m L, remember ?” he says. “Got all the data I could ever need on you.”

“That sounds like a threat,” Light coolly lets out, because he needs to say something – is he really L ? He thought that was just the crazy speaking, but maybe there’s some truth to it. He’ll see, if he receives a text, then, it might be true.

Maybe-L smiles and cocks his head to the side, his expression more frog-like than ever.

“It might be.”

ooo

[To: Light-kun] hry itd l

[To: Light-kun] its hll

[To: Light-kun] srry the phone is too smll

[From: Light-kun] Are you really L ?

[To: Light-kun] couldn u tell

[From: Light-kun] No, I could not.

[To: Light-kun] Event shared: tnnis mtach

[From: Light-kun] Are your fingers shaking ?

[To: Light-kun] nno this phone is juts oo small

[From: Light-kun] Can you even play tennis ?

[To: Light-kun] yea y.?

[To: Light-kun] see u on court yeggami

[From: Light-kun] That’s not how it’s spelled.

[To: Light-kun] i kno lol

ooo

Light looks at his therapist with something akin to horror.

“I am not taking pills,” he says, trying to hide the tremor in his voice. “I will not.”

“I know it sounds scary,” she answers, and it’s not that, she doesn’t understand, “but I do think it would help you greatly with your anxiety.”

“What. Anxiety,” Light manages to spit out, because oh no this is getting out of hand he knew he shouldn’t have come this isn’t how it was supposed to go no no no-

“Yagami-san, calm down,” the therapist says, “you’re hyperventilating. Please remember the breathing exercise I taught you. Breathe in for five seconds, and out for ten. I’ll count down for you, here, listen to my voice.”

Light distantly hears her start a countdown, but he’s too far gone – this is like the time Misa called his father, oh god, he’s gonna be hospitalised again, fuck, this isn’t how things were supposed to go. This isn’t the plan.

What was the plan anyway ? He’s right where he wants to be, the youngest policeman in his unit, fresh out of university, it’s just. It’s great, right ? It’s not like the feeling of emptiness keeps him awake at night and that his job is so boring he could sleep on it and still manage to be decent. It’s not like this isn’t what he wanted at all. It’s not.

Maybe it is.

That’s one thing the therapist says – Mrs Onaka, he remembers, he should start calling her by her name – that “bad” isn’t a bad word. That sometimes things are bad and it’s ok, that sometimes you’re not sure and it’s fine, that sometimes you don’t have a plan and all you have to go with are shady guidelines like that time he built a shelf for his apartment and Misa lost half the nails and they still made it work.

“It’s good, Light,” Mrs Onaka says, very softly. “You’re calming down, that’s good.”

“I- I don’t want to-”

“Don’t try to speak yet, it’s ok. We won’t try the pills if you really don’t want to. But I think they could help,” she adds, still it that maddeningly soft voice, like he’s gonna break if pushed too far.

He wonders if he would.

Sometimes letting go seems like the better option, but that loss of control is so scary, so unlike himself – holding on feels like the only other option to… what exactly he doesn’t know, but the alternative is darker and scarier than he gives it credit for.

Light leaves the room with a prescription, sweat stains on the back of his shirt, and the taste of ash and loss in his mouth.

ooo

The tennis court is dimly lit when L gets there, the net barely visible in the shadows, sunbeams reaching the ground and lighting up dust on their way – Light must not be there yet, or he would have turned on the light. Haha. That was a joke. He’s happy he made one, it so rarely happens.

L takes the opportunity to pause, and reflect on his quite unusual behaviour. Wammy’s face when he said “I made a friend, we’re gonna play tennis” was a nice cherry on top, no matter how egregious that lie was. Light is not his friend, not for a long shot, not someone he’d trust with something else than his name, which is already a lot considering the circumstances.

There’s noise on the court, and someone enters from a door on the other side. It’s Light, he realises, but he must not have seen him, because he stands in one of the beams, facing the sun, his eyes straining to stay open in the face of unblinking light. Something should be said about the total abandon Light looks up with. For a man who seems to live shrouded in lies, that’s a lot to say.

L takes a few more seconds to carve this moment into his memory, to close his eyes and let the silence put a mark on his face like the ones he already has – only this one is beautiful, only this one is shining and bright and everything he’s not.

“Light-kun, fancy meeting you here,” he says at last, because he needs an ice breaker and he’s nothing if not the most unsubtle twat.

“You invited me.”

Light is dressed in tennis shorts and a sports t-shirt, which kinda contradicts his claim of not having played tennis since middle school, but maybe this is just his regular sports attire – he is a policeman after all, he must have to stay healthy, though L doubts he’s the type to do all the dirty field work, he must be an office worker, yeah, that’s actually the most likely choice, his nails are pretty long for someone who should use them. Maybe he’s just too unbothered to cut them, whatever the reason. L knows that without Wammy, he would be.

Maybe that’s what Wammy meant. That being unable to take care of oneself leads to this, whatever Light is, and that it’s bad – that it’s a problem. L can understand, faintly if at all, that the issues with him are similar in some way, and that Light isn’t so far from him in terms of uselessness. Funny, since Light would definitely hate being compared to L in any capacity, and he doesn’t feel particularly inclined to be compared to an uptight law officer as well.

“So, you you wanna play ?” L ends up saying, because they need to say something otherwise the tension will start to build up and L isn’t sure Light would react well to that. Sports are an excellent way of releasing tension, which is why Wammy insisted he do some, and thankfully they sticked. L does think he’d have gone crazy without a physical relief for all the energy he sometimes feel brewing inside.

“That’s what I came hear from,” Light answers, and all L hears is, “I came to win”.

ooo

There is something deeply satisfying in the swing and release of tennis. Something in the way the ball hits the racket, a little kick he gets from smashing as hard as he can. Strangely enough for someone who seems to have minus one muscles, L meets him where he stands, fighting back with surprising force and accuracy. There’s a weird moment where Light thinks he’s gonna lose the first set but they end up with a tie, and they play the rest of the afternoon without keeping score, each ball hitting the wall behind them with much more strength than necessary.

“I didn’t think you’d play this well,” L ends up saying, barely out of breath – or hiding it well. Light is truly out of shape, even more than he thought he’d be. He’s panting so much he has a hard time uttering an answer – a whispered “Likewise”, that feels a little like admitting defeat. No matter what he lost, it still feels bitter.

“Do you want to go home, Light ?” L asks, eyeing him with what he can only guess is mock concern – L doesn’t seem interested in other people’s wellbeing, that he’s sure of.

Light nods, not daring to speak yet, and he can only feel some sort of stale pride at the thought that even in this bad a shape he still managed to hold up to L. Who thought the best detective in the world would have that much stamina ? For someone who doesn’t even look like he goes outside… he truly is exceptional.

Incredible.

Model citizen.

Perfect future.

The words ring in his ears, reminiscent of those said to him a long time ago, and suddenly Light wants to throw up. What was he thinking ? That he’d make a friend ? He doesn’t have friends. He has Sayu, and he reluctantly has Misa, but… that’s all he needs. That’s more than he needs – he isn’t paying for therapy to meet weirdos and play tennis.

“I’ll go home now,” he says eventually, and as he makes a move to gather his stuff and leave, L grabs his arm.

“Wait, Light. Would you like a rematch ?”

“No,” Light ends up answering. He doesn’t think it’s a good idea. He doesn’t think at all before shaking L’s grip off and walking straight for the exit.

ooo

“And we had a tennis match, it was good,” L’s voice trails off. He hadn’t planned on talking about it to the therapist but he expressed an interest in L’s friends, and seemed kind of distraught when L answered that he didn’t have any, and never had. “That’s no good,” he said, “you certainly must have had meaningful connections ?”

He did. Those, he managed to form, somehow – with Beyond, and Adeline, as best as they could, but it never went far – he always pushed them away, and Beyond was far too dangerous, and Adeline was far too sad. He had no need for them in his life, and he doesn’t regret this decision per se, it’s just that sometimes people look at him like he has two heads when he says he’d rather be alone, and Adeline, the poor girl, he never understood why she couldn’t let go…

“I guess I made a friend, yeah,” L says, and Wammy smiles from his seat – he knows that’s not true, but this is all about pretending, right ? Learning how to make do well enough so that people don’t ask questions. So that he can take care of himself when Wammy is gone, which shouldn’t take too long, to be honest.

The rest of the session is a blur, L being too interested in the pattern on the therapist’s carpet to really pay attention, but there is at least something positive in all of this. L is learning stuff. It hadn’t happened in a while, and that’s mostly the reason why he agreed to therapy. So he could lift up the boredom a little, have a challenge. He likes challenges. That’s a quality, right ? See, he has some.

ooo

[To: L] Stop sending me messages at five am.

[From: L] bt ymur awake

[From: L] i knew it

[To: L] What is that supposed to mean ?

[From: L] that u dont slep

[To: L] And ?

[From: L] idk i was rihgt

[To: L] Leave me alone.

[From: L] y??

[To: L] You’re not my friend.

[From: L] wataris guna b disapointd

Light looks up from his phone just in time to see Mrs Onoda enter the room, and he shuts it off quickly before she can see anything when she walks around his chair to her own. The dark circles under his eyes are proof of what L is saying – he truly hasn’t been sleeping well – and this time, he was too tired to even bother with concealer. He won’t see anyone of importance today, only Misa and Mrs Onoda, so it doesn’t matter much.

“Hello, Yagami-kun,” she says when she finally sits down. “How have you been ?”

“Fine,” he grits out. “I wanted to ask you a question.”

“Yes ?” she says, tone hopeful.

“I want to stop going to group therapy. It’s not helping me, and it’s a waste of everyone’s resources.”

Another reason is, the people there give him the creeps – L, Mikami, that bipolar woman who manages to speak every time about something inconsequential. He doesn’t belong there. He’s not like them, he’s not… he isn’t crazy.

“I was afraid you’d say that…” Mrs Onoda says. “Alright, then. I think it’s better if we see each other every week instead.”

Wait, what. No. This isn’t what he meant – more sessions ? He doesn’t need – he’s not – he didn’t think she’d find it necessary, what is wrong with her ?

What is wrong with him ?

ooo

They see each other again, for a coffee. They talk about everything but themselves, and L finds the conversation flows much more freely than anticipated. He doesn’t find it that bad. Maybe he truly is making a friend, no matter how weird it may seem.

They have a fight. It’s about something inconsequential – well, L doesn’t think it holds that much importance, but Light obviously does, since he did punch him – and it brings about a whole new set of interaction requirements. L doesn’t think it’s so bad, doesn’t think of this as much more than a social experiment, but it does tell him about how invested Light could be. It reminds L of Beyond, once again, of dark places and strawberry jam, of cold fingers in his and a hand on his mouth. It’s not a good thing.

But perhaps, it’s too late to stop.

L wants to make a quip but the fire in Light’s eyes is blazing, a sure sign he needs to stop. Well, he should have five remarks ago, or, rather, he shouldn’t have started this conversation at all. Light is shaking his fist like he can’t believe he hit him (that’s sure to bruise, and L will poke and tear at the skin until it bleeds just so he doesn’t have to focus on his boring new case).

“I can’t believe you’re so nonchalant about it,” Light says eventually, no trace of the hurt in his voice. Only hard, cold anger – only stale, rehashed bitterness. “If someone harassed her because she was transgender, you should have stepped up.”

“Adeline knew what she was doing,” L answers. “She didn’t need a babysitter. Neither do I,” he continues, just to test the waters.

Light hasn’t figured him out. Or maybe he has and doesn’t care, which would be a first. How it is to be trans, L, he can hear at all times. How does it feel how does it look, do you want this, that operation, do you need – he doesn’t. He wants to be left alone, he wants to deal with his hurt like a small animal, licking the wounds and healing at his own pace. Adeline wouldn’t approve, but he doesn’t care.

Light’s look is fearless.

“If you needed anything someone should have helped you get it,” he says, “acceptance is a bigger gift than you make it out to be. Even though that’s not how it should work.”

“You know that,” L says softly.

“I’m not as… blind as you make me out to be. Give me some credit,” he answers disinterestedly. “I’ve known I was gay since middle school.”

“Well,” L says with a smile, “good things come to those who wait.”

ooo

They see each other again, and again, and a fourth time to boot. Light doesn’t quite hate it, and that’s terrifying.

L is the worst human being he has ever known. No morals, no code of conduct, nothing to make him stand out as the paragon of justice people make him out to be. There literally is nothing righteous about L, and that is so annoying Light doesn’t know where his hatred ends and when… the rest beings. Because he can’t deny the rest.

L looks ugly. That’s a fact, that even L himself is aware of. But he has a strange charm about him, some aura of mystery, for a lack of better words, and Light feels drawn in at such tremendous speed he doesn’t have time to stop himself before agreeing to a fifth coffee date. If those can be called dates, which he does in the secret of his own head, and wouldn’t reveal to the world on penalty of death.

Mrs Onoda catches up with him one day, just after L leaves him stranded in the middle of the institution’s corridor, and she says, “Oh, looks like you made a friend. You didn’t talk about him in your sessions,” she smiles, “but it seems like you’re very close ! I’m glad you’re seeing people.”

Light doesn’t know what made her think they’re close. Maybe because L grabbed his arm, but that seems to be a purely Western thing, this lack of personal space. Maybe because L looks at him like a puzzle with that damn frog-like smile on his face, which could be mistaken for interest (he knows it’s not, he knows better than to hope and be let down). They’re not friends.

“Yeah,” Light ends up saying, “right.”

“Well I’ll see you next week,” Mrs Onoda says before leaving.

Therapy is going… surprisingly well ? He’s not sure this is how sessions are supposed to go but he manages to talk, now. He doesn’t think he says anything important – he came out, he talked about his sister and Misa, he talked about being bored – but that’s not… it’s not who he is, deep down, is it ? It’s not what matters.

What does matter, exactly ?

The longer he talks, the less sure he is.

ooo

“And I gave your diagnosis material to Mr Watari,” the therapist says, with his what he probably hopes is a stern voice. It doesn’t work. L has already guessed everything that’s on the paper, he’s the best detective in the world after all, it’s got to come in handy. “You can look at it if he allows you to.”

L wants to retort that he’s not a child, but his diagnosis does come with a lot of infantilisation, and he’s aware that keeping his identity a secret is probably what saved him from being babied his entire life by people who don’t know better. Wammy will probably not treat him any differently, since he’s known about L’s difficulties for so long… but the thought of suddenly losing any grip he might have had on his own situation is kind of frightening.

“So I’m autistic,” L says, just to see the look on his therapist’s face.

“Aspergers, yes,” the man answers, and though he’s a licensed psychiatrist, he probably doesn’t know that they’re the same diagnosis now and that the difference between the two was only due to ableism.

“Great, it’s cool to have a word for it,” L lies. He doesn’t care. He is scratching behind his ear with vigour but that doesn’t count, right ?

“It’s a diagnosis, not a prison,” Wammy pipes in, like L needs to be reassured or something.

“I know,” he answers. Like his Gender Dysphoria diagnosis isn’t a prison, like whatever that scratching thing is isn’t a prison. The world is made of cages and he just… doesn’t have the energy to abide to them.

“You’ll probably not want to see me anymore, I assume ?” the man says, to Wammy more than to L, and he doesn’t look surprised when Wammy answers that indeed, they’ll probably stop therapy really soon. As in “right now”, L wants to say, but he keeps quiet.

“That doesn’t mean we’ll leave Japan right away, does it ?” L asks way once they’re in the car, his shoes long forgotten under the back seat.

“If you want to stay, we will,” Wammy replies, “you can work from cases here.”

“Good,” and L falls asleep, lulled by the movement of the car.

ooo

“Where is she, now ? Adeline,” Light adds, when L doesn’t seem to recognise who he is talking about.

“Oh, she’s dead,” he answers casually, “suicide.”

He says that… like it’s the simplest thing in the world. Like it’s no big deal, like she’ll just wake up and run towards him again. Light understands with a pit in his stomach that L doesn’t care, and that he’s in too deep. Both realisations don’t come as a shock, as they’re less realisations and more… self-actualisation of his beliefs. He knew – he knew this whole time, and he still got caught like an idiot.

“Oh,” Light tries to keep his tone even, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Don’t bother,” L says, “it’s been a while.” He makes a strange face at that, like he didn’t fully realise how long it’d been – like he kind of forgot.

Light can’t quite forgive him for this disinterest, even for a person he’s barely heard of. Adeline seems so close to him, from the glimpses he’s caught, so close to his own thought process that it’s almost terrifying to hear of her death. Even in his darkest moments, Light never thought he could end his own life, and hearing of someone who did seems kind of like breaking a taboo, like saying something he wasn’t ever meant to hear.

He’s still thinking about it by his next therapy session, and tries to ask Mrs Onoda as lightly as he can – “Is it normal I’ve never thought of suicide ? I thought people who felt bad often did.”

“Lots of people don’t,” she answers, “it’s just a matter of what you’re dealing with and how you do it. You’re doing well,” she says softly, “you’re doing very well.”

“That’s reassuring,” he sighs, and for once he means it.

He’s still thinking about it a week later when he says to Mrs Onoda, “How is one supposed to react to suicide ?”

“With compassion,” is her answer, and it leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

He’s still thinking about it when he sees L again. He’s exiting Mrs Onoda’s office and L just springs up next to him before he has time to make a move. He hears himself gurgle some words, that he doesn’t remember seconds after saying them, and he dashes out.

He deletes L’s phone number and blocks him in a daze. He is hyperventilating, and barely remembers the breathing exercise that has helped him so much by now. He hates himself, so bad, for ever thinking this could be good for him.

He tries his best not to think about it at his next appointment when he tells Mrs Onoda he wants to stop coming.

ooo

When L sees him, he is existing his therapist’s office, face ashen. Light doesn’t seem to have heard any good news there, which is a shame, since L was hoping to catch him in a good mood to ask him why he avoided him now. Blocked number, no more coffee dates… Yeah, Light is avoiding him – and does again, ducking to a nearby corridor as soon as he sees L going his way.

Well. L isn’t here to play games – and he has something to say.

“Hey, Light,” he calls after him, but to no avail. Light has already entered some room and L can’t be bothered to check which one. For a moment he considers yelling, “I’m leaving Japan, bye !” – but he doesn’t. Let Light guess whatever he wants.

With a small smile, L turns around and leaves.

ooo

It’s been… five months. Misa bounces happily next to him and holds his hand. Light is too embarrassed to tell her to let go, and he still feels the back of his neck burn unhappily, but it’s getting better – he’s getting used to it. They’re… fake dating ? It’s become annoying to keep tabs on what Misa is thinking, if she really is serious when she says that of course she doesn’t love him, what, is he so self-absorbed ? Light just kind of… gave up.

He hasn’t seen L in six months. He hasn’t tried to, he doesn’t want to, well, maybe a little, but it’s fine – it’s ok – he’s dealing well with the loss. If it can be called that.

It’s been eight months and he’s stopped taking the anxiety meds altogether. Misa doesn’t insist so much on going to therapy, especially since the couple therapy session Light forced her into, and the meds weren’t helping anything anyway.

It’s been a year.

[loarlovestv-blog]

Day 3 – “You’re drunk."

A/N: tw for internalized transphobia and mention of dysphoria. Also friendly reminder English is my second language ;) "We need to talk." The last thing Maggie expected to find when coming home was her girlfriend looking grave sitting on the couch and uttering those words while she barely was through the door. She imediately braced herself for what was to come; she had heard those words numerous times before and it rarely ended well. "Oookay... Wait, are you drunk?" Maggie noticed now the half empty bottle of scotch on the table, the bloodshot eyes and the slight swaying of her body. "Pleaaase, it's important Maggiiiie." She whined, slurring her words. Yep, definitively intoxicated. "You're drunk, Alex. I think that whatever it is, it can wait tomorrow when you'll be sober." She crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow. "No, it can't. I c-can't talk about it sober. Pleaaase, Maggie. I need to tell you know before I chicken out." Seeing Alex so distressed, Maggie couldn't help but soften slightly. "Okay, I'm listening." She sit on the couch beside her girlfriend. But Alex was staying silent, head down, worrying her lips and playing with her fingers. "Hey sweetie, look at me. It's okay. It's okay. Whatever it is, it will be okay." She reached a hand to her shoulder and gently stroked it with her thumb. "No, no, Maggie, you can't tell me it'll be okay. Once you know... O-once you know... I'm scared, I'm so sc-scared, M-mags..." "Scared of what?" "T-that you won't want me anymore..." "Why? Why would I wouldn't want you, Alex? What's wrong?" She pointed at herself and then gestured wildly around. "Me. I'm wrong. I- i- I'm all wrong and you're a lesbian..." "What the fact that I'm a lesbian has to do with that?" Maggie asked, frowning. "Because you like girls, and I- I- I'm not..." She shook her head and let out a strangled sob. "I just hate it all, Maggie. I didn't realised before, but now it's all I can think about. All I can feel. Like- like my skin is wrong. Everything is wrong, but I don't know how to change it. Except now I know why. I finally got a word for it. But it doesn't match with your word. It doesn't go with lesbian. Because- because-..." "...You're not a girl." She finished for her. She nodded. "So what are you? A boy?" She shakes her head. "Something else then? You're nonbinary?" Alex nodded again and heaved a sigh, relieved that Maggie had somehow get what she meant from her incoherent rambling. "Oh sweetie. I'm not gonna leave you for that." She cupped Alex's jaw with her palm. "You hear me, babe? It's okay you're enby; I still love you whatever your gender is." She opened her arms and Alex immediately snuggled into her side, burried her face into her shoulder and let heart-breaking, relieved sobs. Maggie rocked her gently, soothingly. "Shh, baby, it's okay." Alex gripped a fistful of Maggie's t-shirt. "You know, technically I identify as queer. I like girls, yes, but I'm quite flexible. I mean, I've dated aliens, so I should be, right? Anyway, I fell in love with you, not your gender, okay?" They stayed there, sitting on the couch, Alex slowly relaxing in her girlfriend's warm embrace, and finally, when she was calm enough, Maggie desentangled herself and sit up. "Okay, now you're gonna drink water and go to bed, and tomorrow we'll discuss this further, okay?" Alex nod and get up with the help of steadying hand from Maggie. "You're really okay with me being nonbinary?" Alex asked, almost timidly. "Yes, Al, I am. I'm totally, one hundred percent okay with it. Now go to bed." "I love you." "I love you too, so much. And I'm so proud of you Ally."

[ao3feed-danganronpa]

Gender Envy

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3cLcpUT

by Pinkieshy1012

Chihiro tells the class that he's a boy. Celestia talks to him about it.

(TW/CW: Mentions of childhood bullying/transphobia, interrogation about gender identity, and discussion of transfeminine transitioning and passing)

Words: 1229, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Characters: Celestia Ludenberg, Fujisaki Chihiro, Asahina Aoi, Maizono Sayaka, Oowada Mondo (mentioned), Fukawa Touko (mentioned), Togami Byakuya (mentioned), Yamada Hifumi (mentioned), Kuwata Leon (mentioned), Fujisaki Taichi (mentioned)

Relationships: Fujisaki Chihiro & Celestia Ludenberg

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Non-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Trans Female Character, Transitions from She/Her to He/Him Pronouns for Fujisaki Chihiro, Gender Issues, Transphobia (Mentioned), Trans Celestia Ludenberg, Slight Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3cLcpUT