I am here to tell you that, much like you should never seek medical advice on the internet unless you want to be told you have cancer, you should also not investigate what a lack of empathy means unless you are prepared to accept a diagnosis of narcissism or psychopathy
(i’m… pretty sure… neither of those things apply here. i do have empathy! quite a lot of it! it is just not my typical response in situations that probably call for it because it is not useful, and why would you… do something that is not useful…………..)
Edit: Sean put his psych research skills to use and figured out the word we were looking for was “sentimentality”. That’s the thing we don’t usually feel. Or as gotanysnacks succinctly put it the other night, “married Slytherins”.
me when buying something over $10: do i need this? do i need any material objects? will this matter when i face the great abyss?
There should be a show just called “AU”
every single episode, a group of the same characters are in a different alternate universe with no explanation as to why.
let us not forget
these are also from the same show
Community is fucking great.
The straight people nearby are being like, “oh yeah I went to the pride parade over the weekend…. BUT I’M NOT GAY!!1!!111”
Sorry guys but if you’re going to be like that, then I’m going to mockingly liveblog your conversation.
correction: they WEREN’T gay, but they sure as hell are now. that’s how gayness works i dont make the rules
turns out they thought it worked like bocchan’s explanation and their exclamation was actually one of dismay and indignation. like if they’d paid an entry fee they’d be asking for their money back
fffffffffff chapter 9 ahhhhhhhhhhh
This week I’m turning back to game work, as well as working on a few extra pairing prompts that people sent me the other day! (Sorry for the delay, yesterday was super busy and I wanted to get this thing out tonight) @_@
Next weekend is a long weekend with no plans, which is basically my ideal programming setting thanks to the long uninterrupted hours available for troubleshooting. It’d be nice to wrap up the remainder of the programming work in one shot! But I also want to finish the last chapter of this thing so i can feel some small measure of accomplishment, haaa….
Goto honestly thinks it’s the right thing to do when he hands Masayoshi his phone and says, “I want you to hang on to this for a while.”
“Eh? But… Goto-san, this is…!” Masayoshi holds Goto’s phone delicately in both palms while apparently trying to touch it as little as possible, as if holding a precious and ancient treasure he expects to crumble in his hands. Goto has seen people handling babies with less care. “Don’t you need this? W-what if she sends you a message? What do I do?!”
“It’s okay,” Goto assures him. “We talked it out. We’re on a break right now.”
The panic in Masayoshi’s eyes fades at those words, replaced instantly with deep concern. Goto can’t bring himself to look.
Idiot. That’s what you want, isn’t it? Why are you looking at me like that?
“We’re on a break,” he repeats, “but it’s… it’s gonna be hard not to message her. So hang on to that phone for me, and don’t let me have it!
“I mean it. Don’t leave me alone with it, okay? Don’t trust me.”
Masayoshi sighs, his shoulders slumping forward and his head bowed low. “Goto-san,” he says quietly, “don’t say things like that. You’re the most trustworthy person I know. I’ll do it if that’s what you really want, but…” He hands the phone back, a smile fixed on his face. “As Samurai Policeman, I think you’re strong enough to do this on your own. Don’t you?”
Goto blinks, surprised as always at the depth of Masayoshi’s conviction – and of his faith in him. Their fingers touch when Goto closes his hand around the phone and takes it back, and he pockets it as quickly as he can before he can think too hard about that.
“Y-yeah,” says Goto, suddenly unable to meet Masayoshi’s eyes. “…I do. Thanks.”
It was a mistake to let Yosuke move in. He’s too curious, too surprisingly intuitive. He figures it out almost immediately.
“I don’t believe you…” Yosuke whispers in the dead silence of their apartment. In his hand is a cell phone Souji keeps secret and never shows to anyone; he must have found it while Souji was out. Souji keeps his gaze directed out through the kitchen window, on the power lines disappearing into the thick fog, rather than on him.
He already knows how this conversation has to end.
“How long has this been going on?” asks Yosuke, his voice thin and reedy in the face of his worst fear realized. He’s wrong, of course, it’s not what he thinks; but the truth is so much worse that Souji doesn’t have a choice but to make him believe it is. “Adachi-san moved away years ago, so this… this can’t be recent…“
“A while,” Souji confirms quietly.
Yosuke throws the cell phone at him as hard as he can. Souji flinches reflexively when it hits him, but he manages to catch it before it can fall on the floor and break.
“I can’t…” Yosuke sobs, angry tears spilling out all at once before he can stop them. “You son of a bitch, I can’t believe…”
Souji reaches for him as he storms past toward the door. “Yosuke—“
“Don’t!” Yosuke roars, whirling on Souji and shouting so viciously in his face that Souji actually draws back. “Don’t. Don’t fucking touch me. I never want to see you again.”
The apartment door slams so hard the windows rattle, and Yosuke is gone. Souji stands there with the phone gripped tight in his hand, and looks at it. One message. He’s always so careful to delete the text messages and call history; Yosuke just happened to find the evidence before Souji could this time.
We haven’t talked in a while, Souji-kun. I miss you~
You didn’t tell your boyfriend about us did you?
I dunno what I’d do if he found out…
Souji deletes the message and its implicit threat, the damage already done, and clasps his hand over his mouth to stifle the first sob.
The days are beginning to blend together. Homura no longer remembers which tragedies belong to which life; there’s no meaning in keeping track anymore. With each reset, she abandons Madoka to whatever horrific fate awaits her, and tries again. Over and over and over.
It’s only a matter of time before she slips up.
“Um… about Mami-san…” Madoka begins timidly.
“What happened doesn’t change anything,” Homura responds with a calm that is practiced, and barely maintained. “Her death would not have been prevented had you made a contract. It’s best if you forget about her entirely.”
Madoka’s eyes widen in alarm. “Her… her death?”
Homura pauses, halfway through brushing her hair aside. Hadn’t that happened in this timeline yet? No, that was last time. Maybe there was still a chance it wouldn’t.
Everything about where and when she is feels so far away now.
“Homura-chan, what are you talking about? Is Mami-san okay?!”
“…It’s nothing,” says Homura. “I misspoke.”
Mami dies three days later, and as predicted, nothing changes.