#it's depressing to know just how many pieces of the puzzle have to fall into place for a driver to clinch a title these days

[leqclerc]

Deep down I would still really love seeing charles winning in ferrari instead of changing teams, but it doesn't feel like there's any hope honestly.

like, before was "next year is our year" but now even next year already seems doomed

https://twitter.com/FUnoAT/status/1667556319463702533?t=W3fsCNE2itVZqVKqw1AGbg&s=19

Oh no gang 🤐 I remember seeing a tweet or something saying June is likely going to be crunch time at Ferrari when it comes to preparation for 2024. I know Fred's been trying to poach staff where he can, especially engineers, and I know some of them have been released/are due to finish their gardening period soon, but there have also been setbacks, and ultimately I don't think he ended up getting the guys he was after, certainly not all of them. I'm really hoping next year's project is a step in the right direction, but there's no denying they're in a difficult place right now so it could really go either way. With how strong (and most importantly stable) Red Bull's situation looks, with Aston's facilities and upgrade packages, and with Mercedes seemingly starting to steer the ship in the right direction once again, Ferrari are definitely on the back foot.

Also, being in the middle of a little nostalgia fest right now and looking back at content from 2019, particularly the interviews and longer feature docus centered around Charles... a lot of the magic of the time stemmed from the fact that he was so young and on the rise. I mean, his second year in F1 overall and his debut season in Ferrari and he already showed so much promise and talent and determination. I think he was really this injection of new youthful energy into the team, into the Tifosi as a whole (even Seb called this "new beginning" with Charles joining the team one of the best moments of his Ferrari career, which is huge). Up to that point Ferrari had generally banked on established drivers, often champions. And here's a young hotshot who doesn't yet know the taste of winning and has this fervent desire to experience it in red. He had a clear goal in sight and he pursued it relentlessly, even if it meant getting caught up in questionable on-track situations. There was maybe a bit of naivety in that, but also a lot of boldness and tenacity that can only come from being young and wanting to prove yourself. Add to that a dash of his penchant for self-criticism, and you can totally see why the world was so swept up in the rookie Ferrari driver's story, why he became the main subject of character study fics at the time. It was fascinating. Like, sometimes, more than anything, I would just love to be able to go back and experience all of that again, just live in that brief moment in time when it really seemed like the only way is up and things can only get better.

But now we're halfway through 2023. 2019 was, somehow, unbelievably, already four years ago. And the story that was supposed to be filled with success and victories has been marred by misfortune and subpar machinery. Now he's no longer a 21-year old sensation winning in Monza, but just another title-less driver in their 20s trying to do the best with what they've got. His career has pretty much stalled and he's being increasingly criticized more than he's being praised (not that he escaped criticism in 2019-20, far from it, but there's a little bit of leniency to be found when someone's young and starting out, or when they can respond to this criticism with a win because the facilities are there). From being called the "Vettel Slayer" or whatever, to being ranked on par with or even below Carlos. What was once an engrossing clash of young generational talents (Silverstone 2019, anyone?) has become a completely unfair, skewed comparison that is ultimately used to portray Charles in a negative light. So the whole thing has lost its shine a bit, and what started out as a journey full of hope and potential is now increasingly turning into a drawn-out tragicomedy.

And obviously the disappointing, frustrating thing is that it's largely down to circumstance and whatever the hell is going on internally within that team that's preventing them from performing at their best. The stats are bleak, and it's so frustrating to know that the results table on Wikipedia or any other site aren't a genuine reflection of his talent and abilities, but they're ultimately what people remember and choose to base their perception of a driver on. Objectively he's still young and he can still go far, but equally, this sport can be ruthless and cruel and success is hard to reach if the stars don't align. Statistically speaking, he's got about ten years left in his career as a full-time driver, give or take. Fernando's more of an exception than the rule, and there's even less Lewises out there (having his most successful run in his 30s, so in the back half of his career.) Then again, even if the Mercedes stint had completely not worked out for him, he still wouldn't be going home empty-handed, because he was already crowned champion once before he joined. I think that frees you up, mentally and otherwise, to focus on other pursuits. Crossing that threshold and getting your first championship is always the hardest step. The thought of Charles never finding out what that feels like and being left to wonder what could have been is really hard to take. :/

[inventedfangirling]

My friends i watched love for love's sake and I swear i don't have a fckin clue where even to start.

I know a lot has been said about the show already and i know a LOT more would be said about in the future, but i just can't help adding my own two cents to one of the most thought-provoking, moving and brilliantly executed pieces of art i have ever seen.

I'm not gonna go on about just how much I loved Tae Myungha's character and how he is one of the most interesting people I've seen on screen in a long time. I'm not gonna talk about how unbelievably squishable Yeowoon is and how his duality totally ruined me that I need him to get into my pocket and NEVER leave. And oh I need him to put Myungha in his pocket while at it. I'm also not gonna talk about precious 'of course i'm gay, i've always liked girls, you don't know how to be loved' Sangwon is to me, cos if i start I can promise you I will most certainly never stop.

So for the sake of the rest of this post, I'm moving on. (NOT REALLY THO)

I just LOVE LOVE LOVE all the interpretations that people are coming up with, LOVE LOVE LOVE the show for filling in the gaps but LOVE it more for still leaving room for pretty thought-flowers to bloom around.

You know those artworks or puzzles that have something obvious hidden in a maze of confusion and haze until somebody points out the pattern, you zoom out and realize wow it was this clear all along?? That's a LOT of what watching the show felt like to me. The pattern being how inexplicably inter-connected Myungha and Yeowoon are. Not because they are each other's blorbos, but because why they are eo's blorbos. Why they don't care for each other from a sense of sympathy, but from empathy, despite not knowing the depth of their connections explicitly.

Eventhough we do see glimpses of it from the start, it only gets more clear later how Myungha and Yeowoon really are mirror versions of eo. How the first time Myungha sees Yeowoon he's stopping him from killing himself, and then we later find out that Myungha ends up killing himself. How both of it was triggered by a series of disappointments in life, starting with a troubling family and ending with a grandmother who passes away. Of how both of them seem to really have no one else to call their own in the world. Of leading very lonely depressing lives, that seem to never have a glimpse of hope. How both of them seem closed off, but inside they really are so fragile it hurts to perceive the depth of their feelings. It all comes and hits you once you've taken the whole show in and have gotten a few 1000 seconds to think about it.

We start off with myungha's character wanting to make his blorbo's character happy, and he's in it cos he cares about him, he doesn't have to think about himself. A 'pathetic' character experiencing a lot of pain, what's not to love, Myungha thinks, not realizing that it's his own mirror self that he is feeling so much for. Myungha sees Yeowoon's problems as someone from outside and is therefore able to objectively look at it, and approach it proactively, taking so many steps to help him, my favourite (and arguably most important) of which is the effort he puts in to help form yeowoon a friend circle. Something that he couldn't do for himself cos he never even considered a possibility of that. Why would anybody want to be around him? He ruins everything right?

And then to go on despite believing that, to falling in love, to deciding to choose to save both his grandma and yeowoon, finally FINALLY taking control into his hands even if for a bit to say what he wants, to spending the last few days together, to breaking up cos he just thinks the worst of himself, cos he doesn't know better. And then to the eternal darkness, where moments before leaving, just like in his real life, he realizes he wants in, he wants to live, he wants to love, but more importantly this time, he wants to try being loved. Even if it's difficult, he wants to try.

I love how eventhough the show is heavily Myungha focused, we get meaningful dynamics with multiple characters. Round eyed gasp inducing moments dont just belong to the two mains but also to sangwon whose line to myungha post the stalker incident just ruined me and really set the tone for whatever the show was later revealed to be all about.

I love how complicated the narrative got while still telling a more or less coherent story, how in hindsight, a lot of it makes even more sense now. How as Myungha gets closer to yeowoon his self-hating tendencies manifest in the form of debuffs and errors, because of his own brain's inability to perceive himself as somebody deserving love. His childhood trauma and the numerous rejections life has given him, because of the kind of person he turned out to be because of those rejections, all appear to stand in his way of happiness, as if he can't help being a bundle of sadness and a harbinger of problems. Even as he says he doesn't believe in destiny or fate. Or as we initially are made to believe in the game as, yeowoon's happiness, when in reality this was never about yeowoon at all. Yeowoon never existed in the first place and in "real" life, he never does.

I was blown away by how Myungha is in fact no longer in the mortal world but that fact doesn't hurt as much as that he would have to leave a world where he could finally feel happiness, feel loved, feel cared for, even if he consciously tried avoiding them. They still came to him, they still cared for him, they still fiercely wanted to protect him, (Cos he is just a tiny meow meow, who has been hurt a lot in his life, who wouldn't wanna caress and nurse him back to health HUH) just as much as he wanted to protect them.

And coming to the question of what's the game, where is it happening and who orchestrated it? It's definitely set in the afterlife or the limbo between life and the life after. It could be the author friend doing it, or the author friend has given myungha's brain the power to control the game OR of course the possibility that this has all been happening in myungha's head the whole time.

Whatever it is, the whole point has been to take Myungha from a person not wanting to live his life, feeling so devoid of love and happiness, to a journey of love and friendship, of the importance of fostering connections, of making efforts, of helping others, but equally of letting others help you, of putting your hand out and asking for that help. And in my head I love it most when I think of it as entirely Myungha orchestrated. Of it being a desperate cry of pain to himself, from himself, to save himself. Yeowoon and the game and the missions and all of it was for him to see himself in ways he never allowed himself to be seen as, to take care of himself in ways he never has, to love himself like he has never known to. To finally run towards himself, even if pathetic and sad, the Cha Yeowoon of the game, the person waiting at the end of the finishing line was the Tae Myungha in him all along.

You know that tumblr quote 'do it for her' but its about your future self, right? Myungha rooting for Yeowoon is sort of like that? When he's protecing him, he's protecting himself? When he's cheering for him, he's actually cheering and rooting for himself? When he's loving him, he makes space and place to love himself?

I just love the idea of a (self) love story.

Eitherway Yeowoon x Myungha supremacy.

Extreme(ly accurate?) Interpretations apart, Love for Love's Sake is truly one of the, if not THE finest (self) love story I might have ever seen.

As a person who avoids fics/books with mcd or shows with tragic endings, it felt absolutely revolutionary to me that my biggest joy and relief came from the fact that the main character is dead (the thought of myungha having to leave the game was too much to handle) and he gets to live in this game where he has a cute boyfriend, a supportive, caring friend group and his grandma back. it wasn't the game that was temporary or non-existent, it was actually his life outside. And that's not bad? Cos this is a story and Myungha isn't real, but as real as he is, he got his happy ending.

The show taught us to love, to see love, to be loved and to share that love. It told us that maybe the afterlife is a videogame simulation where we all get to live in friendship and love forever, with our blorbo and our friends. There are a lot worse lives to live. And I'm glad he found it in himself, enough love, courage and hope to write himself a better one :')

[shygirl4991]

Haunting Past

Summary: After failing to stop Mr Puzzles at the meme factory, SMG3 drinks his pain away hoping to forget how much of a failure he is. Lucky for him things aren't how they use to be and he has someone watching out for him.

Tags: Drinking to cope, Alcohol, drunk smg3, emotional hurt/comfort, sleepy cuddles, boys crushing on each other

SMG3 sighs as he takes a swig of his drink, the burning sensation reminding him how far he has fallen. He thinks back on the battle back at the meme factory, he couldn't believe he failed. Though thinking about it more, that was the story of his life. In the past he made it his life mission to ruin SMG4, to the point he lost himself and attempted to kill them all. The one thing he was glad to fail, he couldn't picture his life without these idiots in his life. He stares at his drink frowning, he was a failure of a villain isn't he? 

He attempted to follow his dream, opening a cafe with both of his favorite activities. Drinking coffee and dealing with explosives, he remembered how exciting it was when everyone started to show up. He was making something for himself he thought, till one day no one showed up. No matter what he did no one wanted to be in his cafe, again he was failing while SMG4 was flying having everything handed to him. He lets out another defeated sigh as he finishes his drink, he just wanted to forget how much of a failure he is. He couldn't even stop mr.puzzles, the moment he was out done by that monster that has haunted them for months. Frustrated from the memory Three throws his cup, he breathes heavy as he watches the cup shatter in pieces. Four arrives at his castle with a huge smile, finally they are free from Mr.Puzzles. He was glad that they were able to pull the plan off, what he didn't see coming was how much meme energy it was gonna take out of him. Hoping to get some energy back, he walks into the kitchen where he gasps at the sight in front of him. A depressed Three was sitting at the counter getting ready to open another bottle, SMG4 runs and takes the bottle away from him “Three! Why are you surrounded by so many bottles?!” 

Three smiles brightly at four “Hey! So happy to see you, give me a hug!” Four panics seeing the man throw himself at him, dropping the bottle he catches the drunk man who cheers. “Three, how long have you been drinking?” He watches as the man stumbles away from Four’s arms. Concerned that Three would fall he follows every step ready to catch him at any moment, Three giggles as he pokes Four’s cheek “Since the whole puzzle thing!” Four sighs as he gently grabs hold of the guardian “Three lets get you some water okay?” Four helps Three to a chair before walking away to get the man a glass of water, seeing his partner walk away Three starts to cry “Where are you going? Are you leaving me because I'm such a failure?” hearing that causes SMG4 to freeze. He turns to see his partner, it was strange for him to see his ex rival sitting there crying. Walking over he gently rubs the man’s back “Hey, i'm not leaving you i just wanted to get you water.” With a sniff he looks up at four, wiping his tears “liar…” he whispers, Four sighs as he pulls out a chair to sit next to Three “Do…you want to talk about what got you drinking?” 

Three turns looking away from Four “How long have we been here?” Confused by the question Four looks at the clock “A few minutes, why?” Three frowns thinking, he knew he came to the kitchen for a reason. He kept trying to think why he was there only to get distracted by his partner, Three smiles softly “You're so handsome it's annoying.” SMG4 blushes, rubbing the back of his neck “Oh uh thanks! Now not to change the topic but I do want to know, did something happen today to get you like this?” Three’s eyes water looking down, seeing this Four reaches out grabbing his partner's hand. It always tingled when they held hands, the energy that flows between them was strangely reassuring. Three keeps looking down and starts to cry “I’m a failure…i fail at everything i do,” hearing his words break Four’s heart. 

Getting up from his seat, Four grabs Three pulling him into a hug “Dude, you're not a failure. You have done such amazing things, you're so smart…please stop saying this about my best friend.”  Three holds on to Four, he yawns starting to feel drowsy “You're so much better than me…why are you my friend?”  he mumbles out as he battles his need to sleep. Four frowns hearing the pain in his partner's words, slowly he adjusted himself to hold Three better “I should be asking you that, I have done nothing but treat you like nothing.” He hears a sniff before Three sleepily looks at Four, with a gentle smile Four wipes the man's tears “Okay, we are friends because you're more amazing then you think. You never give up no matter how hard things get, I honestly admire that about you.” Three lays his head on Four slowly falling asleep “You..liar” with those words the man fell asleep. Four frowns as he lifts up Three to carry him, the cafe was close by though the idea of using an elevator with SMG3 in his arms didn't appeal to him. He walks to his room and gently places SMG3 on his bed, he removes the man's hat. Smiling softly he kisses the man on the head “I hate seeing you like this Three…im sorry im failing at being your friend.” He grabs Three’s hand frowning “I promise, I will be better so this won't happen again.”

Making sure Three is tucked in, Four walks back to the kitchen to clean up the bottles. He looks at the bar filled with different drinks and throws them in the trash, seeing how depressed his partner is he needed to make sure the castle is safe.  Once everything was cleaned he returned to his room, he felt the fatigue of the day hit him. Not caring at the moment for Three’s reaction when he wakes, Four lays in bed next to the man. He squeaks in surprise when three cuddle up to him, with a soft giggle he lets himself enjoy close contact as he drifts to sleep in SMG3 arms. 

[ice-cream-writes-stuff]

Batfam/Batboys with a Yandere S/O

[This is something I wanted to write personally and decided to share with all of ya'll. Please remember this is fiction, since it has come to my attention that it needs to be stated. I do not condone this behavior, I just enjoy writing it. Thank you, enjoy.]

-

Batman/Bruce Wayne:

Yan S/O is devoted to him, would literally kill anyone just to make him happy.

Even if Bruce knows that your love for him isn't healthy, he doesn't let you go. He honestly finds comfort in your love, it's tight like collar on the both of you. Yet, he can't help himself but let your chains keep him together.

You love him to the point of no return. Willing to forsake the world, morals, everything. Even Talia can't do that. You want to hold him and keep him safe in your sickingly-sweet embrace.

Bruce has a case of savior complex with you, thinking he can change you. Where your desires to coat Gotham in red aren't necessary for him to love you.

But to you, it matters that you try to kill anyone in your way to Bruce's heart, or maybe just managing to keep them at arms-length.

Those finky, so-called, "villians" are apart of your anger. They CRAVE Batmans attention, which should only be for YOU.

Bruce and Batman do their best to keep you from killing villians. Most times failing and trying to cover it up for your sake and his reputation.

I could see Yan S/O just straight up telling Bruce that they are gonna raise his childern..

Which is kinda true, since they managed to get Alfred's approval. 《No clue how...》

Anyway, Yan S/O is around for all of the Batfam. Being the kindest and sweetest parental figure ever. Often threatening and hurting villians when they try to get in the way of family outings or straight up killing them under the guise of "self-defense."

You teach your way of "love" to Dick and then so on and so fourth. Causing a horrible cycle and generation of yandere Batfam. It's kinda funny.

"Just what exactly are you teaching him (Y/N)?" Bruce asked you, his tone accusing as he watched you clean up blood off the floor of the parlor room.

Jason sat on a small armchair, a notepad in hand as he re-reads over his notes. 

Dick strolls up beside the older Wayne, watching the scene. 

"Oh! I remember when you taught me that trick, gotta remember this little-wing!"

Richard [Dick] Grayson:

This man has been emotionally starved, having been raised by Bruce. 

Dick has been in many romantic relationships, but they mostly fall flat and him and his romantic partners become just friends. Which is fine, but he still yearns for a romantic connection.

Or honestly a positive connection that has someone caring for him instead. Yes he's a good brother and son, but Bruce and his brothers mostly depend on him as the "happy-go-luck Dick Grayson".

Not the moody and depressed part of him.

Yet he meets Yan S/O, who is pretty much his personal everything. Cheerleader, bestie, (beside Wally), cuddle buddy, ect.

In your eyes, he could do no nothing wrong. You hold no high standard as how he should be seen.

He doesn't need to be the "Nightwing of Bludhaven" nor the "sweet and handsome Grayson".

He is YOURS, and you are his.

"Hey~ Welcome back," you whisper kindly. Aiding him inside the apartment. More-so dragging him in with strength he didn't know you possess.

Dick smiles at you, his eyes tired and body woozy from working late hours. 

-

Jason Todd:

Jason never really grew up in a loving home, when he did however, it was taken away from him very early on.

So when any once of love he gets from Yan S/O, he tries to push it away. Thinking he'll loose it, somehow.

Yet if Yan S/O proves their devotion, Jason will accept their advances.

He doesn't see you as a total threat to himself, to other's though, that's a different story..

You listen to him, wanting to know every bits and fucked-up pieces of him.

You don't see him as some type of puzzle to finish, you just want to know him. To love him.

Holding his hands in your own, you place them on your forehead. Breathing out a content sigh, tracing his fingers gently. As if he was made out of porcelain and not a monster he saw himself as.

Tim Drake [Wayne]:

Tim is concerned about Yan S/O affections, finding them perfect. Too perfect.

He's afraid to love them, because Yan S/O is all he could imagine as a perfect lover for him.

Kind, attentive, uncaring of his coffee addiction.

Someone who'll listen to him need out about ANYTHING.

It could be the stupid-est thing ever, yet you'll stare him like a love stricken idiot.

Even when he talks about someone he likes, you'll still smile. With clear hurt in your eyes, yet never sabotage his dates or try to change his mind. Just listen with a open heart, hoping for the privilege to let you love him.

He honestly doesn't want to push it, knowing you'd have to have a limit.

But you never crack..

It drives him mad.

To the point where he surrenders himself to you.

There was no one who could be as "perfect" as you.

"Hey! Hey!" You squeak, feeling Tim's cold hands touch your cheeks. Squeezing them together to make a fish-face, leaning in to give you a small peck.

-

Damien Al Ghul/Wayne:

Straight up opposite of Tim.

Damien pushes your button's, wanting to see if you had the guts to kill for him.

Not believing that you were worthy enough for him.

He is a Al Ghul.

A Wayne.

Yan S/O thinks saying a heartful declaration of love will sway his heart. Not even a little.

You have to be persistent for Damiens attention, clingy but not to the point of becoming a annoyance and a bother. 

Hell, maybe even uncaring. Giving up on the chase, which pisses Damien off.

Weren't you the one that wanted to be with him!?

Yan S/O acts like loving him was a phase. Which upsets him even more, he acts like it's not bothering him.

He starts missing your presence, whether if you were happy or timid around him.

"You already stuck around this long, might as well reward your efforts." Damien scowls, opening his hand out for you to take. A big smile breaks onto your face, which makes Damien freeze.

You won.

-

[Hope you enjoyed! Everythings appreciated!]

[ideas-4-stories]

It's fluff-o-clock!

Even though he has countless devoted followers and his crew has told him they'd rather die than leave him, Buggy feels alienated and left out when he has to go to social events outside of Karai Bari Island. You'd never know it - he still acts as overconfident and egotistical as he always does - but the whole time he can feel judging eyes on him. He knows they don't take him seriously. He's just the weird little pirate who got lucky, no special skills or insane amounts of power in sight. That's what he's convinced their thinking, at least.

Crocodile and Mihawk, who have grown quite skilled at detecting when their beloved clown is hiding behind a facade of bravado, call him to a meeting. The two of them know something is off the moment Buggy walks into the room, and after some questioning and piecing the puzzle together they're able to discern the truth. Neither of them say anything about it. They just move on to actual business in a way that lets Buggy know they do care but they need time to think.

Fast forward a month or so and Cross Guild has been invited to a party that all the most powerful pirates with the highest bounties will be at. Crocodile and Mihawk finally put their plan into action a few hours before the event. They "make" (those chosen would have done it regardless but our resident goths have a reputation to keep) some of Buggy's most trusted crew members help him get ready, putting his hair in an elaborate style and ensuring his makeup is flawless. Once they complete their task Croc and Hawk swoop in to take their place; they worked together to design an outfit for Buggy that's as "flashy" as he loves while still being fancy. As he finishes getting ready they present him with the final pieces - two label pins shaped like Crocodile's hook and Yoru. They chose pins so that Buggy could still wear all his finest jewelry while still having his boyfriend's claim on him clear for all to see.

Once they're at the party Crocodile and Mihawk never leave Buggy's side; in fact, they subtly turn any attention given to them towards the clown. "Your new cannonballs do sound very formidable, but Buggy could do twice the damage with a ball half the size." "What a fearsome sounding crew. I wonder if they would be enough to beat Buggy and his hundreds of followers." Little compliments sprinkled in the conversation to hype up the blue-haired man. Between Crocodile's social skills and Mihawk's sneakiness, nobody realizes they're spending far more time showing interest in Buggy than conversing with his more powerful partners. The clown actually feels truly confident and like he's being treated as (somewhat) of an equal for once.

At the end of the night they meet in Crocodile's room dressed in their sleep clothes. Buggy's put the two pins in a small box shaped like a treasure chest to show his partners how much he treasures their gifts. They've all settled down and are about to fall asleep when the clown mutters one final comment. "Thanks for being by my side tonight, but you guys know you're as flashily great as I am, right?" He's out before the two can think of a reply.

It's the depression and poor self-esteem the clown shouldn't have because it hinders people From what I've seen it's hard to be someone that many people can rely on them.

Wonder how long did it take for them to fully understand their clown? Probably around six months or less... Who knows 🤷 Anyway, I'm thinking they found a way to make sure Buggy doesn't know that they pieced the puzzle together. That would be cool.

A party that has some of the strongest pirates with the highest bounties... The Straw-hats will be there... Oh boy, that will be a weird conversation to have, won't it! Anyway, yes them being right beside Buggy. Just destroying other people's achievements for Buggy!

That is just so cute!!! Buggy being more confident in himself, acting more like he was when he was younger. Not hiding behind a mask. As well as looking his best, wearing pins that represent Mihawk and Crocodile are always so cute!!!

Buggy putting the pins in a box, that's probably one of his most favorite treasures is so cute!!!

[esshetic]

GEMINI SEASON: Jigsaw Pieces

Gemini season bounds in, bright-eyed and with a mischievous glint, and boy, will we be having a good time in our personal lives or within our intimate selves.

The energy of Gemini is like battery being recharged, which makes the pursuits we have been doing get a boost of energy and jubilation.

Not Like The Other Astrologers.

I have been contemplating what place Astrology and spirituality/wellness have in my life going forward. Truth be told, I have been doing really well without it. I don’t know if I have needed these tools; maybe I just needed the confidence in myself and to focus on developing a strong sense of self through my actions, trials, tribulations, and life experiences. You know when the sun comes out and we stop being depressed? This is also where some of you may find yourself, too—considering what life you want to live and what things, coping mechanisms, tools, and comforts are slowly losing their importance and value in your life as you outgrow them.

Puzzle Pieces Don't Fit

The piece of the puzzle was fitted in wrong and needs to be removed to allow other pieces to come together. Social justice upheaval and change is becoming more and more a focus how can we be in community with each other, help and lift others, the me me self of capitalism is getting put in a trash bag and thrown out. I am seeing power to the people, and the fall of celebrity culture in the West due to the consistent exposure of corrupt people causing harm. The war in the Middle East takes a surprising turn, and the powers, or perceived powers, shift toward those who are continuing to fight for the Palestinian people who are resisting the genocide and removal from their homeland.

For months, many of us have watched powerless, detached, desensitised, and numb, but are we growing collectively towards overthrowing the big bad wolves that have dominated and controlled our societies for as long as we and our ancestors can remember?

There is a force that tips the table over, shakes it down, and the result of this is not as expected, which shifts our collective perception of ‘power,’ force, and control.

Let's see what Gemini season is presenting to the signs.

Gemini, Happy Birthday!!! It's your season finally!! (as you roll your eyes at me). You are not Leo or Virgo or Scorpio who feel superior when their season rolls around. For you, I see you more focused on a mission, a side quest, a secretive task, putting the clues and pieces together. This has been going on for a while—since Capricorn season, I believe. This is where your focus is. You are trying not to draw attention to yourself through your Birthday Season, and you won’t rest until this quest has been completed.

Cancer, how are you feeling? Jubilant? Jupiter, you're benefactor, is opening you up through Gemini Season. Let go of wearing black and embrace colour in your wardrobe. Bejewel your life, adorn yourself in gold and glitter. You are being inspired to glow up a bit for Summer.

Leo, the sun, your ruler, is hanging out in your 11th house of community and connection. You're not feeling like a social butterfly or looking to make superficial connections just for the summer. Leo is in mourning. You finally feel safe to let go and cry out grief from the past that has been frozen in time. You are feeling more reclusive than extroverted, and that is fine for now.

Virgo, the sun is visiting your 10th house of career, and I am seeing career victory, achievement, or recognition. This can play out externally, but I am seeing this internally. You may have achieved a personal career goal you set for yourself, even completing a study or project that feels satisfactory. You may have completed your degree and got the grades you wanted.

Libra, the sun is in your 9th house. I am seeing a theme of partnerships and romantic relationships for you. I see you getting into a new relationship with an existing person who may have been breadcrumbing you, or vice versa, with both of you being indecisive about what you want. This time around, you will reconnect, but for how long?

Scorpio, the sun will be in your 8th house, your traditional space and home. This is a time of friction for you. The sun will be illuminating a part of your soul that you wish to remain hidden. You don’t like being exposed; however, you will be exposed here with this transit, and it's not under a controlled perception as you would prefer. The sun in Gemini is allowing others to view you with their own eyes and not the eyes you want others to see you in, and it's too late to spin the narrative. You have to relinquish control.

Sagittarius, the sun is transiting your 7th house this Gemini season. It's about you, you, you. Even though the sun is in your place of others and partnerships, I see this as a time for you to take control of your life and your destiny. This season has you looking to broaden your horizons and make future plans—not just the big plans, but also the smaller plans like holiday plans or buying a bike or car. Future fun stuff.

Capricorn, the sun is transiting your 6th house—work, work, work. All things work, which is very Cap. We are exploring your boundary issues with the work you do. Being people-focused and facing, how much access are you allowing people to have? You can say no as many times as you say yes. Does working all the time really make you happy? Are you afraid to switch off and not be in control?

Aquarius, the sun is transiting your 5th house through Gemini season. This should feel like fun—summertime, festivals, dress-ups. I am seeing huge metallic butterfly wings and silver lipstick in a space-themed party. This time, let your inner child be free and play. Do what they want to do. Be the freak. Things may be a little serious around you, but don’t buy into it.

Pisces, the sun is in your 4th house this Gemini season. I am seeing this like a plant getting the sunlight and nourishment it needs to grow and fill up the pot, growing taller and bigger. This is you unknowingly pouring back into an area of your life that was squeezed, causing an imbalance. The 4th house means to me self-nurturing or allowing others to nurture you (I don't believe you can do that). The focused attention on your home life is doing you the world of good. Stop running forward or chasing—less action, more being lazy.

Aries, the sun will be in your 3rd house, the traditional ruler of the house. I am seeing much ado about nothing for you with this transit. Like a bamboo tree swaying in the wind is you're temperament and experience of the season. You are looking for peace and silence in every moment and yearn to carve it out in your days. You are tuning out the chaos, drama, and unhappiness of those around you, forgiving yourself and others, and actually learning to collaborate instead of oppose others. This is where I feel the harmony arising as you are learning to commune with people more easily.

Taurus, the sun will be in your 2nd house, giving a beautiful sunset for Gemini Season for you. I know how much you like to rest and do nothing, be in your hammock and watch the skies turn from pink to purple. Gemini season will inspire you to paint a portrait with the colors, with a creative boost and an artistic rejuvenation of a once-favorite hobby.

[kafus]

for the did ama, what's something you wish more people understood about did? (this can refer to singlets, people newly diagnosed, stuff that the community in general just may not know or acknowledge, etc)

i kind of share something similar to this in this ask to do with child alters if you wanted to see that

anyways there's probably a lot of angles i could go at this with but hm. i kind of hate how the online community is SO focused on alters themselves, identity alteration, like i think to a lot of people to be perceived as a Valid DID Haver you have to have alters with different names and different pronouns who act totally different from one another and that's just... not... not necessary or even common.

i took a bit to answer this because i wanted to pull up this study which has this quote, referencing some kluft research:

Many clinicians and lay people believe that DID presents with dramatic, florid personality states with obvious state transitions (switching). These florid presentations are likely based on media stereotypes, but actually occur in only about 5% of DID patients [60]. The vast majority of DID patients have subtle presentations characterized by a mixture of dissociative and PTSD symptoms embedded with other symptoms such as posttraumatic depression, substance abuse, somatoform symptoms, eating disorders, personality disorders, and self-destructive and impulsive behaviors [23, 61].

DID is a heavily covert disorder for many and while it's not unusual or even surprising that going into therapy and purposefully interacting with alters + using social media where that sort of behavior is expected/encouraged can cause us to become more "florid", many of us aren't like that... at all! and the lack of representation for people with DID who don't have super distinct alters or who simply don't want to share that information online is actually kind of appalling to me. DID is a dissociative disorder caused by childhood trauma first and foremost and comes with all the struggles related to those things. alters are just one piece of the puzzle. and the continued focus on alters harms both singlets because they don't understand DID outside of that, and people with DID... i can't tell you how many times i've talked to people with very obvious DID who thought they didn't have it because they didn't match social media depictions of the disorder. it's like everyone's trying to be like Sybil, subconsciously or not, and that's just... not always how it is!!

of course people with DID who have florid presentations are valid too and there are aspects of my DID that are very Not covert but growing up my situation was a lot more subtle and even now, there's so much about my DID people don't see because the only acceptable way to parse or talk about your symptoms and experience online are by well defined alters and the majority of our alters are just Not like that. i have so many alters that are just "me but slightly to the left" who would be hard to detect personality changes with, etc. many such cases.

tldr very good to keep in mind that people with DID are traumatized and dissociative individuals with a variety of symptoms that may or may not fall into the "idealized" standard depiction of DID on social media and in fiction, and i REALLY wish there was more discussion on the other parts of this disorder more often

[mxserish]

𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 || chrollo lucilfer

chrollo lucilfer x reader

genre: pure angst; self-confort

tw: blood, gore

you had so many things you wanted to say to him. so many loving words that remained unspoken. so many wishes that died on your throat. only when you stare at his ‘corpse’ do you spit out all you've wanted to say.

It was pouring heavily in Yorknew City. The rain was falling like bricks, effectively drowning out all sounds. Not that you could create any while staring at it.

The body was slumped against the wall, his skin adorned with multiple stab wounds. His clothes were completely destroyed by the assassin hired to kill him, you assumed. The crimson blood ran down his cheeks, and a few droplets fell to the ground, staining the muddy grass.

Perhaps you should feel more depressed over losing your beloved and enraged at the world for taking him away from you. You should be sobbing uncontrollably and screaming out in pain. You couldn't bear feeling those pitiful sentiments after he had betrayed you so many times. Not when he left you without saying goodbye.

You could feel how fridgid his skin was as you brushed your fingers across his cheek. The only other sign that showed he was indeed gone was his dispassionate gaze that peered into your very soul.

"I hope it hurt, whatever torture they put you through." Those words felt uncomfortable in your mouth, as if you were forcing them out.

"But knowing you, I doubt you would have been the least bit afraid." You talked to him like you always did, ignoring the reality that he wasn't going to answer.

In frustration, you gritted your teeth. "Say something, anything. Just get up and laugh like this is one of your ridiculous jokes." You were reminded of the time he pretended to die in order to gauge your response. You can still remember how upset you were with him for making light of such a serious situation.

However, he didn't stand up as he usually did. He didn't chuckle at your terrified expression. He did not wipe up your tears and spoke to you in a reassuring tone. Deafening silence was all you got in response.

As the harsh truth dawned on you, you finally allowed the barricades you had built to crumble. You knelt down and grabbed his tattered shirt firmly.

"You bastard! Why are you able to make me feel so miserable even after you've died?!" You repeatedly struck his chest, venting your rage on his cold form. Your tears streamed uncontrollably down your cheeks, mixing with the rain.

"Why did you make me love you if you were just going to leave me straight after?" Were you merely a plaything for him? Was he amusing himself by messing with your feelings? Your mind was obscured by those menacing ideas at this vulnerable time.

Your cries gradually faded and you stopped hitting his chest, with only the occasional hicups escaping your mouth. Your lips curled into an embarrassed smile.

“Heh, you probably would have told me to quit sobbing over you.” Happy memories began to fill your head. Despite the fact that they were few compared to all the painful ones, they warmed your heart and gave you peace of mind.

"I guess this is really over, isn't it?" He doesn't reply, and you eventually accept that he is leaving, opting for a smaller, sadder smile on your face.

"Perhaps you wished to run away from all the sins you had committed. You should have known better." A little chuckle escaped your tongue, and after a brief time of staring into his empty eyes, your lips finally settled on his bloody ones.

Your foreheads came together as you spoke your last words to him and shared this final moment. "I wish you burn in hell, my darling."

As you moved away from the body, you experienced calmness in your thoughts. You had the impression that the last puzzle piece of your life had been put in its proper position. You would not strive to forget him, as he played a significant role in your life, but rather learn from your and his mistakes in order to live a better life.

You were finally able to escape his grip because of his death. At least, that's what he was thinking as he saw you walk away from his 'corpse.' 

bruh how much gel does chrollo waste on his hair i’m genuinely curious

— posted: december 13, 2022

[androgynousblackbox]

Have you ever liked anything? You're correct about these youtubers but every post of yours I can find on the archive is you being angry and swearing about how much you hate something. What is one thing you are genuinely passionate and kind about that brings you joy?

Dude, I had this blog for more than five years at this point. I seriously doubt that you actually looked at every post I have made since then. I do talk about lots of things I enjoy. Not a lot lately because hey, turns out depression is a fucking dick that sucks you dry, who knew! If you want to know why I was depressed as fuck, my dog had to be put to sleep because terminal cancer and a less than a month later my other dog died from heart complications in my room. In fact, I am standing right where she fucking convulsed until she just expired as I type this! I couldn't enjoy shit. I couldn't even hate shit. I was fucking nothing for months. I know, you didn't really ask that and this is super heavy to throw to a stranger. But hey, if you want to tell me about how curious it is that I hate so much in my own blog, which I think is rude as fuck, then I believe that is good reason to say what is up. I wrote a fuck ton about how I buried both of them and my legs were sore for days if you also want to check that out in the archive. So be assured, me ranting so much about Jamesy and other shitty youtubers is a fucking ass improvement from where I was before. I love horror. I love monsters. I love the darkness as your friend. I love complicated characters that love despite everything, even despite themselves. I love a well written tragedy. I love blood, gore and messed up pairings that fit together like the worst puzzle pieces ever made in hell. I love musicals, metal, rock and covers. I love villains with principles and heroes falling from grace. I love writing and reading and movies. I love queer shit. I love receiving recommendations for queer shit that people think I could like, and so many of them I actually loved! I love my new dog that I got and now is sleeping under my desk. My last "positive" post was me talking about getting into Stardew Valley with a friend and making horny Elliott fanart because he is the fucking best. I just uploaded yesterday even! It got kinda buried among all the other Jamesy stuff, but it's still there.

[ask-kaufmotheclown]

( The scene comes to a close. Welcome to the after credits show! So basically

I came up with each room (with some help from Arby)

I made each puzzle

EACH ROOM WAS BASED ON EACH OF THE FIVE STAGES OF GREIF

Below is my notes app for the thing

Escape room type thing

denial.

anger.

bargaining.

depression.

acceptance.

1- Denial.

A glass case sits before you. Within lies a button. Now, the glass cannot be destroyed, but it can be opened. The glass is locked, so how do you open it? The button gleams, its red coating reflects the fluorescent lights above. The room is empty. The room is still. The room is silent.

What is your next move?

2- Anger.

The new room has white walls, white floors. Whispering can be heard, yet nothing can be seen. In the center of the room is a table, with glass, and a button, same as the last. The lights are much brighter. One purple balloon is attached to a wooden chair, in the far corner.

3- Bargaining.

The room opens, darker than the others. The lighting is dim, still coming from the fluorescent ceiling lights. In the center of the room remains a table, on top is glass, containing a button. A chair is at one side of the table, you feel compelled to sit down.

4- depression

The next room is identical to the second. The room is only illuminated by a mysterious light, coming from where the lights would be, but nothing is there. The room looks exactly how you left it. Pieces of glass and wood are strewn across the floor. Why did you destroy it? What did it do to you? The whispers are silent now, they aren’t present here. Why did you destroy it?

5- Acceptance 

A glass case sits before you. Within lies a button. Now, the glass cannot be destroyed, but it can’t be opened either. The glass is locked, just like last time. The button gleams, its red coating reflects the fluorescent lights above. The room is empty. The room is still. The room is silent. You’ve come this far, doing many things. Not once have you been able to press the button. It sits there, in the center, blocked by glass. Will this cycle continue, or will you break it? The panel shuts behind you. There is no way back.

What is your next move?

Ending-

You never could press the button, huh? No matter how hard you tried, you really couldn’t just press it. You broke it, you left it, and you ignored it, but you didn’t press it. You never will. But you understand that fact. As all the lights dim, becoming completely dark, your eyelids fall with them. This scene comes to a close.

I made it as you did it, in real time. This wasn’t fully planned, or really planned at all!

Any questions about it? ASK AWAY!! MY INBOX IS OPEN!!

I couldn’t have done this fun thing without you all, thank you.

Lemme know your thoughts about it!

-mod crazy

)

[escapetheinevitable]

can't tell if it's weird how much time i spend thinking about it. i'm spread across two seats on the bus home, like i can bury myself, and if i stare too long at my reflection in the window opposite i start thinking about you, and me, and life, too, i guess. i've seen so many movies about what this era of my life would feel like but the one i'm in is by far the most boring. see the problem is that i'm in the wrong place. i don't fit here. its like somebody lost a piece of their puzzle so they found one with the same shape in a different box and they just used that instead. it fits fine and looks normal from the back but it's the picture that's the problem, what's actually on the piece, it's a completely different scene, different story and it's a tiny fragment of a larger puzzle but god you just can't stop staring at it and all the ways its wrong. that's me i guess. and everything about this is depressing but i've gotten used to that. still thinking about you by the way. when the bus starts to move again i let my body go limp and i let it jolt me from side to side like it'll throw me into a new start that lets me be a completely different person. must be why i'm so good at lying. why i love telling stories and playing characters so much. i can exist as someone else for a while and if i mess up i blame it on them. i have to blame myself when i mess up when i'm me. that's why i hate it so much. and it's not that i'm scared of responsibility or blame i'm not i'm not i'm good at it even. i can admit when i'm wrong. when i'm being shitty. hell it's most of the time. but i want to be someone who is at the right time in their life. i am on the loading screen. my game hasn't started yet. i'm not ready to be a person yet. i have to get out of here.

i moved seats.

you're next to me when i close my eyes. sometimes. i like sitting alone and pretending i can talk to you. i screwed up my chances of talking to anyone else. i end up talking to myself in the end but i was doing that anyway. i don't know anymore. i don't have a lot of friends but i can live with that. i am good at being on my own. i won't survive it when she leaves. i might not even survive christmas. we'll figure it out. we always do.

i'll talk to you before i fall asleep again. i'll pretend i live alone or maybe even with you and i'll act like i deserve it until i wake up and pretend to be a human being all over again.

this will pass in time. i just have to wait.

[aparticularbandit]

Of An Endless Infinity: Day Eight (I)

Summary: What does it mean to be the Ultimate Hope?

Is it only hope on the big scale?  That the world is not so dark and depressing and destructive as the villain in front of you says it is?  That you can win, even when everything else says that you can’t?  That maybe it is better to live your life, even afraid, than it is to keep yourself sequestered away, alone?

Does it not also mean hope on the small scale?

Or: Makoto sacrifices himself in the hope that the other survivors might be able to help Junko. It remains to be seen whether this will actually succeed.

Chapter Rating: T. Fic Rating: M for Danganronpa reasons.

AO3

previous chapter | next chapter

Day Eight (of an Endless Infinity).

When Kyoko wakes in the morning, her gaze immediately falls on Junko.

Not by choice, of course.  She was just facing her when she woke up.  And while before she might have mused poetic about how childish Junko looks curled up around that extra pillow the way she should be curled up around another person (not Kyoko) and drooling all over it (which, honestly, knowing that she drools, why would anyone want to be curled up with her in the first place), now Kyoko’s gaze just as immediately moves up and away as she turns away entirely, as she pushes herself up, as she shoves down the bile creeping up the back of her throat at what she’s just remembered and does not want to think about.

(How can she not, waking up and immediately seeing Junko vulnerable like that?)

((This was intentional.  This is entirely Junko’s fault.  It has to be.))

(((How can it be Junko��s fault?  It’s not like she can see the future.)))

In her aversion of Junko herself, Kyoko’s gaze instead flits to Junko’s notebook.  It still sits flat on the desk behind her bed, apparently untouched, so she reaches out a hand to it, finds that it’s quite dry (if not more fragile), and pulls it to her as she settles back against her headboard.  Then she hesitates.  She can’t get mad at Byakuya for reading it and then do so herself.  That’s hypocritical.

But Junko intended to read her story aloud where anyone could hear it, where Kyoko could hear it.  That means there’s no problem if she reads it here, now.  (Even if she still maintains that it shouldn’t have been in Byakuya’s possession to peruse as he wanted.)

She opens the notebook and flips through the first few pages.

There isn’t much left to read.

As she turns from one page to another, Kyoko recognizes a few things.  Names, mostly.  Matsuda shows up multiple times – Yasuke less so – and even more often than that is a name she’s only recently recalled: Ryoko Otonashi.  Her eyes narrow.  There’s no way Junko would hand off some sort of memoir to Toko.  Even if she doesn’t share memories with Jack, there’s no way to absolutely prevent Jack from reading the notebooks if she has access to them, and even if the others are slowly regaining their memories, Jack never lost hers.  To leave a memoir where Jack could read it is foolish.

Junko may be many things, but she’s no fool.

So this is…what?  Some sort of fantasy?  About herself?  Or some other version of herself?

Maybe it’s a story where Matsuda never disappeared?  One where she used Ryoko as a name instead of Junko to….  To what?  To make some sort of disconnect just in case Jack didn’t read it?  In case Toko didn’t remember—

To be fair, Hope’s Peak never told their class about Ryoko.  They only mentioned that Junko was taking a bit of a break after….

She shouldn’t remember this.

How is she remembering this?

It’s like there’s something else just out of grasp – and Kyoko almost sees Junko, staring blankly at a piece of paper, blinking with confusion – but—

Kyoko’s brain itches as she tries to piece together what she remembers.  It’s all puzzle pieces, a narrative full of clues that should explain things to her, but which feel out of order, incomplete, full of gaps.

But Junko’s notebook reinforces a thread she’s already started unraveling from her memories, so she sets it back where she’d left it before and drags her own notebook out from under her pillow to update it.

She scans the bullet points.

There’s been no movement on that first one, no further commentary on any case she’d been working, which is infuriating.  Kyoko can guess that Junko must have been involved with it to some extent, given that all of the memories she’s regained so far are connected to her, which implies that it’s likely something to do with finding Ultimate Despair, a case that she knows she was following once she and the others were locked in the school building.

Except, again, that she couldn’t have known about Ultimate Despair that early.  All of her memories are before the Tragedy, and if she’d known about them then, surely she would have mentioned it at some point.  So it can’t be that.  It has to be something else.

She just has no idea what.

Her intuition suggests that it has something to do with the other bullet points.

Well.

The later ones, anyway.

Not the next one.

Kyoko’s eyes narrow as they land on the second bullet point, and she circles the More? with her pen so hard that it rips through the paper.  She recoils from the very memory of kissing Junko, but she can’t deny that it happened.  More than once.  And if her memories continue in the same way they have been, then she’s certain that she can expect more memories like it in the future.

The very thought makes her sick.

(Except that it doesn’t.)

((Some part of her calms, like the world is returning to normal, like everything is finally being set back to right.

And a third part of her – the part of her that still hates Junko, the part of her that still feels betrayed in a way that she hadn’t at the end of her Killing Game – burns with the flame of a thousand dying suns.))

(((At least it’s anger and not despair.)))

It’s only after those that Kyoko reaches the bullet points about Yasuke Matsuda.

Junko loved him, certainly.

Junko loved him, and she’d known him from childhood, and he’d disappeared completely without saying anything to her – he’d been expelled – but that same intuition that told Kyoko that these points are related to her previous case also tells her that, in all actuality, the person once known as Yasuke Matsuda is dead.  She intuits it without any concrete proof, but she knows it to be true nevertheless.

Kyoko would like to believe that she’d only stuck her neck out and pried into Junko’s matters with Mukuro because she was searching for something, would like to believe that she simply lied to Junko to cover her tracks, but she knows better.  If she’d gotten no confirmation of Yui’s death, if Yui had just disappeared—

No.

The other way.

Even when she was hiding from everyone and everything else, Kyoko knew that Yui would search for her.  Even when she knew that Yui would never find her.  She had, in fact, gone back for Yui – to Yui.

Matsuda’s disappearance is a clue in and of itself.

And all of this reasoning for her own motivations makes far more sense than the alternative.

(Makes more sense than believing that she might actually have loved Junko Enoshima, makes just as much sense as the idea that Junko Enoshima might once have loved her.)

((Might still love her.))

Her statement on Mukuro hating her not only stands but seems to be even more confirmed.  Regardless of whether she deserved the punch or not (she can’t remember that conversation yet), it’s still true that the Ultimate Soldier punched her.  In the face.  And split her lip.  That’s not even including the clear resentment Mukuro held for her when Junko chose Kyoko as her source of comfort after a bad day instead of Mukuro.  She could almost be convinced that she was feigning that hatred for Junko’s benefit, if not for the punch.

And now there’s the additional problem of Ryoko Otonashi.

After scrawling her new revelations next to the other six bullet points, Kyoko adds a seventh.

Junko lost her memory.  During that time, she became Ryoko Otonashi.  When she reverted back to herself, she claimed to have lost the memories of her time as Ryoko.

Kyoko stares at the bullet point.  Her intuition rings bells; something in this bullet point is wrong.

Multiple somethings.

Ryoko doesn’t seem to her like a split personality, like Toko and Jack, so it doesn’t make sense that Junko lost her memories when she regained the others.  Furthermore, it doesn’t make sense for Junko to have created a whole other personality when she lost her memories.  From Kyoko’s own lived experience, losing her memories didn’t change who she was, even though she’d lost so many of them.  She certainly hadn’t forgotten her own name or crafted a new one for herself.

Which means one of two things: either Junko faked everything involving Ryoko Otonashi (likely) or the name Junko Enoshima is something like a stage name for the person who is, beneath everything, actually Ryoko Otonashi (less likely).

Add to that the idea that Ryoko hadn’t remembered Mukuro but had remembered Matsuda—

She’s missing something.

Kyoko knows that she’s missing something.

She just doesn’t know – or can’t remember – what.

The waiting is the most infuriating part; Kyoko can’t know if it’s even in her memories until she recovers them all, and if it isn’t in her memories, then where would she—

Kyoko glances back to Junko’s ruined notebook, the one that contains echoes of the names Yasuke Matusda and Ryoko Otonashi.

There were two other notebooks.

Notebooks that Toko and Byakuya have.

Byakuya, who called Junko Kyoko’s girlfriend – as did Hina – and if they are recovering their memories the same way that Kyoko is recovering hers (and she can’t imagine why they wouldn’t), then it’s likely that they might be remembering things after her latest recovered memory – after the kisses that she will still pretend never happened unless she is required to acknowledge them – which means that—

“Kyoko?”

Junko’s voice breaks through her train of thought.  (It shouldn’t.  It’s too soft.  But it does, as if she’s been trained to it.)

Kyoko shoves her notebook under her pillow and turns back to where Junko still lies on her mattress, eyes still closed, still curled tight around that extra pillow.  She wonders, briefly, if Junko truly needs the other pillow, if she always needs to be wrapped so tightly around something – or someone – to sleep.

But that’s not important.  Not right now.  Maybe not ever.

Still.

Without thinking, Kyoko reaches out and sweeps loose strands of Junko’s hair back from her face, gingerly tucking them back behind one ear.  Her fingers brush gently along Junko’s face – quite by accident – and for a moment, she allows herself to live in this muscle memory, to remember, to consider.  It isn’t that she forgets, exactly.  It’s only that, in this moment, she unintentionally shoves one set of memories aside for another.

(She doesn’t want to kiss Junko.  Looking at her, she remembers it, longs for it, almost, but can’t put words to the longing, can’t identify it as what it is.)

Junko hums at her touch, buries her head into her pillow with an embarrassed smile, and then relaxes as she murmurs a muffled, “Love you, too.”

Kyoko shivers.

(Best not to think about any of that right now.)

~

“It’s done soaking,” Junko says within so many minutes of waking as she pulls Kyoko’s still ink-stained button-up out from the bowl they’d set it in and holding it up to the light.  She scans the shirt, nose wrinkling with the scent of the concoction she’d set it in, and then glances over her shoulder to meet Kyoko’s eyes.  “Laundry date?”

Kyoko shivers again when Junko calls it a date, but she pretends again that she doesn’t.  Instead, she gives a little nod.

It’s been a week.  She isn’t Junko with her extra room full of all the clothes a fashionista could ever possibly need; she’s a detective who, yes, has nice clothes, but only in a small, modest, set amount.  She needs the laundry “date” more than Junko does.

Maybe that’s the point.

~

Junko sets a wide array of clothes into the washer – mixing a few of her own shirts in with Kyoko’s, talking about specific techniques to make sure the colors don’t fade over the infinite years they will likely still be living in this building (until they, too, die) – and then drags one of the metal chairs over to the low table in the middle of the room.  She scowls when she sees her magazines left there.  “Mukuro was supposed to get rid of these.  Such a disappointment.”

And again, that shiver down Kyoko’s spine.  Disappointment was what she called Mukuro.  How much of what Junko says is just a thinly veiled reference to things from their past, things Junko remembers and Kyoko is only slowly recovering?  How much is she still missing?

Is this all a joke to her?

(Of course, it is.  Junko is playing her, playing with all of them, just the same as she always is – always has.  They might no longer be in a Killing Game, but they’re still in another sort of Game all the same.)

Kyoko picks up the top magazine and leafs through the pages.  If Junko’s discussion of time is correct, then this should be within the last few months before they’d locked themselves away, within the last few months before the Tragedy.  She scans the other articles; there’s nothing in the magazine to suggest that something so horrible, so awful, so tragic and despair-inducing was on the horizon.  Even Junko’s interview seems normal.  Everything seems normal.

Her eyes narrow as she reads.

KK: So!  We noticed a small mark on your neck.  What is that about? JE: Oh, this old thing?  She giggles and places a hand over the discoloration, cheeks flushed with embarrassment.  It’s nothing, really! KK: Does the infamously single Junko Enoshima finally have a boyfriend? JE: It’s nothing like that!  She plays coy, but her frustrated expression tells us everything!  I just got in a fight with my sister the other day.  You know how girls are! KK: We sure do!  He waggles his eyebrows.

“It’s my least favorite interview,” Junko interrupts, one leg crossing over the other.  She rubs the nail of her forefinger along the inseam of her thumb.  “Just another one about boys and dating and all that shit.  They always ask the same fucking questions.  It’s so fucking boring.”

But Kyoko isn’t listening to Junko.  She’s examining the picture where the editors have circled the mark on Junko’s neck in bright red, pointed an arrow at it, and written the words LOVE BITE????? next to it in bright pink googly letters.

Just like the sort Junko writes in.

All of a sudden, she feels sick.  She doesn’t want to ask.  She needs to ask.

“Junko,” Kyoko says, hesitates, then forces herself to continue, “where did that mark come from?”

Junko shrugs.  “I don’t remember,” she says without hesitating, without even looking over to see what mark Kyoko means.  “That was a long time ago.”

Blue raspberries.

Kyoko looks up from the magazine and, despite wanting to do anything else, meets Junko’s eyes.  “Please.  Be honest with me.  For once in your life, be honest with me.”

“I’m always honest with you, Kyokyo,” Junko lies.  Her head tilts to one side, and she examines Kyoko, blue-grey eyes piercing and suddenly clinical.  She taps her chin with one finger.  “But if you’re so uncertain,” she murmurs, reaching into her pocket as though to grab out a pair of fake glasses, “then perhaps you finally remember—”

Junko cuts herself off abruptly and glances up, fingers empty, face lighting up and lips curving into the most excited grin.  “Toko!” she says, looking beyond Kyoko to the other girl.  “My favorite author!  It’s just such a pleasure to see you again!”  She nods towards something Kyoko can’t yet see.  “Byakuya has you doing his clothes again, I see.”

Kyoko doesn’t look over her shoulder, can’t hear anything Toko says over the sudden roaring in her ears.  Her hands rest on her knees, clench them tight as though the pain of it will ground her in this moment and not in the thousand and one images that Junko’s words and her own memories and the magazine in her lap want her to acknowledge.  It’s only when Junko crouches in front of her and looks up into her face, waving her hand in front of her eyes a few times, that she slowly – slowly – comes to.

“Kyokyo?”  Junko reaches out and takes her hand in hers.  “You’re not hallucinating again, are you?”  Her brow furrows.  “You shouldn’t be.  You’ve been getting enough sleep.  You…you haven’t stopped sleeping again, have you?”

But having Junko’s hand holding her own startles Kyoko so much that she jumps away and stands upright, the magazine falling to the checker-tiled floor, the metal chair falling with a much louder clank behind it.  “Don’t touch me,” she whispers (and pretends to ignore the way Junko’s face falls, to ignore the way Junko looks hurt, to ignore the way that she, herself, feels pain at causing the woman who masterminded the horror they just went through pain.)

“Kyoko?”  Hina’s voice now.  Behind her.  “Are you okay?”

She’s causing a scene.

She knows she’s causing a scene.

She doesn’t mean to cause a scene.  She means to figure out everything that’s going on – everything that was going on – to put the pieces together, just like Junko—

Bile creeps up the back of her throat.

“I need a break.”

Kyoko speaks as clearly as she can, loudly enough that the others should hear her, and turns away from Junko, towards Hina.  She meets Hina’s deep blue eyes – brighter than the blue-grey of Junko’s but still darker, the ocean at its best when it reflects the clear sky above, not when it reflects storms slowly growing on the horizon – and reads the worry there.  The concern.

Maybe her assumptions about the others are wrong.

For all that Byakuya might believe that she voted to keep them all here, maybe the others…maybe Hina….

“I need a break,” Kyoko repeats, softer, not to Junko or to Toko or to anyone else but to Hina, who’d reached her own breaking point within twenty-four hours of being around Junko, who has to understand.  “Can you….”  She swallows, hesitates, corrects herself.  “Will you keep an eye on her for me?”

She doesn’t need to specify who.

They know.

Hina nods, expression growing firm, hands clenching into fists in front of her.  “I’ve got you.”  She doesn’t say, Take as long as you need, although Kyoko can hear it clearly, some memory pulling forth from the back of her mind that sets it to screaming with how much it itches, but that, of course, makes sense.  Junko’s….

Junko’s Junko.

“Thank you.”  Kyoko pats Hina’s shoulder as she walks off.  “I’ll return for her later.”

She doesn’t look back as she leaves, doesn’t want to see the expression she knows is on Junko’s face, the pain she has caused.  She knows it well enough.  Hates that she knows it well enough.  (Hates that she also somehow knows she’s never been the one to cause it before, hates that she cares about that even now.)

As she wraps her arms around herself, Kyoko considers that she’s given Junko another taste of despair, that for all Junko might be in pain, she’s likely enjoying this, and begins to laugh.

[anonyg]

I'll try to land down my own thoughts for a moment. This might be the longest writing I've ever done in my life speaking about myself. I think I'm in the right spot right now to talk about myself, to talk the way I am, without any filter nor bias. Sat down, typing stuff on my phone, letting my thoughts and concerns dissipate without anyone worrying or without overthinking of the "what if *she* reads this". A dedicated moment to write my unadulterated feelings.

It's quite rough to understand what I want right now. My biggest impulse is to simply text her: ask what she's doing, ask what she's planning. Having something to say, or a slither of hope to come back crawling and give her a new chance... or rather, give myself a new chance. An aspiration to cling onto, something else to chew on than the feeling of "what can I possibly do now". I want to also give this some time, although I don't really want to specify on an specific date, I would like to give it 2 or 3 weeks, ending my exams, and see what she's up to. If her feelings have changed, if she's fallen in love with someone else again. God knows I won't ever do, how much I despise people aside from her, yet without having her, those feelings haven't changed. I... really didn't plan for that to change either, yet I felt like it would change by a bit. Maybe I need some more time to digest it, maybe that's all we need. But I don't feel like wanting to love again. I don't feel like pouring my energy and soul to meet another romantic partner, I don't feel like I need it. Yet I aspire a hug: a kiss, reassurance, someone that tells me "it's worthwhile to push forward. It's worthwhile to be yourself, I'll be here with you, and I want you to know your own place and identity". I'm not even sure if that's literally and specifically what I want someone to tell me, but I want to talk to someone that reaches to my heart and pulls me out of these shallow hole that I can easily get out of someone lends me a hand. I'm insecure to ask for help, my fingers are writing on its own, yet everything feels coherent, like it builds itself like a puzzle. The pieces are falling in place, yet I'm not sure how big this puzzle is. I'll keep writing.

I asked for a therapy session for next week with my therapist. I feel like I have many things planned already: 5 video projects, wanting to adopt the Class of 09 Wiki, giving myself some time to tell my girlfriend's mother about our breakup and still expressing that I want to meet her. Because, even if we remain as a couple or not, I *do* want to meet her. I don't want to throw my parents' efforts to get money and make me happy away for a breakup. This is a new chapter of my life, that trip will mark that and align my aspirations and desires from there. Meeting her, getting her feel, her vibe, feeling her touch, I want to know everything from her to know what I want now that I've finally experienced something that isn't sexual abuse. Perhaps I'm doing this to find some hope in my life, or giving this trip too much credit and importance to figure out where I want to go next, and that I should start acting right now. I just don't have the motivation to do that. I'm scared of being alone again.

I took a quick restroom break and realized how this writing is pretty much the perfect objectification of my own thoughts. How it feels everytime I let my thoughts spiral out of control. When I'm depressed or anxious, all of this is negativity. Bad things about myself, about my life, "fuck people", "fuck everything I'll be better than them", minimizing myself and then everyone else in the process. This is my cycle. This is what I do when I feel wrong or when something doesn't quite fit in my life. Whatever my life is, anyway. There's so much I want to do, like I've said, and it's hard to give myself the structure I'm so used to. I want to plan things, sort everything out; work my way out of this, without doubting myself. I actually want to structure this, map it out. I'll do it after I finish writing this, which might take me a while. So far, this is working wonders, and I feel my anxiety and nervousness decreasing swiftly but steadily. A rhythm I appreciate, which I don't get to have more often, at least with my mental health and emotional well-being.

[staminapills]

I am a Single Parent; I Didn’t Have the Luxury of Dealing with Depression – Why

I am worried about this condition; because this is a very rare condition, it often comes to me at night, when my little girl is in bed. It came when my computer shut down, my work stopped, the lights went out, and I fell asleep.

When the suffocating waves of sadness and loneliness hurt the most, they come over me again and again, threatening to drag me down and drown me in my own tears. I have experienced depression before. But in my adult life, it was definitely the toughest confrontation I’ve ever experienced.

Of journey, I knew why I was sad. Life had become difficult, confusing and scary. A friend had taken his own life, and everything else went downhill from there. It seemed like all my relationships were falling apart. Old wounds in my family were coming to the surface. The one I believed would never leave me just disappeared. And it all piled up on me in such a way that I couldn’t take it anymore.

If it hadn’t been for my daughter, standing on the ground in front of me as the waves threatened to pull me under; I honestly don’t believe I would have survived.

However, not surviving was not an option. As a single mom, I didn’t have the luxury of being broke. I had no option to break. What can I do in these situations?

I Overcame Depression for My Daughter – Why and How?

I know that’s why depression affects me the most at night because that’s when I’m alone.

During the day, I had someone who was completely dependent on me. There were no other parents waiting while I worked through my grief. There was just a little girl, who I love more than anything in this world, trusting me to keep her together.

So I tried my best. Every day was a struggle. I had limited energy for anything else. But for this, I pushed every ounce of my strength to the surface. I can’t believe I was the best mom during those months. I was definitely not the mother she deserved. But I forced myself out of bed day after day. Start a new journey this time.

I went to the floor and played with it. I took us on a mother-daughter adventure. I fought the fog to show up again and again. I did it all for him. In some ways, I think being a single mother has saved me from the darkness.

Forcing myself to return to regular treatment, even when finding the hours to do so seemed impossible. Getting on the treadmill was a daily battle with me, the one thing that managed to clear my mind forever—even when I wanted to hide under my sheets. Reaching out to friends, admitting how far I had fallen, and slowly rebuilding the support system I had unwittingly destroyed in my mist.

This is mental strength –

My position has been discussed in depth here.

There were baby steps, and it was hard. In many ways it was difficult because I was a mother.

Time for self-care seemed more limited than ever. But that voice was also whispering in my head, reminding me that this little girl I called mine was counting on me.

That voice was not always kind. There were moments when my face was wet with tears and I looked in the mirror only to hear a voice say, that’s not strength, that’s not the woman you want your daughter to see.

Sensibly, I knew the sound was wrong. I knew that sometimes even the best moms break down and it’s okay for our kids to see us struggle.

I wanted to be better for my daughter because a single mom doesn’t have the luxury of a breakup. That voice in my head was always loud enough to remind me how deeply I was failing in my role every time I let those tears fall. To be clear, I spent a lot of time in therapy talking about this voice.

Bottom Line –

Life is hard. If you had asked me a while ago, I would have told you that I had it all figured out. I would have told you that the pieces of my life came together like pieces of a puzzle and everything was as happy as I could have imagined. But I’m not perfect. I never will. I have experienced anxiety and depression. When things get tough, I break down.

Luckily, I also have the ability to extricate myself from these traps. I’ve done it before. I know if I get pulled down again, I’ll do it again. I will pull myself up for both of us – for my daughter. I would do it for my family. Bottom line: I’m a single mom, and I don’t have the luxury of being broke. It is good that I will try to do better.

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[shirecorn]

how about 17 and 24? what inspires you and how do you deal with art block?

Long post warning.

Art block...

I don't actually get art block, which is probably a combination of neurodivergence and drawing every day for the last 3 years

I wrote an entire tutorial about how to do that, but didn't feel like illustrating it. Would people want to read it even without visuals?

Maybe... I'll just start rambling.

There's a couple different types of art block, and it's really just a philosophy puzzle to get past them. I'm going to assume that the things I think of slow days, or art mud, is a milder form of art block and work through that.

Art block is a symptom, not a disease. You probably have something deep inside that you don't want to face, or don't know how. Sometimes you need to discover the cause, sometimes just power through.

Method 1: Rest

Let yourself just Exist. The act of consuming art is part of the process. Watching shows and playing games, taking a break and going gardening or focus on school. This is what you need for burnout-induced art block.

Method 2: Action

I always choose action, sometimes it means a tiny 2 min sketch per day. Ugly or super simplified. As long as I don't stop moving.

Toss everything. Start every piece thinking you will throw it away.

The act of drawing moves you forward; pinning it to the fridge does not. Don't work things until they are perfect. Work them until they are there.

Art block causes and solutions:

- No Inspiration

Not sure what to draw, nothing seems appealing. Art won't come out like it used to.

Do studies from life or photos. Sketch, paint, digital, traditional, doesn't matter. Rocks, fruit, figure drawing, landscapes, buildings, anything.

Study and copy professional's work. Old masters are best, like rubens, michalangelo (only his men tho) etc because they will teach you anatomy while you work. If you copy someone with a lot of flaws, you will repeat those flaws.

Trace to learn, not to earn. Trace photography and art from anyone you want. Don't post it unless you have the artist's permission or they are dead, whichever comes first. This is strictly work for yourself, on yourself. It's not about the finished drawing.

Find an artist with a fun style and try converting stuff into their style. Don't make that your new style though and especially don't start selling it. Your style is a chimera of everyone you love, not a clone of one person.

Take blurry photos. You don't need a fancy camera or good skills or beautiful subjects. Doing studies from your own photos can spark life into your workflow.

Make challenges for yourself. Randomly generate things to combine. Try fusing characters! Don't try to make it look good, just be fun.

Doodle patterns, swirls, lines, random stuff. Try looking up art warmups and doing some of those.

- Everything Sucks

You finally see how bad you are. Or somehow you got worse. Every piece is a fight and you spend hours trying to get something right only for it to be stiff and disgusting and STILL wrong.

Why are you trying to draw good? It's enough just to draw.

Accept that your art is bad. Every artist can see flaws in their work. Your problem is that those flaws outweigh anything remotely worthwhile and hurt to look at.

So what? You're in a period of growth, not a period of production. Keep that wonky second eye. Let them have hot dog fingers.

Show everyone! Show no one! No piece of art can ever be a reflection of the artist. Not their worth, not their skill. The only thing your art says about you is "Held and moved a pen for a bit."

Make bad art. It's ok. Most of the time, the pressure to perform and get things Right is what made them wrong in the first place. Relax.

- No Motivation

The #1 killer of artists everywhere. On some level you think you should draw, on every other level you think you should stay in bed.

You are not lazy. You wouldn't have read this far in a post about art block if you were lazy. You wouldn't CALL it art block if you were lazy. Laziness is wishing you didn't have to do anything. A block is wishing you were doing something. If you think you can namecall Yourself into productivity again, you're wrong and You need to unionize so that you don't treat You like that anymore.

Consider Mental Illness. Losing interest in something that brought you joy can be a symptom of depression. I know it seems obvious, but if you're waiting for a sign that it's "bad enough," it's bad enough. Seek care if you have the means. Forgive yourself if you already know this.

Selfcare. Examine yourself for neglect. Nutrition, exercise, enrichment, social need, and sleep are all part of the art process. Eat three meals and sleep 8 hours. That's your gaymer fuel. You deserve it, I promise. Depriving yourself of your needs will make your blocks worse, not kick you into making them better.

Identify potholes. Sketchbook falling apart? Tablet cord frayed? Half your pencils missing? Chair uncomfortable? Desk hard to reach? There's a lot of things that you tell yourself to work around and get over. Just because you CAN workaround something, doesn't mean you SHOULD. A difficult work environment can cause secret dread deep inside that you don't recognize and just think you're lazy. What you think of as "no motivation" might actually be "I don't want to deal with my tablet disconnecting every time I move it wrong and I have to wiggle it for a few seconds to make it work again." These little things are like potholes in the road. Sure you CAN still drive through them, but eventually you're going to look up and realize you haven't voluntarily left the house in weeks.

Repair potholes and roadblocks. You might feel bad about buying a new pencil, headphones, tablet, car, etc because technically the old one works if you hustle. But if you're running into so many potholes you've ground to a halt, it doesn't Actually work anymore, does it? Invest, save up, request, and require working equipment and suitable conditions. This stuff isn't just cushy privilege, it's an investment in yourself and your art. You are worth the effort it takes to clear the way. If you can't afford reliable (reliable! not perfect or luxurious) equipment, then say it. If cardboard is all you can afford, draw on cardboard. But know that you deserve canvas, and one day you might be able to make the jump. Acknowledge that sometimes, if you don't have it in you to smear burned twigs on wet cardboard, the problem isn't motivation, but opportunity.

- Haven't Drawn in So Long

A unique type of art block that self perpetuates. The thought of starting again is so stressful you can't do it. Or maybe you'll do it tomorrow. Yeah. Tomorrow for sure.

Face your fears. Are you ashamed of your lack of drawing? Are you anthropomorphizing your paper and thinking it's going to judge you, like "oh NOW you come back >:/" I internalize voices I hear and project them onto other people, concepts, locations, and inanimate objects. Your paper, computer, WIPs folder.... none of that is judging you.

Reframe your WIPs. Do you feel shame when you see "unfinished" projects? Why? Who says you MUST bring everything you start to Finish? You don't have to. A sketch is a finished art piece; it's called a sketch! If a sketch is a fully realized creation, pages that are half colored, 75% lined, or partially rendered are all fully realized creations too. Unless paid otherwise, art is done when you're done working on it.

Lower the stakes. Draw a chibi or grab some crayons. Get messy and slowly ease yourself back into the flow over the course of a couple days. It's fine.

Get a buddy! Find an art meme, do an art trade, get a study subject, or just wing it. Drawing art alongside someone can help you get past that block.

Pretend you never stopped. Don't think about the gap, how long it's been, or rustiness. As far as anyone knows, you drew the mona lisa yesterday and didn't break a sweat. Today, you drew a starfish on your hand with a gel pen. Keep up that streak, good job!

Just keep drawing. Make a goal to do one sucky drawing per day on the back of a napkin. Don't make up for missed days, just pretend they didn't happen. Who's going to judge you? The calendar? That's pieces of paper; it doesn't have an opinion. Draw a cat on it. Done. Keeping up the momentum is a great way to prevent art blocks in the future.

TLDR: Draw imperfectly and toss it. Selfcare is king. Draw often and don't judge yourself.

Art is a process, not a product.

[redpandaramblings]

Like Caramel For Chocolate- An Omega Bakugou x Alpha f!Reader fic. Part 6

Part 1 Here

Next part Here

Content Warning: Negative headspace, omegaverse, self deprecation, depressive thoughts, pushy parental figures, ambiguous omegaverse reproduction, unhealthy relationships, relationship that could be easily fixed if idiots would use their words and communicate, Shinso/Denki side relationship, Bakugou is a dumbass but so is y/n

Where we left off-

Before Bakugou could reply, the jeweler came back into the room and handed Denki a piece of paper.

“All right sir, here is your receipt! Your ring should be ready in three days.”

“Thanks.” Denki shoved the receipt into his pocket, quickly making his way to the door. “See you around Bakubro. Don't want to be late for my shift.” The door closed behind him with a bang.

Bakugou wasn’t annoyed though. Now he could pick out the perfect ring for Y/N and not worry about Kaminari being nearby. Everyone knows Kami can’t keep a secret to save his life.

“I don’t know how much longer I can keep all of this a secret.” Denki moaned into his hands. He was sitting with his head buried in his arms. Y/N reached across the table and gently petted his hair.

“I know what you mean, but I don’t think either of us are in a good position to start telling people.”

Y/n and Denki sat in a secluded corner of a dimly lit cafe. Both of them had this time free and both of them definitely needed to talk. They stood a lot less chance of anyone asking questions if they were just two friends getting lunch instead of them privately going to each other’s apartments.

Denki looked up, giving Y/N a wide eyed expression. “I know, but I wasn’t expecting Bakugou to show up when I was dropping off that abomination of a ring! I just was lucky the jeweler had already taken it to the back. You were right by the way, that thing is absolutely horrendous. Like, was the designer blind?”

Y/N snorted. “From what I’ve heard, great great grandpappy had a lot more money than brains and wanted to impress his omega by shoving as many stones onto a ring as possible.”

“No kidding. I think it can be seen from space.”

“Very likely.” Y/N chuckled before slumping back into her seat with a sigh. “Though I might have an idea about what Bakugou was doing there.”

“Wait, seriously?”

Y/N nodded with a sigh. “Yeah. When I got back he invited me to the summer festival. I’d forgotten about it.”

“Ah shit, yeah. Isn’t that your guys' anniversary?”

“Yep.” Y/N sighed, rubbing her forehead. “Of course he had to pick this time to actually celebrate. We haven’t gone or done anything… God, I think since he became a hero.”

“So you think he was getting a gift.” Denki sat back as the server came, placing your orders in front of each of you. You both murmured your thank yous and waited until the server was out of earshot before resuming your conversation.

“Yeah, he had to have been. Makes me feel terrible, but there wasn’t a good time to… Well…”

Y/n gestured between herself and Denki.

“Tell him that you’ve been betrothed to an omega of much superior looks, breeding, and manners?”

You gave Denki a little kick under the table as he cackled. He grinned cheekily as he poked at his food. “Sorry. Humor is my coping mechanism. I get it though. Timing sucks all the way around.”

You nodded, sighing and taking a bite of your own food. “Can’t say anything during his heat. Then his schedule was swamped, and I had to sort things out with you. Then bam, anniversary that for some reason he decided to remember this year.”

Denki snorted, popping a bite into his mouth. “That’s about the long and the short of it. And we haven’t even begun to figure out how to tell everyone we’ve not only accepted arranged betrothals, but that we’re engaged to each other.”

“I don’t know, I was kind of hoping we could just move to Tahiti and never speak to our former friend groups ever again?”

“A valid possibility. But that means we’d have to learn French and maybe Tahitian. You know I only passed English because Hitoshi and his dad coached me.”

“Fair point.” You sighed heavily. “But I’m really not looking forward to these conversations.”

“They have to happen though. You might have some anonymity to hide behind, but I’d rather my friends not find out about our engagement when they see an article about Chargebolt getting married.”

“Really?” You smirked slightly. “Then you’re going to tell everyone at your agency, hmm?”

Denki kicked you under the table. “Shut up!”

You poked at your food again as the smile fell from your lips. “So… Did you get a chance to think about what I sent you?”

Kaminari nodded. “Yeah. And I hate to say it, but I think you’re right.”

“I thought about it a lot. I hate to leave the area, but it would be too awkward to stay here after everything.”

A few days ago you had sent Denki an email with a list of places that had job openings that would suit both of you. You both loved where you lived, but after everything, how could you stay? There’s no way the two of you could continue to keep living in the same apartment building as Bakugou. That would be cruel. Cruel to whom you didn’t quite want to think about. You spoke up again.

“Any place catch your eye?”

Kaminari nodded. “I was kind of thinking Okinawa. I have a few connections there. Decent distance from here and from our parents. And that would probably be the easiest transition.”

“Works for me.” You said, as if it wasn’t ripping your heart out to do this. It hurt. But it had to happen. In the end, you had to believe this was what was best for everyone. It might take some time, but this was it. This was what would make everyone happy in the long run.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shinsou was worried. Denki had been acting odd. And that’s saying something. The blond omega was usually loud and bubbly, the life of the agency. At least once a week, he invited Shinsou out for drinks, meals, clubs, karaoke, or some other nonsense. But ever since he’d gotten back from his three day leave, Kaminari had been acting strange. When he thought no one was looking, he was quiet. Withdrawn. Like he was puzzling out the toughest problem of his life.

Denki having a problem? Pretty typical. Denki having a problem and not talking to Shinsou about it? Pretty unusual. The blond had always come to the purple haired alpha with even the simplest of problems. Apartment searches, furniture assembly, what support items would suit his quirk best, even things like what to get from Starbucks. And even though he might groan and roll his eyes, secretly Hitoshi loved every second of it. When he had helped by digging through websites, cobbling together a rickety shelf, or reminding Denki that he always got the most cloyingly sweet items on the menu; Hitoshi got to pretend that he was Denki’s alpha.

Shinsou wasn’t sure exactly when he had fallen in love with Denki. Probably had been since high school at least. His dad had warned him against loud blonds while his father had laughed. But he couldn’t help it. Kaminari had been one of the first people to enthusiastically believe in him. Had always sought him out and wormed his way into Shinsou’s life and heart. And now Shinsou couldn’t understand it, but Denki was pulling away. Even as he watched the blond who was typing up a report on his computer, it somehow felt like Kaminari was slipping right through his fingers.

Shinsou cleared his throat. Kaminari glanced up. “Yeah man? What’s up?”

“You doing okay, Denks? You’ve seemed a little out of it.”

Denki met his eyes, startled, then quickly glanced away. “Yeah. Yep! Totally fine.”

“Denki. I know you.”

Kaminari sighed and slumped on his desk. “Just some life stuff. Family stuff. Friend stuff.”

Shinsou frowned, walking over to place a hand on Denki’s shoulder. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

Denki snorted and laughed quietly. Shinsou furrowed his brows.

“Yeah” Denki sighed. “I know. But half of it isn’t really my stuff to tell and the other half isn’t exactly worth talking about.”

“You sure? We could go grab one of your obnoxiously sweet coffees after work. Go to mine or yours, watch an old crappy horror.”

“Tempting. Thanks man. I would, really, but I got some stuff I have to do after work. Some other time maybe.”

Shinsou frowned. It was rare for the omega to turn down an invitation for a movie night. Hell, it was rare for Denki to turn down an invitation, end stop. It made him even more worried about his omega… friend. His omega friend. His friend who just so happens to be an omega. Hitoshi closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He really didn’t want to ruin the best friendship he had. But he couldn’t keep this up much longer. His alpha had decided on the electric blond long ago, and the omega’s unusual behavior and unhappy scent was driving him wild with the need to protect. He really needed to pull himself together and confess soon.

“Well, whenever you’re free then,” Shinsou said, reluctantly letting his hand fall from Denki’s shoulder. “You know my number.”

Denki nodded and looked up, giving him half a smile. “I do. Thanks Shinsou.”

Shinsou walked back to his desk, his mind made up. He needed to tell his omega how he felt, and soon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N twisted and turned, looking at herself in the mirror. It had been a very long time since she’d worn a yukata. It didn’t feel right to dress up like this. But wearing anything else also felt wrong. Everything about this date felt wrong. Like this was the kind of she she did in another life. And now here she was, going on a date with the man she loved. Who she’d always love. And who she’d already decided she was going to let go.

Y/N snorted and fussed with her hair a bit. Maybe she should have just refused this date. Claimed to be sick or something. But that felt wrong too. So, she just had to get through tonight. After all, what’s one more night of pretending everything is fine? Hopefully this could be a good memory from a relationship that just wasn’t meant to be. After tonight, she’d wait a couple days and then talk to Bakugou and let him go like he clearly wanted.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Katsuki was going to throw up.

He was going to throw up, right here, all over himself and all over shitty hair, too. His red headed friend was giving him a pep talk as he helped Bakugou into his jinbei. Not that Bakugou needed the help. Or the pep talk. It just was easier to let the squad come over when they had found out about his date. It’s not like he wanted them there or anything. Once Kiri, Mina, and Sero realized he was going to use this date to ask Y/N to be his mate, they had insisted on helping him get ready.

None of them knew about the little velvet box in his pocket and that his plans went further than just asking Y/N to be his mate. Bakugou bit his lip to keep from frowning as he looked over his friends, a certain loud blond conspicuously missing. You wouldn’t hear Katsuki admit it out loud, but he really wished Denki could have been here. He loved the others, and they were great in their own ways. But Denki was his pack’s other omega. He got it in a way that the others didn’t. After tonight, he’d have to make sure to catch Pikachu up on all the news. Hell, maybe he could help his fellow blond finally talk to that purple haired idiot he’d been mooning over for years. Everyone in the pack knew Denki’s family had been harping at him to settle down for quite a while.

Bakugou looked up in time to see Mina coming at him with the hair grease. He threw up his hands.

“Fuck no! Keep that shit away from me!”

“You’ve got to do something about that pile of straw you call a haircut. Besides, Wouldn’t it be nostalgic? Weren’t you interning for Best Jeanist again when you asked Y/N out the first time?”

“Yes, and I’d rather shave myself bald than ever have my hair like that again!”

Mina sighed. “Fine. We’ll do something else. But if I can’t slick it back, you will be wearing eyeliner!”

“IN YOUR DREAMS, PINKY!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You waited outside the entrance to the festival. It was strangely soothing to watch the people flow by, like you were a rock overlooking a stream. There were groups of friends, couples both young and old, families where the laughing children ran ahead of their parents eager to get inside. You gave a small smile at the last. Maybe that could be you someday, a parent getting to see a festival through the eyes of a child again. Though the mental picture was hazier than it used to be. The children you half imagined just blurs of colorful yukatas, instead of loud and stubborn blond haired brats with their father’s eyes and attitude. You huffed a quiet laugh to yourself as a thought occurred to you. If you and Kaminari actually went through with this plan, decent chance the kids would still be blond. The thought hurt a little.

“Y/N!”

You looked up and had the breath knocked out of your lungs.

Katsuki was beautiful. You knew it. Thought it often, even. But tonight he practically glowed. His hair had been tamed into a softer look than usual. The jinbei he wore was the perfect compliment to his skintone. Was that… Yes. Dark eyeliner made his crimson eyes pop. Your heart ached. You’d always love this man. No matter how it tore you apart, he’d always own part of your heart and soul. You smiled weakly and raised your hand in greeting.

“Hey. You look good.”

“Thanks.” Bakugou scratched the back of his head. “Mina got ahold of me.”

“That explains it then.”

“Hey!” Katsuki gently elbowed you in the side before taking his place next to you. “You saying I can’t dress up on my own?”

“Yes.”

“Y/N!” You dodged out of the way as he swatted at you, laughing. Yes. This could be it. One last good night.

“Shall we go in?” You asked, holding out your hand.

“That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?” Katsuki asked as he walked past you, ignoring your hand.

You gave a quiet smile as you followed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Katsuki picked at his food, none of it making it to his mouth. He was going to be sick. He was going to be sick right here and some paparazzi was going to see and take a picture and the big headline tomorrow was going to be “A Puke Worthy Proposal.” He was trying his best to keep up the illusion that everything was fine and normal, but it was rough. It had been a long time since he’d taken his alpha on even a normal date. And this wasn’t any normal date. It didn’t help that things were feeling forced and awkward.

He wanted to hold your hand, but his own hands were sweating buckets. He tried to keep up casual conversation, but that was getting harder and harder as the night wore on. Every sentence he wanted to just blurt it out and get it over with. It was impossible to keep talking about what vendors he recognized when all he wanted to say was “I love you and I’ll always love you and I want you by my side until the sun stops shining.”

It didn’t help that things felt awkward. Almost nothing was feeling easy or natural. It really had been far too long since the two of you had gone on any sort of date. He frowned as he thought about it. It had been over a year, at least. Longer, even. Well, he was going to have to fix that. He’d be able to use some of that pro hero paycheck and spoil you like you deserved. His Y/N. His mate. And soon, his wife.

Bakugou stared at nothing, his eyes going unfocus as he started daydreaming about how spectacular your wedding would be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This was a disaster. You glanced over to where Bakugou stood picking at his food, looking bored. You’d been trying to keep up the conversation, but for the past several minutes you’d only gotten hums or grunts in response to anything you said.

“It’s amazing how they got all those pro heroes to dance nude as one of the main attractions this year.”

Katsuki grunted.

Yeah, he wasn’t paying attention at all.

You sighed, looking down at your own untouched food. You never should have agreed to come. At least this date was proving it to you. This had to end. The two of you didn’t know how to be a couple anymore. It was even clearer that Katsuki wasn’t even interested in trying. You had no idea why he wanted to have this date in the first place. Some bizarre sense of obligation? Maybe his heat had shaken him up enough that his omega needed the sense of normalcy? This issue was this wasn’t normal for the two of you anymore. It hadn’t been for a very long time. You sighed, glancing around for a trash can to oust you untouched dango.

A loud pop caused you to look up. The fireworks were about to start.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bakugou looked up at the sound of the first firework.

“Wanna head to the pier?”

You nodded quietly, following him as he led the way. He was sweating so much now that if he set himself off he’d take out half the city.

This was it. It was almost time. The two of you were going to watch the fireworks from the out of the way pier like you had all those years ago. It was at the end of that fireworks show the two of you had had your first kiss. And this time… Well this time at the end of the show he was going to propose and you were going to say yes, and it was going to be perfect.

That is if he didn’t barf before you two got there.

“Hurry up,” he grunted as he picked up the pace.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You tried not to flinch at Bakugou’s harsh tone. He clearly wanted to get this night over with even more than you did. You tried not to let it hurt.

The pier was empty as it always was. The lack of lighting keeping others away. The first time you had discovered it, it had felt hidden and intimate. Now it felt desolate. Lonely.

You walked up to the railing and stared at the sky. The fireworks didn’t feel magical anymore either. Your fingers wrapped around the railing as you glanced to the side. Bakugou wasn’t even looking up. He was staring at the reflections of flashes in the dark swirling water below.

You couldn’t do this anymore.

No more.

The fireworks illuminated you as your grip on the railing tightened until your knuckles turned white.

“Katsuki?”

“”What?” He asked roughly, barely glancing your way.

“Let’s break up.”

And that was Part 6, my darlings! Hope you're enjoying the drama, because there's more angst on the way! You can scream at me about the cliffhanger in replies, reblogs, tags or asks. :P

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