#I’m a little heartbroken and life feels so incredibly bleak right now but I know it’ll get better one day

[plagued-by-visions]

Sometimes every year is one of those years where you need to look in the mirror and say “I am gonna make it through this year if it kills me” because one day there will be feasting and dancing. Maybe it’s not next year, but you need to keep making it so you can find out when it is.

[mappinglasirena]

Having seen the end of Picard season 2... are you okay?

That is an incredibly sweet thing to ask, thank you <3 (And sorry for only replying now, I always miss my Ask notifications 🙈)

Um...  a bit of personal stuff and some season 2 opinions after the cut.

I’m okay, mostly. It will probably come as no surprise to anyone following my main blog that the end of season 2 left me somewhat heartbroken.

This blog has never been about plot or character analysis (apart from the occasional Extrailervaganza), so I’m not going to go into it in too much detail here. At some point, I’ll probably do a full write-up on my main blog, but the main gist is that I fell in love with Star Trek: Picard because it was different from the other Trek shows. I loved the new, non-legacy characters, I love La Sirena with all my heart, and I thought their approach to examining the Federation and Starfleet from an outside perspective was daring and much needed. By contrast, season 2 felt very different to me. From the start, it skipped over a lot of character development and reconciliation with Starfleet, and it dropped us into a new status quo that, in my opinion, didn’t follow naturally from season 1. And the development of the season only widened this disconnect for me.

I am glad for everyone who found the ending of season 2 meaningful and who enjoyed the character arcs we saw this season. Opinions differ, and that is okay! Personally, I felt that while some of the endings fit the characters established in season 2, few of them felt like they worked for the versions of the characters we got in season 1. And since I already found the jump from season 1 to season 2 jarring, seeing these endings has left me feeling very disillusioned.

Again, I don’t begrudge anyone who enjoyed this season. There was a lot to enjoy, and I’m not here to tell you how you should read characters or which parts of the story you should prioritize. This is merely how I personally felt after watching season 2.

Unfortunately, this season finale has happened at a point in time where I really, really could have used something uplifting. There is a lot of stuff going on in my personal life right now that makes finding motivation to do anything creative or fannish very hard to begin with. So, while I was hoping to get through these weeks by leaning on a show that has given me so much joy in the past, I am instead left with (almost) all my favourite characters unceremoniously written out of the franchise. This might also be a reason my perspective is extra bleak at the moment. If I were in a better place, I would probably be writing fix-its or happily working on “Picard season 1.5″, i.e. “let’s build out the story for the characters we got in season 1″. Instead, I am finding it hard to get back into this world at all.

I’m sure I’ll get back to it in due time.

Season 2 gave us a ton of truly beautiful shots of La Sirena, as well as some fascinating new details to analyze and pick apart. And whatever you might think about the writing this season, you can’t argue that the people working on this show didn’t give it their all. The sets, the visual effects, the costuming, the acting - there were incredible amounts of pasison and skill on display in these ten episodes.

I want to honour all the hard work the various creators put into the season, and I want to celebrate the beauty they gave us. And eventually, I’ll get back to a place where I can do just that. I’m just not there yet.

My personal life should move into slightly calmer waters in a couple weeks or so (knock on wood), and then I think I’ll start a rewatch of season 1, to get back into the mood for exploration and mapping and squeeing over this stunning little world of ours. I will definitely discuss the season 2 version of La Sirena, both her prime-universe alterations and everything we know and learned about the CSS La Sirena in the alternate timeline. But I think my heart is always going to live on the season 1 version of this ship, captained by Cris Rios, with his crew of five unruly holograms, joined by a bunch of loveable misfits with deeply compelling characters.

On this blog, I probably won’t go into any discussions of my hangups with season 2 after this. For that, you will have to endure the chaos that is my main blog 😋 But if you give me a few weeks to recover and find my joy again, I’ll hopefully be able to return to celebrating our beloved little speed freighter and her Motley Crew. I’m already planning how to put my latest new hobbies (GIF-colour-grading and 2D animation, because why not?) to use to bring you all the stunning views and fascinating new info we got of La Sirena in season 2.

And in the meantime: My ask box remains open! I’ll try to keep more of an eye on it so I don’t miss any questions, but it’s definitely still open and I’m always happy to bring out the screenshot collection to answer questions! Yes, season 2 questions as well.

Which exit did Raffi and Rios use to drag [spoiler] off the ship after Agnes [spoiler]? Does CSS La Sirena have holo emitters throughout the ship? Did I actually say on twitter that we got confirmation of the bunk beds in the new crew quarters?

These questions and more will eventually get answered on this blog! But if you have a burning need to know about one of them now, don’t hesitate to drop me a line, and I’ll do my best to answer in something resembling a timely fashion. External motivation is always helpful when the intrinsic motivation has crumbled due to Life(tm).

I want to end this semi-coherent (and, of course, way too long) ramble by saying: I am so, so grateful for all the wonderful people I have met through this project and this show in general! Your enthusiasm and passion continues to inspire me and make me feel so happy to have embarked on this slightly insane adventure.

Whatever your opinions might be of season 2 or the writing of PIC in general, whether you’re a die-hard Starfleet fan who burst into tears at the sight of all the uniforms in episode 1, a casual fan who's just here for the compelling characters and stunning visuals, or a season 1 afficionado who feels disillusioned by the last few months and is looking for some remnants of the show you fell in love with to hold on to, I hope you will feel welcome here on this blog. Having all of you around really means a lot to me.

So, pull up a bench (or a crate, or go nick a chair from sickbay, I’m sure Emil won’t mind), grab some cake from the replicator, and join me in relaxing in the mess hall and having kind discussions, until I rebuild the energy to go running around this ship yelling about floor plates. There is always room for more ;)

[uncloseted]

MASSIVE TW - SUICIDE, DEATH, DIFFERENT TYPES OF SUICIDE EXETRA

i wanna die. i’m going to do this no matter what anyone says and nothing can change my mind. i’ve looked at family photos, talked to the few friends i have that don’t even care about me ect and nothing is changing the fact that i am going to kill my self and i’m sorry for asking you this i really am but do you think overdose or a hanging will be easier on not only me but it also who finds me

I’ve been thinking a lot about whether to answer this question, or how to answer this question, or what the right thing to say or do is.  I’m not a mental health professional.  I’m not a doctor, I’m not a therapist, or a counselor, or a social worker, or someone who studied psychology.  I’ve never even worked at a crisis hotline.  I’m just someone who listens to people talk about their problems on the internet and sometimes, if I can, tries to help.  But at the same time, I don’t want to be another person who you feel doesn’t care about you.  You may not believe it right now, but I do care.  I care about each and every one of you so very much, and I can’t stand the thought of any one of you suffering.  So I want to answer.  I want to be able to help.

First things first, please, please call a suicide crisis line (you can find your country’s crisis number here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_suicide_crisis_lines, and some also have a texting option).  The people who answer those calls are trained to be able to help you, and they’re an incredible resource.  They are always free and confidential.  You can also go to an emergency room (or call 911 for a person trained in suicide prevention to come to you) when you’re feeling suicidal; they’ll be able to get you counseling right away, and help you come up with a long term plan for feeling better.  If you can, I would also suggest talking to a family member, teacher, or other adult that you trust about what you’re feeling.  They can get you in touch with a therapist or doctor. 

Please consider seeking help. There are lots of different things that can help people who feel depressed or suicidal, and I think it’s worth giving them a chance. The worst that happens is the help doesn’t work and you’re back where you started.  The best that happens is you start seeing all the reasons there are to live, and you prevented yourself for making a permanent decision to a temporary problem.  And it is a temporary problem- one of the most common things that survivors of suicide say is that they immediately regretted it once they began their attempt.  Over 90% of people who have survived a suicide attempt don’t end up killing themselves later.  In my own life, I’ve seen this to be true- not a single one of my friends who have been suicidal still feel that way now.  None of them are even depressed; they’ve all found solutions that work for them, whether that’s lifestyle changes or therapy or SSRIs or experimental ketamine, shroom, MDMA, or TMS treatments.  Depression isn’t a state of being, a weakness, or a moral failing.  It’s a disease.  And just like any other illness, it deserves to be taken seriously and to be treated.  There is something out there that will work for you.  The situation is not hopeless, and you are not helpless.

I know it doesn’t seem like it now, because your depression is preventing you from being able to see the way out, but things can and will get better.  I know the world feels really bleak at this moment in time, but this time will pass.  The virus will end, the world will open up again, we’ll be able to go places and experience new things and meet new people who love us more than we’ve ever been loved before and fall in love and find people to care about and pursue passions and rebuild the world to be a better place.  Already, there is so much hope if you look for it.  The virus has shown the dark side of our world, yes, but it’s also shown how many people will make incredible sacrifices for the sake of others.  Even in the darkest of times, there are always people who care and who love. 

And there are always reasons to stay alive.  They don’t have to be big reasons.  They can be small, silly reasons, like wanting to see the next episode of a TV show you’ve been watching or a movie you saw a preview for, or wanting to go to the beach again, or that really good burger you had at the diner that’s closed for the next few months, or finishing that book you’ve been reading, or going to a concert for your favorite band, or staying up until the sunrise talking to someone you care about.  They can be big things, like wanting to finish a project or see a particular country or falling in love or helping other people.  Hell, they can even be petty.  Maybe there’s someone you want to prove wrong about you.  That’s enough to stick around for in my opinion.

To answer your actual question, the answer is neither, especially for the person who would find you.  That person will carry around that trauma for the rest of their lives.  They’ll feel heartbroken and guilty and wonder what they could have done differently to help you.  They’ll miss you.  There’s no way you can lessen that pain for them.  I’m not saying this to make you feel guilty; it’s just the truth of the situation, and I think it’s important for you to know that.

I dunno.  Like I said, I don’t really know what the right thing to say is.  But I really do care and hope that you’ll be okay.  I hope that you’ll give things another try.  I hope that I’ve helped you think about things differently at least a little bit.

[timenottwasted]

This is going to be tough, but here we go.

The reason I got a tumblr in the first place, was, simply put, because of Naya Rivera. I had just recently started Glee with a friend and I was immediately enamored by her. I was in high school, had a lot of free time, and spent the next few weeks catching up on all that I had missed so I could watch on TV with everyone else. But, I found myself constantly rewinding Naya’s clips; laughing at her lines and memorizing her performances. I related to her. At the time, I don’t think I truly knew the full-scope of why, but I knew that I did. I would come on tumblr and scroll through “#nayarivera” or “#santanalopez” for hours.

Her character made me feel something that I had never felt before, ever. She made me feel visible. Like someone finally saw me, for me. I related to her quick-wit, her constantly resorting to comedy— be it because she didn’t want to feel or she was feeling to much, and pretty much everything she did in between. Naya made her character everything I felt like I was. She was hard on the outside, but soft on the inside, and she felt everything deeply and passionately.

When her story line morphed into one about discovering her sexuality, I had a brief moment of panic. Soon, it absolved into something I could only describe as englightnement. She helped me understand parts of myself that, up until that point, I was petrified to admit.

Eventually, despite the hardcore fan that I was, I stopped watching. Never finished past the fourth season. I was growing up and moving on, and just wasn’t into it anymore. But I couldn’t let go of Naya for some reason. She felt like a part of me, if that makes sense. Even though I didn’t know her, it felt like she played such an integral part of my formative years. So, even though I was letting go of Glee, I couldn’t let go of her. I continued following her on social media, keeping up with her career, and rewatching some of my favorite moments of hers. I felt so much joy watching her transition into a new part of her life post-Glee. She seemed happy, and that made me happy. When she had her son, you could see the joy radiating off of her. Without ever being around her, you could just tell she was meant to be a mom. Her recent posts were full of so much happiness and love, it made me miss seeing her on TV, watching her sing and laugh. So, two weeks ago, I decided to start Glee all over. Figured it would give me a little seratonin boost with everything going on in the world.

When the news broke last week, the first thing I felt was numb. No tears, no panic... it was just complete and utter shock. I didn’t want to believe that there was even the slightest possibility that she was gone. I read the words “missing” and “presumed” and.... I held on to them. As horrible as they were, it was better than the alternative, harsh, and definitive reality that Naya Rivera could be dead. So, all week, I prayed. I combed through Twitter and news outlets obsessively to give me some slivers of hope. But every passing day it got worse. I was fighting back and forth with myself—— no updates means she still has a chance, but no updates also means her chances are getting more bleak. In the end, I decided on holding out hope until the very last second. Even after the news broke that they found a body this morning. I tried to tell myself that there was still a chance.

But if I’m being honest with myself, I knew. And I couldn’t come to terms with it. Quite honestly, I’m writing this post because I’m still struggling to. I got the confirmation that Naya was gone while I was at work today. Everything started moving in slow motion, and that’s when I really started to panic. I made an excuse that I had to run to the bathroom, and I ran. Right out of the room. I was alone, and it had never felt more painfully obvious than that before. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. A million thoughts were running through my mind and it felt as though I was trying to navigate a minefield. I thought of her beautiful son, her family and friends, her millions of fans, all of the memories that she left behind and those she would miss out on making....... and selfishly, I thought of myself. I thought of how I got there and why I was feeling the way that I was.

It felt like a small piece of who I am, died today. And I know, it sounds dramatic. Painfully so. I’m not an over-the-top person. I wasn’t running fan accounts or messaging her everyday. I wasn’t doing anything, which is kind of my point. I was just simply enjoying being in a world where Naya was existing at the same time I was. It brought me comfort having her as a constant. I would see posts on Instagram of her smiling and loving life and I was reminded of why I loved her so much in the first place, and what little impacts she had on me along the way. I never thought there would be a time where we didn’t exist together, apart.

And now we’re here. She’s gone, forever, and I’m trying to understand. Naya presumably has no clue the profound affect she had on me, as I’m sure is the case with millions of others. And that makes me more sad than I could possibly articulate. I feel, for lack of a better word, gutted. There’s this constant heaviness in my chest and it’s crushing and all-consuming. I don’t feel like myself, and I can’t possibly imagine what it feels like for those who were close to her.

I wish I could have thanked her for everything she has given me. But if I think about it, there are no words that I could possibly come up with that could accurately convey it all. Naya was so many things. She was breathtaking, talented beyond comprehension, kind, and an outstanding mother.

I’m writing this post, mostly for myself. Hoping to get some sort of closure and to remind myself, and anyone who might come across this, that it’s okay to grieve. I strugggled with whether or not what I’ve been feeling today made sense, because I’m feeling everything SO intenstly. But the fact is, I’m feeling it no matter what. No one can tell you how to process or how to navigate this incredibly tragic loss.

I truly don’t think I’ll ever get over Naya’s death completely. As time goes on, I know it will hurt less and less, but it’s going to be there regardless.

Naya Rivera changed my life. She helped shape me into the person I am today, and brought me closer to being able to love myself as I am. That being said, I’m heartbroken. I feel like the world was robbed of an exceptional person..... talent, charisma, laughs, and love. It brings me comfort knowing that Naya lives on through her son. The ultimate sacrifice she made for his safety is gut-wrenching, but speaks volumes about her as a person and mother.

Naya, all I can say is, thank you. You are so loved, and your legacy will live on far beyond today. Rest peacefully.

[bucci-gang]

you asked for it kiddo... do you have any la squadra backstory hc's? (i saw it in one of your tags don't try and hide it 👀)

oHHHHH!!!!!! THANK YOU- this got pretty long jhhhhhggh,,,, and also!! some of these are very heavily influenced by stuff i’ve seen in the fandom, although a majority of these are my own!

(Content warning though, this gets pretty heavy- i’m going to be talking about death, miscarriages, illnesses, injury, neglect and csa in this one. Tagged and under a cut to be safe.)

RISOTTO NERO

No one would believe you if you told them, but Polpo is his father. If the eyes didn’t give it away, Polpo’s old pictures (if you manage to get a hold of them, that is) most definitely will. No one knows how Polpo ended up looking like that now, but in his younger days, around the same age as Risotto, he looked pretty much exactly like him. 

He’s not aware of his biological mother, but he knows she’s a stand user from Egypt, who utilizes magnetism.

Risotto was adopted by a Sicilian family, and was raised without knowledge of his connections to the mafia, or stands. It was not until he began killing at age 18 that he began to look more into who his real parents were.

He doesn’t resent his adoptive parents- his adoptive father was a carpenter, who raised Risotto to be well-versed in carpentry as well, and his adoptive mother was a seamstress. He had an adoptive older sister, and of course, his little cousin who came over so often he practically lived with them. His family isn’t perfect, of course- his father is too strict, his mother too troubled, and his sister was too distant. Thinking about it now as an adult, he couldn’t blame them for being like that. His mother’s miscarriage probably weighed on the family too.

He was always the quiet brooding type. As a child, his quiet inclinations were regarded as him being shy. When he reached into adolescence and began forming opinions of his own, Risotto was then given the “quiet and serious” adage under his name. He’d always been the type to lead and act according to what he believes is right, after all. That being said, however, he operates under his own judgement and experiences, and the same can still be said about him even after so long. His general distrust of authority began showing itself in his adolescence, as well.

Sometimes, Risotto feels a tug in his heart, begging him to come home in their little house in Sicily, and visit his family once more. He painstakingly ignores this, and carries on. He does keep tabs on them however, and the knowledge that they’re safe and sound is enough to carry him on.

He joined Passione at 21 years old, around the same time he awoke his stand. He used to be of equal footing to Sorbet and Gelato, who at the time were both under a different capo. He broke apart from the gang to form his own, having decided that assassination was the best application for his skills after being involved in one of two many murders that were considered “overkill”, even for the mafia.

FORMAGGIO

Formaggio came from an average to low income family. His family was big, too- he had a mother, a father, two older sisters, and three younger sisters. As the only son, he was depended on for a lot of things, and often had to fill in for the father that his little sisters are clearly missing, by being the best older brother he could be. Obviously not by his own volition- he’d very much just relax and enjoy his teenage years, thank you very much- but he’s smart enough to know that his sisters deserve someone to guide them in their early years.

He’s always been street-smart, having dropped out of school just after he finished 7th grade to work. Home life was rather bleak- his father wasn’t home often, but when he was, he was always drunk and would go and beat his mother and his older sisters. This eventually stopped when their father died of liver cancer. Formaggio’s never been religious, but he felt overwhelmed enough to thank whoever was responsible for it.

He committed his first murder when he walked in on one of his elder sisters getting beaten by her husband. Formaggio at the time lived with her, and with two of his little sisters in tow. His other elder sister lived with his mom, along with his other little sister. Thankfully enough, the children were not there to witness either of the abuse or the murder. This had Formaggio contemplating a lot of other things, and soon, he succumbed to the bleak, and harsh criminal underbelly of Italy. He was recruited a year later by Risotto.

Just to establish my last point- Formaggio is actually only one year younger than Risotto- which makes him older than everybody else save for Sorbet. No one else but Risotto, Sorbet and Gelato believe this.

ILLUSO

Came from a well-off, but not wealthy, family. He had an older brother and an older sister, and while their parents weren’t always present due to work, they made sure they were there when public appearances were necessary. He’d always been distant with everybody except for his elder sister, who would care for him to the best of her ability despite being frail and sickly.

Illuso always had a fascination with observing behind the scenes. Being quiet and often overlooked, he grew accustomed to being alone. That doesn’t mean he didn’t sneak off to spy on other people’s conversations he probably shouldn’t be listening to in the first place. 

He knew something was bound to come out of those late night meetings where his father would come home tipsy and infuriated about something. Soon enough, his suspicions were confirmed. His father had lost everything to his gambling addiction, and with it came the family’s already estranged relations with one another. The final straw was when his sister died. 

Illuso, having lost all motivation to keep living in such a life, left home. He figured, he’d always been alone, anyway. What’s a couple of years in the streets gonna do to him? With his natural intuition and general sneaky tendencies, his skills proved important out in the world, where the rule was survival of the fittest.

He was found by a capo, and drafted into the Intel Team after he’d been shot by the arrow by accident. He was a key member until he was reassigned to La Squadra due to a sudden influx of newcomers in the mob.

Admittedly enough, his origins have made him somewhat sympathetic to Fugo, although he’d never admit it.

PROSCIUTTO

Prosciutto was born from an American-Italian family, and was totally a private school kid. He was raised in the States for a while until his 15th birthday, where he travelled with his grandfather from the US to Italy. His family was distant and secretive, but he definitely knew they had ties to something very, very illegal. His mother was sickly and stayed at home, seeing doctors more than she saw her own sons; and their father was never around. Despite the luxury they were raised in, he and Pesci were all they really had. 

He might’ve not noticed it when he was young, but he was trained and educated exactly where they wanted him to– to eventually take over the family business when he was old enough. His grandfather was incredibly supportive of this, and when Prosciutto started showing signs that he had tremendous potential to become the head of the famiglia.

When he travelled from the US to Italy, this was his first introduction to the bleak life his grandfather led. He committed his first murder at 16, all curated and taken care of by the mafia. It was certainly a bit much, but Prosciutto showed commitment to his grandfather’s will for him.

He joined Passione at 20 years old, after his famiglia’s territory was taken over by Passione. Some of his men survived, while some were not so lucky. He was officially drafted into the Hitman Team shortly after Formaggio was.

PESCI

Him and Prosciutto are actually full brothers. Him and Prosciutto were private school kids, and while Prosciutto aced all his classes, Pesci was content receiving  average marks. He truly excelled in choir and in theater, however, and in turn made his mother incredibly proud of him. She would always come to his recitals whenever he performed, main role or not, despite how sickly she was.

Pesci didn’t bother with their dad- Fra says not to. And while was not close to his own grandfather like Prosciutto was, he was incredibly close to his uncle. While he had his suspicions about the true source of their family’s ludicrous wealth, his uncle always made sure to spend time with Pesci, taking him out swimming and fishing and all that. His uncle made sure he had a childhood- too concerned with Pesci being drafted into their dangerous lifestyle too early like Prosciutto was.

When Prosciutto left for Italy, Pesci stayed behind for a while, as he was only 12 when his brother went. He caught wind of his brother’s untimely fate of joining the mafia when he was 17, and it goes without saying that Pesci was heartbroken. He then ultimately made it his goal to find him and be reunited once more.

Pesci was drafted into Passione at age 20, but became a part of the Hitman Team at 21, after a particularly intense argument with Prosciutto.

MELONE

Melone was born in Switzerland, but he moved to Italy when he was around 10 years old. His parents were doctors who were constantly away due to their job, and while he had no other siblings, his parents made sure he had everything he could ever want. From toys to new clothes to books, he was very much spoiled. Perhaps it was to compensate for the fact that while he attained a lot of academic achievements, his parents remained absent. They were very proud of him, however, as he’d proven himself to be nothing short of a genius at a very young age. He was polite, and spoke well with elders. He generally got along with his peers, although they did find him odd and intimidating at times.

When he was in his teens, he begun to seek out partners. Perhaps due to his own curiosity, he saw too much a little too soon. This was also when he’d killed his uncle in a fit of rage, after he’d tried to assault Melone. This was when his genius turned into a maddening hunger for knowledge. It goes without saying that Melone experimented on his uncle’s corpse, and a bunch of other laboratory samples.

When he dropped out of university, he begun to sell information about his research in shady places online. He was drafted into Passione when a capo took note of his rather… interesting discoveries about reproduction and genetics, and figured his abilities could prove useful.

He became part of the Hitman Team shortly after Illuso joined.

GHIACCIO

Ghiaccio was born in Korea, but moved in his pre-teen years after his parents were offered work in Italy. He had an older sister whom he idolized, and initially was his reason for pursuing ice skating in the first place. Their parents were never the most outwardly affectionate, towards each other and their children, but Ghiaccio’s older sister always made sure he knew how much she loved him.

His interest in linguistics were sparked by his parents, who were interpreters. He never really cared much for it when he was really young, but when he began to turn his attention to books instead of his peers who would often cast him out, he found out he was a natural at picking up different languages and its quirks.

He started seriously skating when he was 10 years old, and would always beg his sister to come with him. She humoured him, being a skater herself. Ghiaccio has very fond memories of those winter mornings when him and his sister would sneak out of the house to go find a lake frozen over, and skate for a few hours, forgetting all their troubles. He started competing at age 13, and won his first gold medal at 14. He proved to be a prodigy in ice skating.

Due to his peers casting him out and emotional neglect from his parents, his characteristic anger issues began manifesting. They started showing more violently out of humiliation and hatred for himself when he injured himself during a performance. He begun to shut others out, only ever reacting in anger and annoyance. His anger issues got worse when his older sister was injured just before one of her performances, and out of anger, he took off and killed the person who had orchestrated her injury.

Knowing he could never return to his old life after this, he set off and took his anger out on a random group of strangers at a bar who pissed him off too much at the moment, the alcohol in his system amplifying the anger and shame he felt. He was found by Sorbet and Gelato, who recommended him to Risotto. He became part of the Hitman Team shortly before Pesci joined.