#i didn't struggle with this anniversary this much last year but. here we are.

[crush3dmary]

I wasn't going to post about this because it felt too vulnerable, but I think that might be what I need right now. 8 years ago today I attempted suicide and came the closest I've ever come to succeeding. These are my reflections on 8 years.

On September 27th, 2016, I took a month and a half of lithium and came the closest I’ve ever been to succeeding at killing myself. At the time, I saw it as just another failure to add to my ever-increasing list of them. Now, I don’t know what I think, but I’ve learned things since that have not brought me peace.

At the time, I had been suicidal for weeks, and I had a detailed plan for how I’d finally do it. I struggled through shift after shift at my shitty, dead-end retail job where I faked a smile, wondering if anyone could tell that beneath the exterior, all I wanted was to die. But we need to take it back further than that for anyone to really understand. This is the most vulnerable I will ever let myself be.

I am a psychiatric survivor, and I am also a victim of severe abuse, primarily sexual. I choose to think of myself as a victim rather than a survivor because since the age of 14 I’ve felt like a shell of a person in ways I don’t feel regarding my medical trauma. My internal scarring is so severe my ob/gyn says I will likely never have children, and I have damage to my parietal lobe from having multiple concussions in the same area of the brain. When I finally disclosed to a psychiatrist what I had been through, she told me it was one of the most severe cases of abuse she’d ever seen. That is all I will disclose of my experiences until my abuser has left this earth.

I have been diagnosed with everything you can think of at one point or another. My medical records practically recite the DSM-V. Right now, my diagnoses are bipolar-type schizoaffective disorder, borderline personality disorder, and obsessive-compulsive disorder, but I don’t care what label you want to put on it, because at the end of day, I am a product of my experiences.

I grew up as the oldest of three (now four, as I have a baby half-brother now). Growing up, I didn’t understand how my two younger sisters could handle their emotions, but I couldn’t. Every single thing I felt, felt like it would drown me. I experience all my emotions as physical sensations that I can feel throughout my entire body, and it manifests as literal chronic pain. My entire childhood, it was “stop crying”, “nobody else is upset about this”, “I don’t understand what the problem is”, but that’s the theory behind borderline, isn’t it? Borderline personality disorder is what happens when you take a sensitive child with big emotions and consistently invalidate them over and over again. As such, they never learn how to deal with their strong emotions and they turn inwards on themselves. That is exactly what happened to me.

My emotions cause me literal pain. It hurts every day. When my BPD gets triggered, it feels like my veins are on fire beneath my skin, like someone is trying to claw their way under my ribs, like there’s something inside of me that feels so horrible I just want to die. I am a lifetime self harmer, because it’s the only way I am able to bring myself down in those moments - to take the emotional pain inside of me and make it physical the only way I can. I’ve accepted by now that I will never stop.

The first time I had an intrusive thought about suicide, I remember being 11 years old. It has not stopped since. That’s where the suicide-type OCD comes in - I live every day with graphic intrusive thoughts about all the ways I should kill myself. This happens even on the best days of my life, it’s there, waiting to taunt me, to tell me that I should just die and here’s how I should do it. I have thought about suicide every single day for almost 20 years. The first time I made a plan was at 11, and my first attempt was at 14. I am chronically suicidal.

The first time I died was in 2016. That September, I was so overwhelmed with all the things that had happened to me and everything I’ve spent almost my entire life having to live with that I made a plan. I thought I would never get better. On September 26th, I went to the psychiatric emergency department at St Joseph’s in Hamilton and told them I had a plan to kill myself, and that if they sent me home, I would act on it. They did not take me seriously, because why would anyone trust another manipulative, hysterical borderline? Dr. Janet Alice Patterson, who I still partially blame, told me to make an appointment with a psychiatrist, gave me a very strong dose of a sedative, and sent me home. 

When I got home, I took all the lithium I had and called 911 so that the paramedics would find my body instead of my family. I spent four days hooked up to machines, and as far as I’m aware my heart actually did stop briefly, but it’s not like I can remember most of those four days I spent in the ICU. What I do remember was waking up not knowing where I was, not even being sure if I was alive or if this was hell, because there’s no way I’d be going to the other place. Around me was a doctor and a gaggle of residents who weren’t much older than me, all looking at me like I was an animal. The doctor asked me a few questions to determine whether I was still at risk to myself, and then she turned around and talked to the residents about my medical history as if I wasn’t even in the room. I could hardly respond after having a tube down my throat. This was the lowest moment of my life, and I was a case study to them.

After that I did trauma therapy, three rounds of DBT, and CPT. I tried medication after medication, and I improved my situation. I went on to get a degree in social work and finished with a 90% average. My former diagnosis of PTSD was rescinded. I was considered “recovered”. Do you know what I learned from all of that?

I learned that no, actually, it doesn’t get better. I thought if I did all the right things my chronic emotional pain would go away, the daily (sometimes hourly, sometimes half-hourly) intrusive thoughts about killing myself would stop. I thought if I did what all the doctors told me, I’d “get better”. And I did. But I don’t like what “better” ended up looking like.

Sure, my situation improved. In fact, I pretty much have my dream life, in some ways. I have a fulfilling career and my dream job, I have a wife who loves me, I have a cat who sleeps at the foot of my bed, I have a fancy piece of paper I can put on my wall to show I graduated from college with distinction. I should be happy, but I’m not. It still hurts every day. My emotions still overwhelm me to the point of physical pain, and I still think about suicide multiple times a day. You just learn to live with it. 

And that’s the worst part. Expecting all of it to go away if you do what the doctors tell you to and you make all the right choices on your own, only to realize that when you’re royally fucked, this is just what life is going to be like. And you have to keep choosing life over and over again. You have to find reasons to keep going, even when it hurts so much you think the chronic emotional pain will kill you before you can do it with your own hands.

I’ve only ever met one person who’s understood what this is like. The only other person I’ve met who also had suicide-type OCD and BPD was my roommate when I was moved up to psychiatry in the hospital that day. Me and O fell in love very quickly, and we spent the next two years in a whirlwind of whatever you could even call our relationship until the day she killed herself. The only other person who knew what this was like - for your emotions to swallow you whole and be chronically suicidal every day of your goddamn life - and she killed herself because it hurt too much. From the day she died in 2018, I have never felt more alone.

I have been considered “in remission” since 2019. I’m one of the ones who “got better”. I don’t feel “better”, because it doesn’t get better. Your situation improves, sure, but you spend your whole life fighting that thing in your head that says you don’t deserve to be here anymore. And that’s what they don’t tell you. All the stories about recovery make it sound like it’s some hurdle you overcome. No, that hurdle never goes away. You keep fighting it until you can’t anymore.

I wish my reflection on eight years could be more positive than this, but here we are. It doesn’t get better. Sorry to be the one to say it.

[ningningsdream]

[4:28AM] "i still love you, y/n. it was dumb of me to let you go.", ex! jeno pleaded as he stood on your doorstep at an ungodly hour in the night, "everything i see reminds me of you. i've tried to move on but i can't help myself comparing everyone with you. i miss you even when i'm in a room full of people to distract me.", jeno rambled, his rosy cheeks hinting that he was probably a little tipsy.

today would've been your fifth-year anniversary if you stayed together.

"i thought of you every single day for almost a whole year after we broke up.", you said, looking at him.

"me-"

"let me finish.", you interrupted him, holding your index up, "i tried so hard not to, but it felt like the more i was trying to not think of you, the more i did. you were the first and last person i talked to every single day. some mornings, when i was still in a sleepy haze, i found myself looking at my phone to see if you had texted me and when reality hit me, it was another kind of pain. you were part of my everyday, you became a habit. it's hard getting rid of habits. i had to get used to say that i didn't have a boyfriend when asked about relationships, and i couldn't use 'my boyfriend and i already planned something' when i wanted to get out of things. i was wondering if i was the only one that had to hold myself back from sending you a text. i was wondering if you too, struggled with not having me in your life anymore."

"i did. i do. so much, y/n. you don't know how much i want to go back to slap some sense into myself and not break up with you. i was so overwhelmed with graduation, work and keeping up with family and friends that i thought i needed to get rid of something."

"so you got rid of me..."

"and i regret it so fucking much. the minute i saw the tears in your eyes i regretted it. i thought it was for the better, i was so busy i couldn't even be a proper boyfriend to you, and you deserved better than that. i thought letting you go was the best for the both of us."

"the best? i cried every single night for three months straight. not only because i missed you, but because as you said i deserved better. i knew that... i knew it but i also knew that if you showed up like this at my door back then i would've taken you back in a heartbeat. and it made me hate myself, because i loved you more than i loved myself."

"i'm so sorry, y/n. i really am-"

"babe! where are you?", you heard bf!renjun screaming from your room, with his sleepy and worried voice.

"i'll be right back, junnie.", you answered with a little smile on your face, imagining your boyfriend with his eyes closed and a pout on his face as his arm was lying on your empty side of the bed. you turned back to face jeno, whose face seemed like he saw a ghost, "jeno, i appreciate the apology... but you're a little too late. i've stopped waiting for you a long time ago.", you gave him a small apologetic smile.

jeno looked at you and realized how much he fucked up. you've rightfully moved on and he was the only one being stuck in something he created. when you replied to your boyfriend, that was when he noticed the smile on your face, the same smile that used to be directed to him, and that was the only time he saw you express happiness since he appeared on your doorstep.

"fuck, you're really here.", a familiar voice said right after you heard the elevator doors open.

"i really wished i was wrong.", another familiar voice said.

you turned your head and saw two people, you thought you wouldn't see again, walking towards your apartment.

"time to go home, samoyed."

"haechan. jaemin.", you greeted your ex's bestfriends.

"sorry for the disruption.", ex's bestfriend!haechan told you before grabbing jeno's arm and putting it around his shoulders, helping his friend walk away from your apartment and your life.

"how have you been ?", your old childhood bestfriend!jaemin said, letting jeno and haechan walk away first.

"great...you?"

"same."

the feeling of awkwardness and nostalgia could be sensed in the air. you looked at each other a few more seconds as all the memories of your friendship, from when you met in kindergarten to when he stayed by jeno's side when you two broke up, flashed through your eyes.

"baaaabeee!!", your boyfriend whined from far away, "come baaaack!"

"well, it's late. we're going to let you go back to your night. sorry about that.", jaemin nodded towards your ex, "and everything else...", hinting at his own mistakes.

you nodded, acknowledging his apology, "bye, jaem.", you gave him one last smile. it had been a while since he heard his nickname coming out of your mouth.

"bye, y/n.", jaemin returned your smile.

you watched him walk away with his two other friends, knowing that your byes stood as an official farewell to your friendship and his presence in your life.

[flanaganfilm]

Hey, Mike! Did moving to Los Angeles at the start of your career turn out to be all that you thought it would be? It’s a big step that a lot of people take, and I’ve never really heard you talk about those early years before. Did you ever contemplate quitting? And if so, I’m glad you stuck to it - we love your work!

Oh, I contemplated quitting many, many times.

I moved to Los Angeles in January, 2003. I had just graduated the previous summer from Towson University, and a group of five of us moved out together. Some wanted to be filmmakers, some wanted to be actors. We shared a 3-bedroom apartment in Glendale. The adjacent apartment was occupied by four other Towson alums. Between the two apartments, we called it "Little Towson." I didn't own a car at the start. I had no health insurance. I'd saved a few thousand dollars to get me through the first six months, but none of us had jobs at the beginning. I remember applying (and being rejected) for a job at Walmart. I combed Craigslist looking for non-union editorial gigs.

I had told myself I'd give it five years, and if I hadn't gotten any traction, I'd move back to Maryland.

People started dropping out pretty quickly. One of my roommates (and one of my best friends) had moved out here to be an actor, and only lasted a few months before he decided to go back. It's overwhelming and terrifying to take a leap into a city as expensive as LA, and you're surrounded by people who all want the same career that you want. But it feels like there is a thousand foot wall circling the industry, and it seems impossible to scale it.

I found work doing odd editorial jobs before working as a logger, than an assistant editor, then an editor on a few reality shows. I shot and cut those local car commercials you see on late night cable. And I frequently ran out of money and overdrafted my account. As more and more of our original group gave up and moved back East, I started to feel more and more crazy. A lot of my friends from school were getting married, buying houses, having kids. I felt pretty delusional as my 5-year deadline came and went, and I still hadn't found any way over or through that wall. When we started to talk about making Absentia in 2010, I had been in LA for more than 7 years. I was working two jobs as an editor. I found out I was going to be a father. It felt very much like whatever I'd wanted to happen by moving to LA was not going to happen. Absentia was kind of last-ditch effort. Ultimately, the five year plan I'd allowed myself when I moved to LA turned into a 9-year plan. I started shooting Oculus - my first "real" movie - in the fall of 2012, just shy of my 10th anniversary in Los Angeles. That movie wouldn't come out for a while after that, so by the time I actually had a career as a filmmaker, well over a decade had passed struggling in LA.

For most of that time, my refusal to move back to Maryland looked (and felt) like a delusion. Only afterward did it start to look like "tenacity." And it never felt like "persistence" or "determination"... it felt insane. It felt like constant, daily frustration and rejection. And when I couldn't pay the bills, or couldn't land a job, it felt downright embarrassing.

For what it's worth, the only difference I've seen between people who "make it" out here and don't are that the ones who made it all stayed long past their expiration dates. I've seen wildly talented people pack it up and head home. Talent helps a lot once the door is open, but really the only thing that opens the door is persistence. To the point of feeling insane.

[kanmom51]

Feels appropriate today, doesn't it?

cr./@abtjikook

Did we mention that 8 July was 2800 days count from 8 November 2015?

And today we have the book spoilers.

I have sinned, I admit it. Could not wait to next week for my book to arrive and went and read the spoiler pages.

The way they talk about that trip.

We get confirmation that it was ever ONLY about the two of them.

We get confirmation that this trip meant EVERYTHING to them.

Not like we didn't know that already. But it's nice to hear it once again from the horse's mouth, so to speak.

The joy JK got from those little supposedly insignificant moments. Staying up all night because JM was looking through his phone, walking the streets and JM's feet hurting.

Do we see the connecting thread here?

Well, beyond it all being about the one person he also made the star of his creation - JM.

It's all about the mundane!!

They got to be a couple. Alone. Outside of their idol lives. Well, tried their best. And the gift of anonymity with their Halloween costumes. This was just what they needed.

So this trip, it wasn't about a start of a relationship (let's be real, they were 2 years into the relationship at that point). This trip was about them trying to be 'normal' human beings, a 'normal' couple, doing the 'normal' things couples do. No security, no managers, no fans (well they wanted that). Just being themselves together doing the mundane.

All of this isn't happening in a vacuum either. It's happening when they are struggling with their fame and life decisions (some of which were made when they were very very young).

Mundane.

A word I mentioned before too.

Because that's what gave them joy in this trip.

Because discovering that everything you felt for each other also survives that test, the test of being a 'regular', 'normal' couple. That is EVERYTHING.

Take all of that and add the effort that JK went to with arranging the trip. Paying for it. The timing (just almost their 2 year anniversary), the room number choice.

So yes, we get the significance of GCFT. And the significance of it's release date: 8/11/2017.

Do we remember JK's excitement one GCF Tokyo was uploaded?

Almost 6 years on, reading those lines, and JK's choice for GCFT kind of hits you hard, doesn't it?

I woke up pissed off today And lately everyone feels fake Somewhere, I lost a piece of me Smoking cigarettes on balconies But I can't do this alone Sometimes I just need a light If I call you on the phone Need you on the other side So when your tears roll down your pillow like a river I'll be there for you I'll be there for you When you're screaming, but they only hear you whisper I'll be loud for you But you gotta be there for me too But you gotta be there for me too Last year took a toll on me But I made it with you next to me Around the world and back again I hope you're waiting at the end But I can't do this alone Sometimes I just need a light If I call you on the phone Need you on the other side So when your tears roll down your pillow like a river I'll be there for you I'll be there for you When you're screaming, but they only hear you whisper I'll be loud for you I'll be loud for you I got you, I promise But let me be honest Love is a road that goes both ways When your tears roll down your pillow like a river I'll be there for you But you gotta be there for me too But you gotta be there for me too Boy, I'm holdin' onto something Won't let go of you for nothing I'm runnin', runnin' just to keep my hands on you There was a time that I was so blue What I got to do to show you? I'm runnin', runnin' just to keep my hands on you Runnin', runnin' just to keep my hands on you Runnin', runnin' just to keep my hands on you Said, I'm runnin', runnin' just to keep my hands on you But you gotta be there for me too But you gotta be there for me too

And then you take Letter

Baby, don't leave, just stay with me, yeah To you who saw me greater than my little self (to you) So that I can only deliver as much as I received (Uh-oh) So that I can keep my word (Uh-oh) Don't worry, just stay by your side, yeah Because I don't know what days awaits us (Yeah) I'm scared even though it looks like it (Uh-oh) Don't forget to always say "together" (don't forget)

JM's reply?

I absolutely adore these young men.

I am still to read the book. Can't wait. I'm sure there will be more to add. But at this point, from the few pages shared, I think it's also safe to say that 2018 issues were not about their relationship. Far from it.

They were struggling with themselves. Adjusting to stardom. As much as they wanted the success, as much as they wanted it all, when that dream became a reality is when it hit them that being a star, being famous, being successful, it comes with a price. And that price is at times hard to accept, hard to digest, hard to adjust to and to some impossible to live with. And that is what they were going through. What next? How far? How long? How much? Is this what I really want to do with my life? What price? Is it worth the price? Each of them dealing with it in their own way. JM and JK there for each other, helping each other through it all.

[mattoidmeerkat]

This is me working through my main issues with Bathena in 7x01. If you have no issues with the transition from 6x18 to 7x01, I'm happy for you and there's nothing to see here. If you'd do see some issues and/or are willing to help me work through some of them, please continue reading after the cut.

Disclaimer: The long hiatus and my recent cold definitely did not positively influence my experience. I'm aware of this.

Man, I'm so conflicted about Bathena's story in 7x01. I mean, the acting was top notch. The scenes and dialogue? Instant classics. The dancing? Swoooon. And we finally get to explore the foundation of their relationship? What's not to love?

Well, this really feels like the perfect follow up to Season 4. They had just addressed their communications issues and still had topics to work through. They would soon be empty nesters and didn't know how that would impact them.

But this isn't the beginning of Season 5. This is Season 7. Since then we have seen Athena and Bobby go through so much separately and together. They have grown closer and have developed their communication skills and the foundation of their relationship.

They struggled together and supported each other through the Hudson ordeal and the fallout around Harry in 5A. We've seen them make time to focus on their intimate relationship (5x09, 6x13) and to sharing personal history (5x15, 6x02, 6x03, 6x13) and support each other through oh so much personal trauma (5A, 5x14, 5x16, 5x17, 6x02, 6x03, 6x09, 6x12, 6x17). They've put the other's happiness before their own without a moment's hesitation (5x05) and developed a deep and easy intimacy with each other (5x08, 5x09, 5x11, 5x15, 5x17, 6x02, 6x08, 6x12, 6x13, 6x17) without ever losing their individuality in the process. Athena built a relationship with Bobby's sponsor and Bobby shared his AA world with her. Athena allowed herself to be vulnerable with him by admitting fears while she developed a deep understanding of how Bobby worked on a fundamental level (6x14).

And then Tim came back and decided nope, none of this. Gonna reset Athena to Season 4 (when he left as showrunner) and leave Bobby as confused as me.

I love me some good angst and conflict to explore characters and their dynamics. But what explanation were we given for this drastic change in Athena's personality? She is afraid to find out who they are when it's just the two of them? Which we have just seen again and again in Season 5 but much more so in Season 6?

Characters being flawed and acting irrationally is not bad writing. On the contrary, it can be excellent writing because flawless characters are boring and bland. And Athena and Bobby are so deliciously flawed. Have been from the very beginning.

So why not provide us with an explanation for how 6x18 Athena went from happy and confident in her marriage after settling into her empty nest with Bobby for a year, to the neurotic mess we see in 7x01? (A highly entertaining and cute mess, but still a completely different Athena than literally one episode before.)

How did 6x18 Athena, after recently celebrating her fourth wedding anniversary with Bobby and saving him from a bridge collapse, from one moment to the other decide to go to therapy (something she canonically avoids like the plague - see Seasons 3, 4, and 5) and do a 180 on cruises (despite copious discussions of cruises her fear did not come up with Bobby in 5x18, 6x01 or 6x18, with May in 6x01, or with Hen in 6x01, or in the conversation about cruises with her parents in 6x01 despite those two apparently being responsible for that fear)? How did that Athena then board the cruise with Bobby at the end of 6x18 full of joy and happy anticipation after a last minute cancellation? And how did Athena then manage to have a therapist appointment about the last-minute cruise two months in advance somehow?

I'd love to find some explanations for this beyond sloppy writing at best and blatant disregard for the prior story lines at worst.

At this point my only hope is that the next two episodes will shed some light onto what exactly triggered Athena's abrupt change in personality from one episode to the other. (actually retroactively within the previous episode somehow) But I won't get my hopes up too much because so many of Athena's, Bobby's and Bathena's story lines have been left to fizzle out without any kind of explanation or resolutions over the years (under both Tim and Kirsten).

So what's my takeaway here? I desperately want to love this episode. It has so many amazing scenes. But the retconning is making it really difficult for me to process as a coherent story line. And that's on me. Shows do this all the time. THIS show has done it plenty of times in the past.

But I feel so sad that I seem to care more about Season 5 and 6 Bathena than the show itself. It feels dismissive of the growth those two have gone through. And it makes me fearful of what kind of disregard the show might display towards these characters, their arcs, and their growth journeys in the future.

Thoughts? Helpful ideas? Number of a good therapist? 😅️ (One that doesn't just say "I'm sure you'll be fine.")

[theonethatyaks93]

HAPPY 30TH BIRTHDAY ANIMANIACS!!!!!

I just want to say how truly amazed I am with this show. There are very few words that can describe it. I put a few in the picture seen above, but this is barely anything compared to everything I've said. Animaniacs has changed my life in ways that many shows can only dream of. And I'm thrilled to be here today to celebrate its legacy.

I wasn't born in the 90's. I didn't grow up with this show like I know a ton of people did. I was exposed to it, mainly through the Hub Network ads for reruns, the once-in-a-while YouTube video reference, and even in fifth grade when my teacher showed us a clip of "Wakko's America" for our state capital test (which by the way I passed). I didn't acknowledge this show's presence, at least until 2020. That was a rough year, not only for me, but for everyone. Online school sucked. I couldn't see my friends. I was always crying myself to sleep and staying up late just watching videos to wash away my sadness and hurting. It was hell. I didn't have any comfort. At the absolute worst of times around October, I saw that one of my favorite channels posted a video on the trailer for the reboot of a show called Animaniacs. I was curious, mostly since I'd never heard about it before (well, I thought I hadn't). But the way the characters looked and the amount of people talking about it got me interested enough to click on the video. I listened to the reviewer's thoughts, not really understanding much, yet still being enticed to continue. I watched the actual trailer afterwards and...the rest is history.

I instantly fell in love. I watched the trailer on repeat before the reboot's release, laughing and singing along. I researched the show more and discovered a ton of voice actors I knew. I loved the characters, especially Yakko, I listened to the songs, I watched the interviews, and I talked about it constantly to my family and friends. While I didn't have Hulu, I still kept up with the reboot quite heavily. For Christmas, I got my first piece of merch, a T-shirt, and I got the first 25 episodes of the original show. I watched them on repeat with my sister and we both laughed, sang, and danced around whenever the show came on. After taking a fandom break, I got back into the show in 2021, which came with a new appreciation for Pinky and The Brain and fanfiction. Around this time, I was finally able to watch the reboot and entire original series since I got Hulu. My merchandise collection expanded, my knowledge of the show grew exponentially, and my desire to contribute to the fandom was intense. Not much has changed since then. Granted my merchandise collection is bigger, I can do impressions of a few characters, I met some of the voice actors, I joined the community on Tumblr, I actually wrote some fanfiction, and I've seen so many Animaniacs episodes now that it'll make your head spin. I'm so proud to be a super fan.

My appreciation and adoration for the Animaniacs franchise knows no bounds. It changed my life in amazing ways. And I can't believe its thirty years old today. I'm struggling to keep my emotions in right now, it's all so surreal. So, to all my followers I encourage you to give this show all your love today. It deserves it. Thank you Animaniacs. Thank you so much for everything you've done. You have made me a better individual and have fueled my love of animation for nearly three years. I hope you continue to inspire many more like me to laugh, be silly, and sing "Yakko's World" to pass a geography test. Animaniacs is the greatest show of all time, and I'll never stop saying that. (Ps. this isn't the last Animaniacs Anniversary related post I'm making! The next one will be long! And I'll also be showcasing my Animaniacs merch collection! Stay tuned!) Goodnight Everybody!!

[willuzpilled]

Til Death Do Us Part (A Dalvlo/Corn Yaoi fanfic)

As part vampire, Dalv naturally has a lifespan much longer than any average monster or human. As he celebrates his 96th anniversary with Starlo, he reflects on the long life they had together.

(Also available on Archive of Our Own)

Dalv laid down a picnic blanket, and started placing down supplies. He brought a basket of freshly grilled corn cobs, a bottle of Adult Soda, and some golden flowers in a vase full of water.

After settling down and placing a cob on his plate, he began talking.

"So uh, it's been a while, hasn't it?" He stared at his cob, struggling to think of what to say next. "96 years we've been married. I still remember that day like it was yesterday. Me stepping out, seeing you in that suit, the smile beaming on your face... holding your hands as we spoke our vows..."

---

Dalv wiped his palms on his dress. He almost didn't even wear the dress, but Starlo was able to convince him last minute. He was nervous, but excited. Today was the big day.

He stepped out and looked across the long wedding hall. Starlo was standing on the other side, in that incredibly handsome suit, a smile beaming across his face. Next to him stood Clover, his person of honor.

Dalv walked calmly across the hall (it took all the strength in him to not immediately sprint into Starlo's arms) and took his place on the altar.

At once, the officiant began speaking. "I, EL BAILADOR, HAVE TASKED MYSELF WITH OFFICIATING THIS MARRIAGE."

Starlo shot Dalv a look. Dalv shot him a look back of 'Hey buddy, this was your idea'.

"We are gathered here today to witness the marriage of the Sheriff of this town, Starlo North Star, and his husband Dalv of the Dark Ruins." El Bailador posed dramatically between every phrase. Dalv was going to correct him, as he had been living in Snowdin for some time at that point, but he decided he wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible.

"Two great members of the community, joined together in holy matrimony. Joined by PASSION, passion for each other, for the arts, for cowboy movies and organ music alike. Truly a match made in heaven. You may now speak your vows."

Starlo held his hands in Dalv's, and spoke first. "When I met you, I thought I already knew who I was. I was North Star, the sheriff, the lone wolf, among the willows, who don't need nobody to keep his bed warm. But... you filled a hole in my heart this ol' cowboy didn't even know he had. Thank you."

Dalv spoke next. "My starlight... When you met me, I was at my lowest. Alone, friendless, filled with regret over past mistakes... you helped me see past that. You pulled me out of the hole I was in, and helped me find myself again. That is to say, I'm lucky to have you. I will love you forever, until death do us part."

Until death do us part.

Til death do us part

...

---

Dalv grabbed out a handkerchief and dabbed it over his eyes. "Sorry... I told myself I wasn't going to..." He took some deep breaths to ground himself, before he resumed talking. "That was the happiest day of my life. And since then, my life's only gotten better. Sure, we had our rocky moments, our arguments, the multiple run-ins with the law I had to get you out of... but I like to think you changed me for the better. And I hope I was able to help you out too, while you were still around."

Dalv placed the vase of golden flowers at the foot of the grave.

Starlo "North Star"

2084 - 2179

The best Sheriff this side of the Underground.

Dalv stared at the cob in his hand, silently, in reflection.

"I finally cleaned up that room you kept your cowboy memorabilia in. I decided to give most of it to charity. I cried. I cried a lot. But... it felt like a weight was lifted off my shoulder. I turned that room into a room for my organ practice. I didn't want to get rusty, and I like to imagine you're still there with me, listening along..."

Dalv dug around in the picnic basket. "I kept these. I felt that you would kill me if I ever gave them away, and I don't think I could ever convince myself to anyways."

Dalv placed a rusty, beat-up six-piece revolver at the foot of the grave. He grabbed a worn cowboy hat and placed it on top.

He paused for a few moments.

"People keep telling me to stop coming here," he eventually spoke. "And in fairness, it has been a while. But... I start to feel bad if I don't keep you company. I think I worry that... I'll move on. That I'll forget about you. That you'll become just another 'blip' to me. I don't want that to happen."

Another pause.

"I started seeing someone recently. She seems nice. We both share a passion for childrens entertainment! Though her taste in children's media is more Amphibiland whereas mine is more Dr. Moose. She plays the violin too. Her playing is lovely..." Dalv cut himself off. He was blushing. "Sorry, I was rambling again... It's nice to have found someone else I like."

"I remember on the day that... the day that I lost you." Dalv placed the cob down on his plate. "As I was standing next to your bed, holding your hand, you told me with your last breaths that... people move on. And that it's scary, and it hurts, but it's important to grow as people. I think often about those words."

"You were the last friend that I had left. After Ed, after Moray, after Mooch and Ace, and Martlet, and... Clover... I went against your word. I vowed myself to never get attached again. I couldn't afford to forget you. I couldn't afford to replace your memory with another friend, who I will have to lose all over again. Not in this long life I live."

"But recently I've been thinking about what Martlet said, on the day we sent Clover off. She mentioned how the short 'blips' in life can leave the biggest impacts. I suppose in the scale of my own life, you were a 'blip' too. I will continue to live for... as long as I do. And even though I won't be able to spend the rest of it with you, I'll still have the impact you left on me. So, thank you."

Dalv's phone began buzzing.

"Oh, I should probably get going soon, I don't wanna be late for our meetup..." Dalv got up and began packing the picnic supplies back into the basket.

Before leaving, Dalv turned around to look at the grave one last time. "See you around, space cowboy." He shot a finger gun before finally turning to leave.

[trashgothaoife]

Transition timeline

Well since it seems we are big scary people... but also seen people who were spreading fear around transitioning especially later I figured why not show my progress.

I came out in 2020 to myself and my bestie, then family in 2021.

This was me in October '20 at thanksgiving. I had come to terms and was figuring out my next steps from here (shitty crop because it's a family photo) 2020, the pandemic and work from how gave me the space to really work on myself. I was about 310lbs in this photo, 6'2" and for the first time in my life kinda excited about the future. I started working out for the first time in ever and trying to get my life on track.

next up is me in September '21 I had just started HRT the month before, and managed to drop down to about 200lbs. No changes yet from HRT but I had only just started that, but I was happy, and this is me holding my brothers pyranees Diogee.

Now me in May '22 about 9 months on HRT and had started seeing physical changes. Not figured out styling yet so all of '22 was pretty much spent figuring that out. Mom wanted to document this, as she did a bunch of times and love her for that.

Here was june '22 first time wearing a bathing suit since a LONG time. Did the blue hair thing (blue hair and pronouns) and I liked it when it was vibrant, but that didn't last long. Spending time with my dad because he was dieing due to cancer, he died 4 months after this. I had started regaining weight here because of the stress watching my dad struggle and in pain.

Here is November '22 starting to figure out my style a lot more. Bleached out the blue as it was so faded, kinda like me being blonde/white

This was May '23 probably one of my favourite pictures of myself and you can see this is the style I use today. My trash goth elf demon aesthetic.

Here we go at my 2 year HRT anniversary, August '23

October '23 I had just lost my cat who had been my best friend for over a decade. I might make another post dedicated to her. So in a year I had lost both my dad and my pet.

And this is now February '24 I am working on getting my weight back on track, going for daily walks, and now weekly hikes, and back on progesterone with my HRT, and on the list to get bottom surgery which I hope doesn't take too long.

I started transitioning at 34, now 37 and I am a completely different person, both physically and emotionally. I actually can look in the mirror and recognize myself in the mirror, and loving how I look. I have a ways to go before I am where I want to be, but I have hope and a path to get to that place. It is not an impossibility and I am loving my life and looking forward to the future.

[angelosearch]

Here's a long mushy post because today is a special date.

Way back in the early oughts, I was talking to this guy on AIM (blast from the past, I know). We started talking in November of 2008 and from the first time we chatted, I felt like there was something special about him. We became fast friends and would chat into the early hours as we put off doing our homework. He was funny and smart and would help me with my physics homework and occasionally Rick Roll me.

One time, we worked together to try and figure out if every person in the world moonwalked against the earth's rotation on the equator, could they get the planet to stop spinning (inconclusive, but probably no).

The first time we spoke on the phone (the first time we heard each other's voices) it was the day that Obama was inaugurated. I remember this because I felt overwhelmed and awkward. I didn't know what to talk about, so I brought that up.

I got the sense that he liked me - or at least I hope he did, because I liked him. A super nerd, captain of the fencing team, loved his dog - I DEFINITELY had a crush.

But I wasn't certain that he liked me until February 10th, when he messaged me on AIM and quoted Newton's third law. He said something to the effect of "Newton's Third Law states that reactions are equal and opposite. I really like you - does the law apply here?"

Well, that guy and I have been together 15 years now. After a long distance relationship through the rest of highschool and college, we moved in together in 2014. We got married in 2016. His sister Rick Rolled us at our wedding. We got a congratulations card from Obama (someone mailed him our wedding invite, to this day I don't know who).

It's been an eventful couple of years. We've had jobs and apartments and dogs and roommates. We've gone on amazing adventures, engaged in so many hobbies together, and played through a bunch of videogames side-by-side. There's been hundreds of hours of audiobooks and probably months worth of television. Oh, and A LOT of BeatSaber.

He has been very excited about my return to fanfiction and my renewed love of FFVIII. He has never played the game but he will let me talk about it endlessly and bounce fanfiction ideas off him. Everytime I finish a chapter of something, I send it to him and he gives me feedback. If that's not love, I don't know what love is!

He was there to help me into the car when I was loopy from having my wisdom teeth removed. Before I learned to drive, he took me anywhere I couldn't reach from walking/transit without question. He has seen me through my career ups and downs and is now my biggest cheerleader as I apply to grad school.

Once I hosted an event for a job I had. Doing that always pushed my mental health to the brink. I was staying at a friend's place in the city after the meeting with the plan to metro home in the morning, but the wave of a manic episode that had manifested over the week crashed into my mind and I was caught in the riptide of a panic attack. He drove out during a blizzard in the middle of the night to bring me home and rubbed my back as I laid on the floor of our apartment, sobbing.

Our relationship survived a whole pandemic. When I had struggles with my birth family, we became each other's family, and his family welcomed me too. Then he saw me through my darkest timeline and has supported me through every step of my mental health journey. Just a few hours ago, I was stuck in some memories and he talked me through it. I am tremendously grateful everyday to have such an amazing person in my life.

In October of last year, we moved into our home. For the first time in my life, I feel safe and comfortable in the place I live and waking up to be with him, here, everyday brings me so much joy. I recently heard this song, which really captures how we feel in this moment of our lives:

So happy anniversary to "my Rinoa" - @tharinock (funnily enough the same handle I first got to know you by). Here's to the next 15 years of fun and love.

[killieweegie]

Two years

Today is the second anniversary of Julies death. Two years without her, two years of pain. I knew today was going to be hard.

This week I've locked myself away, avoiding the neighbours just to prevent anyone talking to me about Julie. I've even avoided all social media, I didn't want to interact with anyone. I hardly slept last night.

This morning I waited for the florists to open before travelling to see her. I drove the 52 miles from my door to the cemetery, roses on the passenger seat, her seat. I parked up and walked to her plot. So many flowers there already, she was popular. She was only five feet tall but she packed in so much personality, she made people laugh. She was loved, which was evident at her funeral. The crematorium was packed, people sitting and standing, the celebrant commented at how popular she was. So many people loved her but I had her heart.

I was alone at the cemetery, not a soul anywhere. I laid her roses against her little heart shaped headstone and heard an engine. I looked round and saw a woman parking up and waving at me. It was Jennifer, one of Julies closest friends. We've exchanged messages over the last couple of years but this was the first time I'd seen here since the funeral. She ran over and gave me the tightest hug, I think she was a little surprised to see me there.

I never talk to anyone about Julie, I only ever mention her on here. Jennifer and I sat on a bench overlooking the row of headstones and we talked about her, we talked a lot, and I found it so emotional. A few times Jennifer would say 'oh no don't, you'll get me started'. I didn't want to cry today and I tried so hard to keep it under control but she knew I was struggling. After about half an hour, Jennifer had to go. We gave each other a tight hug, promised to keep in touch and I waved her off.

I stayed just a little longer, I spoke to Julie. Told her how much I loved her and missed her, but she's not there. Her ashes are there in a little box, buried on top of her Grandmother, but that's not her.

She's here with me. I say good morning and good night to here every day. I know she's constantly watching over me, waiting for me, waiting for my final days and getting ready to hold my hand and guide us both into the next step of our journey. When I move home, she'll come with me. She'll always be with me.

[bbcphile]

Ohhhhhh (AKA. Happy Anniversary to Me: Escape from the Mold House Edition)

The last week has been A Struggle and while there has definitely been plenty of Bad Shit going on (bad medical news about a friend, having a retraumatizing medical experience, some rough anniversaries of other things that brought up trauma memories, and learning that my gallbladder is very likely a ticking time bomb and btw, everyone please cross your fingers it doesn't rupture and go septic?), it didn't feel like it was quite at the level of Bad Enough (by my incredibly warped standards from too many decades of trauma) to warrant how much of a tailspin I was in.

Well. Now I have figured out the missing piece and am feeling SO MUCH BETTER.

But holy shit, the expression "The body keeps score" is so damn accurate, because of course my body was freaking the fuck out about a very traumatic anniversary that I had conveniently temporarily blocked out even though it was only two years ago (oh dissociative disorders).

To learn about the "My Apartment Almost Killed Me" Saga, keep reading below.

Soooo, here's the backstory: in May of 2022, my health, which had been rapidly tanking over the previous 9 months, took a dramatic nose dive. I was either sleeping or nearly passed out most of the time and couldn't walk across the living room without basically keeling over face first onto the ground because my muscles would go on strike, and then I would have to lie there, unable to move, until @sufficientlylargen could literally pick me up off the ground and put me on the sofa, because the muscle weakness was so bad I couldn't even lift my head or push myself up to my elbows. I had also been in and out of the ER with stroke-like symptoms, but none of the members of my medical team could figure out what was wrong. It was terrifying.

Until one day, at the very end of May, I realized I had been walking without falling over at PT and then stopped being able to walk as soon as I walked into our apartment. I repeated the experiment a few times, and realized that yep, there was definitely something in the apartment that was mostly responsible for whatever the hell was happening. We packed a bag for me and found a friend who let me crash at their place for a week while we hired an air quality expert to come and test our place. It turns out that we had 2 feet of stachybotrys mold growing up the walls of our basement, and the combination of neurotoxins from the stachybotrys plus my MCAS was literally poisoning and killing me. Over the next few weeks, we got rid of 85% of our belongings (including several hundred books, all our clothes, some of my favorite xmas ornaments growing up, which were just about the only happy things about my childhood, and most of our furniture) because we couldn't clean them enough to keep me from keeling over when I was exposed to them, packed everything else (on the porch--because I couldn't go inside--after soaking it all in ammonia so we wouldn't bring any spores into our new place), and simultaneously house and apartment hunted to try to find a place we could move into ASAP because I was supposed to be having neurosurgery in over a month and needed a place to recuperate, and every minute we delayed was a risk I'd permanently lose function due to nerve/brain/spinal column damage. (Things were made more difficult by the fact that there was a non-zero chance I could be paralyzed by the surgery so we needed to find an apartment that didn't have stairs in case I couldn't walk.) There was other drama during this time, too (eg. my new neurologist, who I had been waiting 9 months to see, closed her practice the day before my appointment with her without making any referrals, my new PCP accused me of drug-seeking when I was trying to make pain management plans for after my surgery, etc. etc.), which didn't help. But at least, within 2 weeks of moving out of the Mold House, as we'd dubbed it, I started being able to walk more than a few blocks and to even just think about writing again (and, ya know, also regularly speak complete sentences, since sometimes the neurotoxins had taken that, too), so we knew that we'd made the right decision.

Anyway, the good news is, we found a place and moved in on July 6th, so we only had to spend a month and a bit living in friends' guest rooms, hotels, and airbnbs with our two cats (one of whom developed a UTI and ear infection from the stress and mold, so we were also medicating her), and we were able to postpone my neurosurgery until February, and the neurosurgery was a success, which is why I'm alive and able to do things like write meta and fic again!

All this to say, I hadn't realized until I saw a thing about it on FB Memories (lol) that it had been 2 years since my apartment was literally killing me and I was abjectly terrified. And it never fails to amaze me that my body (and some parts of my mind) clearly remember anniversaries like that even if I don't, because my anxiety will be through the roof and I will be having more flashbacks about Unrelated Trauma Things and just generally feeling like my resilience is at about half its normal level. My working theory is that those aspects that remember the anniversary assume it's happening again and I never got out (oh emotional flashbacks. How I hate you.), and it's only once I make the connection consciously and can reflect on 1. how terrible it was (yay validation?) and 2. the fact that it's over and I survived through sheer stubbornness and good research skills (again) that I can get back to my baseline and things (like writing) become so much more fun and easier.

Last reflection on this shitshow: last year, I was too busy recovering from my neurosurgery to notice what I was feeling about the 1 year anniversary of the Escape From The Mold House (or at least, if I had any reflections on it, I don't remember them), but I'd guess it was probably still too upsetting and traumatizing for me to be ready to look at the memories directly. But right now, at least, I'm really proud of myself. I mean, all of that was horrifying and traumatizing, and I wouldn't wish it on ANYONE, but I'm really proud of myself for saying 'fuck this, something is wrong, and I think I know what, and I am going to solve it because I can, and I refuse to die like this.' I sometimes forget that under all the anxiety and trauma and insecurity, I am fundamentally incredibly stubborn, determined, confident in my opinions, and willing to fight for myself.

I'm hoping I can hold onto that reminder as I go forward, especially depending on what I learn about whether my gallbladder is in fact a ticking time bomb. I can and will argue with my doctors to take this seriously if I have to; I just don't want to need to.

[braidedriver24]

Temple of Doom - 40th anniversary

no way Temple of Doom (1984) has it's 40th anniversary today. it's obviously the most problematic film in the indiana jones franchise but i still love this film with all my heart. it was the first indy film i ever watched and i was deeply disturbed after watching several human sacrifices. but this film was which got me into this franchise when i was 8 years old. so here are some of my personal thoughts:

this film is just peak 80's action. where do i begin.. the opening scene in shanghai, the plane crash, the mine car chase.. it's so over the top and still kinda slapstick humour, i simply love it, no wonder they won the oscar for best visual effects, and john williams' score is as always chef's kiss especially short round's theme

-> peak 80's action and beautiful soundtrack

i loved the character of short round because i could relate to him so much. he was clever, cool and funny and as a primary school child i imagined myself going on adventures like him. he is an iconic character and i wished we would have seen him again in Kingdom of the Crystal Skull or Dial of Destiny these films are shit so good for him he was not part of them many people hate willy. i love her for being an iconic queen sry but i like her even more than marion

-> iconic characters

Temple of Doom is extremely problematic with it's racist stereotypes, that's not tolerable even for the 1980's and i will not defend this film in this topic, the white saviour trope is so fucking terrible in this film, even as a child i noticed this shit ( i always saw the indy films kinda as a parody or even satire films for these old adventure films from the 1930's, 1940's and 1950's, all indy films have problems with this but Temple of Doom hits the hardest in your face)

-> nonetheless i think when you are aware of these problems and question these elements of Temple of Doom you can still enjoy this film

last but not least this film cemented my huge crush on harrison ford. 8 year old me thought: yeah i want to marry this man! he is clever, he is cool, he is good looking the outfit with his glasses awakened something in me, he helps people, he knows a lot about history i was in my ancient egypt phase, he knows how to fight, simply perfect besides he's the embodiment of toxic masculinity and a white saviour hetero cis man as i later realized

-> as i grew older i realized i need to become this archaeology coded person myself and considered studying this discipline but i didn't want to get unemployed haha and i started studying geography (mainly because of the desert landscapes of Wadi Rum which are shown in Last Crusade (1989)). i choose some archaeology lectures as optional subjects and of course i realized it's nothing like in the indy films. however geoarchaeology is today one of my main interests in my major

i still love these films so much because they kinda changed my life in a certain way and also because they are super nostalgic for me . Temple of Doom is still after Last Crusade my second favourite film in the indy franchise. i'm glad that after 40 years this is still one of the best adventure action films ever made even though this film is far from flawless

[thx for reading, please consider that english is not my first language (typos, etc.) the struggle is real -> this is one of my first longer tumblr text posts]

[fentanylfairy111]

A Little Of My Story:

Not expecting anyone to see this but I feel like getting this all of my chest to nothing will somehow help me. I've been struggling with my drug addiction since I was 14,, I am now 21. Yes, I know it's not that long of a stretch but fuck dude..it's been so fucking rough.

16yrs old I was sent to my first rehab. I was taught how to do hard drugs. At that point I was just eating Xanax and snorting yayo up my nose and smoking wayyy too much. Ended up getting abused by a guy who I met there.

After that experience I fell even harder into my addiction. I was no longer who I thought I was. Got laced with PCP and went into psychosis. Didn't think it could get worse than that. My old best friend came over to celebrate my birthday and she didn't bring the H so we decided to get Blues. No surprise here but big fucking mistake.

She ended up OD and my mama had to revieve her. I still had some of the pressies left so to deal with witnessing that I thought it would be a good idea to snort the fent pressed pills. Instantly I fell in love with the sensation I received from the high. I was already shooting dope occasionally, doing ketamine, acid, Vicodin and oxys.

At age 17yrs old thing got even worse. I hit up my yayo dealer because my friend and I wanted to try scante. Once again BIG fucking mistake. We smoked the pookie first then the needles came out. Got hooked immediately...

Next time we saw him he told me to try smoking something off of foil. He told me it was H,, it was pure fent powder. Ofc I didn't know this at the time but me being the dumbass that I am took a hit off the foil.

I had been doing blues but fuck powder...that's a whole ass different story. I fell out. literally. I fell outta the car and threw up down myself and they shot me up with crystal and I came to. Crazy how insane that shit sounds...crystal bringing me back. What's even more insane about that is that wasn't the last time that happened. That was my first OD..there have been too many other times to count since then.

I'd be writing a whole ass novel if I went into everything but to summarize...since 17 there was a needle in my arm, hands, muscles until age 19/20 when I just went back to the foil and pookie.

H no longer exists. It's all fent. Everything. Nothing is clean anymore.

March 24th is going to be the 3yr anniversary of my best friends OD death date. This will be my first year sober for it and i'm losing my fucking mind. I keep having breakdowns but idk I just can't seem to even cry anymore. My Dr says i'm like a Navy Seal because no matter what is going on..I don't show emotion. I am numb. He also thinks I have psychopathic tendencies because of my 'destructive behavior.'

I feel like I'm losing my mind and can't talk to anyone about it. Please someone talk to me. IDC what it's about,, I just need people who can relate or just to idk fucking talk to instead of being in my head 24/7.

[mellythedork]

How in the ever-loving gourd has it been ten years? Time is an illusion that I stopped seeing ages ago.

10 years ago, at the tail end of 2013, I had a huge, friendship-ending fight that shattered me. In an attempt to keep myself together, I hid behind a character and wrote the most self-indulgent crossover fic I'd ever concocted. After 5 years, 2 rewrites, too many OCs to count, magic mechanics I didn't think through, and conversations with my former best friend about what had happened, I finally let that fic rest. I knew that if I tried to continue it, I'd never move on, as the very basis of it was focused on that fight.

But it was still such a colossal part of my life. 5 years to spend on a project is no laughing matter, and it felt like it was the only trustworthy constant as I struggled to make my way through everything going on around me. It invaded RPs with friends and basically everything I did...and that wasn't always a good thing. It was a coping mechanism that went too far, but I still cherished it so much.

Things never got anywhere near back to how they had been before that fight. But I learned a lot about myself and how to better handle problems I hadn't realized I was creating. I feel like being forced to think about it while writing the original Mooniverse helped me come to terms with it and move on--which was, of course, the intention all along! But it came to a point where I knew it had to end.

There was never any rhyme or reason to that fic, in any version of it. I wrote it purely to have fun and go wild. It's so odd looking back at the chapters now; I keep laughing at how things went without direction. But it was pure and adorable and I'll always look back at it fondly...beyond the cringing at how much I shoved it in my friends' faces.

For…I was going to say over a year, but I feel like 2 would be more accurate. For about 2 years now, I've struggled to create anything. Both art and writing have felt impossible. I burned out on most of my personal projects without realizing it until last month, but that realization took a weight off of me. And without that weight, as I realized the anniversary that was coming up, I was able to create something on nothing but a whim and enjoy it again.

My art block certainly isn't gone, and nothing about this is what I'd consider perfect. It's not even finished. But I set the sketch as my goal, trying to keep the pressure low, in hopes that I'd be able to post it at all. I do want to touch it up and finish it one day, but I'm not going to worry about that now.

I have been a bit inspired, though! I want to do more things like this. Like the original Mooniverse Melodia and the final one standing side by side here, I want to pull together more OCs with such connections and growth and see how far they've come. I don't know how much of that I'll accomplish, but it's been fun to think about for sure.

I hope everyone's holidays have gone well and that your plans for the new year are fulfilling. I think this year is going to go a lot better for me than the last.

--

From left to right we have: The original Annie along with the final Annie (Of course they'd be friends!)

The final Melodia (with slight modifications to her outfit in order to make a bit more sense; ditto to her bangs. Seriously, what was I thinking when I made that mess?? lol)

The middle-ground Moon (as I no longer have the design for the original, but wanted to include her)

The final Hope (in one of her alternate outfits)

The original Melodia (I didn't think I had any references left of her, but after about 2 hours of searching, I gave up only to stumble upon one by chance the next day. Sure was a surprise!)

And finally the middle-ground Myasu (just think of her & Moon as representing the first rewrite!)

-- I knew most of my art problems were from my difficulty and dislike of drawing bodies, so to make this possible at all, I used a base.

I also very much referenced the original image, the hair of Love Live and Idolmaster characters, and self-made bases from Shugo Chara, both due to time constraints and to keep my sanity. I'm very out of practice and didn't want to get so frustrated I abandoned the drawing altogether.

[indigo-scarf]

Draco and Dransy for the ask game please?

thanks for asking! (I'll try not to make this post too huge lol)

ask game here

💚 Draco

How I feel about this character: 

My precious little meow meow for 15 years (that's a crystal anniversary!). I actually can't explain how I feel about him without divulging my entire autobiography, but here are some relatable things we have in common:

being edgy because vulnerability is weak

going scorched earth sour grapes when rejected

jealous little attention whores

having done cruel things for said attention

impossible-to-please parental figure set in their callous ways and restrictive worldview

complicated feelings about Harry Potter

Sometimes I wonder if it's unhealthy to indulge such strong kinship with a character over mostly negative parts of both of us but anyway moving on

All the people I ship romantically with this character: 

Pansy, Harry, Theodore, Luna, Goyle, Scabior, Borgin, Tom Riddle (in some really abusive way), Neville, Cedric, Remus, Sirius, Marcus Flint, Zacharias Smith, Cormac McLaggen, any random man off the street apparently. Astoria maybe.

My non-romantic OTP for this character: 

Narcissa! Love to project my mummy issues. And I also ship them incestuously, but that would still not be romantic, more just expressing mother-son affection in messed up ways.

My unpopular opinion about this character: 

He doesn't need to be redeemed to be lovable!!!

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon:

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Canon is perfect the way it is. Get out of here with your deleted movie scenes, let him be a confused Slytherin mess.

I don't even really wish he had married Pansy, because despite her being my beloved princess I sort of like how much JKR hates her + I guess that would be narratively weird, unless Pansy's character had been given more attention all along/had a "horrible to questioning" arc of her own.

my OTP:

I refuse to pick one (you'd think I'd say Dransy, but I can think of so many reasons why they could break up lol).

my cross over ship:

Any of my other mean rich kid blorbos: Blair Waldorf, Sharpay Evans, Cheryl Blossom, August (Young Royals), Nathan (Life is Strange), Ryle (The Riot Club).

a headcanon fact:

He always has two birthday parties, one on the actual day (and it's a whole thing that it cannot flop due to exams) and a bigger one after term ends that marks the beginning of summer holidays.

💕 Dransy (aka racistflower, raciststars, or racistracist)

when I started shipping it if I did:

Last year. I genuinely don't know why I didn't ship it before, must be misogyny (and the fact that there are so few fanworks about it).

my thoughts:

I like mean rich kids and two of those together is chef's kiss. Also there are so many different directions you can go with this ship, from the most wholesome to the most abusive, all of which l find fun to explore.

What makes me happy about them:

The comfort of being childhood friends (even if I don't think their friendship was equal or entirely healthy) to lovers. Empathising with each other's dark side. Romanticising the dramatic ups and downs of potentially toxic fictional relationships. Going shopping.

What makes me sad about them:

That it's such a niche ship! Come on, it was literally canon for a while, what is wrong with society 😭

things done in fanfic that annoys me:

What fanfic? 😭 But I don't like it when Pansy is too sassy-confident, when Draco is too traditionally manly, or when either of them is explicitly forced into their ideology like they didn't enjoy being bigoted little shits.

things I look for in fanfic:

Being mean together, struggling to be kinder, (getting used to) being vulnerable with no one except each other, fighting because they refuse to be vulnerable, doing rich people things together, struggling to do non-rich people things... But I guess the most important thing is I'm just picky af about the characterisation vibes.

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: 

Draco: Harry, Theodore, Luna, maybe Astoria

Pansy: Daphne, Marietta Edgecombe, maybe Lavender (but if she's black it gets rather complicated) + I once made up an OC that was Pansy's French gf

My happily ever after for them:

Luxurious travels around the world, until they're coastal grandparents with or without any grandchildren.

who is the big spoon/little spoon:

They both want to be the little spoon, but sacrifices must be made, so they alternate.

what is their favorite non-sexual activity:

Spa day! And taking Witch Weekly quizzes.

[journeytoasoberlife]

Day 5.

Today I've had many thoughts around my emotional stability and when I'll be able to see it plateau. Having a cluster b personality disorder will blur those lines, but that's something I've come to recognize. I'm unsure of the sober side of that, making it uncharted territory for me, which is harder to navigate.

I woke up this morning and continued doing laundry, I filed my weekly unemployment, applied for more jobs and tried to keep busy. I had to remind myself that I'm not a failure with this, the last two jobs I've had I was treated very poorly and got the shit end of the stick in the worst way. Where I normally filled my morning with mimosas or a seltzer, I'm drinking more coffee, which should be water but whatever. I am using nicotine to fill those gaps, which I'm currently fine with.

I hung out with my friend Alex today, she's 8 months sober. Before her sobriety we would drink the entire time we were together. It was a nice change of pace and I'm so proud of her journey. I too will be there one day. We got pizza and I learned that I am not a fan of basil in mocktails, I mean seriously, who thought of that?

My hiking boots will be here tomorrow and I'll spend some of my day breaking them in. I'm also meeting with another friend that I've recently reconnected with.

It's currently 11:52 pm and I know I won't be able to sleep for a while. Not going to bed high or tipsy is something I'm still struggling with. During the peak of my alcoholism I wasn't really sleeping, though that also was work related. I would maybe get 3-4 hours if I was lucky, waking up every ~2 hours almost like clockwork.

My emotions took a shit on me tonight, too. By that time I would've easily been on my 3-4 cider and would either be ignoring my emotions or in a full blown breakdown. I think writing these every night gives me the outlet I didn't know I needed or willingly ignored if I'm being honest.

I've been trying to eat more regularly but I haven't been putting as much energy into it as I should. T and I would get breakfast every morning and that was a nice shift for me. I know I won't be able to go to one of my favorite spots for a bit because I always drank there, but I do make good breakfast when I put some effort in. I really need to go shopping but I keep ignoring it. Maybe I'll do that tomorrow. I'll also have to get another Elf Bar, the one I bought while T and I were out is killer on my throat and I know my good one will go bad soon, my novo could work if it dies and but that doesn't have nearly enough nicotine in it.

Things are adding up and I'm nervous about the weeks ahead. Will is coming home soon and my life will shift again, and I'm unsure how I'll be able to navigate that as well. He drinks a lot and while he was more than supportive, I'm worried about it.

I keep having to remind myself that I pulled out of this once before, and that was way worse than this time around. I spent the better half of 2019 drunk in a bar alone, waking up the next morning wondering how I was even able to drive home. That was the 5 year anniversary of my moms death and I couldn't shake it. I was living alone, having broken up with my partner, spiraling and wanting to die. I don't want to be in that place again, ever.

I'm worried that people will find me to be a liability, and in turn won't want to be in my life. Maybe I shouldn't be worried about something like that but there's people I never want to lose, even if the road gets rocky. I'm trying to be enough for myself, which I've never attempted before and quite frankly, I'm scared. I always made the joke that I was rawdogging life because I'm not medicated for my depression and anxiety, but now I'm really doing it and that's scary too.

I'm hoping for an easier day tomorrow. Hopefully I can find it.

Anyway, goodnight tumblr.