#bipolar blob

[myth-arts]

As a Will Wood fan...

Mkay so not a normal Will Wood fan

So to begin I'd like to say I have an entire playlist just for Will Wood, I mean all of his songs, even songs that he only played the instrument in, even Alma Mater, it's like it's obsessive.

But it's not.

But it is-

Okay so I've been listening to him for about a year, I know all the words to every song, even the explicit ones (hacker skills -3-) that are blocked for me.

And this has become a very unsafe obsession, I've learned how to play some of his songs on the piano, and I spend my free time looking at Will Wood memes, ranting about Will Wood, and trying my best to binge Life In the World to Come.

This is NOT HEALTHY.

The first page in my sketchbook is just DRAWINGS OF HIS ALBUMS. I quote his music everywhere and make references every chance I get, my friends and family are beginning to get annoyed.

When I found out he was taking a break and wouldn't be concerting nearby me I collapsed with steven-johnson syndrome on the ER floor (I swear, I'm so fucking sorry- OH THERE I GO AGAIN-) and now I'm just some bipolar blob hoping that Will Wood reads this cuz hElL yEaH I wAnNa tALk tO hIm sO BaDLy.

Honestly though imagine a conversation with Will Wood...

ANYWAYS I'M GETTING OFF TOPIC.

I'm obsessive and my therapist never called me back and I hope that I'm still alive by the time Willy finds this.

*sobs in unhealthiness*

[goggles-mcgee]

Too Late: Jagged, Penny & Clara

Latest Chapter in the story for @miner249er 

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Summary: Regret is a funny, ugly little thing and Jagged regretted a lot, but nothing more than not noticing how much Marinette was hurting. He regretted not being there, so he's ready to help in anyway he can, even if Marinette isn't there to see it.  

Random notes swam through the air as Jagged plucked at his guitar string every now and then, his thoughts racing a mile a minute. He wasn’t a man that liked to be weighed down by his troubles, it was what made him a great Rockstar because usually he could put his troubles into notes and make a killer song out of them which in some weird way helped him work through them. But I don’t think all the songs I could write in the world could get me through this…He thought with a grimace. It hurt to move his face much given the amount of tears he had shed since Paris had been “liberated.” What a joke that was. Paris wasn’t liberated. Not really. Sure they no longer had Hawkmoth looming over them like some kind of sadistic twisted talent scout, but they weren’t better. The random bouts of yelling and crying and laughing at inappropriate times were a testament to that. 

No one knew how to feel their emotions healthily anymore so they all came out in these ugly blobs. Jagged felt bad, he really did, especially given he wasn’t in Paris a lot of the time during Hawkmoth’s reign. Sure it seemed like he was but Jagged could only handle so much of Paris before he felt like a balloon filled with too much air and Penny knew that. So they would always go to one of his houses in Daresbury where his mother had lived before she passed. If there was one thing Jagged understood and prioritized with himself, it was his emotions. When he was younger, about mid-teens, his parents fought about his “behavior” and how he was a bad egg. Well that’s what his father said, it was always something along those lines and he always used what he said as an excuse to hit Jagged, to “shape him up.” His father had always said he was ungrateful and lazy and had too much of an attitude, but his mum, God bless his dear mum, she knew something wasn’t okay.

It was when she took him to a doctor to talk about it that his dad really freaked, he never liked to talk about that night but that was the night Bruce Lewis went to prison and Jagged and his mother were admitted to the hospital. That was also the night his mother decided to change Jagged’s last name to her maiden name, so there was no part of him attached to his father in any way. That was the night Jagged became Jareth David Stone and he had cried. Things got better for them and things got a bit worse of course, his mum had to provide for the two of them and on top of that they were doing their best to learn about BPD, specifically Bipolar II Disorder since that was Jagged’s official diagnosis. It wasn’t always perfect but damn it was a happy time for the both of them, of course Jagged still had his ups and downs but his mother was always there to help him or just support him during his episodes. She was a kind soul that always saw the good in people and she was so protective over those she cared about.

Maybe that’s why he liked Marinette so much. She reminded him of his mother in all the best ways and unfortunately all the bad ways too. Both women were too afraid to tell people no or let people know when they themselves needed help. Jagged’s heart hurt at the memories that rushed into his head but it was true. His mum had the weight of the world on her shoulders for so long that when she had the opportunities to ask for help, she never did, and on some levels Jagged understood but then he’d remember that damned phone call that came. That one from a doctor he hadn’t known about told him the words he dreaded to hear most, his mother had died. At first he hadn’t believed the man, he thought it was some cruel joke by some obsessed fan of his that was looking for his attention, or perhaps some tabloid journalist that was looking for a story to make a fool out of him by saying he cried over the phone. Unfortunately it was neither of those things, his mother had well and truly died in the hospital due to a nasty case of pneumonia.

It had torn his world apart. He canceled everything once he was sure, his remaining tour dates, his guest appearances, his CD and record signings, all of it. History repeats itself, he mused. When he heard that Marinette had gone missing he had honest to God felt the World tilt in an attempt to dislodge him. He had been floating in space in this numbness before he had one of his worst episodes, it wasn’t as bad as the one he had when he found out his mother died or when he found out he had been a father of twins and hadn’t been there for them or Anarka but it was up there. The teen had kicked the door to his heart in and basically lived there with all his other loved ones. It wasn’t an exaggeration when he said, even if it was only to himself, that Marinette was like another kid to him. He saw her as a daughter and that made everything so much worse. Jagged knew she had Tom and Sabine but there was no denying that he and Penny saw Marinette as a daughter and they both knew that Tom and Sabine knew. 

He had just gotten back into Paris after going on a small tour for his new album when the world crumbled around him. Penny had gotten them their usual room at Le Grand Paris while they had been trying to close a deal on some property so they could have a more permanent home there as well so they wouldn’t have to stay at the hotel every time they came back to Paris. Jagged had been so excited that he had been back in Paris and that he would be able to spend time with Luka, Juleka and Marinette that he barely slept on the plane ride back so he basically crashed as soon as they checked in and he blamed himself for that everyday now. Maybe if he had been awake, maybe if he had had seen the news he would have been able to call Marinette and maybe just maybe she wouldn’t have been akumatized. No one deserved to be akumatized but if someone had to be he would have taken that possessed butterfly a thousand times over for Marinette. 

Knowing that Luka and Juleka had been akumatized had ripped his heart into messy pieces, knowing he hadn’t been there for them even if at the time he hadn’t known about them but when he knew he made sure both of them knew they could call and that he would be there for them no matter what. They were all learning how to rely on each other, them with their everyday issues and him letting them help and even just see his episodes. It was tough to be so vulnerable in front of his children because he wanted them to rely on him and he had those twisted thoughts that screamed that once his kids saw one of his episodes, that they would turn tail and run. He knew it wasn’t true, they proved time and time again that they didn’t think any less of him, nor were they afraid of his episodes and God…he loved his kids. He loved them so much. Jagged had never understood when parents had said that a parent’s love for their kids was something that could never be described, it was all encompassing, it was … frightening. Jagged had never understood until he did.

Loving his children was as easy as it was heartbreaking. It was easy because there were just so many things about each one that added to his ever growing love of them, and it was heartbreaking because of every hurt they felt and that heartbreak seemed to multiply ten-fold with Hawkmoth. Hawkmoth had managed to akumatize two of his three children and maybe it was awful of him to wish and pray it, but dammit did he wish and pray that Marinette would be spared. Of course he wished Luka and Juleka weren’t victims of Hawkmoth over and over like that pigeon guy, but there was just something about Marinette that made it seem like if she got akumatized, things really were bad. They all found out what that something was he mused as he played the familiar cords of his Ladybug song. It was common for him to make all his songs work on piano and guitar. Piano for his Mum, guitar for him. His Mum adored piano and had come from a pretty well-off family when she was young so she had been classically trained in piano. 

“Have you heard?” The familiar voice of Clara Nightingale crashed through Jagged’s thoughts. 

“Hello Clara.” Penny, ever so polite, greeted.

Jagged sat up on his couch and gently put his guitar down as he gave the younger singer a once-over. It had been a good while since she had ditched her signature microphone so it was no surprise to not see it. What was a surprise was the look of fury on her face. “Heard what?”

“Goodness you haven’t.” Clara sighed out harshly, it almost sounded like a growl as she began to pace. “I…I hate to be the one to give you the latest “miraculous” news but I mean, this might be better than hearing it on the news like I just did. They are planning to make an animated show revolving around Marinette! As Ladybug! The sketches they released look exactly like her! And, and they are basically just making it a biography in cartoon form! With “creative” additions.” 

“I’m scared to ask what those “creative” additions are.” Penny wrinkled her nose, most likely trying to think up what they meant by “creative” and whatever she was thinking was particularly unpleasant. 

Clara continued to pace and Jagged distantly wondered if it was actually possible for someone to wear a floor down so much they just fall through. Then it all caught up to him and his blood froze before boiling. “They must actually be fucking insane. Pen…Pen, get the lawyers. All of them. Mar…Marinette has gone through enough. She doesn’t need this, she doesn’t need people exploiting her life for money. Her likeness for money.”

“I’ll add my lawyers to the pile too if it’ll help.” Clara offered as she plopped herself down on the couch opposite of Jagged. The poor girl looked like she hadn’t slept in days. She hid it well, unlike her heartbreak which Jagged related to all too well. When everything hit the fan, Jagged became quieter and louder, it was exhausting, and Clara…Clara lost her spark. She stopped rhyming. She stopped dancing. She still wrote music, he knew she did because she would come over to either work on said music, collaborate, or just work through the emotions with music. Jagged also knew it was as out of worry for a friend as it was guilt. Clara had confided in him and Penny that she had recently commissioned Marinette for a new jacket and matching skirt for a new music video she was going to shoot just before the teen had gone missing. 

Clara had weeped, wailed, thrown whatever was in reach because she blamed herself for adding stress on Marinette’s plate. Everyone in the room knew the teen had a problem with saying no to others but they had thought they had made sure she knew that she could always tell them no, no matter the circumstances. They should have known that no matter what they said the teen never would have taken it easy if it meant she could help them, Marinette loved helping others even if it meant the decline of herself. Whether that be in time, mental or physical health or even personal care. It reminded him of himself or Clara when they were in a creative rut and felt like they needed to produce something. 

Whatever they pushed themselves to do always could have come out better if they had made themselves relax and take a moment to just breath and exist. That was just the curse of creative people though, or that’s how Jagged felt anyway, and Marinette was a very creative person. She didn’t stop at one medium of art, she excelled in fashion, she loved to do digital art, any crafts she could make with her hands were mastered in no time. It was like she was made from pure creativity. It was insane and it was like if you were near her, you just felt so inspired to create. It was one of the many things that Jagged loved about the girl. She knew how to help bounce ideas around and when too much was too much, sure it would take her a while to find her voice but when she did you couldn’t help but listen. 

Marinette was an inspiration without even being Ladybug. Being Ladybug just added to it all. So it was no surprise that people wanted to tell others about her, it was the way they were doing it that was pissing Jagged off. “I want to talk to the show’s creator, the writers, the works! Pen, we also need to call Tom and Sabine, if they don’t already know we need to tell them, and if they do know then we need to tell them we are calling the lawyers up and what we are planning to do to make sure this show doesn’t do Marinette wrong.” 

“I’ll give them a call now.” Penny confirmed with a soft smile directed at Jagged, one he hoped he reflected but honestly he felt so drained. “Clara, how about you get comfortable? We were about to order lunch and we would love to have you.”

Clara slumped further into the couch and gave Penny a fond smile as she shook her head. They both knew it wasn’t a question to stay and have lunch, Penny was telling Clara she was having lunch with them. “Whatever you say Pen.”

While Penny did that Jagged turned to Clara to really look at her and sighed, “How are you doing kid?” 

“As well as I can be. I’ve been seeing that therapist you suggested. The one in London? She’s been helping.”

“Good. I’m glad. Maggie is always a joy to see when I visit her sister Anna for a session. Anna was the one who suggested Maggie, and maybe it’s a bit of a little sister bias but she did say sometimes it’s easier to speak to people that are closer in age to us. Well for some people.” Jagged shared.

Clara nodded. “Yeah, I think her being closer to my age does help. It feels like I’m just venting to a friend or something which is nice.”

“See? Therapy ain’t so big and scary.” 

“Not if you have the right therapist you mean.” Clara snarked. 

“Okay, fair.” Jagged conceded. 

Penny walked back over to them, plopped herself next to Jagged, and laid her head on his shoulder before she let out a long sigh. He rubbed her back slowly, “Tough call, Love?”

“I just can’t handle hearing Sabine cry anymore Jareth. It breaks my heart.” Penny practically whispered.  

“I know, Love. Me too. But we’re gonna do something to hopefully help her days get a little more bearable.”

“If only we could sue The Followers. They’re doing more damage than anyone.” Clara huffed, her eyes wet with tears. The Followers…they had all been hurt in some way by the group. Jagged’s heart still hurt at the thought of his Eiffel Tower glasses that had been stolen from the very hotel they were staying in. They even got their grubby little hands on a pocket square, the very first thing Marinette had made for Penny. At first, Jagged hadn’t even wanted to stay at the stupid hotel after the pain it had caused due to its lax security, but after watching the footage of the overwhelming rush/attack of the hotel, he really couldn’t blame them. There were just so many of them, and they acted all at once. It was terrifying. 

“Dad!” That one word broke their little bubble and immediately set Jagged on edge. He didn’t even realize he had gotten to his feet until he was already halfway towards the door meeting Luka and his friend Kagami. 

“Luka. What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Is Juleka hurt? Your mom?”

“Dad. Dad, no. We’re fine. None of us are hurt.” Luka said as he put his hands on Jagged’s shoulders that sank when he realized his son, daughter and their mother were not in danger or hurt. 

“Well I wouldn’t say we are fine but we are not in immediate danger.” Kagami said from her place beside Luka. 

“Come sit down. Lunch will be here and you guys can tell us what is going on.” Penny said calmly, Jagged was once again thanking his lucky star that he met her and fell in love with her. She always knew how to keep a level head. 

“Lunch sounds swell, thank you.” Kagami, also someone who knew how to keep a level head nodded before she took a seat next to Clara. Luka was still standing looking more than a bit harried though. 

“You okay kiddo? You look like five different genres of music are blasting at full volume in your ears.” Jagged put a hand on Luka’s shoulder and gently guided him to the couch so he could sit down. Now that he got a closer look, it seemed as though both teens had been running at some point. Maybe even to the hotel and that worried Jagged. 

Luka sighed but gave Jagged a relieved smile, “That’s exactly how I feel. Everything is just…it just feels so…if I had my guitar I’d be able to show it but…everything is just so overwhelming is the best I can put it.” 

“Well, lay it on your old man, what’s going on?”

Luka bit his lip before he took a deep breath in, locked eyes with Kagami and then with Jagged. “Kagami and I had been noticing weird things while we were out…and like at first we didn’t think anything of it, I mean everything has been weird since…since Mar-...well you know.”

Jagged nodded, he did know. Marinette’s disappearance was like Paris’s own Pandora’s box. “Yeah I getcha.”

“It was actually a couple days ago that things progressed but we never thought they would act so quickly or in such a way. Basically, we noticed people watching us at first, which was strange but given everything that has happened we thought we just had to get used to it.” Kagami picked up after Luka. 

“Watching you?” Clara echoed, worry clear in her voice. “How many people?”

“We never got a good enough look at first.” Luka mumbled like he was ashamed they hadn’t been more observant. Dammit they were kids! They shouldn’t feel bad about not being on guard twenty-four seven, and they certainly shouldn’t feel the need to note everything going on around them. “But then it uh, upgraded.”

“Upgraded?” Penny’s voice and grip on the back of the couch was tight.

“A group of people started to follow us. It was small. We thought we could handle it.” Kagami informed them stiffly.

“Kid…” Jagged breathed out.

“We…They weren’t saying anything or chasing us. We thought it-that they would go away. Like a rumor or something.” Luka tried to explain.

“But from there we noticed the groups getting bigger, they were following us longer…” Kagami trailed off as she started down at her lap. “Then we noticed them following us online as well.”

“We thought if we blocked the random people it would help. It didn’t. Eventually we went private, if you noticed that’s uh, that’s why. We didn’t know why they were doing all of this until today…” Luka sounded so small and Jagged wanted nothing more than to pull his kid into his arms but they were still mapping out physical affection and he didn’t want to make things worse in case that was a no-go for Luka. 

“Today they group approached us…” Kagami said, her voice shook. Jagged’s heart broke all over again, this was a spunky girl who usually was never bothered by anything. At the end of the day though, she was just a kid, a kid trying to deal with too much by herself. “I should have brought my sword. I always take my sword but today I didn’t and…The group approached us and started shouting questions. They even tried to get us to sign things.” 

“Sign things?” Clara asked, alarmed.

“Nothing bad, just autographs.” Luka jumped in to comfort Clara.

“Autographs.” Penny deadpanned.

“To be frank,” Kagami began, “They believe that Luka and Myself were Viperion and Ryuuko respectively. Apparently we have…fans. Though some of the questions asked were why we failed Ladybug, or something similar.” 

“They asked us to confirm our “identities.” Other questions were just really creepy. They kept trying to shake our hands.” Luka shuddered.

“Apparently some even run blogs about us. One even knew my favorite drink.” Now it was Kagami who sounded small.

Jagged was burning mad. He was trying his best not to lose it, but FUCK he was scared for his kid! Mad for his kid! Luka and Kagami did not deserve this, any of this. They deserved to mourn their friend, hope for her return, binge eat ice cream and cry. They did not deserve to be stalked. No one deserved to be stalked, and if there was anything that Jagged hated, it was stalkers. “Penny. Clara. I need you both to call up any good bodyguards you know. No Luka, no arguing. These people are stalking you. Stalking you. Stalkers escalate, Son. I don’t want to see you hurt, either of you. So until we can figure out what we can do legal wise, I need to know you two are safe and that means bodyguards.”

Luka and Kagami just looked at Jagged like he hung the moon and he did his best not to cry from feeling overwhelmed himself. He was doing the bare minimum of being a parent he thought. But he would earn those looks, he promised himself at that moment that he would.

Next Chapter

[obsessive-loser-866]

updated intro

we follow from @magick-blob we are a DID system and we'll all use this blog because we all have issues mostly we're 13 collectively call us Addison this is an irl yandere blog combo with vent blog because we have an insane amount of issues uh if you like red flags dm me i guess/hj i'm taken, polyam , and bi (flirting is ok) i post stupid shit we have: Depression, Anxiety, ptsd, we were told we had most symptoms of bipolar disorder by a prophesional but never got diagnosed, and we are physically disabled. i don't have a specific dni but i love the block button, it is my best freind, so be nice

[jcmarchi]

Sleeping Supermassive Black Holes Awakened Briefly by Shredded Stars - Technology Org

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/sleeping-supermassive-black-holes-awakened-briefly-by-shredded-stars-technology-org/

Sleeping Supermassive Black Holes Awakened Briefly by Shredded Stars - Technology Org

A new investigation into an obscure class of galaxies known as Compact Symmetric Objects, or CSOs, has revealed that these objects are not entirely what they seem. CSOs are active galaxies that host supermassive black holes at their cores. Out of these monstrous black holes spring two jets traveling in opposite directions at nearly the speed of light. But in comparison to other galaxies that boast fierce jets, these jets do not extend out to great distances—they are much more compact. For many decades, astronomers suspected that CSOs were simply young and that their jets would eventually travel out to greater distances.

This image, captured by the Very Long Baseline Array (VLBA), shows the Compact Symmetric Object (CSO) known as J1734+0926. The red blobs are the ends of a powerful bipolar jet emanating from an unseen black hole. Image Credit: M.L. Lister/Purdue University

Now, reporting in three different papers in The Astrophysical Journal, a Caltech-led team of researchers has concluded that CSOs are not young but rather lead relatively short lives.

“These CSOs are not young,” explains Anthony (Tony) Readhead, the Robinson Professor of Astronomy, Emeritus, who led the investigation. “You wouldn’t call a 12-year-old dog young even though it has lived a shorter life than an adult human. These objects are a distinct species that live and die out in thousands of years rather than the millions of years common in galaxies with bigger jets.”

The team reviewed literature and past observations of more than 3,000 CSO candidates in the new studies, verifying 64 as real and identifying an additional 15 CSOs. All these objects had been previously observed by the National Radio Astronomy Observatory’s Very Long Baseline Array (VLBA), funded by the National Science Foundation (NSF), and other high-resolution radio telescopes had observed some. “The VLBA observations are the most detailed in astronomy, providing images with details equivalent to measuring the width of a human hair at a distance of 100 miles,” Readhead says.

This illustration shows how Compact Symmetric Objects, or CSOs, likely form. When a single, massive star wanders too close to a black hole (left), it is devoured. This causes the black hole to shoot out an ultrafast, bipolar jet (center). The jet extends outward and its hot ends glow with radio emissions (right). Image credit: B. Saxton/NRAO/AUI/NSF

The team’s analysis concludes that CSOs expel jets for 5,000 years or less and then die out. “The CSO jets are very energetic jets but they seem to shut off,” says Vikram Ravi, assistant professor of astronomy at Caltech and a co-author of one of the studies. “The jets stop flowing from the source.”

As for what is fueling the short-lived jets, the scientists believe the cause is a tidal disruption event (TDE), which occurs when a single star wanders too close to a supermassive black hole and is devoured.

“We think that a single star gets ripped apart, and then all that energy is channeled into jets along the axis the black hole is spinning around,” Readhead says. “The giant black hole starts out invisible to us, and then when it consumes a star, boom! The black hole has fuel, and we can see it.”

Readhead first suspected that CSOs might be fueled by TDEs back in the 1990s, but he says the idea went largely unnoticed by the scientific community. “The hypothesis was all but forgotten because years went by before observational evidence began to mount for TDEs,” he says. At the time of his original hypothesis, only three CSOs had been found.

Fast forward to 2020. Readhead, who had paused his studies of CSOs to delve into different problems in radio astronomy, decided it was time to revisit the topic. He gathered some of his colleagues together on Zoom, and they decided to comb through literature and weed out objects that had been misclassified as CSOs. Over the next two years, the team investigated more than 3,000 CSO candidates, narrowing the group down to only dozens that had the criteria to be real CSOs.

This image, taken by the Very Long Baseline Array (VLBA), shows two supermassive black holes, which appear as the blobs with red strips. The black holes are in the center of an elliptical galaxy. Colors represent different spectral slopes in radio emission, with red showing the most dense regions surrounding the black holes. The black hole on the right has likely recently devoured a massive star, which caused it to shoot out two ultrafast jets. The ends of those jets appear as green blobs above and below the black hole. This object, called J0405+3803, is referred to as a Compact Symmetric Object (CSO), because its jets are relatively close-in (or compact), compared to other black holes with much larger jets. Image Credit: H.L. Maness/Grinnell College

Ultimately, a picture began to emerge of CSOs as an entirely distinct family with jets that die out much sooner than their gigantic brethren, such as those of the extremely powerful Cygnus A, a galaxy that shoots out extremely powerful jets that glow brightly at radio wavelengths. These jets stretch to distances of about 230,000 light-years in each direction and last tens of millions of years. In contrast, the CSO jets extend to about 1,500 light-years at most and die out by about 5,000 years.

According to the astronomers, the CSO jets likely form when a supermassive black hole snacks on not just any star, but a substantial one.

“The TDEs we’ve previously seen only lasted for a few years,” Ravi says. “We think that the remarkable TDEs powering CSOs last far longer because the disrupted stars are very large in size, very massive, or both.”

By analyzing the varied collection of CSO radio images, the researchers say they can trace how the objects age over time, almost like looking at a photo album of a CSO’s life to observe how its jets evolve. The younger CSOs have shorter jets that are closer to the black holes, while the older objects have jets that extend further out from their black hole. Though most of the jets die out, the scientists estimate that one in 100 will go onto to become long-lived like those of Cygnus A. In those rare cases, the galaxies are likely merging with other galaxies, a turbulent process that provides a large quantity of fuel.

If the discoveries of Readhead and his team are confirmed with additional observations, the CSOs will provide a whole new avenue for studying how massive stars at the centers of galaxies interact with supermassive black holes.

“These objects are indeed a distinct population with their own distinct origin, and it is up to us now to learn more about them and how they came to be,” Readhead says. “Being able to study these objects on timescales of years to decades rather than millions of years has opened the door to a whole new laboratory for studying supermassive black holes and the many unexpected and unpredictable surprises they hold.”

Written by Whitney Clavin

Source: Caltech

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[eternalvoidsystem]

oh boy another post about being completely fucked up in the head!!

1. alters are arguing so much. like so fucking much, it is making it hard to think properly. everyone is mad at eachother but a few people. for some reason, certain roles mean that certain alters are “better” than certain alters now? i dont know why? alters just started thinking this… maybe its just because imna host and a gatekeeper (the main two roles that get “treated better”) but that doesnt seem right to me!

2. i cant find a job, i dont want to find a job, but i do at the same time. i want a job, because i want to have money. but also, i don’t want to leave the fucking house? are you kidding? that sounds terrible! i don’t want to get out of my room? i go for a walk a day and thats it, nothing more, fuck that.

3. bipolar cycles? yeah. they are a bitch. i am like so close to being in a depressive episode again. Like, So Close. one more thing to trigger me and see ya! off to depression land! where i am not going to be leaving any time soon!

4. i, RAN, i split /bpd and now im just an emotional yet emotionless blob. like i genuinely don’t have it in me to care about anyone, especially myself.

5. self harm addiction? worst its ever been

all of this is because we cannot be normal!! it just doesn’t work. i try therapy! i do. but god i lie to my therapist so much and im very honest in comparison to him.

i am starting to get depressed because all of this, everything thats happened to me recently. it just makes me existential. nothing matters, right? nothing. nothing can bring me joy when there is no point in it. and god im so self aware because i know these are thoughts that’ll get me into bad shape. but i dont care. i hate myself so much ive grown past hating myself. im not worth that brain power, im that useless.

[aleciajadespeaks]

Sketchbook #4

Writing, Thinking, looking, critically

Jackson Pollock was an artist formed from “chaos”, a human being suffering from the intense switch of emotions, including bipolar disorder, anxiety, depression, and alcoholism, he wanted to be heard through his art. In the 1940s in the Wild West conformity was prominent, everything had a role or a place to fit into, and he was everything but that. Pollock’s drip art was known as unorganized, and chaotic, as impulsive blobs to some people, but others could pick up the true expression of his freedom through his paintings.  I experienced this freedom firsthand while sitting on my floor, crafting painting, after painting trying to be a perfectionist just for my “mistake” to become my winning piece for submission. I believe that Pollock went from studying with Thomas Hart Benton to using abstract Imagery because of his loss of control and alcoholism, but the beauty of finding harmony in the chaos is what embodied his meaningful art. Using art as his outlet, he mentions that he expresses physical feelings rather than illustrations and that is what he did.

2. ART PROJECT

This is my first abstract art painting, and I used my favorite song Eternal Blue, by Spiritbox as my inspiration. Here is a verse from the song.

It's not that you opened my heart Folding like a reptile, colder in the light It's not that the agony starts To pull me like a riptide, pulsing in time It's one by one, cut the circulation As the dust settles for you Flood in the cut will run An eternal blue sun to illuminate old wounds I wish my blood would slow down.

[calypsosemptypockets]

Things are getting bad again- 8/2/21

i find myself romanticizing my depressive episodes from time to time.

little things, like thinking back on those moments almost fondly, like a mother recalling her child in his rowdier days. “he was such a handful”, she’d say, shaking her head, but there’s a smile on her face as she says it.

bigger things, like lying in bed and thinking, “i wish i could settle here and never leave. i wish it was winter again and i wanted to die.”

it always seems to be winter for me. a shame, as it’s such a beautiful season that brings out such sorrowful longing.

longing for what, i’m not quite sure. death, maybe- or perhaps some semblance of peace.

a hibernation of sorts- tucking myself away and checking out of existence for awhile.

there’s something soothing in wanting to die. something comforting in the fact that one day i could wake up and be 11 again, back where it all started, hands shaking and skin too tight with constricting lungs to match.

one of my fondest memories is a cold day in fall- winter fast approaching- in which i had skipped school, the thought of being acknowledged practically sickening.

i had been cold, not just because of the outside temperature, but a sort of cold that settled deep into my bones, bones that at the time, i wasn’t even sure belonged to me. bones inside of shaking hands and curling around too tight lungs.

i had gotten out of bed late- after deciding i wasn’t alive enough to brave school, i had gone back to sleep for some hours- and the fact that i had even made it out of bed was something of a miracle for me.

i had taken to the shower immediately, the day was cold and there was no sun. i remember that distinctly, the dreary cloudy day a perfect caricature of how foggy and clouded my brain felt.

i’d turned the water as hot as it could go, maybe if i was lucky, i could thaw out my slowly beating heart, draw myself out of a bout of disassociation, the first i can ever recall having.

i’d sat in the shower, knees tucked into my chest and chin resting dutifully atop them, head bowed in a mourning ceremony for myself.

i’d stepped out of the shower icy cold, freezing from the inside out, hair dripping and teeth chattering miserably. i still wasn’t even sure if i was real.

nothing felt real at that time, no actions to my consequences, no feelings besides apathy and exhaustion.

i looked at my shaking hands and saw right through them. not my hands, i decided passively, and then they weren’t. they were simply hands that i used, limbs that i had borrowed.

i stepped out of the shower only to start up a bath. scorching hot of course, the air was cold and nothing else existed in that moment.

the fog over the windows and mirror were welcome, the distorted blob that was reflected was much preferred over being met with the grim reality of my declining state.

i remember texting my older sister while thawing out in the bathtub, something along the lines of, “do you ever feel like you aren’t real?”

i don’t remember her response, but i think it had something to do with my grandma’s bipolar disorder.

how funny, i’d thought to myself, skin red and brain broken, that my grandmother and i might have something in common. i wonder if my mother will hate me more when she finds out.

i don’t remember getting out of the tub, i know nothing of water swirling down the drain, but if i had to wager a guess i had simply put on the same pajamas i had been wearing and went back to bed.

what a miserable time in my life. what a blessed, glorious time in my life.

sometimes i allow myself to slip back into the comfortable embrace of depression, i think him to be a friend these days. at least he’ll never leave me, i think to myself achingly, at least i’ll always have him.

he is familiar to me, embodied in cracked and bleeding lips, dehydration, oversleeping and dreamy thoughts of death.

i put on the playlist of music i was obsessed with when i wanted to die, reminiscing as if they were my glory days, and i wasn’t a scared freshman watching blood bead up in lines down my arms.

it’s comforting to curl up into my bed, my nest of blankets and pillows, knowing that things are getting bad again.

depression curls around me and hooks his chin over my shoulder, sticking his nose into my neck.

“i’ve got you,” he murmurs, and i sleep well knowing that when i wake up the world will be muted and gray, and i will be 11 again.

winter has always been a beautiful season.

[jodiesmithportfolio]

Bipolar Blob picture book concept thumbnail sketches, Thegoodship illustration, 2022

[scienceacumen]

This celestial object looks like a delicate butterfly. But it is far from serene. What resemble dainty butterfly wings are actually roiling cauldrons of gas heated to nearly 20000 degrees Celsius. The gas is tearing across space at more than 950000 kilometres per hour — fast enough to travel from Earth to the Moon in 24 minutes!

A dying star that was once about five times the mass of the Sun is at the centre of this fury. It has ejected its envelope of gases and is now unleashing a stream of ultraviolet radiation that is making the cast-off material glow. This object is an example of a planetary nebula, so-named because many of them have a round appearance resembling that of a planet when viewed through a small telescope.

NGC 6302 lies within our Milky Way galaxy, roughly 3800 light-years away in the constellation of Scorpius. The glowing gas is the star's outer layers, expelled over about 2200 years. The "butterfly" stretches for more than two light-years, which is about half the distance from the Sun to the nearest star, Proxima Centauri.

The central star itself cannot be seen, because it is hidden within a doughnut-shaped ring of dust, which appears as a dark band pinching the nebula in the centre. The thick dust belt constricts the star's outflow, creating the classic "bipolar" or hourglass shape displayed by some planetary nebulae.

The star's surface temperature is estimated to be over 220000 degrees Celsius, making it one of the hottest known stars in our galaxy. Spectroscopic observations made with ground-based telescopes show that the gas is roughly 20000 degrees Celsius, which is unusually hot compared to a typical planetary nebula.

The WFC3 image reveals a complex history of ejections from the star. The star first evolved into a huge red giant, with a diameter of about 1000 times that of our Sun. It then lost its extended outer layers. Some of this gas was cast off from its equator at a relatively slow speed, perhaps as low as 32000 kilometres per hour, creating the doughnut-shaped ring. Other gas was ejected perpendicular to the ring at higher speeds, producing the elongated "wings" of the butterfly-shaped structure. Later, as the central star heated up, a much faster stellar wind, a stream of charged particles travelling at more than 3.2 million kilometres per hour, ploughed through the existing wing-shaped structure, further modifying its shape.

The image also shows numerous finger-like projections pointing back to the star, which may mark denser blobs in the outflow that have resisted the pressure from the stellar wind.

The nebula's reddish outer edges are largely due to light emitted by nitrogen, which marks the coolest gas visible in the picture. WFC3 is equipped with a wide variety of filters that isolate light emitted by various chemical elements, allowing astronomers to infer properties of the nebular gas, such as its temperature, density and composition.

The white-coloured regions are areas where light is emitted by sulphur. These are regions where fast-moving gas overtakes and collides with slow-moving gas that left the star at an earlier time, producing shock waves in the gas (the bright white edges on the sides facing the central star). The white blob with the crisp edge at upper right is an example of one of those shock waves.

Credit: NASA, ESA and the Hubble SM4 ERO Team

[julius-london-abel-young]

Me: [Chilling and Listening to Music]

Me: [looks at the tv] [see's a lil shadow creature]

Me: PLEASE I AM SO TIRED OF THESE SHADOW CREATURES, I JUST WANNA J A M

[clarrissanewt]

Can you do a Harry×reader (female) like angsty angsty (I like breaking my own heart). So Harry and Reader are best friends (assuming it's golden Quad) and it's 6th year...She has feelings for Harry since 4th year but wasn't sure because she thought it would lead problems in their friendship, Ron knows about it and she is really close to Ron than Hermiome (platonically ofc) as Ron chooses to talk to her about his feelings about Hermione. So once Harry slips out that he has a crush over someone to reader, she is hurt and excited at the same time, like what if its her? She talks to Ron about it and Ron too thinks it's reader...Ron gets really excited and teases Harry about who he has a crush on (let's say Harry wasn't scared Ron would freak on Ginny) and asks if it's reader, but Harry's like "NOOO SHE IS JUST A FRIEND! Well umm..its- well really, its Ginny". So Ron doesn't know what exactly to say to Reader so he avoids the subject but Harry talks to reader about his Crush on Ginny and she is all hurt and broke. He asks her tips and tricks to impress girls and she as a good friend obliges. Ron feels terrible so he consoles reader and is all sweet with her (as a FRIEND) and even the twins knew so they send her gifts and letters to keep her happy,especially George. But how can she pretend to be not affected when all she gets to see Ginny and Harry together around?

I think it got pretty long hehe and like a selfish person I wanted to add more but I think it would become wayy too long which would be real selfish so...I hope u find the plot good and umm..yeah take care.

Be Like Her

Pairing: Harry Potter x fem!reader

Warnings: angst, innuendo, mentions of death

A/n: sorry i went too angsty at the end 😭

“Ronald Weasley, this is the last time I say, you shut your gob!”

“That’s not alright, honestly,” the red-haired Weasley looked at the dark ceiling, his face stoic yet perfectly readable for his best friend, “you got to pull up your nerves and tell this to him… not meant to be rude or anything, but you need to get your pants out of the twist-”

“Put up that man face in front of Hermione, you bipolar ginger Weasley!” Y/n shrieked in an effort to mob out the pariah comment Ron made in the apparently empty common room.

Much to Ron’s relief (yet not to Y/n’s), the girl in question wasn’t there.

But when a pair of green orbs (she swears she can see whole forest inside those eternal boundaries) met her flustered ones, and a small encouraging smirk was passed to her by none other than Harry Potter himself, it was stupid, gremlin, Ronald Weasley who decided to cough in the most pretentious way he could.

Oh well, burn in hell, Weasley.

“Before she comes, I call it a night.”

“What got your pants in a twist, mate?” Harry laughed from the other corner of the room, meeting a threatening scoff from the Weasley.

“Honestly?” Y/n saw a wave of bushy hair flashing in front of her orbs as Hermione entered the common room in her ‘Brightest Witch’ speed and settled in front of her raven-haired friend. “He needs to sort out his priorities. He has not even started his essay on ‘Non Verbal Spells’ that Snape gave us and to be honest, he won’t be satisfied until you submit at least a bunch of ten scrolls,” her brows puckered as she turned to the not so lighted corner of the room, and waving her hand at Y/n, pointed to the seat beside harry, “and in Ron’s writing, he needs to conjure not less than a dozen.”

“Ron is going to get Snape goaded tomorrow,” Y/n gave out a short laugh as she lowered herself on the allotted chair.

“Y/n!” She saw Ron poking his head from the hallway of the dorms, “Don’t be a bottom tonight!”

Hermione’s hand flew to her mouth as she suppressed a shriek of amusement and watched as the blob of red-hair flew back inside before Y/n could hex him to obliviation.

Harry’s orbs lingered on his best friend’s frozen expression, her slightly open mouth and he could see her tongue poking out the slightest in an attempt to keep her lips wet despite hearing Ron’s terrifying choice of words.

With a small smirk, he nudged the girl as she turned to him, still feeling hot in face.

“You wrapped a wanker already? Huh, L/n?”

“What- ofc n-no!” Y/n blinked between her two friends who were panting yet laughing shamelessly at her cocked up situation. “You both know, Ron’s mind- his mind goes places!”

“You both have lost the plot,” the bushy-haired girl shook her head in a chuffed manner as she picked up her Five Thousand Five Hundred and Fifty Five Tricks To Ace Non-Verbal Spells, ”But bespoked, man up, Y/n.”

Harry tried not to laugh again as Y/n stuffed her face into her cold palms while Hermione trudged towards the girls’ dorm, sending a stiff salute of two fingers in their direction- six years of friendship with three absolute tossers had definitely changed her.

“Come on, Y/n, hoover it up,” he tapped her shoulder cautiously. “You know, we don’t mind all this.”

“You bloody wish,” he heard her muffled scoff, “Ron’s pulling out my non-existence sex life.”

“Blimey! You know, none of us would be pissed with you sex life, unless its with that Malfoy-”

“Oh, sod off, Harry!” “Alright, alright,” he raised his arms in defence as she turned with a murderous glare towards him, “don’t skive off now. I- uh, I wanted to tell you something- actually I should have told this to you earlier but,” he sighed and rubbed his temple in a dilemma. “Do you mind if I squeeze in with you- er, and in your chair?”

She replied to him with another sigh, and ignoring the wild backflips whirling in her abdomen, she scooted to a side, leavin the other half for him.

For once in life, she mentally stabbed her selfish persona, don’t be an absolute dickhead. Harry is you bestfriend and you don’t go fanticizing snogging your best fri-

“So, I've got a crush.”

The very moment these words rolled off his tongue, her orbs fixated their way into his, before offering him a smile.

It all felt so rame, an alluring force making her think, what if it's her? While the other darker side chewing her to contemplate, what if it’s someone else?

“Wicked.” There was no doubt that her voice sounded low, but Harry being his oblivious self just thought that it was her Piss-o-meter pounding loudly on hundred.

So, he let her go.

｡･:*˚:✧｡

“You gotta be abso-bloody-lutely kidding me!” Ron’s face hung low in disbelief, and quite to Y/n’s uneasiness, he was very much confident. “It’s absolutely you, I bet upon Merlin Boobies!”

“I don’t know, Ron...there’s a lot chance it’s not me-”

“Rubbish- Mate, come here!”

Y/n squeezed her eyes shut in absolute reprimand; there should have been a perfect time and place where she should have told this to Ron, not in their way back to the common room when Harry was asked by Snape to stay back for five minutes because chewing away Gryffindor’s house points was his ultimate goal.

“Heard you drool over someone!”

“Umm, sorry?”

“Y/n told me, you got a crush!”

Tightening her grip on the bag, she turned to the boys, one with a frozen expression on his face while the other looked like the gremlin he is.

“I’m sorry, Harry, you know what kind of tosser Ron is,” she hastened to explain. Harry, on the other hand, continued looking at her, how her brows moved dramatically in absolute guilt, her orbs never meeting him. And with another string of apology, she had run away.

“It’s Y/n, isn’t it?”

“What?” He furrowed his brows at his friend, unmindfully walking into a piece of armour.

“That crush...don’t be shy, it’s Y/n, right? I must say, that’s wicked-”

"NOOO, Y/n? She is just a friend!” The raven haired boy jumped away in shock. “Well, umm..it's- well really, it's Ginny."

｡･:*˚:✧｡

Two days, twenty two hours and two minutes, Ron counted, he still hadn’t told Y/n about this. No matter what pounds of pestering he received, he just couldn’t.

And what exactly was he supposed to tell her?

Don’t get your hopes high now, Ginny’s the hag mate likes.

Oh, this fucking wizarding world, and this fucking Boy Who Lived.

But after whirling all around this deadend for the millionth time in his mind, he made up his mind- no one was at fault, really.

“Hey, Ron?” His blue orbs, swathed in dilemma turned to Harry, who, judging by the unmatchable bouncing of legs, was obviously nervous. “Have you seen Y/n?”

“WHY?”

Harry turned abruptly to Ron, his dodgy screaming effortlessly bringing everybody’s attention.

“Had some work...for DADA.”

Ron rummaged for any signs of him being Wonky Potter, but nonetheless told him about her whereabouts.

If Harry opened his goddamn mouth, more than Y/n, it would be Ron who would be gutted.

As the green orbed boy made his way towards the library, his heart jumped for joy when he saw Y/n walking out- perfect timing.

“L/n! Here!”

Y/n, with an absolute angelic, soft smile, paced towards him, the heavy library books (which, no doubt, were toppled into her grip by Hermione), bouncing as she reached him.

“Everything alright?”

“Umm, yeah… are you free right now?”

And when the answer was yes, Harry made his way to the castle’s balcony, the view of the Great Lake lapping against the rim of the grounds and the sight of stars dusted in the velvet of the sky, making Y/n anticipate something good.

“Don’t tell this to Ron,” he bopped his fist onto her shoulder as she gave a small giggle, but the look in her eyes seemed apologetic; this was his best friend- someone he can’t find again even if he strived his level best.

“So, you remember about the person I talked to you about?” His hand slithered slowly into the pocket of his sweats, his orbs still fixed onto Y/n as she hummed in anticipation. “It’s...it’s Ginny.”

If it hadn’t been Harry Potter himself, even a chap passing by could have seen the shudder running through her body, though her face didn’t show any loss of composure, all her hopes were charred.

“Your quill, I forgot to return it today morning.”

Nibbling on her lower lip, she snatched the quill from his grip, still trying to process what happened.

“It’s- it’s quite alright, Harry. And about Ginny…” her breath seemed to pierce her lungs at the upcoming words, “I’m sure- I’m sure she likes you too.”

Even though the whole evening was spent with Harry rambling about Ginny, only one question gnawed at her soul- where was she at fault in all this?

｡･:*˚:✧｡

“If Y/n would have been here,” Harry’s voice seemed too dead for such a bright day of his life, “she would have been her godmother.”

Ten years since war, ten years since he lost his best friend, life didn’t seem alright to Harry. Not even Hermione, not even Ron could say something that could lift the puncturing ache of his heart.

“I’m never supposed to remind you of this again,” Ron ran his palm through his niece’s slightly haired head, all the guilt bubbling in his heart. “But Y/n lived all those years loving you. She gave up on you just for your smile...she is the strongest woman I’ve ever seen.”

“And how exactly am I supposed to smile when I know that Y/n could have been alive? She could have been here!”

“You remember her last words?”

Harry didn’t say anything, he felt too numb to be reminded of all those things again. But a terse nod was enough to satisfy Ron, Harry knew.

As he looked at his daughter, Y/n Lily Potter, he smiled; she wanted him to smile.

“She is the strongest woman, just like you said, Ron,” his daughter wrapped her tiny fingers around his as he whispered her to sleep. “Be like her.”

[another-fantasy-world]

Strings Pt.1

Pairing: Rosalie Hale x Fem!OC

Summary: in which the true queen of vampires found love when she least expected. 

Warnings: ...Light Angst? Slowburn and mentions of death,trauma and depression

Timeline: Breaking Dawn - Post-Twilight

Word count: 1,683

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧   ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧   ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The Patriarch of the Olympic Coven certainly didn’t expect a visit from an old friend, much less a forgotten queen on the time of their distress trying to save their coven from the selfish hands of Aro Volturi. 

“Greetings Carlisle. It has been a while, hasn’t it?” The violet-eyed vampire smiled.

“M-My Queen! I-” Carlisle stutters, still stunned by shock and confusion.

“No need for such formalities. We’re friends, are we not?” The dark-haired queen smirked.

“Of course. May I ask, How are you here?” 

“ Ah, Dear Carlisle. The years seem to blur doesn’t it? Forgot about me already?”

“It’s...been awhile.” The queen hummed at Carlisle’s response.

“You’re dreaming, Carlisle. Still aware of the fact that I can manipulate your body to sleep? Let’s cut to the chase, Your family is getting worried with the sight of you passed out on the couch. I’ll be sending my representatives over to you as addition to your witnesses. I am aware of your...agreement with the shifters. And I demand that they return to me in one piece. Understood?”

“Yes Ma’am.” Carlisle grinned

“Very well. They will explain once they get there. I wish you the best of luck. Carlisle Cullen.” 

And with that, Carlisle’s eyes fluttered open, refocusing on his wife’s worried eyes, he smiled gently.

“I’m fine, my love. It appears that we have more visitors coming.” He grinned 

“Witnesses? But how? More importantly, Who?” Edward questions

“Are we just going to ignore the fact that Carlisle just took a nap?” Emmett wailed while tossing his mate, Maggie, over his shoulders.

Carlisle sighed at his son’s antics before speeding out of the room, only to come back with an antique looking box. He gestured for them to sit down.

“I think it’s time that I tell you a story...” Carlisle breathed in an unneeded breath, allowing himself to recollect his memories from centuries ago.

“...Anastasia Thorne. Also known as Anastasiarine Maximilliene Rolinde-Thorne.” He starts, voice wavering as he smiles

“She’s also known as The Ghost Queen, Of Volturi and of every other vampires that there are. There were rumours that she was the first ever vampire to walk in these lands and that we came from her. She never really did confirm that fact, whenever I ask her of it, she only laughs and dismissed it with a joke.” Carlisle’s eyes seem to stare into the distance, reminiscing the olden days. He pulls out a couple of pictures, all containing the same woman.

‘Gorgeous’ was the first word that popped on Rosalie’s mind. And soon she wonders what would happen if she ever meets the said Queen. But she immediately dismisses the thought.

The Cullens, besides Carlisle of course, merely looks at each other in silence, urging Carlisle to continue.

“She was many things when she was still young. A Princess, A Queen, A Knight, A Doctor, A Philosopher, A Genius, She was even a pirate once. Above all, She was a paradox. Unpredictable and Bipolar. Always lived in isolation, I do not know how she manages that but she did. Only comes out of her own tower when needed. She was the one who thought me how to feed on animals, did I ever tell you that?” he asked. They all shook their head no.

“Huh, It must have slipped my mind” 

“My, Carlisle. You must be getting old.” An unknown voice suddenly pops out of nowhere.

They all swerved their head to where the unknown voice came from and there stood two figures. Two women to be exact.

“Don’t tease him. 3 decades is a long time.” The other slaps the other.

“I’m sorry for being rude, barging into your home like this. Anastasia was quite insistent on us helping you,” The figure in a green cloak grins

“My name’s Veronica. And this is Amore. We are here to help you.” Veronica smiles gently.

“How...” Emmett gapes

“How did we not hear you? How do I not hear you?” Edward asked, baffled

“Teleportation is the strangest thing isn’t it? It also risks losing a couple limbs.” Amore deadpans

“You... have a pulse.” Bella suddenly blurts out

Amore and Veronica looks at each other before chuckling. 

“Ah, we can never escape a newborn’s ears. Yes we have a pulse. Yes we are hybrids as well, just not the same as your daughter.” Vero smiles gently

“Uh-huh. We were witches. Salem witches to be exact. We escaped death when some random vampire bit us the day we were supposed to be burned. Somehow our genes as witches halted the venom from fully consuming our body, so when we awoke, we quickly learned we have every strength yet none of the weaknesses of a vampire.” Amore explains.

“What do you mean?” Esme asks

“Well, for one, we don’t sparkle.” Veronica giggles

“Two, we still bleed. but our blood isn’t appetizing. I’ve been told my blood smells like trash...” Amore grimaces “...I don’t know if that was a compliment or an insult.”

“And three. We still have our witchy abilities.” Veronica finalizes, holding Amore’s hand

Amore then furrows her brows as if threatened and offended. 

“Mind reader. Whatever your name is, our goal isn’t to hurt your daughter. If it was, My head would already be a decor on our Queen’s Palace. So don’t poke around.” Amore pointedly looks at Edward who tenses in shock 

“Amore. Behave. Now where is the hybrid?” Veronica curiously asks

A shy Renesmee pokes her head out of Bella’s legs, Veronica immediately coos.

“Awwee~ Rey, Look! She’s so cute~” The redhead fusses over a now blushing Renesmee

“You’re overwhelming her.” Amore pulls Veronica from her collar away from the hybrid child. “...Behave.” Amore smirks

Amore crouches down to Renesmee’s height and smiles. Staring at each other as if silently communicating then, Renesmee lifts her hand up to touch Amore’s cheek. She looks forward, in a daze then grins wildly, snapping back to reality.

“You have an amazing gift, Little Cullen. Very pretty too. Would you want me to show you mine?” Amore asks, to which Renesmee nods rapidly, already warming up to the visitors, much to Jacob’s distaste.

“Great, More Leeches.” Jacob glares when he steps into the living room, where he found his imprint near a vampire. 

“Too Close” He thinks, shifting into a defensive position while trying not to shift into his wolf.

“Hmm, and here I thought Renesmee couldn’t be more special.” Veronica giggles.

“Calm yourself down, shifter. I don’t want to hurt your imprint.” Amore rolls her eyes, then smiles at Renesmee. 

The opens her palms and there lies a mixture of purples, blues, pinks, blacks and whites. The universe is displayed in Amore’s hands, Swirling around as if creating a new planet.

“Illusion is tricky, therefore, only those who believe shall see it.”  Amore closes her palms and ruffles the child’s hair. 

“Coooooool.” Emmett gapes in amazement.

“Very well, shows over. Wolfie, be a dear and take your imprint on a date, will you?” Amore looks at Jacob with a serious glint in her eyes

Rosalie had to quiet her snort when Amore called Jacob, wolfie. She dislikes shifters with a passion, they stink and is very dangerous. Edward merely smirks at his sister before gulps due to Esme’s glare.

“Stay out of my head!.” Rosalie screamed in her head, making him wince.

As soon as the both of them ensured the child and it’s imprint is out of earshot, Their auras changed into a much more serious and sinister one. Frowns prominent on their faces.

“As we’ve said before, our abilities as witches remained even in this immortal form, but along that, we also attained gifts. Amore being the gift of illusion and Mine being knowledge. I know everything. I’m basically a much more reliable and attractive internet. Although I couldn’t see the future as your dear Alice, Once she gets her vision, it adds to my knowledge bank. Therefore, I have knowledge on the outcome of this battle. And it’s not good.” Veronica glares at the floor, silently seething. The once cheerful and happy woman, turned into an angry blob of mess.

“Aro is as insufferable as ever, He wishes to destroy your coven. He merely needs his evidence and he has been waiting a long time for this. He wouldn’t back down easily. As much as we want to help you, we can’t be seen in your thoughts. Or that will ruin the balance of the worlds. We trust in Alice’s plan, You should too.” Amore seriously states, rubbing her mate’s back

“We need your consent. You all have to trust us. I know it’s not easy, us popping into your lives and all. We must mask your thoughts, One where your memories and thoughts of us are hidden from Aro.” Veronica smiles gently, slowly calming down.

“They’re telling the truth” Maggie, The resident lie detector confirms.

“You may discuss it among yourselves.” Veronica drags Amore away.

Rosalie frowns, Trust doesn’t come easy. Do these strangers seriously ask for her trust without them earning it? That was absurd in her book, the last time she trusted someone on a whim, it caused her demise. Her frown deepens when an unknown feeling bubbles up deep in her. She’s confused, she was confused on as to why she felt jealous, envious. Was it their beauty? No, it wasn’t that. Rosalie knew, even though she was only ever been with men, she knew that she found women attractive, although never really caring about it since they had to come and go. she was offended when people misinterpreted her longing looks as glares of envy, she was only admiring after all. Was it that they found each other then? No, it was something deeper. She was jealous of them for something. Something she doesn’t know. And she hated that. She snarled at them then speeds away to the comfort of her room, without listening to her coven, missing the knowing smirks of both Veronica and Amore. They looked at each other then nodded with grins on their faces.

Yep. They were definitely meant for each other.

[lmanberg]

Who's Sam if you don't mind me asking?

Dream’s abusive ex. She had dated him since before he started streaming, they broke up early summer/late spring 2020 (I think). People would hate on her a lot and she accused Dream of abusing/raping her, which she later admitted were lies, and leaked a buncha fake info about him to try and smear him. She garnered her own fanbase by riding the title of “Dream’s Ex” and the fact that she came up with his little blob. It came out a little while after that she groomed multiple boys right after Dream made a twitlonger asking people not to attack her because she’s bipolar and was suicidal.

[thephoenixfirescout]

Tell me some headcanons about your favorite x-men, pretty please?

alright, I have a few headcannons to spare, and feel free to add your own! I always love sharing ideas about characters and stuff-

Brotherhood

Avalanche- Has a crippling fear of heights; he has to be grounded or else he’ll die, not ifs ands or buts. He’s a pretty talented Greco-Roman wrestler. He remembers living in Crete before coming to the states with his family, and hopes one day to visit there again.  

Pyro- though he can’t make his own fire psionically, he can steal fire from other sources, including lightening, concentrated heat sources, and a laser on one occasion. He’s not crazy, just a little bipolar. He needs some extra love and patience. Not a bad man, definitely not a bad man, he just has a habit of making some bad choices.

Toad- he’s not a toad, he’s a frog. Toads are dry and bumpy and crawl everywhere, and frogs are slimy and are great jumpers. He’s been living a lie. Also I love the idea of Toad being just this absolute Brainiac who gets all excited when he gets to talk about engineering and things all sciencey that make him happy. He deserves more love and affection stg

Blob- he might not be the brightest one of the bunch, but he sure ain’t stupid. Likes cooking, baking, grilling, and just fancies food in general. I personally see him being a great culinary mind. PIZZA PROFESSIONAL-

Scarlet Witch- Just because she emotionally distances herself, doesn’t mean she doesn’t care. If anything happened to any of these people, she’d go fucking ballistic. Periodt.

Boom-Boom- She’s not one to back away from a sticky situation if it means helping her homies, especially if she knows they’d do the same for her.

Quicksilver- I like @ohmygillygoshoppler ‘s headcannon that he likes manga and anime, and I kinda wanna roll with that, because I also like manga and anime sooo.... Also, he totally acts like he doesn’t need anybody, but let’s be real, he would do just about anything for his sister or his close friends if they needed him.

X-Men

Nightcrawler- ABSOLUTELY ADORE THIS MAN!!! MUST BE PROTECCTED AT ALL COSTS. I KNOW HE CAN USE A SWORD; I KNOW HE’S A SKILLED AND CAPABLE ACROBAT, BUT I STILL WANT TO SHIELD HIM FROM ANY AND ALL HARM, DO YOU HEAR ME???!??!?!?

Shadowcat- So, in the OG comics, Kitty became a skilled samurai by training mentally with this dude called Ogun, so I kinda wanted to implement a bit of that samurai-esque intimidation factor into a soft and squishy little Kitty Pryde. also @x-men-of-our-own ‘s version of Kitty is so cute, I love the idea of a chubby nerdy kitty who is also a badass not to be trifled with.

Jean Grey- WIFE. 10/10 best telepath, would pick her over Xavier’s bald ass any day of the week. She is kind, smart, empathetic, and almost always willing to be there to listen to your problems if you need her to. Also, I want her to be tall. Like, at least 6”10.

Cyclops- himbo. he has to be. He’s such a sweet, loveable dumbass, ya gotta love him for it.

Rogue- Keeping the gothic southern belle deal here because, lets face it; everyone loves a goth girl. And don’t let that sarcastic and sour attitude throw you, she’s a sweetheart once she starts warming up to you.

Beast- Team dad. Makes delicious sandwiches.

Storm- Team mom. Good luck getting anything pas her. She’s the type of super mom whose always eleven steps ahead of all the rest.

Logan- also team dad, but he’s gone nine months out of the year, shows up for a few months only to sort of sniff the air and go, “Sabretooooooth-” and then ride off on his motorcycle for another nine months.

Professor X- gay grandad in a wheelchair. Also he erases people’s minds, which is useful, I guess...

[jodiesmithportfolio]

Bipolar Blob children's picture book concept, The Goodship Illustration course, 2022

[nanowrimo]

20th Anniversary Interviews - Writing and Mental Health

In today’s interview, we talked to Naava, a participant since 2007. We talked about mental health, depression, and bipolar disorder, and how writing has helped them. Content warning for discussions of mental health and suicide.

Q: What was your most memorable NaNoWriMo moment?

A: Winning NaNo in 2018 whilst in the psych ward due to depression. I proved myself that there's still something in me – a fire, a spark, whatever you'd like to call it. And if I nurture that fire, it can keep me alive. It has.

Q: I imagine the fire is creativity, and nurturing it is doing what you can to engage with that creativity.

Yep, fire is creativity and imagination, nurturing it is basically writing and reading and doing things that keep my imagination "wild" as my mother always said. She said it like it was a bad thing, but I now know it was a bad thing only because I didn't have a proper outlet for it back as a child when I would tell stories at inappropriate times. Now that I have a laptop and a writing software, I can channel my imagination onto the blank document and paint the most vivid worlds with mere words.

Q: You mentioned you've been participating in NaNoWriMo since 2007—have you dealt with depression that whole time?

I have had depressive phases on and off since I was five years old, since 1996, so yes, I've been having mental health issues the whole time I've been a NaNo participant. However, my official diagnosis is bipolar disorder nowadays, but my current depressive phase has lasted for a year and a half. This November, I was even briefly in the psych ward due to being suicidal, but managed to write there, too. I was officially diagnosed with depression in early 2011, but in mid-2014 it was changed to bipolar disorder due to a manic phase. (Let's add that I simply cannot write during manic phases. I can plot the best novel ever if I'm going through mania, but I cannot sit down and write.)

I feel that if I was to stop writing, I would be nothing but an empty shell. Writing through the good and the bad times has made me feel more deeply when I go through something good, and get through the bad times by distancing myself from them. When I have a depressive phase, I'm able to still use my imagination to get into a non-depressive mood, and this is what has saved my life on multiple occasions. This month, too.

Q: It sounds like writing as a whole is a positive in your life. Would you be willing to talk more about feeling good things more deeply, and getting through bad times through writing?

I don't know how to explain it, but let me try! Maybe I'll succeed.

When I write a negative scene (like in my current NaNo, my orc was grieving his father and coming to terms with the fact that his father was not a perfect being), I can process the negative experiences (like losing my own father when I was seven and later coming to terms with his alcoholism), and kind of... write them out of me. It's not a huge blob of emotions I can't name or process but I force them to become words, I force them out, I turn them into stories that are no longer my pain but the pain of a character. That is not to say I no longer feel emotional pain, but that I can externalize it. I can process a difficult emotion by writing it out of myself, I can process it by looking at the words and seeing that maybe I'm not seeing the big picture.

And when I write a scene that's positive (like in my current NaNo, my orc and elf are getting married and basically giving the middle finger to the general rule that orcs and elves don't get involved) I tend to draw from my own experiences (getting married even though I felt like no one could ever love me enough to marry me), I capture the feeling more thoroughly, like it gets more ingrained in me. I process through the positive emotions and kind of... get used to having them, if that makes sense. I feel the good stuff again and again through writing, and then it's not something that's odd or feels like it's going to be taken away from me because I somehow know I can revisit the feelings through writing, anytime. I can revisit the feeling of being loved by my husband by simply writing about it.

Naava can almost speak Simlish, but they prefer Finnish and English. They live in Finland with their spouse, a black cat, and a Siberian husky. One part bipolar, one part candle hoarder, one part learning enthusiast, three parts writer.