#i'm slowly sorting myself out...physically mentally and all that

[saguette]

What do you think Johnny's art looked like before he was stripped of his powers? This is something that bugs me a lot, and I'm curious about what you think.

ok i needed to draw a few shitty pictures to demonstrate cuz i wanted to talk about more than just his previous art but his art journey in general IDC if there's some canon tweet that proves something i said wrong or out of timeline these are my headcanons and projections so you either like it or not.. anyways I think his style pre-pre-JTHM (lets say 15-18) depicted many things, He was good at realism and fluctuated just fine between stylized art and big hefty works with a lot of detail. His stylized works looking similar to Jhonens and the whole 2000's artstyle cuz its fitting.

Of course he's like, a late teenager around this time so its GOOD but not perfect. If you pulled up a few of his drawings from this time he would probably be embarrassed by all the disproportionate limbs and goth girls he sketched and thought were badass. He probably has old sketches of friends in his style regardless if they asked to be drawn or not since his art was something he was proud of and people around him made him feel proud of. His old art also feels like it'd have anime elements unintentionally to add to that amateur artist swag. Johnny doesn't like anime copies but stuff he rips inspo from was anime inspired so it rubbed off on his work too. Moving onto PRE-JTHM (18-20) Is when his art started to get more serious and complex. In his happy era he took to drawing lovecraftian horror sometimes but it was always the secondary focus of any drawing.

Moving out and growing up was around the time his mental state started to worsen and he started using art to cope with emotions rather than just use it for fun, drawing complex monsters was a subconscious way to depict underlying mental illness that's out of his hands. He cant depict what he doesn't know he has, he can only scribble things that feel someone close to him because there is no physical appearance to emotions. He never liked his art around this time because it always felt unfinished or wrong or like it just didn't interpret what he wanted right. Overtime his art lost coherent appearance, quality, and meaning which made it feel worthless. It wouldn't be all that bad but it reached a point not even he knew what it was trying to be and it was frustrating. How can your own art not make sense to you? Its weird to let your hands go and do their own and you not recognize what they're trying to say. Which leads to SHORTLY BEFORE JTHM-and later.. Johnnys NEW preferred method for art currently is a little abstract, it became two extremes of the same thing; nothing. his art lost alot of what it used to be so he says he cant draw anymore.

Johnnys lovecraftian horror art slowly engulfed itself over time and always becomes an abstract mess. Its purposely made to be incomprehensible by having too much, regardless if its creation is poetic, an outside view not being able to tell what it is or how much work went into it is on purpose. its metaphorical or whatever.. Johnnys fucked up or something.. Whereas Noodleboy i imagine was made by him drawing a stickfigure one day to see if he can still "draw" and overtime gave him his features like angry eyes and that big hair, creating his own sort of vent sona to replace the sketchy abstract art he used before. Noodleboys chaoticness is too sporadic to rip any meaning off of, he also purposely represents nothing. His existence uses up paper the same way, just without all the extra effort. SORRRYYYY long tangent thats probably super messy i just winged it. but i cant help myself ive thought about this for a while ik i didnt strictly answer the question but i had so much more to say

[hibernaldream]

Enough // Copia x reader, sfw

Happy 2025 ♡ I'm back on Tumblr after what feels like an eternity. The last 3-4 months of 2024 have been difficult for me, both physically and mentally. Plus, working in retail (bookselling) meant I haven't had time to exist for myself over the holidays.

The first Ghost fic I offer to the fandom is a self-indulgent piece I wrote to cope with my condition. Gn!reader insert for the most part, but it's intended for (and dedicated to) anyone going through severe period pain, endometriosis, and/or adenomyosis.

1k words, hurt/comfort, established relationship, a splash of angst, SFW

Disclaimer: I haven't written anything in over 10 years and English is not my native language.

It has no real beginning, but it always ends the same – sharp knives burrowing under your skin, coiling through your insides like parasites. 

Some days, they creep in quietly, like shadows slipping through a cracked door. You go about your day, pretending to be whole, until they force you to surrender. Other days, they come without warning, striking with a fury that chokes the fight out of you. Phantom hands clutch at your core, and you snap like a twig. The pain leaves you tethered to the bed, your legs betraying you as they buckle under the weight of something unseen.

You’re trapped in a body at war with itself, confined in a purgatory between the living and the dead. A demi-monde of sorts, where the ghosts of who you once were mingle with the echoes of who you can never be. 

And then there’s the guilt.

It seeps into the cracks of your broken shell, silent and heavy. Guilt for the days you’ve lost, for the plans you’ve cancelled, the promises you couldn’t keep. Guilt for the way your suffering spills over, touching the people you love, making them worry for you.

And then, there’s him.

Copia stands in the doorway, a steaming mug of tea in his hands and a hot water bottle tucked under his arm. The tea trembles slightly in his hands –  not enough to spill, but enough to reveal his unease. You both know you won’t be able to drink it, but brewing it has made him feel in control of something. 

He doesn’t look at you right away. His eyes are fixed on the floor as he braces for what he’s about to see. He hates this part –  the pallor of your skin,  your body curled up against the vastness of the bed, the helplessness that clings to him like a second skin.

“Hey,” he says softly, taking a few steps inside the room. He puts the mug and the hot water bottle on the nightstand and slowly kneels beside you, careful with every motion. His hands twitch at the sides, desperate to pull you into his arms, to take the pain away from you. 

But he knows better. Your body is fragile, unyielding to all but the gentlest touch, so he settles for what won’t make you wince. One hand interlaces with yours, the other combs through your hair in a slow, soothing motion.

“I’m here.” 

It’s not the pain itself that shatters him, though seeing you like this is agony. Mostly, he loathes the futility of his efforts and words. He can’t fix this.

Your body barely reacts to his presence, save for the faintest twitch of your fingers against his. It’s enough for him. 

“I have made you chamomile tea,” he states, glancing at the mug. “Thought, eh… maybe you wanted to try this time.” 

You crack one eye open, the effort heavier than it should be, and a shadow of a smile tugs at the corners of your mouth.

“Thank you,” you whisper, squeezing his finger with all the strength you can muster.

“Right, okay.” He exhales a quiet breath and picks up the hot water bottle. You watch as he makes sure your shirt is not rolled up before carefully nestling it close to your belly. Satisfied, he tucks you back in with practised ease. Then, lifting your hand to his lips, he presses a kiss to your fingertips with the softness of clouds.

Dark shadows circle his eyes, and faint stubble dusts his jaw. His face bears the evidence of his devotion: meetings cancelled without hesitation, sleepless nights spent researching remedies, mornings waiting in doctor’s offices. 

His love is a net woven around the frayed edges of your being, holding you together when you feel like splintering apart. Yet the weight of it presses against your guilt anyway, whispering that this kindness, this devotion, is more than you deserve.

You can’t fathom how he sees you when you barely recognise yourself anymore. Pain defines your existence; there isn’t a single task you can complete without pausing, lying down, and summoning the strength to try again. Your contribution to the relationship hinges on the rarity of your good days, fleeting as they are. His affection feels unearned. Who could love someone so broken?

“I’m making pizza for dinner, amore,” he says. 

“Pizza? You’re lucky my uterus will kill me first,” you quip weakly. 

He pretends not to hear, smoothing the edge of your blanket as if the small gesture might anchor you to the present. He knows you’ve spent too much time in your head again.

“Gluten free marinara,” he continues, almost matter-of-factly. “No dairy. No Coke.”

You attempt to laugh despite yourself, but all that comes out is a strained exhalation. “Even Jesus had a better last dinner.”

A soft snort escapes him, lightening the mood for a moment. “Eh, perhaps he had better food,” he replies, “but sure as shit he’d pay for my kind of kisses.”

You want to laugh again and tell him he’s an idiot, but another wave of pain pulls a grimace from you. Your eyes flutter closed as exhaustion drags at you.

“Thank you for making dinner,” you mumble, words slurred by fatigue.

“You don't have to thank me.” 

He lingers for a moment, watching the slow rise and fall of your chest. The mug of tea remains untouched on the nightstand, and he knows it will stay that way, but he doesn’t mind. 

“I’ll bring it in soon,” he says softly, half to himself, as he gets up. 

“Don’t rush, I’m not going anywhere.”

It’s meant to comfort him, but the slight waver in your voice and the implication of your words betray your own fears.

He hesitates, glancing back at you from the doorway. His lips press together, a quiet war playing out in his head, but he doesn’t let it show on his face. Instead, he offers a small smile.

“No, you’re not.”

As he disappears into the hallway, silence engulfs the room, punctuated only by the steady ticking of the bedside clock. You stare at the mug of chamomile tea, now lukewarm, yet you can still feel its warmth from a distance.

The knives stir in your core but Copia’s touch is stronger. You close your eyes, letting exhaustion claim you. The guilt doesn’t vanish, and neither do the cramps, but beneath it all, he's there with you. For you, somehow. Fragile as you are, you cling to that small, essential truth: you are not alone.

And tonight, that is enough.

[mythicmanuscripts]

I'm alive lads

Hi hello!! I know I very much just disappeared out of nowhere. It was a combination of university stress, family stress, mental and physical health, etc that sort of just wore me down and I ended up not really enjoying or having the energy for writing. Hence my disappearance.

However, after a break and some real time to relax I'm finally ready to begin again!! I am finally finding myself wanting to write again and being plagued by ideas again. So, if you lads will have me, I'd like to make a come back.

In a couple hours I'm planning to start answering asks again, so if you have any ideas or questions or just want a recap on anything then let me know. I am planning to slowly go through my backlog of requests already in my askbox but I will be prioritising new asks since those are from people I know are still following and still want to read whatever it is they've asked for.

I hope that's understandable. Thank you all for the warm welcome back and I can't wait to pick up writing again. I'll see you all very soon!!

[unionizedwizard]

i'm so so so excited about my upcoming top surgery (can you believe im gonna get top surgery on halloween of all days.) (well on the 30th but it COUNTS, ok) and it's funny because now that i know it's gonna happen (can you imagine being able to go outside without crippling physical and mental discomfort and pain???? or sweating buckets even in negative temperatures??? not being short of breath and feeling slowly choked to death after a few hours or some time doing any kind of exercise at all?????? huge if true) i'm sort of. accepting my body. never could stand to look at myself in the mirror but now it's like.... actually my boobs are hot. now that i know there's a way out, i mean. they objectively look good! it's a strange thing. i know saying that makes it sound as if i'm having second thoughts but not at all, on the contrary. it's like i'm finally able to really see what i look like because i know for sure it's the end. do you Get me.

[nightclawduke]

Finally, after like 100 years, the backstory of my TCM OC is here. I'm mostly doing this for myself and those few who are interested in my oc content with the sheriff.

This is a veeeery long post, probably the longest I've made in this blog. It's divided in two parts: The illustrated backstory with extended comment and the other part is about how I created her, also complemented with drawings and images.

PART 1: Lilian Shepherd, before the mental asylum.

Lilian was the only child of the Shepherd, a wealthy family. Her mother was Jillian, a catholic woman with abandoned artistic aspirations and used to be a secretary until she married Philip Shepherd, who worked in the real state business. Even though one would think Lilian was a pampered, spoiled child, Lilian really never met her family's high expectations and standards, despite all of the effort she put into and all the pressure she was subjected in such early days of her young life. Disobedience sometimes led to physical harm.

Lilian's father was mostly an apathetic and laid back man, didn't really interfered or held any objection regarding his wife manipulative and controlling nature. An absent father focused in his work and sustaining his affluent lifestyle.

It was Lilian's mother who always had the last word of what and how things should be done. She was a strict and a narcissist, molding Lilian's education and hobbies to match her own. She would put Lilian in all sort of special activities: Ballet, Piano, Reading clubs… She wanted Lilian to be a little replica of her own self: A cultured woman who will eventually marry wealthy man and have a good family. It was Jillian who named her daughter after the flower that represents immaculate purity: the sacred Lily of chastity, just like Virgin Mary herself.

Lilian's life was already carefully planned for her, and thus, a big silent resentment began to grow inside her against her parents and everything they stood for… frustration, hatred, sadness… were slowly accumulating into Lilian's young psyche.

Like any teenage girl, Lilian was curious and wanted to see beyond what her mother allowed her to do... but Jillian's presence was always looming over her, choosing her friends as well. Couples and romance was kind of a delicate subject in the family, sexual themes were completely avoided. Jillian was very firm in her in not letting anyone date her daughter, constantly warning her of men and their ill intentions. Lilian, although she complied with her mother's words, there was a hidden part of her that yearned to experiment love and intimacy like other young women of her school, overhearing conversations and experiences. Boys were interested in Lilian, but she would rather reject them than face her mother's awful scolding which would end up creating an image of Lilian in front of the boys as the daughter of an uptight and prudish family.

From those few selected that were allowed to talk to Lilian under the approval of her mother -normally sons from families that were associates in the same business environment- there was Kathleen who had her same age as Lilian. Kathleen was the closest thing Lilian had of a close friend and confident.

Eventually, Lilian's mother finally approved of a boyfriend for her daughter, personally choosing him after meeting his family: William. William was an educated, well mannered young man that also came from a catholic family. Even if Lilian didn't choose him, she still wanted to things to work out just for experimenting what others had... But William ended up feeling uncomfortable by Lilian's increasing clingy behavior and indecorous propositions.

His family heard of if and decided to do not let their son keep talking to the Shepherds. Jillian, feeling her daughter soiled her image in front of the other wealthy family, gave her a strong scolding like other times through her childhood when she misbehaved... but Lilian was finally reaching her limit.

Lilian pushed her mother away, causing her to fall and hit her head with the corner of a table... and, as if something frightening and primal that resonated with her desperate need of approval and freedom, she grabbed a flower vase and unleashed all of her rage in a violent breakdown against her mother's visage. After she finally came back into her senses, Lilian was at loss of words. Kathleen was present at the house and heard the commotion and when arrived at the gruesome scene, she was shocked and afraid of what Lilian turned into. Lilian asked Kathleen to help her hide her mother's body in the middle of sobs and nervous laughter... but instead, she rushed outside of the room, yelling for help. Lilian felt betrayed and went after her once close friend, making Kathleen act in self defense and hitting her head, knocking her unconscious.

After waking up, she was in a hospital under the watchful gaze of policemen. Lilian entered in a traumatic mutism state and declared unfit for trial, resulting in her internment in Saint Mary Mental Asylum where she stayed there for 7 years. Her father never visited after her admission, disowning her. Kathleen was terrified of what Lilian did and didn't visited either, to her, her best friend became a monster. After the first two years of confinement, Lilian gradually regained her speech. However, her behavior was developing into something unstable: She could be a well behaved, polite patient, only to fall into outburst of anger when confronted with other patients or medical staff. Some of these altercations resulted in electroshock therapy, use of strong medical drugs and confinement cells. After those lonely nights in isolation in her padded cell, wrapped in her strait jacket, Lilian slowly began to hide her true emotions and thoughts. She built a docile, obedient exterior to please the doctors, while her inner thoughts were filled with plotting and revenge. Saint Mary began to have funding issues, food was getting scarce and the doctors were recurring into strong, sedative meds to keep the patients from turning aggressive at the lack of meals. One day, a small group of patients -including Lilian- managed to break into the kitchen and start a fire that extended to a big portion of the complex. Lilian, in the middle of the chaos, was finally was able to break free… and wandered into the forest…

PART 2: Beginnings and development

To make things easier to read, I arranged things this way.

If you read all of this and made it this far, all I can say is: Thank you a lot, really.

I don't know what plans I have for them in the future, if there will be any retcons or redesigns, this is something extremely niche of all things I draw about but Lilian is a fun project overall.

[the-real-cherri-orlanda]

AITA for wanting to not tell my current traveling companions about my past work?

I (42F) used to work in a tavern with my wife (39f) with our niece (23 Gender-fluid), as of recently my wife has vanished. It should be said my love for my wife knows no bounds. She is truly the only good thing about me, and I'd dare to say the world I've found myself in. Many people would say they would do anything for the ones they love- I mean it. The world would sooner burn so that I could see her again. I would walk until my feet bleed and wear away into stumps. I'd endure every torture and cruelty to make sure she is ok. I can't overstate enough that I am worried sick, At that time I had been searching for her for months and leaving our tavern to be run by our niece for short periods of time. I planned to widen my search perimeter and go across the continents to look for her at any of her families taverns in the neighbouring cities and continents. (there's a whole chain of them its a very long story.)

The only thing stopping me from going off to find her was our niece, I was worried that they would not have enough money to survive on their own while trying to run the tavern. I spent a month and a half doing odd jobs trying to scrape enough money for them to hold onto while I was gone- just shearing sheep, cleaning, making food, yard work, mending things, trading, all of that sort of minor stuff. But it wasn't enough- it was around 17 gold pieces and a couple of coppers. which would not be enough seeing as a trip to the furthest continent would take me at least a year. So I would have to leave my niece with at least enough money for that span of time while I was out searching.

I was left with two choices once the work began to run out, a devil who had reached out to me was willing to make a deal, I will not speak this devils name because a deal with him I couldn't wish on even my worst enemy, that I truly mean. With my options laid out before me I contacted a regular at out bar he was shady but at least honourable- he gave me options and darkened corners in our town to search for jobs with "better yielding rewards" I decided that a job with greater stakes would indeed yield better rewards. I made my coin taking hits on the worst people I could find.

I can preface this now the work that I did was grisly. I took up hits as an assassin for money, it was good money too. The work took its toll on me physically and mentally. The number of lives was great. Most nights I spend worrying about where my wife is or whether she will take me back when she learns the number of lives I have now taken. Previously to being an assassin I had taken two lives, those being my mentors as a child, one being by infection when I tried to help treat them when sick and the other being during a fight for my life with the other when she thought I had killed the first on purpose, previous to her accusations to me she had also blamed three other helpers and was slowly loosing any grip she had on sanity). Both on accident - she had loved me all the same, but this time I feared she would not love me anymore. I certainly wouldn't if I was her.

This long ramble I must apologise for but I felt it was necessary to say before going into the recent conflict that I bring to you all. I am now with an adventuring party. I have grown quite close to quite a few of them. One of them (20NB, ill call them Petal), even reminds me of my niece- not so much in looks tho as Petal is a teifling and a bit younger than my niece who in comparison to petal, is a half orc- but they both have this disposition for mischief and this curiosity that seems to branch out further than what childhood could try and dampen. Before this conflict I was beginning to greatly care for them. They are a bard and are gifted with the ability to speak with the dead, they have sat and tried to teach me how it works but frankly I'm not particularly great at magic these days. It was still interesting none the less.

As our party has moved across continents everyone has been having these deep talks about their pasts. A lot of them spilling some very serious stuff- Petal being divulging some quite worrying things which while I am not happy with them I would not reveal to strangers on the internet. This has prompted questions about my own past. I have told them about my wife and niece and our tavern back home, I even told them about some of my childhood, but a lot of it is not great, it either verges on the grisly, the unseemly or the depressing. I do not want to dwell on these thoughts any longer than I have to the mistakes of my past long before even my work as an assassin still haunt me and I will never be able to escape them. I am genuinely worried that if what I had to do to get here was found out they would leave me behind.

if they disliked me I could live with that, but I cannot have them leave me as they have a sending stone with a tip line for people to call in about anyone having seen my wife. It belongs to one of the party members (I'll call them Herb) who has been using it to keep in contact with their own wife in a few towns back. I cannot afford to not be around if a tip comes through the sending stone.

I have spent the last few weeks avoiding questions, most of the party are respecting I do not want to speak about this, Petal on the other hand has not been. they have been giving me weird looks and withdrawing from me. I know I've told white lies along the way so that the group will stop poking and prodding. But petals talent for speaking with the dead has me concerned, the ghosts of the hits I took out were abusers, criminals, other assassins who actually took joy in the work they did, these were not good people, and if they are whispering in poor petals ear. to be honest I couldn't blame them if they were beginning to become worried.

maybe I am blowing this far out of proportion, but I reeeeeaaaaally do not wish to talk about what I had to do. and I am worried it will jeopardise my chances of seeing my wife again.

I apologise how long this ended up being in the end. but I have a feeling this is not going to be the end of this conversation. AITA?

[crazylittlejester]

DAILY BRAINROT

I'm very scatterbrained today, so please excuse the multiple topic changes. 😅

The Sky angst WIP is in progress, and I accidentally started a new WIP that is Hyrule angst. I think pretty much all the Hyrule angst I've read takes place in forest regions, so naturally I had to take it upon myself to write something that happens in The Great Sea. Legend is not the only one who deserves island-related trauma.

Still thinking about the academia AU, too. Sun has a bachelors degree in aviation, like Sky (it's how they met) and one in religious studies. She's decided to get her graduate degree in religious studies and may or may not have a side gig with Sky flying little bitty planes for a tourist place because they're both crazy and think they can somehow fit that into their schedules.

LU EAH AU is still in progress! It's just going very, very slowly, and I need to remember to review some of my source material because I keep forgetting to do that. I also need to finish up the fic about Fi's backstory and figure out a cool title for it. The AU itself will likely be Linked Ever After unless I think of something cooler.

Also, I was writing a scene with Legend & Sky and needed to do some quick fact-checking and recipe-searching and DID YOU KNOW THAT THERE IS AN ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGE THAT'S MADE OUT OF HORSE MILK!?

Anyway, the scene in question is another attempt at letting Legend be soft and chill because he is Too Old for This Shit. The actual recipe I ended up using was basically warm milk with pumpkin pie spices and maple syrup because Legend just gives off warm milk vibes. He knows what works, and he's going to do it, and if anyone tries to give him grief over it, he'll just smack them right good.

Side tangent: as much as I want to say that Warriors is the best with self-care, I think it's really more Legend's thing. Time also looks like he has everything together, but he is totally panicking and masking (pun intended) 24/7 with rare exceptions. Legend is the one who's had enough of this shit and figured out what does and doesn't actually help his physical and mental health. He's obviously not perfect at it, but he's the closest to an actual role model most of them have, just because he's trying to live his best life (partly out of spite).

Warriors is still the one who drags Twilight to therapy, though.

i so desperately needed the daily brainrot, i caught this 35 seconds after it appeared in my asks

You’re so real for that. I have a Hyrule angst wip in my drafts somewhere titled ‘Hyrule Drowns’… I don’t- I don’t think I have to explain further (he doesn’t DIE but I AM gonna throw him in a lake. Shoutout to @/carelessapples for this one because if I remember correctly, this was sort of their idea/i am writing it for them)

I LOVE THAT SO MUCH YOU HAVE NO IDEA.

LINKED EVER AFTER. 10/10, I LOVE IT. I’m so excited for that au, but take ur time man. I know it’ll be awesome

THERES A FUCKING WHAT NOW??? (and yeah Legend DOES give off warm milk vibes)

Oh yeah no, Time is masking most of the time bro does NOT have it together like, at all, I so agree. I love the idea of Wars just DRAGGING Twi to therapy kicking and screaming. Legend definitely has things figured out by now, though I am of the personal belief that he’s horrible at explaining it to the others and helping THEM with stuff. I headcanon he’s better at self care for himself than helping the others take care of themselves but he’s doin’ his best 😔

[bobdylans116thdream]

rambling? rambling.

so 2025 is starting out really well. my boyfriend and i are heading towards a more serious commitment (think ring), and it's taken me long enough but i'm opening myself up to the fact that he loves and wants ME. he wants me as i am, both physically and mentally. he doesn't expect me to solve all his problems. he understands that i can't, that sometimes all i can do is be supportive. and he wants to help me work through hangups i have. my biggest task is truly opening up, not hiding myself.

new obsession much? you all already know i'm in my Bob Dylan Era (shout out to my dear friends @johangeorghohman @lil-melody-moon and @good-to-drive for putting up with my dylan shenanigans and encouraging me LOL!!) but for real, like... something about his work and lyrics just... sometimes they hit close. and he refused to be boxed in as an artist, still does honestly, and that's my goal. to refuse to box myself in as a woman, especially a woman in a bigger body. same idea, different method? hmm. he's doing me a lot of good, i honestly think i needed something new.

and work! work is going... pretty well, knock on wood. i don't have to do it all. my assistants are there to help, and when your work bestie is also your assistant... FUN!!! i've opened up to her about discovering bob's work (she's teasing me about putting the beatles on the back burner), which for me takes a LOT. and she's amazing. she's taken a lot off me which i appreciate. i hope that i can keep this sort of level until summer, fingers crossed.

and i'm seeing that there's still a lot of good in the world. rediscovering my hobbies, myself, and just... i feel like a weight is lifting off me slowly but surely. it's been a long time coming.

[werevyote]

Another long winded ramble on my relationship with the word " transspecies " 🤟 ⸻ personal to my experiences I'm not saying anything is a requirement to anyone else, this is just me

I really do enjoy the word " transspecies " admittedly, I think it's a word I want to use more of. My identity is complex and vast but more or less all together -of how I see myself and experience my identity- I am a coyote

For basically majority of my life I have always been a canine of some sorts and actively strived to take the effort to fit the part. Not saying I mean to transition into a coyote but yet ... I kinda already am and have been. Ofc not in the fun little animal HRT things, but more or less mentally, socially, personally to me and myself I have been

In a previous ramble of mine I stated;

“ A lot like my trans identity, there always has been signs. I grew up to not only defy my assigned gender but to my species, and I love it. I fully embrace it. Yes, it’s so hard, it truly can be so so so hard, but it is me, it is true. ”

I believe my trans identity is intertwined with both species and gender, I do not experience what I assume is human-like gender but more experience coyote-like and nonhuman-like gender. I cannot separate it and it does in fact show socially and physically

I wear a lot of coyote fits, I often wear a coyote jacket and coyote items and accessories, people I know irl and online call me / refer to me as Coyote as a name, there are folks I know who refer to me as a coyote because they are aware of my nonhumanity. A lot like my trans identity I was socially slowly coming out and was actively being referred to as a guy ; it's basically the same thing with being a coyote. While I'm much more selective on who I come out to, I'm still yet socially seen as a coyote to some and I feel like that's important to me in the label

The word transspecies in itself also feels more solid than other common labels I would believe, at least in how it fits in my own personal experiences. At one point could I have been seen as human? Yea absolutely I was. I'm not human, no, I never was I absolutely was born as a coyote but yet still was raised as a human by a human family of course. So, in a way I'm redefining that and making it into my own thing, I'm not erasing any of my human experience, I deeply embrace them- just " human " isn't what I am. Therefore, accepting myself as a coyote and actively making small efforts online and offline with fitting myself as a coyote; it feels like a solid label to me

Dunno, I've been heavily considering using " transspecies " more often and that's kinda part of why and my experiences with nonhumanity sort of fitting into how I'd experience the label

I'm a coyote through and through, transcoyote if you will <3

[keirawantstocry]

poly morning crew but tubbo is insecure about his height and fitpac are trying to help him be less insecure about it :)

this got so incredibly off track i literally see one word and run with things swear down

hiii, um I kinda took this and ran with it? I will upfront say I am not a trans man but i am trans so i drew on my own personal experience to write this and dont mean to write anything… incorrect or anything of the sort <3 and if anyone reads this and i have accidently ending up portraying something incorrectly pls tell me immediately so i can rewrite

Most days Tubbo was fine with being trans. It was just part of who he was, like his brown hair or any of his birthmarks. Other days it bugged him. How much shorter he was compared to some of the other guys. How soft his body was. But he was fine. He wouldn't fucking talk to somebody about it, wasn't that big of a deal anyway. Nobody even noticed when he had his off days, Phil was focused on a thousand other things and the annoying voice of his husband in his head just prattled on and on about dumb shit before disappearing. 

He was working out when it hit him. A wave of dysphoria so strong he physically bent over and closed his eyes. Mentally he swore. Horrible timing. Pac was supposed to be over in less than à few minutes and he could barely stand without seeing himself and feeling sick. 

Speak of the devil, he thought as the doorbell rang and Pac's animated voice slid it's way through the house. “Tubboooo.” 

Tubbo groaned but he had no choice. Laying down the weights he had been using, he headed over to the door to let Pac inside. 

“Hey, Pac.” The man looked fucking gorgeous as per usual. It would sour Tubbo's mood if he wasn't so attracted to him. His infectious smile spread to Tubbo's face as they embraced. “It's good to see you, man.” 

It was easy at first, hiding the nasty self hatred boiling in his gut. Unfortunately Pac was incredibly more attuned to his feelings then either Phil or Tommy. “What's wrong?” he asked as they sat down on the couch together. 

“Nothing,” Tubbo blustered, avoiding his eyes. 

“Tubbo,” he said in an uncharacteristic stern voice. It softened again as he gently took Tubbo's face in his hands and turned his head to look at him. “What's wrong, meu bem?” 

With a long sigh, Tubbo accepted his fate. “I just feel like shit about myself today.” 

Pac's head tilted in curiosity. “Why?” 

“Honestly, I'm not sure what triggered it.” 

“But what do you feel shit about?” Pac took a second to look around, trying to find his words, his warm hands still against his cheeks. “What about yourself?” 

Tubbo laughed lightly, trying to shove down the churning in his stomach. “My body. I just wish… I wish I was born a guy.” Bile rose in his throat as he tried to choke down the shame. He hated being vulnerable especially with someone that he cared so much about. He met his eyes trying to gauge his reaction. The expression he was met with was one of pure confusion.

“I'm sorry I don't understand.” 

“I'm trans," he said as bluntly as he could.

Pac just blinked at him slowly as if trying to comprehend the words coming out of his mouth. “That doesn't make you any less of a man.” 

“Easy for you to say that,” Tubbo scoffed. 

Unexpectedly Pac laughed as if it was one of the funniest things he had heard all day. “You do know I'm trans right?” 

Tubbo stared at him as he felt his brain short circuit. “What? No, I didn't fucking know that what the fuck.” Surprised laughter was bubbling its way out of his chest before he could stop it. The shame was dissipating at the speed of light because here was one of the prettiest, most attractive men he’d ever known and he was just like him. 

He laughed again before bringing his hands up to grab Pac’s face and kiss him firmly on the lips. Pac giggled into his mouth before kissing him back, sliding his hands into Tubbo’s hair. The kisses were sloppy, more shared laughter and wet open mouths than anything. But it felt so good, so right. 

They finally stopped kissing and Tubbo realized that somehow they had ended up laying back on top of each other on the couch. “How did I not know you were trans?” he said, still in awe. 

Pac laughed, light and airy. “You hate me and don’t pay attention to me.” 

“Shut the fuck up.” Then for good measure he kissed him again to truly shut him up. Warmth had replaced the feeling in his gut and was now spreading through his entire body. For the first time he felt good about it; not bad, not neutral but good.

[princessfaerygia]

I wrote in my journal. It's an old leather journal of my boyfriends. Sorry I know that's not vegan but it is recycling of a sort. I forget to mention my favorite color is also deep forest pine tree green. My favorite pens are precise point pens and I have the green one currently. I wrote about stressors with my boyfriend. Then I read him what I wrote. I wrote about how I feel he isn't considerate of my mental illness disability, when it comes to him wanting to progress and travel in life. I have my support system here, family, gym, behavioral mental health services. I don't want to travel. Progressing, he wants to get a shop or build a home and have an online shop and travel. I said I can't perform normal job duties due to my psychological inability. But I can love him at home, make food, wash dishes, sweep the floor, organize clothes, take out trash, do laundry, and be his gal. He said he'd sacrifice anything for me. Even his dreams of traveling. He told me, "id sacrifice anything for you. That's what true love is."

Omg I was so not expecting that response from him. I am so... relieved and released from my burden of self shame.

I admit when I was very mentally ill I worked at mcdonalds. They did not have me work with the customers and there was another disabled employee working there in the back too. I was able to prep the apple pies, strawberry and cream pies, prep the parfaits (often added extra berries for the customers) and mop and sweep and do dishes. It was hard work truly lol. it was taxing on me psychologically, spiritually, and physically. I was terrified of the fire extinguisher for some reason. Thought it might explode or signified my head exploding like an atom bomb somehow. At the time I was not on anti psychotics. I often talked to myself out loud there too~while working, I feel like I was a little weird kid inside an adult woman's body. Calling myself "doody" and just making stuff up in my head all the time. I thought people were constantly signaling to me in some energetic or real way, and I had to obey them. How strange am I. I thought I was humanity's dog. I thought I was Harley Quinn. I'm not. I felt deep love for everyone there and thought we were family. I even sent them flowers when I had to quit.

I am happy that I am on abilify now, an anti psychotic. And luvox which helps with depression and OCD intrusive thoughts.

My hands are slowly healing , can you believe it?

do you think I'm autistic?

When I sat at a fancy family dinner for moms birthday last February, I could barely make eye contact or chat with anyone. My hands were trembling and legs constantly shaking. It was my extended sophisticated &educated family and my boyfriend and parents. I am not socialized at all.

I used to be highly sensitive to light and sound. I would wear earplugs constantly at work or while walking to gym or the therapist. I felt the beep of machines or noises from TV or radio go straight to my heart in a harsh manner. Also not to mention people's voices and the click clack of any machine.

That has all dimmed down since being with my boyfriend. I amazingly don't even wear ear plugs to sleep anymore. I've become a better sleeper and accustomed to constant noise in the background. It doesn't bother me, barely at all. Though I do love/adore silence.

My boyfriend is like my mother. She needs background noise to sleep. She sleeps with TV on. I used to think my mom was communicating with heavenly light angels in that way. electricity is intense.

I believe we are each a soul and every soul is in need of healing. I believe manmade electricity helps us communicate...but , it doesnt quite emit the same frequency as our bodies and souls do and our holy innate ability to communicate with all creation.

I believe in light pollution. It's not good for us. We are each light beings and infused with divinity. But there are so many bright flashy lights that overstimulate and overwhelm our souls. Manmade electricity is desensitizing to our sacred wholesomeness. Of course we need to see in the dark though. But wouldn't it be cool if humans could evolve to see better in the dark through our own innate spiritual and scientific ability eventually?

Also before I end this tumblr entry. I wanna say I love pastel colors. All pastel colors. My boyfriend says my aura is seafoam green. I ordered, instead of pale pink, a minty light heathery green cardigan. I feel like it's more mature and suits me more.

Also I love the colors green, pink, and orange together. Something so fitting and summery, almost tropical about it.

I'm really excited my sacred friend on Tumblr may be crocheting me a colorful blanket. That makes me feel so precious and valued and calm. I just want her to know any colors she chooses is a blessing and I am immensely grateful.

Also another mutual of mine said she'd send me something. Her art is so beautiful I am absolutely amazed she is cool with me. I ordered something off her Etsy today. Her art is so gentle and cutesy and she's a bright light in my Tumblr life.

And of course so are you.

[a-teacup-of-golden-cracks]

tw this is a trauma post but it's also a narrative I'm proud of. Suicide and self harm (mental and physical) will be mentioned.

To help those who aren't me understand, I think in part in references since it is both easier and more fun than creating original thoughts.

(1): reference to the videogame Omori

(2): reference to the movie The Dark Knight (take a guess as to why I like and relate to the joker)

(3): reference to a song I like (in order, HOPE by NF, Somewhere I Belong by Linkin Park, Love the Subhuman Self by AISHA, Arc System Works, and Jamison Boaz)

(4): a random saying I heard and enjoyed

“No one knows what it's like to be the bad man, to be the sad man behind blue eyes. No one knows what it's like to be hated, to be fated to telling only lies”

“Behind blue eyes” by The Who

Welcome to the nonsensical abyss of my mind, you've been here as long as you can remember (1). By reading this you're getting to see my thoughts without translation. Nothing here makes sense to anyone except me, I make references others rarely understand. But allow me to tell the story of how what you see now came to be. You wanna know how I got these scars (2)? “I spent years of my life holdin’ on to things I never should've kept, full of hatred, years of my life wishin I was someone different looking for some validation.” (3)

Middle school was a special sort of subtle hell for me, it stole things without me noticing. First it was my feeling of impervious safety when a kid laughed at a genuine heartfelt remark I made. Then it was my trust that friends would never betray me and always respect me when they wouldn't stop making jokes at my expense. Slowly, steadily I descended into paranoia and loneliness, and thus my contentedness with life was stolen. The ax forgets yet the tree never does(4).

A secret hidden issue that I only found out this year was that the ADHD meds I needed to take to function may have been causing the paranoia to start with. I still don't know how to feel about that, that all my issues and trauma might stem from something that's not even real.

Once I started high school it became more and more apparent that nobody liked me. At least not for very long. I never learned to function in middle school so I was still struggling with what everyone else already knew and mastered. Giving a compliment and sexual harassment, would you like to know the difference? I would've but nobody told me until after I'd been punished.

Intent vs impact, I never intended to hurt anyone yet my impact was that I did more often than not. So I cut off the things that hurt people, removed them from my mind. Who needs humor? Not me if I can't use it right. Who needs to give compliments? Not me if I can't say it right. Who needs to hug people to show affection because it's your primary love language and you want to show everyone how much you like and appreciate them? …… not me…. if I must…. to not hurt them…

You see where my inner pain starts now? Where the scars in my mind begin? There were two things I could never bear to cut and slice away, my name and my kindness. Most trans people change their names to align more with their gender but I decided no. I am done changing things for other people to accept me more, they never do. My name is Daniel and it's the sum of my entire being. If I am non-binary, or a woman, or some eldritch horror that everyone fears and that has lost every shred of humanity because of the things I've endured, then my name represents all of that. It's not my issue if people make a poor assumption about my name because of what they think it should be.

Maybe I don't even want to be human anymore if all that humans have shown me is hate. All throughout high school it was nothing but hate or dislike shown to me, barely any kindness outside of my family. So I isolated myself from everyone, to avoid those who hated and to not burden my family with my issues. I'd handle it by myself like I always had in the past and I'd be ok.

I was not ok.

I was rageful. I was tearing myself apart more and more and more internally, only my desire to never hurt anyone kept me from tearing the school down brick by brick with all the students inside it. But maybe… could it be I was the exception and the problem? Could it be I'm the one who deserves to hurt for the pain I've caused? Should I hurt myself? And so I tried once, a good solid punch to the forehead that didn't make me feel any better and never tried again.

The pain I deserved wasn't physical, it was mental and so I gave myself infinite mental pain. What an idiot I was for giving that compliment when clearly in retrospect it was sexual harassment, what a dumbass I was for saying that joke, looking back I deserve to lose my entire friend group over it. Maybe I'd be better off if I didn't exist anymore if I caused more harm than good and could never seem to learn or improve. The thoughts I had then… and sometimes still now… it's so hard to remember that looking into the past makes everything obvious in the worst ways possible…

But there was a light eventually, someone who told me all that was wrong. Someone I met online and will never see in person, someone I messed up horribly with and yet she still forgave me. Thank you infinitely June. You showed me that monsters can be good.

So I steeled my resolve and used my rage at myself to look inward and outward and found that I was being mistreated and misunderstood. I shouldn't kill myself to not exist or hurt people because I would improve and I could make others improve. So I stood at the very last meeting in front of the whole school and spoke the truth of my mind with as much respect and rage as I could muster. So much pain and anger and hate and sadness I'd endured and I showed all of it to the entire high school of 300 people.

I've never felt more satisfied in my life than when the headmaster of the school himself asked if there was anything he could do for me and I said no. I've never felt more proud when I met with him two days later and asked for a neurodivergent support group to be created for the middle and high school, and he said yes. Half a year later my brother told me that the headmaster stuck to his word and did more than I asked. I never felt more vindicated than when I was told by my only friend that he'd heard people making school shooter jokes after I stood up and told my story.

And so I started to heal. My humor, I did need that. How could I be happy if I could never make myself laugh? My desire to give joy and be kind, I needed that. How could I not fulfill the purpose in life I'd made for myself? My ability to hug and love and be happy with others, I needed that. Desperately. “I want to heal, I want to feel what I thought was never real, like there was somewhere I belong.”(3) I just needed to find better people who understood. I reconnected with my family and told my pain and tried in every possible way to show how sorry and sad I was for cutting them off. I couldn't stitch the old bits back onto me but maybe I could grow something new. Something I wanted and I loved, for me.

I can never fully heal, that's why you see the holes in my form, but I've incorporated them now, so that they help me as much as they hurt. I carry on and love my subhuman self, accept me for me and go back to being with humans (3). I give them the kindnesses I can but only after I do that for myself. This is the kindness and respect I give to me, the biggest change I made, because I deserve it as much as everyone else. Now close your eyes and you'll leave this dream (1).

“But my dreams, they aren't as empty as my conscience seems to be.”

Behind Blue Eyes by the Who

[lcstwarricr]

I need to think more thoroughly about it, and things may change and adjust as the chapters in game goes on. So apologies if things feel vague for now. I still have a lot to sort through myself.

But for now, I head-canon that Kendo has a unique connection to the island and magic much like his siblings. Though, he is certainly UNAWARE of it, and quite frankly, it doesn't SHOW UP to him for a long while. So it left him feeling a left out and jealous when magic returned and his siblings got their share ( Jade with light magic and Daigo with dark magic). Though it's something he would never bring up.

But he truly does have something there, and I like to believe it's the 'balance' between light and dark. No, I don't think it's the a.vatar type of balance. I don't see him as someone who is all powerful at all. But what this power entails is something I need to think more on. And I will get back to ya'll on that.

The main reason it lays dormant at the very start, I feel like, is DUE to his black and white thinking at the very start of his character growth. He pretty heavily leans on good vs. evil and is very stubborn about it. But Light can't be what it is without darkness, and darkness can't be what is without light. If he is naive about that, then it has blinded him from his abilities.

And once Kendo begins to (slowly!!) open his eyes and see that things are more complex than just the stories he grew up with, that is when these strange, mental feelings begin to appear. But he's extremely unpracticed ( he has no mentor to help guide him at ALL, so you can probably imagine the struggles and frustrations). In fact, he is UNAWARE of it, and probably confuses it with passing thoughts.

The more physical abilities haven't even shown up yet all, and that's where I'm ending this post for now. At least until my thoughts can spin up ideas.

Other notes:

When his sister goes missing for a short while, the first sign of his locked abilities are the light-oriented Sprites being drawn to him in her absence.

Tomoki, a dark magic-oriented oni/demon , is also drawn to him. After Kendo decided to begrudgingly spare his life because it wasn't honorable to fight some creature who wouldn't fight back, the oni followed Kendo home. Through sheer willpower, he was able to make the warrior soften up and befriend him.

[elvenbeard]

2076

"I'm tellin' ya, mano, this is only the beginning! A few months down the line we're gonna be Night City legends!"

"I think before I wanna be a legend I'd just like to start feelin' like myself again..."

The day Vince was sacked in November of 2076 was the newest low point of his life. He'd lost everything, from a job he was good at, financial security, to what he'd assumed had been friends. Over the course of the year his health had been on a steady decline, mentally and physically. His first so harmonious, almost too-perfect relationship with an older coworker had found an abrupt and bitter ending filled with betrayal. Jenkins' paranoia and revenge fantasies reached new heights, and several particularly precarious operations went wrong in a row. To cope with the stress, silence his depression and anxieties, and be able to keep up with his coworkers-turned-competitors' performance, Vince turned to substance abuse over the course of his last 6 months at Arasaka.

In Jackie's eyes, the termination of Vince's contract couldn't come soon enough, seeing his friend spiral and lose himself in the corporate mud more and more with each passing day.

Like many times before - even though this one had been Vince's highest fall so far - Jackie helped him back to his feet. He and his mother took Vince in and kept him company through his withdrawal from both self- and corporate-administered drugs. Slowly but surely he got better.

From the first day they'd known, Jackie had always urged Vince to consider teaming up as mercs. Together they'd be one hell of a duo, muscle and tech, street-smarts and corporate education, guns and hacking. They'd make it far in Night City's underground world in no time, or so he thought.

By 2076, Jackie was a respected Solo, particularly in Heywood, but still far from achieving his dreams of becoming a legend - and really, those had always been Jackie's dreams alone. Sure, Vince wanted to leave an impact and be remembered, not just fade away into the shadows, but who didn't? Dying in a blaze of glory though, never reaching age 30, just for the money and fame, for doing other people's dirty work? He never saw the appeal... but also, so far he'd failed to find a satisfying middleground.

By mid-December 2076 Vince had somewhat recovered, had been clean for a little over a month, but his cash started to run dry. The next time Jackie asked him to accompany him on a job - just a small one, a little favor for a choomba, nothin' dangerous or dramatic - Vince gave in and tagged along. "Just this once," he told himself, simultaneously looking for other job opportunities. He even considered going back into the corporate world, a smaller company, something less exhausting than Counterintel, maybe media, or a lowly techie position like Jenkins had intended for him originally.

But the small job went well, was fun, even. Jackie's enthusiasm had always been infectuous. After everything he'd done for Vince, he didn't think it fair to continue saying no to him and to something that indeed worked out better than he could have ever imagined... He still had no intentions of dying young, or a legend, but as Jackie put it: would be a shame to let all that Arasaka training go to waste, so why not use it to do some good with it, help themselves and others in their lives?

Vince through the years (6/9)

The set above is basically the followup to this VP comic I did a while ago, the evening after V's and Jackie's first job together.

As mentioned, Vince was never eager to be a merc, and by early 2077 he simply treats it as one of his many previous part-time jobs: a way to keep a roof above his head, food on the table, and make use of his skills somehow. Maybe do some good, or at least leave a positive impact on a single person's life after 4 years of corporate scheming.

He is sort of picky with the gigs he takes, always weighs pros and cons. Sometimes he takes a gig he usually wouldn't out of sheer curiosity. But thievery and sabotage, even rescue missions, are really his favourite things to do because they come closest to what he did for Arasaka predominantly.

It really is easy money with his skills and knowledge, and also usually non-violent. I think that would be the main reason why he decides to go on with the Konpeki Plaza Heist with Jackie in the end, despite having a bad gut feeling. With the information they have it seems like something just down his alley, and he's very confident that he did his best in setting everything up. His biggest mistake is really putting so much trust in Dex doing his part for the preparation of the heist.

Vince is really used to his superiors just supplying him with all necessary info, no questions asked - both back at Arasaka and with the fixers he's worked with at that point, mainly Regina and Wakako. Both are thorough and reliable, do their work, hold nothing back that could be useful. He is also used to his team-members speaking up if they think something feels off. But I think T-Bug is in a similar boat as him, confident that all will go as planned, in her mind already in Cyprus. And Jackie, who just really really wants this to happen so badly, does not speak up despite potentially having a bad feeling.

So, even though Vince feels like all of it sounds too good to be true, everyone else involved being so confident and presenting themselves so competent, in combination with Jackie's aforementioned enthusiasm, convinces him that his own worries may be unjustified. He's overthinking, this can't go wrong, they were all really thorough, they can count on each other... right?

He'll learn the hardest way possible that on the street the saying "every man for himself" is even more prevalent than in the corporate world in the end.

(CW below for drug abuse talk!)

Little sidenote re: Vince's substance abuse. I often put great emphasis on the fact that he neither smokes nor drinks, one of the many reasons why Johnny pisses him off so much by doing both regardless and repeatedly whenever he's in control of his body later. Not smoking is really just Vince's personal preference here, but he actually wouldn't mind drinking now and then - his body is really just against him on this. He can't process alcohol well and just gets drunk and nauseous really quickly, even from "just a beer" or "just a glass of wine". So he avoids it, not for moral high ground reasons but more "I dont wanna puke my guts out and have a headache for three days" reasons.

Since drinking and smoking are off the table when it comes to numbing himself through his worst time at Arasaka, drugs are the next best thing. Initally it was just downers and sleeping pills, but when those started affecting his performance during daytime, he picked up neuroboosters and other performance enhacing stuff. It was a constant struggle to balance this drug-cocktail out, in combination with the canonical stress-blockers Corpo!V is on during the start of the game.

In short, by the time Vince is kicked out, he's a walking pharmacy and needs some time to readjust to a life without being constantly on something. He's doing his best to remain clean once he gets there... and he hates that taking pills is the one thing he can do to silence Johnny, cause it brings back a lot of bad memories and associations. It's probably one of the main reasons why he ends up talking to him more instead of just blocking him out like he used to block out everything else for a while. And even though he never fully trusts him, this way he at least gets to understand him better and gains his trust and understanding in return.

[tongueofcat]

Hey Cat, I'm sorry you're going through it right now. Please come talk to me if you need someone to listen okay? i love you and i'm worried about you <3

Not to say that everyone else is ignoring me, but you’re the only person to check in on me during my depressive spiral per their own free will. Everyone else I’ve come to for help either one-on-one or in a group chat. It feels nice you took time out of your day to send me a message. Thank you.

Sorry it took me a while to answer, I fell asleep after posting because I thought some sleep would help. I’m not sure sleep helped at all because I ended up having a dream about my ex-wife. In the dream, life was like life before the separation, before the last few weeks wherein it got really, really hard. We were sitting on the stupid broken couch hanging out while doing our own things and chit chatting on and off. The cats were there… the little dog was there. It felt so real. It was snowing, the Christmas tree was put out and lit up. There were stockings on the mantle… I remember thinking ‘Wow, I’m so lucky to have my little family.’

Then I woke up. I looked to the empty side of my bed and just… started crying.

I’m pretty sure the rest of my waking life is some sort of purgatory for failing my marriage. I know some people think that’s over dramatic, that I’m just saying that to garner pity/attention. But it’s how I genuinely feel. This time of year is especially hard for me because my ex-wife and I first met in December, she asked me out on Christmas Eve (the following year), and I proposed to her in December (years later).

People keep telling me time heals all wounds, that it will get better. But, the further I move in time, the harder it is to recall the last time I’ve truly been happy. I think my happiness was shaped like her smile. I think my happiness sounded like her laughter. I think my happiness felt like her hand in mine. All these things have one thing in common: they’re slowly fading from my memory.

Maybe I’ll be at peace when I fully forget her. But, even if I manage that, I’ll always have the hole in my heart where she once resided. Life is really hard, it always has been, I’ve struggled with multiple physical and mental ailments my entire adult life, but I just do not see a purpose anymore.

I’m not going to kill myself. It will just harm others and it won’t solve anything. Personally, I feel like I deserve to suffer through the rest of my life because of failing my marriage. Death would be the easy way out. So if you are concerned about me in that regard, rest assure I have no plans to commit suicide.

So, instead, I’ll just lay here in bed. I’ll go through the motions of life: wake up, eat breakfast, try to find purpose, maybe eat dinner, wash, and sleep. Rinse and repeat until it’s over. It has been a while since I felt alive. I don’t think I am anymore. I don’t think I will ever again.

I didn’t mean to write all of that. Please forgive me for the wall of text. Do you still use Discord? I’m on there mostly. You’re in my friends list. I’m not sure what we would talk about I haven’t already dissected on my Tumblr, but the offer of talking sounds nice. I appreciate you and I hope you’re having a good day and happy holidays.

[werehounded]

i'm in love and it's made me so inexplicably happy that they love me too, i can't over estimate that tbh! (like my love life has been tumultuous at best for years and being able to settle in with someone is so lovely. that regularity of contact daily, soft conversations, finding out little things about them as time goes on, feeling whole and complete and HAPPY!!) I genuinely think that along with it just being Hadley znd the fact that i adore them, the fact that we're both some variety of queer is healing, too. I don't have a trans joy tat for nothing, and being with someone who accepts you and your body and your bad days and good? Someone who accepts your transition journey for what it is, and affirms your gender and presentation at every damn turn? It's amazing.

i'm becoming more independent again after a major disabling event/illness/syndrome/whatever you wanna call it too, with the help of my wheelchair and mobility aids! (and it's so nice that my love is accepting of my need for help too. their only request? that when i'm using my chair, we can still hold hands. i mean. how lucky am i!!!)

i'm sorting out my mental health too! it's so much better than it was two years ago when i was dx'd bpd/eupd (tho my gp thinks i'm autistic and it could be a misdiagnosis as psych tablets don't help me much if at all even tho I'm on lots of them for dual nerve pai a nd psych reasons) and that's down to letting myself have a better life! i'm daring to hope things for the future where before i didn't see any future for myself two years ago. i thought i wouldn't make it to 33 and yet here i am, a month away from that and so happy i could burst

i still have bad days and low days but they're so much fewer than they once were. at one point it was all day every day and i felt overwhelmed and sad and paranoid and it's all melting away now. v slowly, but it is. i feel like my old self again, pre-angelique which was years ago but had such a heavy effect on my relationships that i couldn't hold anything serious down, and pre-cauda equina too. i will never physically be the same as before ces, but i'm beginning to think i can be who i was when i was like 21 or 19 and genuinely happy with my life.

i will likely never hold down a job. that's just something i have to accept. but. despite that one thing i can't change at all, i'm so happy lately!! i'm accepting my limitations and pushing where i feel able to. hadley has made me so happy, just by being there, and being them, and loving me in return. i feel so desired and loved and wanted despite never having really been the kind of person who believes that about themselves before now, (especially not where my physical body is concerned bc of dysphoria and dysmorphia but! hadley loves me for me and god, isn't that refreshing!!) my improving mobility and mood can't be understated too, while I'll probably always need a powered wheelchair cos I just can't walk long distances, getting around indoors is easier at least. I'm actually doing my physio since my ces too which is def helping.

Idk. All this to say that I'm so damn happy with my life and I never thought that I'd feel this way again. More than I did before, even, in fact. Things do get better. You will find a person, or people, who love you for you. Whether that's romantic, platonic, or you're someone who doesn't distinguish between the two. You'll find love of some kind. And it'll heal you. Along with gently pushing yourself to get better tbh. If I wasn't pushing to get better even before hadley told me that they love me, I don't think I'd have been in the heads pace to accept that and love them as wholly as I do. It's hard to love someone and accept their love when you feel broken, so its good that I was on the mend while we were becoming closer, too!

It's corny. But it does get better. I promise. From someone who thought they wouldn't be alive now. Trust me.