We go dark

Hola lovelies!

For all my Captain Swan and Trubies….sorry. This ain’t for you. I do however have a new chapter of my first attempt at an HP Dramione fic. :)

Now-there’s a reason the title is Dark Arts. This chapters reeeeeeeeally gets dark. So trigger warnings abound. As MissRissa says, it’s heartbreaking. But also completely necessary.

Tears Possible button

Problem button

Lafayette alcohol button

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Don’t say I didn’t warn you!

Big blocks of italics are flashbacks. I refuse to do pop culture research for the 90’s to get references correct, so either ignore the discrepancy or pretend it’s a modern fic.

Uh, there was more I was gonna tell you…

The pictures of her tattoos, aren’t correct placement wise usually, but hopefully I’ve describe it enough so you can picture it in your head.

Um…I think that’s everything. …..Maybe. Ah hell I dunno. If I have more to say I’ll do it later. For now, here ya go.

As always, banner takes you to story home page and the link will take your directly to the chapter.

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The Dark Arts // Chapter 2

PSA: You are *NOT* Alone



Okay lovelies…now I kinda tend to stay away from long, overly formal posts about *MY* life. Because, ya know, let’s face it…you come for the fandom stuff. And that’s perfectly fine-that’s the whole point of this blog after all! But the great thing about fandom in general is the community part of it. And lately…well, yeah lemme explain more below.


First off, let me say I suck at following ‘weeks’. You know like ‘Red Ribbon Week’ or ‘Mental Health Awareness Week’, etc. But lately I’ve had…sheesh probably 4-5 authors update with explanations about why they haven’t updated lately…and it’s because of something really close to me.

A few said that they were dealing with horrid depression, one was seasonal affect disorder (which can be mild or severe or anywhere in between) and one actually tried to kill herself for the second time. And this is just from the small group that I have gotten updates on in the last week or so.

So-from me to you-YOU ARE NOT ALONE.  (This is where the hideously long and probably way too informative comes in-feel free to bail out now.)

I know about depression-I’ve dealt with it for years and years and years. I’ve had bulimia and anorexia…check out these pics below and you’ll see what I’m talking about. And I apologize in advance for the crappy quality-I took these with my phone cause my scanner absolutely loathes me.IMG_7012.JPGThis was the start of when it got bad. I was probably about 100 lbs here. At this point, I heard that the standard of ‘beauty’ was to be 100 lbs at 5’4″ and subtract 5 lbs for every inch under that. I’m 5’2″.

IMG_7014.JPGHere I’d reached my goal…you can see how tiny my arms were…and that dress, which billowed around me quite a lot…was a size 2. And I have other pictures from this time where I was convinced I was completely obese.

IMG_7016.JPGThis pic and the one under it are some of the only pics I have from when it got bad. And it got so much worse than this. I was about 80 lbs here. My lowest-that I know of, because I stopped getting on the scale-was 67 lbs.


IMG_7013.JPGThis was after the worst of it. I was in college and slowly getting my weight up…I was probably about 105 here…those jeans are a size 2 and the top shirt is an XS. Just for reference. 

I’m happy to say that I’m as recovered as I’ll probably ever get-there is no real and true *recovery* from an eating disorder…it sticks with you all your life in one form or another. But you can overcome it.

And don’t even get me started on depression. I hated high school, lemme just say. You could not pay me enough to EVER spend another day in high school. Seriously. Let me chronicle my high school years in terms of why I was depressed.

*Teased mercilessly and left behind by every single friend I had in middle school because my mom was no longer their teacher and therefore they didn’t have to pretend to be my friends anymore. (Yes, they actually said that.)
*Super overprotective mom who never ever let me do anything.
*Raped @ 14 by the only boy my mom approved of…a good, upstanding Christian boy she was convinced I’d marry
*Oh and did I mention that was when I lost my virginity as well?!
*Mom kicked me out of her house @ 17, went to live with my dad
*Looooooong battle with mom, who eventually told me that because I wasn’t blood related that I was expendable (Yes, I’m adopted.)
*Eating disorder starting at 16. Bulimia until I eroded my esophagus to the point where I was vomiting blood. Then abusing laxatives and ipecac.
*Turned to anorexia just before I turned 17. Abusing diet pills, nearly gave myself a stroke.
*Somewhere in there I started cutting. Wrists, ankles, stomach-anywhere I could hide it.
*Not one, not two, but THREE suicide attempts. (No, I will not say how because I’m not giving anyone ideas and obviously I sucked at it since I’m typing this now.)
*Mentally and verbally abusive boyfriend my last two years, which was partly the reason everything got so bad.

There’s more I’m sure and I’ve only touched on some things. But my point is…I know. I know how you feel. I may not know exactly what you’re going through but I understand where you’re coming from. That hopelessness that people who haven’t been there just don’t understand. It tears you apart and drags you down until you can’t even see the light anymore.

I know.

And-this is the important part-you’re not alone. I was lucky enough to have a friend to help me…my one true friend in that whole time. She stuck her finger down my throat to make me purge the pills I OD’ed on. She listened when I needed to vent or cry and she stuck up for me when no one else would.

But I know some people don’t even have that one person. So I implore you…even if it’s reaching out to a random stranger on the internet, please do. Before you make any drastic decisions, please at least try. I know I for one am always here for anyone. There’s a whole slew of ways to get in touch with me and I am more than happy to listen to anyone about anything.

You are more than welcome to email me (kelpieskorner@gmail.com), shoot me a pm on ff.net, ask box me on tumblr, tweet me…absolutely anything. And I will respond. This I promise.

There are tons of resources out there for you and if you don’t have the will to look, please at least let me. I’m so tired of people in the fandom universe being beaten down and abused…because you are all awesome.

That’s part of the reason I run this blog…because this community and the fandoms I’m a part of are the best in the world. Other fandoms are equally as awesome. And every person in them deserves love and respect.

So yeah, now that I’ve been completely waaaaaaaaaaaay too open and honest I’ll leave you with this parting thought.

It gets better, but you have to be willing to weather the storm. If nothing else, I’m living proof. :) I love you all and I couldn’t imagine a better group of people to share my time with.


Story Spotlight: Roses are Red

Title: Roses are Red
Author: KissingFire
Fandom: The Mortal Instruments
Rating: M
AU/Canon/AH: AH
Complete? yes

Summary: He was the angry tattoo artist. She was the mute Jane Doe. Both have violent pasts, binding them together in a way that he never wanted and she never thought was possible. All human/OOC/M for violence and dark scenes.

My oh-so-humble thoughts
Oh dear God! Okay, so I found this story like a month ago. And I’ve read it maybe 5 or 6 times since then. And cried every single time.

This is NOT your average, slight angst but mostly fluff story. It’s heartbreaking. But it’s real in a way that is horrible, but she gets it SO right. She writes it with an intensity and an understanding that just…argh. And again, trying not to spoil it for you cause this is a story that I cannot have you going into with any hints or clues. Besides it being sad. :)

It’s real and gritty and I absolutely adore her for writing something so….perfectly heartbreaking. So, yeah. Grab a box of tissues-or two-and go check it out. Leave her some love cause good lord she deserves it! Enjoy lovelies!

Oh, and I am a total sucker for tattoo artist Jace so that DEFINITELY didn’t hurt. *cheeky grin*