okay i am indeed changing accounts for a few reasons
1, i want my selfship to be my main. when i joined i didn't understand side blogs and i don't like this LOL
2, more control over blocking people
3, when i first started i used my F/Os names as tags and that caused non selfshippers to find me, so i wanna prevent that this time
4, no longer dealing with my imagines getting notifications
this blog will remain up for memory sake and also i might post my imagines here from now on!
i don't want my user to be out in the open rn so if you want it just comment or send an ask with your selfship acc and i'll follow you.
ty for the support and stuff!! i missed y'all and i think a fresh start with more control over my blog now that i have tumblr knowledge and experience is good for me :3 love y'all fr and so do your F/Os
The commission was only $15, and he was really understanding with me! I was lacking some references, especially for Colton, and he let me yap about the designs and make a couple of changes. I'd so so so highly recommend commissioning from him.
Self insert is Vrac, our son is Colton the Cotton Ball. He's a bat fluffy craft with paper wings and googly eyes :3
okay i am indeed changing accounts for a few reasons
1, i want my selfship to be my main. when i joined i didn't understand side blogs and i don't like this LOL
2, more control over blocking people
3, when i first started i used my F/Os names as tags and that caused non selfshippers to find me, so i wanna prevent that this time
4, no longer dealing with my imagines getting notifications
this blog will remain up for memory sake and also i might post my imagines here from now on!
i don't want my user to be out in the open rn so if you want it just comment or send an ask with your selfship acc and i'll follow you.
ty for the support and stuff!! i missed y'all and i think a fresh start with more control over my blog now that i have tumblr knowledge and experience is good for me :3 love y'all fr and so do your F/Os
The way I didn't last like a year on selfship Tumblr LOLLLLLLL my trust issues didn't let me here sorry y'all. Sure I may post rarely but I'm more active in a discord rn. I've literally written like 3 selfship fics that I haven't posted because I know no one will gaf. Sorry I'm not a chibi artist or whatever
ship: funeral flowers ( madeline x helen x ellie )
word count: 3165
canon-typical content warnings apply
âAlright,â she says, clapping her hands together, the pill bottle rattling. âForget the cooler. This is even better than our plan!â She paces back and forth, then pauses to gesture towards Ellie. The Valium jingles as if to punctuate. âLook at her â sheâs perfect. Exactly what we need.â
Madelineâs brows furrow.
âA panic attack is what we need?â She says as if Ellie isnât even there, as if sheâs not actively hanging off her arm at this very second.Â
âNo, a new Ernest.â Helenâs eyes flick down to Ellieâs badge. âWell, Elizabeth, but close enough.â
The pair had had a good run, all things considered. Ten years had never flown by so fast. Fame, fortune and admiration had come for the both of them. Madelineâs second wind had been monumental, though she was unfortunately snubbed for any more Oscar nominations, much to her eternal chagrin. Helen had written three more successful novels and easily cemented her position as one of the modern greats. And if that wasnât enough, each of them managed to consistently garner extra publicity for the other. Though theyâd worked out their differences âmostly â and landed on terms that were as good as could ever exist between them without throwing the universe into a state of cosmic imbalance, their public feud was still legendary. Homoerotic, even, if the tabloids were to be believed.
( And on this occasion, they should be. Madeline had dropped a lot of money planting that particular story. )
Alas, a single decade was of enjoyment was all Viola had allowed them, so there was nothing else for it.Â
Madeline Ashton and Helen Sharp had to die.
Again.
And if they were going to do it, by God, they were going to do it in style.Â
Madelineâs flair for the dramatic paired with Helenâs eye for detail and hefty experience creating a compelling plot â both for books and for murder â gave them ample ideas. There had been many an evening which saw the throwing ideas back and forth, talking them through to their finales, picking out any holes in the stories. It had been quite fun, in a morbid sort of way, to discuss the nitty gritty details of their demises; but then, death didnât quite hold the same weight that it used to.
Theyâd toyed with the idea of a vague sort of Hollywood overdose scenario, or a robbery gone wrong, or any number of other things before settling on a car crash. Madelineâs idea, because she never could do anything by halves.
âIâll be this generationâs Princess Diana!â
It had taken some convincing, especially considering theyâd have to affect some level of physical damage for it to be believable, as Helen had immediately pointed out.Â
âOh, come on, Hel! It wouldnât be that hard!â Madeline chirps. âBesides, Iâve already got my neck and youâve got⌠wellâŚâ
She teasingly wiggles one perfectly manicured finger towards the spot where Helenâs stomach used to be.
âStop that,â Helen deadpans, arms crossing over her middle protectively. âYou canât keep using my hole to get what you want.â
Madeline flashes her perfect, dazzling smile.
âAdmit it, it was a hell of a shot.â
Sheâs certainly not smiling now. Sheâs not doing anything, actually, other than lying very still and holding her breath ( not that she even needs to take a breath in the first place, but old habits ). Sheâd been perfect thus far, still and quiet and cold, not even letting her lashes flutter as they zipped her into the body bag. The journey is possibly the most boring thing sheâs ever experienced â aside, perhaps, from her wedding night with Ernest â made all the more torturous by the fact that she canât even chatter to Helen. Assuming Helen is in the same vehicle as she is. Madeline tries not to think about that too much.Â
Her anxiety fades a tiny bit when they pull her out of the van and she can hear the squeaky wheels of a second gurney somewhere nearby. Thereâs Helen. Sheâs not alone.Â
Whoever is pushing her trolley isnât very mindful about it; it trundles and bumps. Do they not know sheâs the Madeline Ashton?! She pouts from inside the body bag, allowing herself that small act of expression since nobody can see it.Â
A sharp drop in temperature signals their entrance into the morgue. Two sets of receding footsteps â the porters, presumably â and then deafening silence. Madeline doesnât even dare to call out for Helen, though sheâs desperate to know sheâs there.
After an uncomfortable wait, a door swings open. Someone walks towards her. Madelineâs so used to being the first choice that her jaw drops when the newcomer starts moving her into the cooler. She hated the cooler last time! Why are they doing Helen first, sheâs Madeline Ashton! Aside from every other reason that she should be going first, Ashton comes before Sharp alphabetically.
She feels herself being slid onto the freezing metal tray. Her heart stops, or it would have if it was still beating. The sound of the roller mechanics seem unbearable loud as sheâs pushed into that awful, horrible body fridge again. Itâs so cold. Madelineâs eyes fly open to total, oppressive blackness as the heavy metal door thuds shut.
She whimpers. It echoes, bouncing off the walls of the refrigerator, taunting her. She feels like sheâs in a coffin. Is it getting smaller in here? Her eyes start watering and she squeezes them shut harshly.
She lasts 23 seconds before she screams.
She straightens out the last instrument in the tray carefully. Not that thereâs much point; sheâll only have to re-straighten them when she gets back. Still, it keeps her hands busy. It feels methodical. Itâd eat at her if she didnât do it before leaving the room.
Ellie makes a swift exit three minutes before the porters are due to deliver her next project. Dead bodies are fine, but the living? No thank you. Even the tiny amount of small talk that would be expected of her should she be present when they bring the bodies in would be unbearable to her. No, itâs much easier for her if she just conveniently takes a bathroom break precisely when theyâre due to arrive. Then she can just come back once the handover is all done, and itâll just be her and the cadavers. Thatâs how she prefers it. She never has to worry about small talk or saying the wrong thing when her words are falling on ears that canât hear anything anyway.
From what sheâs been able to glean from the news and the paperwork, this job is looking like an interesting one. Sheâs had car crash victims before, plenty of them. Thereâs very little Ellie hasnât seen â one loses oneâs sensitivity to gore and brutality quite quickly in this line of work. But itâs not the circumstances that make this one unusual, itâs the people. Ellie hasnât worked on anyone so prolific before. Nor has she worked on someone sheâd class herself as a fan of. Not that sheâs told anyone that; as weâve already established, she doesnât really do small talk. Or any talk, if she can help it. Besides, sheâs not sure if it would sound unprofessional or weird to admit to having been rather taken with Madeline Ashton and Helen Sharp before sheâs due to work on their bodies.Â
Ellieâs not great with that sort of thing, but sheâs pretty confident that would make her look weird. Well, weirder.Â
When sheâs sure the porters will have been and gone, she makes her way back to the familiar chill of the morgue. Sometimes she wonders if sheâs the only person in the world that finds such a place comforting. The double doors shut behind her, leaving her alone with two body bags. Her cool eyes look over her sanctuary; it doesnât look like the powers touched anything aside from the obvious new additions, but still. Itâll bother her if she doesnât. She strips her gloves off, tosses them, snaps a fresh pair on. Latex-covered fingertips methodically straighten out her instruments. Again.Â
She always starts with the one on the left and, judging by what the reports sheâd seen had to say, sheâs anticipating fairly extensive injuries on both of them. Ergo, the one on the right can wait in the cooler for now, lest the one on the left take a while. Ellie doesnât like to rush her work.Â
With practiced ease, she settles the one on the right onto the tray and slides it into the drawer, shutting the door with a quiet thud. Sheâs always mindful about those doors. Not that sheâs ever had a noise complaint from a client, but thatâs not the point; she herself can do without any loud noises, even if sheâs the one causing them.Â
She turns back around and begins to make her way ti the one on the left. Her hand is just hovering over the zipper of the body bag, ready to pull it down and reveal her first job, when frantic screaming starts from inside the cooler. Ellie almost jumps out of her skin, the sudden volume startling her almost as much as the implications of the noise. Dead people donât scream.Â
No, thatâs wrong. Thatâs wrong. Thatâs wrong.
Her heightened stress levels are immediately internalised. Thatâs another reason Ellieâs built for this job; compartmentalising is second nature. She just has to problem solve. Be methodical. Worry about the rest later.Â
Alright, step one: open that drawer.Â
Sheâs back over there in a second and trying to ignore the way her gloved hands tremble as she reaches for the handle. The noise only gets louder when she cracks the door open, no longer dimmed by the thick steel. She whips the tray out, yanks the zipper down and pulls the bag open.
Madeline Ashton sits up on the table, frazzled and frayed round the edges. Her sapphire eyes are glassy with tears she shouldnât even be producing.Â
âOhhh,â she whines, âit was even worse that time! So dark and cold and cramped!â
Her unhealable neck crunches as she twists to look at Ellie, pouting and dramatic, before she throws herself forward to hang off of the mortician.Â
âI thought the walls were closing in on me, I was scared, hold me!â
Ellie stands ramrod straight as a freezing bundle of blonde clings to her. How the hell is she meant to compartmentalise this? Her head is going a mile a minute and nothing makes sense and she doesnât know what to do and itâs too much and â
Thereâs a woman crying on her. She should probably⌠try to make her feel better?
âYouâre fine,â she says lamely, lifting one hadnât to awkwardly tap Madelineâs back in what she hopes passes for a comforting gesture. âItâs fine.â
Sheâs so focused on trying to navigate the encounter without totally losing her shit that she doesnât even register the sound of a second zipper being pulled down.Â
Helen rolls her eyes so hard itâs a miracle theyâre still in her head afterwards. Trust Mad to balls up the plan. And Helen had been doing so well, too. She hadnât even bristled when the ambulance guy had gone poking around the hole in her stomach.Â
Well, thereâs no point staying in here any longer. Planâs shot, might as well call it quits.
She fumbles around above her head, looking for the zipper. When she finds it, she manages to wiggle and manoeuvre it down from inside enough that she can stick a hand out and get a proper grip on the zipper pull. She pulls it down the rest of the way, sitting up and shrugging the body bag off her shoulders like itâs no more than a very ugly coat. Her gaze immediately falls on the scene before her and she canât really even bring herself to be surprised.
âReally, Mad?â She drawls, âyouâre supposed to be an actress and you canât even play dead for five minutes?â
Madelineâs waterworks are abandoned instantly. She cranes her broken neck to face Helen, though she doesnât seem to be willing to release her hold on the poor girl sheâs currently wrapped around like a very sad python.Â
âIâm a two-time Oscar-nominated actress, for one thing,â Madeline snaps back petulantly, âand for two, it is not my fault if I have PTSD from the last time I got locked in one of those!â
As if mentioning it has reminded her that sheâs supposed to be upset, Madeline wails again, clinging to the harrowed-looking young woman Helen can only assume is their mortician. She rolls her eyes again, muttering a curse under her breath. This is so not how the plan was supposed to go.Â
Helen swings her legs off the table, standing and brushing down her dress with a derisive snort.Â
âGod forbid you do something simple without making a scene.â
Madeline whirls on her again.
âDo you have any idea how terrifying it is in there?!â
âDo you have any idea how terrifying you sound screaming like a banshee in there?â
âIt was pitch black! I couldnât breathe!â
âYou donât breathe anyway, Mad.â
â⌠well it felt like I couldnât!â
Helen pinches the bridge of her nose.Â
âTwo-time Oscar nominee and you flub the easiest role of your life. All you had to do was lie there.â Her voice drops to a low mutter, though itâs still perfectly audible. âGod knows youâve had enough practice doing that.â
Madeline exclaims in over-exaggerated offence and outrage. She turns back to the mortician, imploring her with enormous blue eyes and trying to look like butter wouldnât melt.Â
âSee what I have to put up with?â She whines.Â
The mortician doesnât respond, just stands there stiff as a corpse despite being the only one in the room still breathing. Helen thinks she looks like sheâs about to pass out.Â
âFine, fine, youâre a delicate flower, weâll all remember it forever, are you done?â She snarks to Madeline. âLet go of that girl, she looks like sheâs experiencing every stage of grief at once.â
Madeline looks back at Ellie, taking in her posture and demeanour. She loosens her grip slightly, though she still holds on to Ellieâs arm. Helen reaches down the front of her dress, producing a bottle of pills from her ample cleavage. She gives the bottle a little shakes and holds it out towards Ellie.Â
âYouâve got that deer-in-headlights look,â she comments dryly. âValium?â
Ellie just about manages to silently shake her head no before Madeline starts up again.
âYou just carry those around?â She asks, shocked.Â
Helen fixes her with a deadpan stare, eyebrows slightly raised in disbelief.Â
âEverything you put me through and youâre surprised I take Valium?â
Madeline addresses Ellie again.Â
âDonât take anything from her,â she warns, leaning in to add in a conspiratorial whisper: âshe tried to give me a suppository once.â
Helen doesnât even deign that with a response.Â
âAlright,â she says, clapping her hands together, the pill bottle rattling. âForget the cooler. This is even better than our plan!â She paces back and forth, then pauses to gesture towards Ellie. The Valium jingles as if to punctuate. âLook at her â sheâs perfect. Exactly what we need.â
Madelineâs brows furrow.Â
âA panic attack is what we need?â She says as if Ellie isnât even there, as if sheâs not actively hanging off her arm at this very second.Â
âNo, a new Ernest.â Helenâs eyes flick down to Ellieâs badge. âWell, Elizabeth, but close enough.â
âOh. Ohhh,â Madeline hums, catching on.
âFace it, Mad, Ernest was never going to cut it long-term even if he hadnât taken a swan dive off that roof. He was weak. He drank too much. He had the shakes, he wouldâve drawn our eyebrows on squint. But herâŚâ
Helen turns her attention to Ellie, looking at her with a gleam of cunning in her eyes.Â
âSheâs a mortician,â the redhead explains, âshe already spends her days with corpses.â
She shoots a meaningful glance towards Madeline, who seems to understand exactly what Helenâs getting at. Ellie, on the other hand, has absolutely no idea and canât even begin to formulate any sort of guess over the blaring stream of âthis is wrong this is wrong this is wrongâ on loop in her head.Â
âHonestly,â Helen continues, âitâs like fate dropped her in our laps.â
Madeline cocks her head, countenance slowly transforming; first into understanding, then into something else.
âYouâre right,â she starts. Then her voice drops into a sultry, breathy register as she turns to Ellie and bats her lashes. âYou were going to get us all pretty looking,â Madeline coos, âyou know how to keep up appearances on a dead body.â
Ellie still doesnât speak, just blinks silently, standing stiff as a board, apparently in a state of fight or flight.
âExactly,â Helen agrees, coming to lean on the edge of the tray on Ellieâs other side. âSomeone who actually understands us.â
Madelineâs hand slips from the morticianâs forearm to her upper arm and she leans a little closer, only a hairâs breadth away from resting her chin on Ellieâs shoulder.Â
âYou can fix us,â she breathes, tone tinted with something like reverence. From the other side, Helenâs husky nasal voice joins in.
âYou will fix us, wonât you?â
Ellieâs throat feels tight. Sheâs trapped. The morgue is supposed to be her sanctuary, this canât be happening here. Madelineâs hand on her arm feels almost unbearably heavy. Helenâs expectant gaze makes her wish desperately that the ground could swallow her up. Its so bright in here suddenly and their voices seem so loud. Ellie wants to run, but she canât bring herself to move. Sheâs cornered. Thereâs only one thing she can even manage to do.Â
She problem solves.Â
âThatâs my job,â she states, sounding clinical, almost robotic. âYouâre todayâs assignment. Thatâs my job.â
This is very much not how sheâd envisioned this job going, but these two women are her entire schedule for the day and Ellie cannot handle any further disruptions to her routine.Â
âNo visible signs of decomposition,â she observes mechanically despite the roaring in her ears. âYou need maintenance, touch ups. Disguising of injuries. I can do that.â
She snaps the edge of her glove. And again. And again. At least thatâs predictable.Â
Madeline beams, delighted.
âYouâll do it? Oh, sheâll do it, Hel!â
Helenâs mouth curves up in a satisfied smirk as she tosses her bouncy red curls out of her face.Â
âPerfect. So⌠where do you want us?â
Ellie forces herself to gesture towards her work table.Â
âThere,â she says. Itâs easier for her to agree than even begin to explain the utter panic clawing its way through her chest. At least if she agrees, she can work. Work is normal. Work is something she understands.Â
She makes her way to her work table on autopilot and reaches for her tools. The cool metal of her instruments grounds her enough to keep breathing. If she works, she doesnât have to think. If she focuses on the familiar â on tools, trays, cadavers â she doesnât have to look too closely at the two impossible women smiling at her like she already belongs to them.Â
She lifts the first tool from her instrument tray, her eyes firmly fixed on the table. Madeline lays down atop it. Ellie tries to ignore the fact that todayâs cadaver had just walked herself to the slab and tells herself she can handle this. She just has to work.Â
Things to do with your yumeship that doesnât involve drawing! (Free and not)
Even though Iâm an artist and most of my days I spend crouching over a screen with my stylus in hand I do understand that art is a tedious task that often requires a lot of love and time! So if thatâs not your thing or if you, like me, have a crazy schedule that leaves you with little to no time and motivation this tiny list might help : )
Most of these I personally do, so Iâm speaking for myself. Excuse me if these are repetitive and have been circulating in the community for looonggg-long đŞ
1. Customize your phone ; make your phone the color palette of your ship/f/o, or create a custom wallpaper! Vibes and different widgets that fit your vision. If you donât wanna do it yourself, then Iâm sure there are a lot of premade bgs, widgets and little decorations that fit your f/o on the internet
2. Wear the clothes your f/o or s/I would wear ; It can be an entire outfit or just one piece of clothing that reminds you of them (you can also create a closet cosplay!)
3. Wear accessories that remind or reference your f/o or s/i ; a hairclip or necklaces and bracelets..
4. Speaking of bracelets ; You can make your own easily! Even without a bracelet making kit or any beads you can make something adjacent of your idea with leather, ribbons or any piece of cloth
5. Go to the store or thrifting for things that remind you of your f/o or s/i ; I personally recommend going thrifting! Trinket and accessory hunting is always fun, especially if you bring someone with you! (Eg. Old decorations)
6. Trinkets ; Iâm sure you or your loved ones own a lot of small things that could remind you of your f/o or s/i! You can buy or thrift some and they usually cost a penny (eg. Small animal figures)
7. Books ; find and read books that remind you of your f/o or s/i! Can be any book, ones that are similar to their lore or vibe, something they themselves would read! (Personally, my f/o is based off a book in his game, so Iâm constantly hunting for said book while thrifting ^_â itâs fun)
8. Write something ; a oneshot, a whole fanfic, imagines or just little notes your f/o would leave for you or vice versa!
9. Cook or bake ; you can cook/bake your or your f/os fav food!
10. Use different apps ; apps that count days are useful for anniversaries, and Iâve heard of some apps that can send you a random notif every hour â you can customize those notifs to stuff your f/o would remind you of! (Eg. âRandom notificationâ and âLove countdownâ)
11. Print stuff ; if you own a printer (and if you donât, Iâm sure you can print stuff at the library for a fee) you can print pictures of your f/o, s/i or both! You can tape them to your wall or put in a pretty frame!
12. Go to places that remind you of your f/o or s/i ; hanging out in places that your f/o or s/i would hang around in! (Eg. A cozy cafe, a pretty field or a busy city streets or even an attraction!)
13. Do picrews or nekas ; this oneâs obvious and youâve probably heard of this one before. Hereâs a nice thread I found of different makers: link
14. Buy merch or customs ; this one can cost a little, but if you have the money and want, then it definitely brings a lot of joy! Official merch is pricey, but you can always order customs for a tad cheaper version of eg. Keychains and standees!
15. Make a playlist or listen to premade ones ; also obvious. Find songs that fit your f/o or s/i by lyrics or vibe or even just what they themselves would listen to!
16. Cosplay irl or in-game ; irl cosplays can also cost a bit or even need a lot of your own creative work, but you can also create cosplays in a game where customizable avatars are possible! (Eg. Roblox)
17. Commission someone or trade ; you can always commission or trade others for art or writing
18. Ask games ; reblog various ask games! I got myself so much asks about my yumeship back in the day and it was very fun thinking of and writing answers!
19. Speaking of writing ; write lore or chat about it! I find it easiest to think of lore and different ways my yumeship would interact while talking with my friends about it. It expands your yumeship and is just a lot of fun. Can be serious or silly!
20. Change your layout ; if you donât have a layout in some social media you can change it to your f/o or s/i. You can request graphics of your f/o or find premade ones on the internet! Either way intro posts, descriptions and generally pretty profiles are lots of fun to do
21. Photography ; go out and photograph things that remind you of your f/o or s/i! It can be a flower, bug or just a scenic view or even architecture! This is extremely handy when youâre not in your hometown or have a camera
22. Keep a little picture in your wallet or necklace lock like in the good old times
23. Requests ; thereâs actually a lot of blogs specifically made for requesting graphics, layouts, sketches & doodles or mood/stimboards! You can request one of your f/o, but remember to not overwhelm and respect the person youâre requesting from!
Participate in the community ; sometimes the best things that you can do is to just create a circle of yumes you feel comfortable around. Creating imagines, reblog games and adjacent can bring you closer to your yumeship than ever! But most importantly have fun â¤ď¸
lil promo post, iâm elle and iâm a lesbian and i love evil witches and undead bitches đŠˇđ§Ąđ¤ my f/o list is here but my main girl is rowena, some drawings of us are below :3 i love her more than anything!!!!
please read my dni before interacting. no proshippers. the quote is from bitterthorn by kat dunn u should read it.
DAY 1 FIRST ENCOUNTER YUMETOBER!! â¸(ď˝ĄË áľ Ë )â¸âĄ
I'm crying you can tell when I gave up, it's almost 6AM I want to go to sleep please... </3
Anywho WOO HOO YUME/SELFSHIPPER TOBER!! I'm hoping I can make it through the whole month! Expect most of them to be sketches as my motivation for art is so random now a days.
