#giving in and drawing something for myself (based) instead of something for a project (cringe)

[baluciarz]

"can't take this anymore" - continues to take it

#my art #pafl #parties are for losers #sanya #pafl sanya #vocaloid #giving in and drawing something for myself (based) instead of something for a project (cringe) #it's another one of those “I didn't want to make them sad they just came out this way”

[the-bounce-back]

THE CONFIDENCE CHRONICLES IV - CONFIDENCE IN YOUR CRAFT

This is post 4/5 of my “Confidence Chronicles” series, in which I discuss the mindsets, actions and thought processes I’ve applied to build/rebuild my confidence in different aspects of my life. The goal of these 5 posts is for you readers to be able to apply relevant points to your own insecurities in order to combat them, and hopefully aid in building your own confidence over time.

_____________

Oooh, check me out with the post consistency. That’s how you know it’s a new year and decade, baby!

I’d like to start off by saying that I have been excited to write this post in particular for quite a long while now - literally since about July last year. However, my life was a bit of a mess at the time, and I didn’t want to put the previous post on hold, so it had to wait until now. 

Maybe this was for the best, though - this post is going to be about confidence in your craft and the projects you put out into the world. Although I was literally planning on writing this post around 7 months ago, I can honestly say that my confidence levels in my own projects have never been higher than right now, so writing about it now makes more sense. See, procrastination helps!

Anyways. To kick this post off, I want to take some time to acknowledge my many talents. Besides my *impeccable* blogging skills, not many people know that I’ve dabbled in acting and drumming in the past, and I am currently also writing a book (more about that in a future post) and getting back into interior design, learning new languages and drawing. These are my current favourite pastimes, and what I say to people whenever I’m asked what my “hobbies” are. 

The reason why I’m sharing this is because I want people to understand that unless you are vocal about your passions, how the hell are other people meant to be able to support and appreciate your work? It goes without saying that bigging yourself up and showing off your talents can feel extremely vain if you are a naturally reserved/humble person - but my hope is that this post will teach you how to be more confident in your work.

I am very excited to share this post because I am blessed to have friends of what feels like millions of different talents. Actors, musicians, podcasters, poets, youtubers, models, MUA’s, chefs, hair stylists… the list goes on, and it makes me so proud to see that they are all in their respective creative bags right now - so this post is somewhat dedicated to them as well if they ever have feelings of insecurity in their talents.

I will be talking about what I have found to be the most important factors of being confident in your creativity, not letting criticism (constructive or otherwise) make you want to give up, and getting over the initial fear of putting something you’ve created out into the world, because let’s face it; sharing something you’ve created can be incredibly vulnerable. You are essentially sharing a private aspect of yourself for the world to critically analyse, and it’s normal to find this daunting - however, it’s all about how you handle it.

Based on my own experiences and anonymous examples from my friends, I will try my best to explain how best to develop a deep sense of confidence and pride in your creative endeavours.

1. Ensure that you are doing your craft out of passion.

Regardless of if you are creating content solely for your own enjoyment or to capitalise on it, I definitely think that it is imperative that what you are doing fills you with joy and that you are excited to do the activity. This may sound like a no-brainer, but I feel like I see a lot of people nowadays forcing themselves to pursue certain endeavours due to influences from social media, or are forcing themselves to capitalise off a hobby they used to love, but now hate because of the added pressure of having to create content/products for the target audience. 

This is partly why I am apprehensive about ways of monetising this blog - or any of my other creative projects, for that matter. I’d be lying if I said it hasn’t crossed my mind, but my biggest fear is starting to resent an activity I once loved because of external pressure such as deadlines, not having full creative control and having to “tread carefully” with the messages I put out, if that makes sense.

Pursuing a hobby for the sole purpose of others is never going to make you feel that what you’re creating is good. Constantly trying to please the masses as opposed to just doing whatever makes you feel happy is always going to make you feel anxious and scared of the reception, I think. Instead, I’d suggest that you evaluate what is more important to you: approval or enjoyment. If it’s the former, then by all means… keep forcing yourself to pursue hobbies that may or may not give you recognition. Who knows - maybe you’ll blow up and get the sponsorships, money and fans that you want, and I don’t even mean this in a petty or sarcastic way. If that’s what you set out to do, then I’d be very happy for you.

However, I reiterate: pursuing a hobby for anyone other than yourself runs a great risk of becoming a burden in the long run, as well as a risk of losing your self confidence when you don’t get the attention or accolades that you believe that you deserve. 

I think I have an issue with the above because it relates back to past posts in which I’ve discussed humans’ desperation to be approved and acknowledged by their peers. It alludes to a deeply rooted insecurity in yourself, your abilities and your belief in said abilities - I only say this because this literally used to be me before deciding to sack everyone off and do whatever the f*ck I wanted.

Personally, my dream scenario would be for people to find a hobby that they are truly passionate about and that they can capitalise off in a way that doesn’t restrict their creative process and that is on their own terms. Because, let’s be honest - receiving money and accolades doing something that you truly love is a major confidence boost… regardless of if the money and recognition motivates you or not. But the bottom line is that your confidence in your creativity should not be rooted in anything else but your own joy.

2. Appoint a/some constructive critic(s).

It goes without saying that true confidence comes from ~*wItHiN*~, but there is nothing wrong with looking to friends and/or family for opinions and support. In fact, I’d even go as far as saying that having someone who understands your vision and wants you to achieve your goals is a must. 

This someone is a crucial part of the creative process, because they will ideally motivate (aka bully...exactly like the gif above) you into meeting the deadlines you set for yourself, give you honest feedback and give you a kick up the arse on the days where you don’t really feel like doing anything. They will remind you of the reason why you started your project when you feel like giving up - and having someone like this in your corner that unconditionally believes in you is a massive ego boost. 

Something that’s even better than having one person in your corner is having multiple people in your corner. And something that’s even better than having multiple people in your corner, is having multiple people in your corner that are also creative and have their own projects going on. It doesn’t necessarily have to be a group of people with the exact same hobby as you (although this definitely helps too!), but surrounding yourself with people that are also making things happen for themselves gives you a beautiful sense of community. I can only speak for myself, but forming friendships with other creatives has definitely helped me come out of my shell. I still remember when I first “pitched” my blog idea to my friends - thinking that I’d get a lukewarm response (because let’s face it… a lot of people unfortunately don’t enjoy reading anymore) - but the positive feedback and support I got is what gave me the confidence to actually start. And when I was on my hiatus, I’d be harassed for updates on when my next post was coming, and brutally dragged when I didn’t post on the days I had promised. The same goes for their projects as well - it was only recently that we had to bully someone for not releasing their podcast when they said they would.

Another aspect of having a group of critics that believe in you is the motivation you get from seeing them putting their plans into action. Honestly. Seeing my friends’ work ethics and how hard they grind makes me want to be better - not only to keep up, but for myself in general.

The bottom line is that although you don’t need people in your corner to get started, it is definitely a major asset to have. You should be confident that your work is great by your own accord, but getting it confirmed - or receiving feedback for improvements - is just another key to improving your confidence.

3. Do not be afraid of vulnerability (if your craft requires you to do so).

Believe me… I get it. Putting out something you’ve created for the entire planet to see can be incredibly daunting, especially if a lot of emotion has gone into it. It feels like you’re putting a very dainty and vulnerable part of you out on a perilous battlefield, out in the open where nowhere to take cover. This is where a lot of us (myself included) tend to overthink sharing our work, or in some cases chose not to share it at all. If only you guys knew how many draft posts have ended up in the bin because I was worried about being judged (they’re being revived though, fear not!)... it’s mad how much fear and anxiety can hold you back from being great.

This is where it’s important to understand the power of being able to be vulnerable, honest and open through your selected medium. As cringe as it sounds, opening your heart to the world and letting people see your insecurities, unresolved issues and things you’d much rather hide leads to the situations power over you significantly diminishing. And the more you do it, the closer you get to the situation no longer being able to hurt you anymore - because once it’s out in the open, nothing or no one can actually tell you sh*t. Once you get to the point of no longer caring who knows what your internal struggles are, I promise that you feel insanely confident and empowered, because you are no longer living in fear.

 Another beautiful aspect of vulnerability in relation to self-confidence is that ever so often, you get to hear that your work has genuinely helped, inspired or motivated someone. I know I said that validation and approval from others isn’t the best reason for pursuing a hobby, but this is different in the sense that you’re doing your thing regardless of if you get positive feedback for it - the recognition is truly just a bonus, but a contributor to increased confidence all the same.

Hopefully, utilising these three methods will make you feel a great deal more confident about your creative projects/side hustles for the following reasons:

You’re doing this project primarily because it brings you joy.

The way I see it, taking time out of your day to do something that makes you genuinely happy is an act of self-care and incredibly empowering, in the sense that we are choosing to not be distracted and led astray by the infinite amount of garbage media that is constantly in our faces due to social media. Being able to make time on a project - whatever it may be - that brings you happiness and engages your right brain is a massive blessing in our age group, as we take on more and more responsibilities that eat up our time and drain us.

A cute metaphor for this could be that your day to day routine is a desert. Going to work/uni, doing work/uni related projects, doing chores around the house and all your other responsibilities is walking around for hours in the sun, making us drained, famished and parched. Our hobbies should be like a much-welcomed oasis, providing us with water, food, shade and somewhere to recharge (joy, inspiration, motivation and a well-deserved break for the brain).

 Okay, that was a bit cringe. But you get the point - allowing ourselves to have something in this hard life to enjoy is a confidence boost in itself.

After paying attention to the feedback you get, you’ll become even more skilled at your craft over time.

It’s no conundrum that experience equals expertise, and that constantly improving your creative process in accordance with feedback from someone you know understands your vision will make you more sure of yourself in the long run.

Think about it: if you’re already doing something you genuinely love, and you have a trusted person/trusted people in your life to turn to for genuine opinions, how can you not win? 

By “winning”, I mean your work getting progressively better over time, combined with a feeling of security and support from your peers. I mean becoming more emotionally, mentally, spiritually and maybe even financially (if you’re so inclined) stable through doing something you genuinely love. The prize is peace of mind, feeling supported, and full creative control of your work - and I honestly can’t think of anything more satisfying.

You’re taking control of your doubts and insecurities and flipping them into assets.

For me, this is a no brainer. What could possibly be more confidence-boosting than overcoming insecurities and being able to use them to your advantage in your creative endeavours? It’s literally what my entire blog is based upon, and writing about things that have caused me a great deal of pain in the past has ended up being a very therapeutic and cathartic experience, as well as extremely empowering - in the sense that I don’t allow certain situations have control over me anymore. I can now focus on continuing to heal, and help others who may come across my work in the meantime.

Having a personal project that challenges you to face and overcome your insecurities is something that I think everyone should try to have. It might get hard at times and extremely tempting to quit, but once your work is ready for the world to see I promise you that you’ll get a boost in confidence. 

By keeping these three points in mind, I can pretty much guarantee that you’ll feel infinitely more confident in your creative projects. Knowing that you’re putting your entire heart into a project that you are sharing with the whole world, knowing that you have supporters that you can trust with honest opinions and feedback and knowing that you’ve stayed true to yourself regardless of if the norm enjoys is an ideal state of mind to be in.

On a final note, I want to reiterate that there is no “wrong” or “right” way to have a hobby and gain confidence from it. This post is just general guidelines that really helped me come out of my shell creatively, and I’d like to think it’d work for others too. However, you know best how comfortable you are with exposing your work and what your existing confidence levels are like, so please proceed accordingly (and don’t blame me if things go tits up because you decided not to take the time to listen to yourself!).

Love,

Liv

#selfhelp #selflove #goals #empowerment

[intim3ate]

Kinktober Day 1 - Hate-Fucking | Feferi/Vriska [Homestuck]

When Feferi strikes up a kismesissitude with Vriska, Vriska realizes that the dream bubbles are both a blessing and a curse.

First fic of Kinktober! I’m on a real Homestuck kick right now and I was in the mood for some femslash, so I chose the hateship I’ve had for a really hella long time.

This one wasn’t commissioned, but I’m doing kinktober commissions all month! Info can be found here. Please check it out!

AO3 Link | Commission Info | Patreon | Leave a Tip?

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"That was… surprisingly nasty of you."

Those were Vriska's exact words to her all those sweeps ago in the lab, back before she really knew Feferi. Back before they had both died, back before the dream bubbles existed, and back before Feferi had been granted an eternity to mess with her.

If she had known her better back then, Vriska probably never would have been surprised.

Vriska clenches her teeth as she looks down at Feferi kneeling between her legs, one hand on each knee to keep them spread wide open. Annoyingly, she's still fully clothed Vriska has been stripped down to nothing but her underwear. Feferi eyes the fabric disdainfully.

"You're so boring ," she says, curling a finger under the waistband. "Why don't you ever wear anything nice? I mean seriously, boyshorts ?"

"Fuck you, they're comfortable." Vriska bares her fangs at Feferi; she doesn't need this. Not now. She was busy , damn it, and Feferi can be such a pain in the ass when she's pretending to be pouty like this--

The sea dweller stands. The frown on her face looks wrong, like someone painted it on her, but it's something Vriska has become familiar with.

Feferi's happy, bubbly personality is not all there is to her. It's an image she projects, sometimes, when she's not in the presence of someone completely and utterly contemptible. Vriska thinks she should be honoured she should be counted among the few who gets to see the former heiress apparent of Alternia like for what she is, but then she remembers that Eridan is one of the others and feels disgust for herself all over again.

“Is that any way to speak to your Empress?” Feferi asks, mustering up all the condescension in her tone she can. It only falls a little flat.

“Hah. You ain’t Empress,” Vriska scoffs. “Alternia doesn’t exist anymore, remember? So even if you were, that’d just make you Empress of nothing. Noooooooothing.”

Feferi grabs her by the hair, clenching her fist right between Vriska’s horns and tugging hard. Vriska can’t stop herself hissing in pain. She looks up at Feferi, eyes half-scrunched closed in a wince.

“I could rip your throat out with my teeth if I wanted to,” Feferi says matter-of-factly. It's true, Vriska supposes; she looks at Feferi's teeth, glinting and razor-sharp, and thinks about the times the seadweller has bitten her neck trying to suck a mark into it and left scars instead.

"Then why don't you?" Vriska dares. They both know Feferi won't go through with it, but it's the thrill of what she will go through with that matters here.

"Princesses don't play with their food. And besides..." Feferi's eyes narrow and her grin widens, too sharp, too dangerous. "You're so much cuter when you scream!"

She lets go of Vriska's hair and yanks her by the horn instead, the nail of one finger scratching against it. Vriska hisses -- she's always had sensitive horns -- but she doesn't recoil when Feferi pulls her into a fierce, cutting kiss.

Feferi nips Vriska's lips open, just the slightest touch from the tip of her tooth enough to draw blood. Vriska knows better than to fight this, so she opens her mouth willingly, lets Feferi take control here, lets her navigate the treacherous terrain of crooked teeth and long, elegant fangs with her tongue. As if to mock her, Feferi runs that tongue over those fangs, lightly, just enough to say bite down if you dare.

Vrika doesn't dare, not this time, because Feferi has plunged her hand beneath her boyshorts and started teasing at the seam of her nook. Vriska moans into the seadweller's mouth and, encouraged, Feferi pushes against it harder.

"That's what I like to hear," she says when she finally, abruptly pulls away to allow Vriska some air. "Now was that so hard?"

"Fuck you." Vriksa spits in Feferi's face and Feferi slaps her with the back of her hand.

"And here I thought you were finally going to be good for me," Feferi sighs. She slips her finger in between Vriska's folds and scratches at the tip of her tentabulge. It's just starting to slip out, and Feferis face lights up in glee as it tries to curl around her finger. Vriksa hisses again, sucks a sharp breath between her teeth, and cringes away, but Feferi holds her in place with a hand on her horn.

"It's okay, Vriska," she says. "You don't have to fight all the time. I just want to give you what you want!"

Vriska reaches up and clamps her hand around Feferi's wrist. "Fuck you," she says again, but her bulge twitches traitorously into Feferi's hand.

Feferi giggles. "Sea? You do want this, Fishska. No need to be so crabby over it!"

Oh god, there she goes. Vriska hates the fish puns and Feferi knows it. She can see that smug glint in her kismesis's eye (despite the ghostly, milky white), that wicked curl of her lip. But Feferi doesn't give Vriska a chance to respond: she wraps her fingers around the tentacle and strokes it, gently pulling it all the way out from between Vriska's labia. It's every bit as slimy and wet as Vriska dreaded -- stupid body betraying her -- and it secretes more lubricant with every lazy tug Feferi gives it.

"I can not -- nngh, fuck -- believe you're doing the fish pun thing while you're trying to jack me off." And more than that, she can't believe she's getting off to it. But of course she is; Feferi knows how to inspire the best kind of hate in her -- in all the worst ways.

"Oh reel-y?" Feferi lifts all fingers from Vriska's bulge but one, leaving that one to flick at the tip of the tentacle. Vriska bites down a moan and shudders. "Because it seems to me you're taking the bait quite nicely. Like a sucker fish ."

Feferi lets go of Vriska's horn and crashes their lips together again. She scrapes down Vriska's side, drawing a pained moan from her kismesis and swallowing it greedily as she giggles against her lips.

Vriska pulls back and gasps for air. Feferi retaliates by crowding her and forcing another kiss upon her. This time, her hand slips under Vriska's bra to grasp and knead at her breast. She draws another noise out, a moan this time, and Vriska can feel Feferi smile against her lips.

Apparently pleased, Feferi finally pulls back and lets her breathe.

"There's my girl," she coos. Vriska's nose wrinkles in distaste at the tone. As much as Feferi claims she never wants to be like her ancestor, she's sure got the condescension part down pat. It's just another of those little things that Vriska can't stand about her: nobody talks down to Vriska Serket and gets away with it.

Except for Feferi, apparently. The absolute bitch.

Ignorant of Vriska's inner rage (or perhaps encouraged by it), Feferi wraps her fingers around Vriska's bulge again, drawing the blueblood from her thoughts as she instinctively bucks into the touch. She almost slides right out of Feferi's grip, she's so wet, and she hates how easy it is for the former heiress to get this kind of rise out of her.

"Wow, Vriska," she says, apparently giving her a break on the fish puns. "You're so wet ! Maybe I should have fetched us a bucket after all?"

Vriska shudders and moans. "Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuuuuuuuuck yoooooooouuuuuuuu--"

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Feferi backs up, giggling as she drops down between Vriska's legs again. Her hand never stops moving on Vriska's bulge. "God, you're so pouty today! I was hoping for something a little more aggressive than just a couple of 'fuck you's. If I wanted to be bored out of my school, I would have gone to salmon else."

Okay, that is it . Vriska snarls and lunges forward to snatch a fistful of Feferi's hair in her hand. She yanks on it roughly, pulling the seadweller's face closer to her pulsating tentabulge.

"Will you just can it already?!" she shouts. Feferi's lips break open in a triumphant grin, and Vriska has to ignore it, or she's going to lose whatever grip she still has on her sanity and come right on Feferi's face. Heh, she thinks. That'd shut her up nicely.

Actually…

Vriska moves her hand from Feferi's hair to the base of one of her horns, tilting her head down to make sure she's eye to eye with the slick, writhing tentacle she's still jerking off. Feferi hisses through her teeth and finally, Vriska feels like she's gotten a leg up.

"Yeah, that's right. Pay attention to what you're doing, Peixes; you're starting to get sloppy."

Feferi glares at her, but the look soon cracks into one of approval. She tightens her grip on Vriska's bulge, but the blueblood reaches down to bat her hand away.

"Actually, I changed my mind," she says. "I'd kind of like to get off, and if you're going to do this bad a job, I'd rather do it myself."

"...Is that so?" Feferi asks. She licks her lips as Vriska takes herself in hand and begins to rapidly jerk herself off. As much as Vriska knows it must be driving Feferi crazy to be forced to stop like this, the smile never leaves the former heiress's face. She looks calm, serene, like the ocean after a storm, and that gets to Vriska better than any spoken threat ever could.

Feferi makes good on her silent threat quickly.

She shoves two fingers into Vriksa's nook, and the scream that elicits makes her lips peel back even wider. Vriska's hips buck and thrash wildly as she tries to ride Feferi's fingers. She hadn't even realized how desperately she had wanted -- needed to be filled until she could feel Feferi's fingers flexing inside her. The sensation is overwhelming; Vriska can barely even focus on the hand around her bulge long enough to jerk it, and she almost lets it go, but doesn't, because she's so close now...

It's too much. Vriska finishes with one last cry, and it's all she can do to just barely yank Feferi's head down again to meet her bulge. She tries to keep her grip steady as she coats Feferi's face and drenches her hand in genetic material, and when Vriska finally opens her eyes, she realizes she was successful.

Feferi grimaces as she withdraws her fingers. She looks down at them for a second with what might be disgust and watches as the blue genetic material drips down her arm. She flicks her wrist and whatever residue is left splatters on the floor some distance away.

She turns to look at Vriska and her expression changes from mild distaste to triumph. She sashays over to the blueblood and leans over, placing her sticky palm on Vriska's still-heaving chest. Without saying a word, the two of them make eye contact, and Feferi leans down for a kiss.

Vriska groans. She can taste her own cum on Feferi's lips, and although it doesn't exactly taste good , it sends a thick, heady fog swirling through her brain. I could get used to this , she thinks hazily.

But Feferi pulls away too soon, just like she always does. Vriska opens her eyes and rolls them. "Good call," she says sarcastically. "We almost had a moment there."

Feferi just laughs. It's then that Vriska realizes that Feferi is stripping, ridding herself of her skirt and swimsuit. "You say that like you thought we were done here!"

Vriska sits up straight and drinks in Feferi's body, from her smug grin to her large, dripping tentabulge, already completely unsheathed and writhing in the open air.

She grins and bares her fangs. "Bring it, Peixes."

#homestuck #vrisfef #vriska serket #feferi peixes #r: e #fanfic #kinktober

[friendlyneighborhoodborg]

Marc Appreciation Week 2019| Day 1: Writing| “The First Session”

So this is literally the first fanfiction I’ve ever published, done for @wearemiraculous / @seasonofthegeek ‘s Miraculous Ladybug event, celebrating everyone’s adopted son, Marc Anciel.  I planned this overarching story back when it was first announced, so before the actual prompts were given, so I don’t know if the days will actually match up very well.  Disclaimers (PLEASE READ) and chapter are under the cut.

(~c. 1500 words, for those of you who care about that kind of thing.)

Chapters:

1 2 3 4 5 6 7

Disclaimers before the actual content: I am not affiliated with anyone involved with creating Miraculous Ladybug.  I’m just a fan, this is just fanfiction.  This is a seven-part fic, one chapter for each day (if I can finish them on time), and it features heavy LGBTQ+ themes and mentions gender dysphoria (Not in this chapter but in later chapters).  I am not dysphoric, nor have I ever been, and I identify as a straight male.  As such, I may get something wrong.  Please, tell me if I do get something wrong so I can fix it.  The last thing I want is to hurt anyone with this.

Also, mild language warning.

Okay, I think that’s everything.

Sunday… by the blue, purple, yellow, red water… on the green, purple, yellow, red grass…

           Well, no, actually.  He was in a public library, not a park, and the closest thing to a river was a drinking fountain a few shelves to his left.  Still, it was Sunday, and this was the song that was piping in through Nathaniel’s earbuds.

           ‘You’ll love it,’ Rose had said.  ‘It’s inspired by that painting, the famous one with all the dots.’

           ‘Un dimanche après-midi à l’Île de la Grande Jatte,’ he had guessed.  ‘By Georges Seurat?’

           ‘Yeah, that one.  It’s about all the people in the painting, and all their troubles getting masked by the artist creating one fictional, perfect afternoon.  And then Act II is his grandson having to deal with creating the same things over and over.  And it’s just…’  There, Rose wiped a few tears from her still-red eyes.  ‘It’s some of the most beautiful music I’ve ever heard.  The same composer wrote Into the Woods.’

           ‘And Sweeney Todd,’ Juleka had mumbled from close by.

           Well, he couldn’t argue with Rose.  There were some incredible melodies, and watching the filmed version (at Rose’s insistence) had brought some tears to his eyes.

           It was about art.

           It was about himself, too, in a way.

           In the play, Georges invests himself so far into the fictional world in his painting that he neglects his lover, his family, and even his own life in the end.

           In real life, Nathaniel had gotten so wrapped up in his art that he had started to see everyone else as an obstacle to the creative spirit.

           “Hey,” a voice mumbled.  “Sorry I’m late.”

           Which is how he found himself here, in this mess.

           “It’s no problem.”  Nathaniel glanced at his phone.  “You’re actually early.”

           “I know,” Marc said tensely, quietly slipping into a chair across from him.  “But I still got here after you, so…”

           “Like I said, no problem.  I wasn’t bored.”

           “Oh?”  Marc looked at Nathan’s sketchbook, which was open on the table.  “What are you drawing?”

           Nathaniel regarded his creation.  It wasn’t anything too special: a tree, a river, a bench, all in a park scene done in swooping, curved lines.  The shading was done with a bunch of little tick marks instead of the smooth gradient style he sometimes did.

           “Just a scene,” he answered.  “From this musical I’ve been listening to.”

           “Sunday in the Park with George?”

           Nathaniel nodded.  “Yeah, how’d you know?”

           “Uh, Rose – that’s her name, right? – she told me about it.  She said her friend and her dad were in it together.”

           “Yeah, Mylène?”

           “That was it.”

           “Yeah.  She’s been forcing everyone in the art club to listen to the soundtrack for weeks.”  Nath flipped to a different page in the sketchbook.  “You’re the newest member, so naturally you’re her latest victim.”

           Marc gave a weak laugh, but his expression stayed sober.  “So how is it?”

           “Hm?”

           “The play.  Is it any good?”

           “Oh.”  He mulled over this.  “I like it,” he decided, even if he felt that didn’t answer the question.  “It’s a… perspective on the art piece.  Definitely unconventional.”

           “Yeah.”  Marc fingered the hem of his hoodie and bit his lip.  “It is a bit weird, isn’t it?  Writing something that big inspired by one piece of visual art.”

           “Yep.  And I’m now drawing something inspired by that.  Comes back around, doesn’t it?”  Nathaniel cringed, like he always did when he tried to be profound.  Profundity didn’t suit his verbal abilities.

           To his surprise, Marc nodded in agreement. “The cyclical, cannibalistic nature of art.”

           “Cannibalistic,” Nathan repeated, amused.  “That’s good. I like that word.  It’s very… blunt.”

           “It’s a strong choice,” Marc agreed. “Connoting something brutish or barbaric.”

           “Works perfectly for art, then.”

           Marc smiled this time.  “Guess it does,” he said.  His voice, to Nathaniel’s perception, seemed to take on some quality, giving it a lighter… texture?

            ‘No that isn’t right.  What’s that called?’ he pondered.  Whatever it was, it was a welcome change from Marc’s usual moody demeanor.  The small smile on his face was uniquely refreshing, emotionally speaking.

           “Kinda like this, huh?” he noted.  “I mean, I was doodling, you wrote stuff for it, and now I’m drawing based off what you wrote.  I’m cannibalizing myself via you.”

           Marc lost his smile.  Nathan suddenly felt bad, like all the weight in the air had fallen in around him.

           “Sorry,” he apologized.  “Forget I… I was trying to be clever, never mind.”

           The heaviness in the room was making it difficult for him to breathe.

           “So…” Marc tried to break the silence.  Nathan winced inwardly at the shift in social dynamic. Apparently, he also winced outwardly, because Marc suddenly started to backtrack.  “I mean, you, um…”  His voice dropped to a timid whisper.  “Oh, shit.”

           Marc made to get up, grabbing the bag that was hung on his chair.  “Wait, no, I’m sorry,” Nath pleaded.

           “This isn’t going to work.”  The writer shook his head.  “I’m sorry for taking up your time.”

           “Look, it’s my fault.”  Marc stopped moving.  “I’m sorry, I’m just not used to… working with people.”  At the deflated look this received, Nath amended himself.  “I want to, though.  Let’s just give this a chance, okay?”

           “Oh.”  Marc set down his bag and withdrew his journal.  “Uh… okay.”

           “Yeah.  I don’t exactly know how to… do…”  He stopped talking, not knowing what word he could finish with.

           “Collaborations?”

           “Yeah.  I’m not sure… What’s the, um, protocol here?”

           Marc shifted in his seat, playing with the cover of his book.  “I don’t really think there is a set protocol.”

           “Oh.  Sorry, my bad, I just—”

           “No, you’re fine, I’m the one who should—”

           They both stopped talking over each other. Once again, they merely looked down at their own papers in silence.

           After a minute of this, Nathaniel decided, against his better judgement, to address the elephant at the table.

           “So… Yesterday, huh?”

           Marc continued to hunch over.

           “You got akumatized.”  Not like the superfan was going to judge.  “You really wanted in on this project, huh?”

           Marc shut his eyes tight.   He whispered, “It wasn’t that.”

           Nath was surprised.  “Oh?  Then…”

           “I just wanted to…”  For the first time in the meeting, Marc momentarily lost his tongue. “I don’t know how it got to that. I just wanted to say that you were… and then Marinette just made it about us working together…”  He shrugged, defeated.  “It just sort of escalated.”

           “Oh,” Nathaniel nodded.  “Then we agree.”

           “Huh?”

           “Marinette is terrible at mediating people.”

           “Oh.”  Another smile, much smaller than the first, graced his lips, which his collaborator was grateful for.  “Heh. She really is, huh?”

           ‘Levity,’ Nathan realized, looking at Marc’s smile.  ‘That’s the word I was looking for earlier.’

            He wanted to keep the conversation going.  “So… what were going to say about me?  So you can get that out of the way.”

           It took a while for him to answer.  “It’s just… I really like… your art.  There’s just something in it.”  He looked away, blushing with what Nathaniel assumed was embarrassment.  “You seem to really care about it.  Not really in any way I’ve ever seen before.  I-It’s so well-constructed, too, plot-wise.”

           “You think so?”

           “Yeah.”  The scriptwriter rubbed his arm.  “I mean… I’m not an expert, but I like stories that… you know.”

           The cartoonist didn’t know, but he kept that to himself.

           “Why do you, um…”  Marc gulped.  “What led you to… drawing?  And doing stories like this?”        

           “Why do I do this?”  Nath thought about this for a moment.  “I can’t really say.”

           “Okay.”  Marc didn’t push further.

           They continued to sit silently, until Nath once again spoke up.

           “Do you ever feel like there’s something that’s just…”

           His accomplice tried guessing.  “Wrong?”

           “Exactly.”  Nathaniel crossed his arms.  “Something that’s just wrong with you.”

           “Yeah,” Marc nodded.  “I think that’s normal.”

           “It really isn’t.  Or it shouldn’t be.”

           “I’ll agree on that.”

           “It’s part of why I do this.”  Nath shrugged pensively.  “It just feels right.”

           Marc smiled.  “That’s how I feel about writing.”  He tried to clarify.  “You know, like, constructing words, into sentences and paragraphs and stories. And then you come up with that great sentence, that play on ideas, and it’s just…”  Seeing that his point didn’t really get across, he elaborated.  “I am to words as you are to… let’s say, colors.”

           “I can tell.”  Nath motioned to Marc’s journal.  “From what I’ve read, you’re really an artist with them.”

           Marc blushed again, though Nath couldn’t tell from what.  “You really think so?”

           “Yeah.  Even just talking to you is… well, kind of exhilarating.”  Wondering if that was the right word to use, he backtracked. “Something like that, I guess.  Anyway…”  He closed his sketchbook.  “What do you say we finally start working?”

           Marc’s expression shifted to surprise.  “W-working?”

           “Yeah.”  He got out of his seat and walked around to Marc’s side.  “Show me what you’ve been writing.”

            “O-okay.”  He reluctantly opened his journal.  “Well, it’s not really, um, much, but there’s this thing you did after Copycat that I sort of expanded on…”

So, yeah, that was Day 1.  Sorry if it sucked, I’m really new to this and I’ve never posted anything before.  That’s my excuse.  Please don’t send hate, but I will take constructive criticism.  Therefore, if you do send hate, pretend it’s that instead.

The whole thing is actually not fully finished, but I’ll try to get everything up here eventually regardless of whether or not I can do it all in time.

#miraculous ladybug #marc anciel #nathaniel kurtzberg #Marc Appreciation Week #fanfic

[crystalninjaphoenix]

The Self-Indulgent Holiday Special

The best way to celebrate a holiday is clearly to write a thing where your persona meets the characters made by your favorite YouTuber. Trust me, I’m an expert. 100% real authority on writing

‘M posting this super late at night after I felt the sudden need to write it, so forgive any mistakes I may have made. Also if you give me any sort of trouble for putting myself in the story.......whatever. It’s nearly 2019, I’m ignoring the connotation of cringe

There’s a rooftop garden in the city. Trees and flowers of all kind, just sitting on top of a ten-story building. Of course, it being the middle of winter, most of the plants had died out, though there were some stubborn coniferous trees and red flowers still growing. An iron railing surrounded the garden, keeping people from falling off.

Sitting on a wooden bench, looking over the setting sun, is a girl. Or, not a girl. They weren’t quite sure in recent times.They have red hair, vibrant and shoulder-length. They wear a set of glasses—they have multiple, and had decided on the black pair today. The evening is cool, but not cold, so she’d forgone her coat and wore what she usually did: a blue hoodie with a bright yellow smiley face in the center. By her side is a purple backpack, containing, as it usually did, her laptop—complete with headphones and mouse—the book she was currently reading, and her bag of colored pencils. They sit on the bench with their knees pulled close, their black sketchbook propped so that she can draw easily. She had some ideas she needed to get out.

“Hypocrite.”

It always surprised her, even though she knew who it was and what he wanted. She turns and sees Abyss, one of her characters. He looks like he always does, silver hair, red old-fashioned coat, brown eyes with stars in the pupils. He's staring at her, but that was to be expected when one didn’t blink. “Why do you say that?” she asks.

Abyss rolls his eyes. “You tell me I can’t visit this set of universes, at all, 100% forbidden, and now you’re here. Drew yourself up a portal. Therefore, hypocrite.”

“This is different,” they explain.

“It always is with you, Ms. Creator.”

Honestly, when they created a character with the ability to jump universes, she hadn’t expected to ever actually meet him. Hell, for the longest time, they hadn’t realized any of their ideas could spawn another world. But that was irrelevant. Abyss, though annoying and way too powerful for anyone’s good, isn’t antagonistic toward her, not anymore at least. “No, I mean, it-it really is different this time,” she insists. “This world in particular, it’s...I-I mean, it’s not mine, I don’t-I don’t think I can count it that way—”

“Hmm, I thought I recognized the feel,” Abyss interrupts. “This universe has your stamp on it.”

“They’re, um, not my characters—”

Abyss laughs. “That’s never stopped you before. You have your own little versions of worlds scattered all about. I never would’ve met Dani if you didn’t get obsessively attached to stories you like and made your ‘headcanons’ into your ‘canon.’ What’s so different about this one, this multiverse?”

She frowns. “I think it’s that...the creator of the original, he’s not-not, like, distant. I see him as a person and not as a-a-a, I dunno, a faceless maker of content. And all the people who are, like, inspired by his work are, they’re, like, people I know, you know? It’s really a community...like they say. And it feels mo-more special...personal, I guess.”

“I see...” She knows that Abyss is lying. She knows him better than anyone else; she’d created him, after all. He struggles with empathy, though he’s learning. And the idea of community, that you could somehow relate to people all around the world based on this one thing...it was a very empathetic, human experience. “Ah, would you look at that,” he says. “You plan this? It’s why you showed up here, isn’t it?”

They look up. The rooftops of the city had been empty a moment before. Now, there’s someone running across them, expert parkour-style. He’s wearing a red and blue jumpsuit, and a hood hides his face from view. But they know who it is. “I mean, I kinda planned it,” they say. “I wrote that this was a regular thing. And I decided to show up here at this moment, so...”

“You have a little crush on a fictional character? I understand that’s something that can happen.”

“What?! No! He’s like twenty-eight. I’m nineteen. I don’t do that. I just...friends are nice too.”

“Yeah...they are...” Abyss nods. “I’m starting to get that. So, I’ll leave you to it.” There's a flash of dark blue, and he’s gone, leaving nothing but a blue mist-like substance that quickly disperses.

“Hey there!” The man in red has landed on the rooftop with the garden, and caught sight of the artist sitting on the bench.

For a moment, she thinks the words will get caught in her throat like they always do. But...she knows him. He might not be her original character, but he was her version. “Hi,” she says. “You’re, um, Jackie, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I am!” Jackie puts on a dramatic voice, and strikes a pose. “I’m the one and only Jackieboy Man! Protecting the city from crime, day and night!”

“I know,” they say, laughing a bit. “I’m-I guess you can say I’m-I’m-I’m a fan. My name is—” they hesitate for a moment. Should they give him their real name? Most of their characters know them as Brigid...but people had started calling them a nickname, of sorts, since they started becoming more active in the community. It feels...right, somehow, to use that instead. “I’m Crystal.”

“Crystal, huh?” Jackie tilts his head. He gives her a warm smile. “That’s a nice name. A, uh, fan, huh? I don’t really deserve that, you know. I’m just a guy in a mask and jumpsuit.”

“But you’re, like, a superhero!” Crystal says. “That’s so cool!”

“Well,” Jackie’s eyes light up. He thinks it’s very cool indeed. “I guess, but it’s not like I have powers. My friend—I mean, I have friends just like anyone else. I’m trying my best.”

“But a lot of people, um, you know, they don’t do the things you do. Even if-if they can. So, that you’re trying, you know, that’s important.”

Jackie considers this for a moment. “Yeah, you’re right. I can see that. Have a good night, Crystal.” He starts to turn away.

“Wait!” Crystal stands up, fighting down a surge of panic. “I just—um—I’m—did-did-did-did you know it’s Yule today?” She cringes internally. Stupid stutter.

“Really? Christmas isn’t for another few days.”

“No, it’s the winter solstice. The twenty-first. That means it’s Yule.” She feels her face growing hot. Unconsciously, she starts picking at the binding of her sketchbook. “It’s a, uh, pagan holiday. I’m Wiccan. I mean, I don’t practice it as much as I should, but if there’s any religion I can say I’m a part of, it’s that, you know? My-my family doesn’t celebrate it. And I mean, I love our Christmas celebrations, and the season is-is great. But I’d like to celebrate it and I was thinking—I mean—um—you seem nice. Can I, like, be with you? Like, hang out? I mean that!”

This couldn’t have gone any worse if they tried. They fully expect Jackie to just walk away. But, to their surprise, he stops, and consider. “That...maybe...” he muses. “...I mean, I can’t take a civilian out on patrol. But my friends are having a get-together tonight. I wasn’t expecting to be able to make it...but the question is, can you be trusted? I’ll be taking off my mask.”

“That’s fine!” Crystal assures him. She knows all the details anyway; she wrote his backstory, after all. “I won’t even be in this wor—in this town for long.” Yes, great idea. Tell your local superhero you’re a universe-hopping artist/writer with the ability to make anything with the power of drawing and words. He may or may not think you’re crazy, honestly hard to tell.

Jackie smiles, relieved. “In that case, feel free to come along. Though, my friends probably won’t be that happy about it. Don’t worry, I’ll convince them. Now come on!”

Smiling to herself, Crystal grabs her backpack and hurries to catch up.

The house looks exactly like she’d pictured it. A regular suburban sprawl with a big yard and two stories. Much bigger than her own, which was much too small for five people, two cats, and a tortoise.

“Ready?” Jackie had changed into his civilian clothes, ducking into an alleyway with a “no peeking!” Like she had any interest in things like that. Now, in his comfortable red hoodie and completely mask-less, he leads the way up the path and knocks on the door. A moment passes, then it’s opened by a man with a face just like his, hidden mostly under a gray baseball cap. “Jackie!” he says, excited. “We thought you weren’t coming!”

“Decided the city was safe enough for one night,” Jackie shrugs. “Oh, and I brought a friend!” He stands aside, and gestures at Crystal.

“Oh! Uh, hi. I’m Chase.” Chase can’t hide his surprise, though he’s trying his best. “We...weren’t expecting anyone else. We weren’t even expecting Jackie.”

Crystal laughs nervously. “Yeah, it just sort of...happened. It’s Yule.”

“Huh. Well, you’re welcome inside. Come on in!” Chase stands aside, allowing Jackie and then Crystal herself to enter the house.

Crystal’s eyes widen at the sight, and they can’t stop a small gasp from escaping their mouth. It was...all of them. It's kind of trippy, actually, seeing five versions of the same person, wearing different clothes, standing with various postures. Like that one project they tried to do in senior year film class, where they played all the characters. They never got around to finishing it, mostly because about a third of the footage went missing somehow.

“Hey everyone, Jackie’s here!” Chase announces.

“Ah, Jackie! We thought you weren’t making it tonight!” If she couldn’t tell from the glasses, the voice is a dead giveaway for who that is.

One of them waves. The clothes and the silence are also dead giveaways.

“Who’s the kid?” Process of elimination leads to the obvious conclusion for the last one.

“Oh, uh, guys, this is Crystal,” Jackie introduces her. “I ran into her on patrol, and she said she was a fan, and so I invited her to come.”

“They,” Crystal whispers, forcing the single syllable out.

“Hmm? What was that?”

“I’m, uh, good with ‘they’ too. If you don’t mind. ‘She’ is good too. But, um, just...so you know...” Crystal trails off. It’s the first time they’d ever, in person, made that point clear. She’d never even told her family. The only people who really know are the people who read her blog description and maybe some people on Discord.

“Well, okay then!” Jackie smiled. “Don’t worry, I get it.” She knows he does. This is a world where her headcanons are canon. And damn the canonicity of the SP playthrough, a queer hero is cool. And maybe...there were personal reasons why she thought that, but...it doesn’t stop it from being cool.

“Yeah, okay, whatever makes you comfortable. I’m Marvin, that’s Henrik, call him Schneep, and Jameson. You already know Jackie and Chase.” He points out each one as he says their names. “Feel free to make yourself at home.”

“Hey! Who’s the host here?” Chase sounds indignant. He turns to Crystal. “Feel free to make yourself at home.”

Schneep and Marvin roll their eyes in perfect unison.

Jackie gasps dramatically. “Snacks!” He runs towards the coffee table, which holds a variety of sweet and salty foods. “We got chips, we got chocolate, we got other foods starting with the letter C...”

“Hey, dude, can you leave the plain candy bars alone?” Chase asks. “Bobby’s allergic to nuts so she wants those.”

“The kids—I mean there’s a kid here?” Crystal asks.

Chase nods. “Yeah, I, uhm, got my kids, Bobby and Trevor, for the weekend. They’re in their room right now, but they told me they might come down later.”

“That’s cool,” Crystal says. “I like kids. I’m kind of good with them, I think. I mean, my sister is better, kids just love her.”

“Chase, if you ever need a babysitter, I think they are volunteering,” Schneep says lightheartedly.

“What?! I—uh—no, I can’t. I won’t be in town for long, I’m just here for Yule.”

“Isn’t that, like, a witch holiday?” Chase asks.

Jameson shakes his head, then makes some quick symbols with his hands. Not for the first time, Crystal wishes she’d fully learned sign language. Even ASL could help in a situation like this. The others understand, nodding.

“Pagan, huh?” Marvin plops down onto the couch. “Interesting. What made you choose that?”

Crystal thinks. “It seemed...the most right. It makes the most sense with my...worldview. And I like magick. That’s the kind with a K, but if regular magic existed I’d like that too.”

Marvin chuckled. “Well, keep your hopes high, kid.”

Crystal smiles softly. She feels a bit...giddy inside. Marvin was her second favorite, and here she is, talking magic with him. Kinda. More dancing around the subject. But it would be weird to let on that she knew everything about these guys.

Time passes. The five fall back into their comfortable back-and-forth banter, the sort Crystal loves to write. Hearing it come to life, and more importantly, actually sounding like something they would say, made Crystal feel full of joy. But even more so, the fact that these five characters who she’d held so close to her heart seemed to incorporate them into their dynamic so easily...even though Crystal was just jumping into conversation occasionally, they felt a ball of light and fuzziness inside themself.

Eventually a small brunette girl and a tiny blonde boy came out and joined for a while. The two are greeted with familiar enthusiasm. Bobby and Trevor are clearly well-known and well-loved among the group. After a while, Chase herds them back upstairs for bedtime. Marvin and Schneep get into a competitive Mario Kart race, which ends in controllers being thrown across the room. Jackie convinces everyone to watch Spider-Man: Homecoming for a while. The snacks are devoured. Then, it’s one o’clock.

“We should probably all go to bed soon,” Schneep says, looking at the clock.

“Oh, so says you, Mr. All-nighter,” Marvin laughs.

“I have work to do! You have no excuse and needs your rest!”

“Except you have a day off tomorrow, so you have no work and also no excuse,” Jackie points out.

Jameson signs something, and Crystal vaguely recognizes one of the signs, though she doesn’t remember the meaning. Luckily, the others are not so inhibited. “Alright, dude,” Chase says. “You want us to walk you there?”

Jameson shakes his head. “Are you going home?” Crystal asks. When Jameson nods, they continue, “I should probably go to. You, um, don’t mind if I walk with you...for a bit? Not all the way?”

After a moment of consideration, Jameson nods. A chorus of goodbyes follows the two of them out the door.

It’s dark. Crystal can’t help but be a bit scared, though she knows that with her sketchbook and pencil in hand she’s well-prepared for any threat. If she has enough time to draw something to defend herself, that is. Jameson doesn’t seem worried. Then again, he’d faced worse than street criminals.

Crystal tried to think of something to say. Come on, this should be easy. JJ is their favorite, and they really wanted to talk to him. But...this was good too. The two of them walk in silence, but it’s a companionable type of silence. Crystal isn’t really comfortable with being the shorter one of the two, even though they’re shorter than most people. Maybe because they’d always thought of JJ as the small one, even though his height is basically the same as the others, give or take a centimeter or two.

Still, Crystal has something they need to say. “Can I call you JJ?”

A nod, accompanied by a friendly mustache wiggle. Crystal laughs. “Thanks. I...” she swallows nervously. “I just want to say I’m sorry.”

JJ looks at her, confused. “For all you’ve gone through, I-I mean,” she elaborates. “It’s-it’s awful and-and-and you’re so nice, um, you know? So you didn’t deserve it.”

JJ can’t hide his confusion. He’s stopped walking, directly under a street lamp. It was very dramatic. He knows that Crystal can’t understand BSL, but he makes some vague gestures that she takes to mean, what are you talking about?

“I know a lot,” Crystal says simply. “And I...have my own demons to face...actually I, um, just realized that one of her names also starts with A.”

Jameson’s eyes widen. He starts to gesture again, but Crystal shakes her head. “No, we—um, I don’t want to. Not now. And you’ll-you’ll-you guys’ll probably never see me again. I need to go back home. I have stories that I need to work on. But...I’m really sorry.” She feels tears in her eyes. “I’m really so sorry.”

Still confused, but understanding a bit more, Jameson nods. Crystal gives a watery smile. “Goodbye. Tell the others I said bye too.” She turns to leave, but JJ taps her shoulders. He spreads his arms wide, almost questioning. “I...don’t do hugs,” Crystal explains. “Not always. But, um...this is going to sound weird, but give me your hand.” JJ complies. Crystal grabs it with both of her own hands and squeezes tight. “This is the same thing to me,” she explains. “But it feels better. You don’t mind, do you?” JJ smiles, shaking his head.

After a moment, Crystal lets go. She backs away. “Goodbye!” she calls one last time. JJ waves. She turns and dashes away, eventually turning down an alleyway.

The downside of her creations coming to life? It makes the painful parts of their stories so much harder to write. Crystal can feel a hard knot of guilt and sadness in their chest. But without despair, there can’t be any bliss. Without struggle, there would be no peace. And they always ended stories on a hopeful note. They always wrote a happy ending that made everything worth it.

The creator presses her pencil to a fresh sketchbook page and quickly draws an outline of a door. It’s familiar to her, a white rectangle with a silver doorknob. When she looks up, it’s embedded on the nearby wall like it’s always been set there. She steps forward, pulling it open. On the other side is a well-lit basement room, a bed and two overflowing bookshelves, tan walls hidden by posters. She crosses through, closing the door behind her. It fades away.

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye fanfiction #jacksepticegos #septic egos #jackieboy man #chase brody #marvin the magnificent #dr schneeplestein #jameson jackson #antisepticeye #self indulgence #self insert #brigid writes fanfiction

[r-writess]

Change of Heart (Armitage Hux x Reader)

A/N: Here it is! I actually wanted to take this in a different direction, but I literally want to kill myself because I’d typed it all up and the app crashed and now it’s completely different than what I was gonna do. I’m not sure if I like it the way it is now, though. Anyway, here’s some Hux and reader for all, I love Domhnall to bits! Enjoy.

Summary: As another Knight of Ren aboards the Finalizer, Hux can’t help but feel pure dread. But it isn’t at all what he was expecting.

Words: 1,127

Warning: like one swear word, maybe spoiler for tlj? (Better safe than sorry), bad grammar, cheesy ending

Having one Knight of Ren aboard the Finalizer was bad enough.

But when Supreme Leader Snoke had announced the arrival of another Commander, Hux wanted to truly float himself into space.

He realised it would be the perfect opportunity as he stood in the hangar with his men behind him, a small ship just landing in front of them. Oh, how the cold space called to him—

The plataform of the ship lowered from the cockpit. A woman, clad in black, descended, in sure strides. Hux swallowed thickly.

She was extremely attractive. She had flowing, shiny hair, liquid eyes, full lips, and a body he was sure would make the little general salute. Wait— why was he thinking of her this way? She will probably be his sworn enemy. She smirked at him, her eyes fleeting over his body, taking him in. Somehow, his heart began to beat rapidly.

“Ah, General Hux, we meet at last.”

He nodded, shaking her extended hand stiffly. “It is an honor to meet you, Commander (L/N).”

“Don’t be so uptight, General. We will have a wonderful time,” she gave him a fox-like smile as she passed him, and deeper into the Destroyer.

He sighed audibly— a wonderful time.

(Y/N) strolled the durasteel corridors confidently. She was called once again by Hux to one of Ren’s favorite tantrum-throwing rooms. She was somehow glad he had— this days, she was enjoying the company of the ginger General more than she should, finding herself smiling at the thought of if— which was quite often. She had a reputation to keep up— no one could know that the Commander was all starry eyed for the General.

And it could never be. Hux was a man of proffesionalism— he didn’t encourage relationship within the ranks, if he encouraged romantic relationships at all. But that made it all the more intriguing.

“Ah, (Y/N), you seem to have made it,” he tutted at her tardiness, leaning on the doorframe. Red light was visible already from the inside.

“How much damage?”

“Enough to repair, if you stop him right now.”

She exhaled exasperatley, adjusting her belt. Her cape had been left behind in her quarters. “You owe me for this,” she sang to him as she made her way in.

“Sure thing, sweetheart.”

She nearly choked on spit. Did Hux really just call her by a pet name?

“Anything the matter?” He purred from the door. Oh, he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Nothing, hotshot,” she replied, slightly cringing at her attempt at flirting, but swayed her hips a little more as she went to apprehend Ren.

“REN!”

Kylo didn’t stop swinging at the control panels.

“Ren, look at me when I speak to you,” she suddenly growled, and he stopped.

She felt Hux shift behind her— even if he wasn’t projecting, she could still feel him throught the Force— he was attracted. Had she never felt this before?

“Stop attacking the control panels, there are dummies in the training room,” she compelled, and didn’t wait for an answer.

(Y/N) felt Hux’s eyes burn holes into her back as she grinned to herself, but she didn’t allow her mind to think any further of it. It did grant her a sliver of hope.

Hux couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t like slept on other nights, anyway— he sat on his bed, still uniformed, thinking. He usually worked late, but tonight, he should’ve taken it to rest. Instead, (Y/N) was the protagonist of his thoughts. He hadn’t seen her in five days— he kept rewinding and repeating their last encounter before her mission to track and destroy a rebel base in some lost Outer Rim planet.

“Be succesful,” he said, as if simply telling that to her would ensure the outcome of the mission. She let out a chuckle and a nod.

“You can count on it, General.”

“Be safe,” he commented lowly.

She stopped climbing into her ship. “Correct me if I’m mistaken, General, but do you possibly… care?”

“Watch yourself, (L/N).”

To think the universe would be kind enough to give him something to hate rather than something to adore. To love. To think he ever would come to have such feelings for someone like Ren, a few months ago, would’ve been preposterous.

Now, he found himself completley distraught in the lack of her in his life, even if it had just been five days. A deep-seated pit in his stomach bubbled over with anxiety and longing.

But that would soon be changed, when he heard a hasty knock on his durasteel door. He was knocked out of his thoughts, standing to press the button next to it, revealing a nervous-looking Lieutenant Mitaka.

“Sir, Commander (L/N) is back from her mission and now in the medical bay.”

Hux didn’t even thank him— he strode passed him, speed-walking in the most formal way possible. He barked at the lady in the desk to tell him where (Y/N) (L/N) was— she pointed a shaky finger to the door at the end of the corridor. A medic was just leaving it.

“What is her status?”

“Stable,” came his nearly robotic voice.

Hux didn’t hesitate to enter, simply striding to pull a chair to the side of the bed.

“So you do care,” (Y/N) rasped, her hair framing her slightly dirty face tantalisingly.

“I had a change of heart,” Hux simply stated, eliciting a pained grim from her. She winces as she sat up, unconsciously leaning in closer to him.

“Shit.”

“What happened to you?”

“Rebels put up a good fight. Two blaster shots to the abdomen, but I’ll be fine,” she said, and Hux glanced down at her abdomen, seeing a large bandage wrapped around it.

“We were succesful, though. I told you, you could count on it,” that smirk played on her lips again.

“I wouldn’t have encouraged it if it meant you’d have to give up your life.”

For a moment there, her eyes shone. Her lips twisted up into a grin. He gazed into her eyes, and suddenly, the whole world seemed to disappear into her irises. A tingling sensation settled itself in his stomach. They both inched closer, and he could feel her hot breath on his lips, just begging to be touched.

For a moment, he thought about professionalism. But her smell was too entincing, drawing him in— he threw all that out the window.

He smashed his lips onto hers in an orchestra of teeth and a sharp exhale she released, leaning in to deepen the kiss, her wound still sore.

It wasn’t brief, but it wasn’t long. They broke apart, and leaned their forheads on each other’s.

“That was…”

“Yeah.”

#general hux x reader #hux x reader #general hux imagine #hux imagine #armitage hux x reader #armitage hux imagine #general hux #hux #armitage hux #kylo ren #knights of ren #star wars #star wars x reader #the last jedi #tlj #the last jedi spoilers #tlj spoilers #stat wars imagine

[kincringeemporium]

"How Do I Stop Being Kin!?”: A Helpful Guide (Long Post)

so... yup. tumblr ate some of my archive, including one of my most important posts: a list of steps on how to distance yourself from the kin community. as there’s no way (that i know of) to get that post back... here’s this! 

how to use the guide: all complaints/problems that kin frequently send when they don’t want to be kin anymore? those are in large bold. each complaint has a list of steps on how to solve it; the steps (my responses) are just in the normal font. don’t see what you need? send an ask saying you want to see it in a part 2! 

“I don’t want to be kin with (x) anymore!” 

okay! this one centers mostly around keeping lists. and as i said to the most recent anon, the first step toward stopping is wanting to stop. 

1. get two separate sheets of paper (or start digital documents you can print later). on one, write “(Your Name) List”. on the other, write “(Kintype Name) List.” 

2. fill the YN List first. write down every one of your own traits that you can name. they can relate to appearance, gender, hobbies/interests, mental health, neurodiversity, hopes and aspirations, etc. these do not all have to be good things. try to have a 1/3, 1/3, 1/3 balance of good, bad, and neutral traits. (an example of a bad trait/habit is “nail biting”, because that’s harmful. not “brown hair”. if you don’t like your hair color put “brown hair” down as a neutral trait. it’s not bad, you just want a different color.) 

3. fill the KN (kintype name) list next. do not use “i”, “we”, “myself”, in this list becase it’s not about you. 

  • if it’s a fictional character, write down facts relating to the character’s creation. who’s the author/designer/creator? what year was the source released? what type of media is the source -- a fantasy book, a video game, a movie? emphasize that the character is fictional, not real (add ‘in this universe’ if you believe in the multiverse theory) and cannot be reincarnated. 

• if it’s an animal, write down all of its behaviors: does it eat meat? what sounds does it make? is it dangerous or not? now, if you believe in reincarnation, it’s way more plausible that animals can be reincarnated and their next lives can be as humans. emphasize that even if you were the animal in a past life, you are a human now -- it is not healthy to think you literally still are the animal and/or to behave like it. 

•  if it’s a part of nature, like a star or a tree, write down all the facts about it that you know and emphasize that it is not sentient, it doesn’t have a soul, and it cannot make choices or be reincarnated. 

keep the lists with you (as a physical copy/paper). 

4. tell yourself that it’s okay to like the character, animal, or thing, it’s okay to feel that it represents part of who you are. it’s okay to feel comforted by it when you’ve had a shitty day or you’re in a bad mood. feeling these things does not automatically make you kin. write these down on a small piece of paper and keep the paper with you. 

5. even though it is okay to like the character/animal/thing, slowly start avoiding content that includes it. if you are trying to stop being fictionkin, do not watch the source. stay away from fanfic, pictures, etc, that make you have strong emotions about it. 

6. if you ever are feeling guilty about something your kintype did (and this applies mostly to villain kin), you are projecting. whether you’re feeling guilty about your own mistakes without realizing, or you want the chance to fix something/apologize, you are projecting. if you are acting out what you really, really want the villain to do -- ie, you relate to them strongly but they’re not repentant and you want them to be... rp. start a roleplay blog, write a redemption au. look back at your lists again. 

• if it’s not a villain, but you’re feeling guilty about something bad your kintype did, still do a bit of rp and keep looking back at those lists! 

7. whenever you have “kinfeels” or “kin memories”, look at your YN and KN lists. read them to remind yourself that you are not the same person as the character, not the same being as the animal, and not something inanimate. 

8. try new things and (now i’m not saying this to be a bitch) go outside. i mean it. vitamin d is good for you. you don’t have to exercise, but if you are able to, go for it. visit the library, the park, a coffee shop, the mall, anywhere. test out new hobbies, like 

• writing fiction (could be about the character/animal/thing, if this is how you maintain a connection with it while not identifying as it) 

 • traditional drawing  

 • digital drawing 

 • sewing, knitting, or crochet 

• writing movie critiques/analyses 

• jewelry making 

• making non-kin-related selfcare 

• sports 

“I want to get out of the community, but I’m not ready to let go of my kintypes!” 

so you’re not ready? okay. this is still your first step. you will fuck yourself over badly if you push yourself to 100% stop being kin before you can function without it. this is true in situations like abusive households or trauma: if you pretend that you’re someone else who’s never had to deal with those things, you are using escapism to let off stress and unwind. 

1. change your blog theme. i know it sounds dumb and unrelated. however, having a visual change will make you more inclined to change other things -- and it will start to tell other people in the community that you are able to change. 

2. update your about, kin page, and byf. take things like “don’t follow if you don’t see me as (kintype)”, “no doubles”, and kin-related discourse out of those pages. anything that typically appears in kin cringe comps? take it out. (look through my blog for example of typical cringe comp material.) 

• don’t say “literally me”, “100% me”, “ID” about the kintypes you list. 

• instead of having separate sections for “primary”, “secondary”, “tertiary”, things like that... just say “kintypes” once and list them/insert their pictures. 

• do NOT link to others’ blogs saying “this person is my (canonmate name)!” or “i found my (important canonmate)! 

• whatever your stance on ace discourse... take that out of your pages. i have no idea why, but the kin community is fucking overrun with people thinking that aces/aros aren’t lgbtq+. removing this discourse from your blog will remove you from another common kin community behavior. (it’s totally okay to post ace/aro positivity, but don’t involve yourself in heavy discourse and don’t put “Aces/aros are/aren’t lgbtq!” on your about/kinpage/byf.) 

3. if you list kin friends or kin blogs on one of your pages, consider taking out the links and just describing the friends/blogs. this will distance your blog from the network of kin on here. 

4. instead of requesting “kintype selfcare/positivity” from those kin resource blogs: 

• reblog aesthetics that remind you of the kintypes, but is not labeled as “(kintype) aesthetic”. 

• make some aesthetics yourself based on the kintypes. if you’re tagging, then just use general tags (ie, “kin”, “otherkin”, or “fictionkin”), not specifically the character’s name or the type of animal you identify with. 

• write positive affirmations for yourself, such as “i got enough sleep so this will be a better day!” or “i didn’t lie in bed all day so i feel motivated!” or “i ate something healthy instead of junk food!” 

• if you’re writing affirmations specifically about a kintype, don’t refer to the kintype using “i” or “we”. instead, write “(character) tries their best to fix wrongdoings, so i will too!” or “(character) makes an effort to overcome anxiety, so i’m going to try harder too!” or “(animal) isn’t inherently bad/gross; it’s trying to survive like me!” 

• basically, when writing positivity/affirmations, pick a trait that the kintype has that you want to have too. don’t just say “i have this trait because i am (kintype)!” 

• sorry not sorry, but the overwhelming majority of the positivity on those blogs is useless. it might make you feel better for a couple minutes, but it’s superficial. even if the person running the blog genuinely wants people to feel better, they are still operating under the obligation to give positivity. 

it is not as genuine as it should be. the person doesn’t know who you are, and they might not know a lot about the kintype. the positivity from those blogs is generic, ie, “even if you’ve done some bad things, you’re not a bad person!” You need specifics, which only you can come up with -- because only you know yourself. when something is vague or general, we think deep down that it’s not true. (btw, that’s the same psychology behind the “sounds fake but okay” meme.)

5. if your mutuals get into kin drama, or if you see kin drama on your dash, stay out of it. it does not matter right now if these people are your best friends in the world, because once the drama dies down, your url is still all over those posts. even if the people who started the drama delete the posts, other people have everything saved. the things you said in anger or anxiety or whatever are still on tumblr. and tumblr has an extremely difficult time recognizing that what someone said three months ago doesn’t define what they say now. 

6. unfollow people who have ‘typical cringe comp material’ on their pages and/or people who frequently are involved in drama. 

• if they have “ask to unfollow” on their pages, unfollow anyway. if they harass you about it, block them (and maybe report for... violating community guidelines. or harassment). DON’T PUT THIS ON YOUR PAGES. EVER. FOLLOWING YOU IS NOT A CHORE. MAKING PEOPLE ASK PERMISSION TO UNFOLLOW YOU CAN CAUSE THEM HUGE AMOUNTS OF ANXIETY. IT’S SHITTY AND ENTITLED. DON’T DO IT. 

7. if you’re going to send hate to antis, i can’t stop you, but for fuck’s sake, do that on anon. (”what!?” you say as you read this post. “but don’t antis think anon hate is cowardly!?”) you just don’t want to be known as someone active enough in the community to send off-anon shit. 

8. if i have or another anti/cringe blog has screenshotted your post/page, ask for it to be removed. no promises that other blogs will remove your stuff, but here on kce and over at @only-on-tomblr, we will. having your content up on popular cringe blogs can definitely get you recognized among the community, and you don’t want that. 

“I don’t want to rely so hard on being kin -- I want kin to be a casual thing!” 

1. first off, follow the “i want to get out of the community” list. you don’t have to stop identifying as kin, you just need to distance yourself from that network of over the top, hardcore kin people. 

2. recognize that kin is your coping mechanism. it is okay to use escapism (that’s what kin is tbh) to cope. it is okay to step away from reality, unwind, then go back to reality after a few hours of doing kin stuff/rp. 

3. recognize that any coping mechanism is going to be harmful when you take it too far. when it goes too far, it becomes an obsession. (because i am sure someone’s going to say this, i’m not dragging special interests. those are not the same as coping mechanisms gone wrong and this post does not relate to special interests.) 

4. guess what? you don’t need just one coping mechanism. and because you’re not completely dropping the kintypes, you need to focus your kin-related energy into a creative outlet. what i mean by that is... write about them. draw pictures of them. do commissions, even for people who have the same kintype. not to mention, if you write about/draw them a lot, you are getting so much better at those skills. 

5. optional: it would also help to make lists of your traits and the kintypes’ traits, like in the first section of this post. 

6. as with the other sections, do not refer to the kintypes as “myself”/”i”. 

that’s about it 

Other things you can do 

• write a brief analysis of an episode, movie, chapter, etc in which the character/kintype appears. what does the person/being do and why? how do their actions result in the episode/chapter/game/movie ending? how do other characters react to it? and how is this different from what you would do, right now, if you were in the same situation? (obviously no one has to see it, so doesn’t matter if it sucks) 

• interact with people who have the same kintype so you can become more comfortable with “doubles” and thus be less intense about being kin 

• when you’re watching/reading/playing/listening to new media (’source’), and you begin to have “kinfeels” for someone, step back. put the book down. pause the show or podcast. remind yourself that this is fiction. even if the multiverse does exist, your kintype cannot cross between universes and ‘be’ you. you are most likely projecting onto the character or you are inspired to create a similar character/oc. 

• aaand.... here it comes... oh god. oh no. limit your time on tumblr. do not spend all day on this forsaken hellsite.  

Things to absolutely NOT do 

• post anything like “why did the author put me/kintype in a relationship with a girl!? i’m gay!” all that does is imply that you think you have some kind of ownership over someone else’s character. it makes you look like you want everything to go your way -- and not everything can. i am not saying that to be a jerk. 

• ask people to unfollow you. as i said before (now, i don’t have anxiety so this isn’t from firsthand experience), do you have any idea how much anxiety that causes people? and how shitty a thing it is to do? 

• harass someone over being a double 

• tell them to unfollow/stop interacting because they are a double 

• compare being kin to being trans or nonbinary. for fuck’s sake. there’s no such thing as a “kingender”.

                     - even if your kintype was female in ‘your source’, but wasn’t                                  female in canon... that does not mean you are trans and it does                            not mean the kintype is trans.    

                    - even if you are trans yourself, it has absolutely nothing to do with                        you identifying as kin. they are not related. you are a trans person                        who also happens to be kin.    

                   - things like “canidgender: a gender that feels tough and ready to                           defend, a gender that makes you feel alert, a gender that....” are not                     real. gender is not an emotion. besides, these descriptions have                            nothing to do with gender. 

  • say that you have dysphoria about your kintype. again, if you have dysphoria, it’s because you are transgender/nonbinary. you do not have “species dysphoria” about your astral ears. just because it’s listed on google with a definition does not mean it’s legit. 

• use ‘kin pronouns’ like glitch/glitchs/glitchself. ne/nes/neself. star/stars/starself. it/its. the very concept of kin pronouns suggests that gender is automatically tied to kin. it’s not. and you are not an object. 

• send people hate or get into discourse about headcanons involving your kintype 

• tag art as “me” or “kin” or “id”. even if the artist says it’s okay, avoiding this is another way to distance yourself from a harmful community. if you need/want to keep a tagging system, just tag it with the character’s name or the type of animal. 

• tell someone that they are “your (important canonmate). 

• especially do not tell someone that your characters dated and that you must begin a romantic relationship because of that! 

• insist that someone just has to remember something that you remember! here’s an appropriate exchange on this. 

  ��           you: “do you remember when our kintypes had that huge fight, then                     made up and dated for a few months? we drifted apart and stopped                    dating.” 

              them: “no... i recall something different.” 

               you: “oh. well, that’s okay!” 

comments i just know i’m going to get (they’re useless. don’t post them and don’t send them to me) 

• you’re policing our identities! 

•you can’t dictate how we cope! 

• you can’t take away our fun! 

• how would you know how this stuff works? you’re not kin! 

• ableist! 

• go do something productive! 

• i don’t care. i’m doing these things anyway! 

-k 

#long post #very long post #not cringe #kin #otherkin #fictionkin #fickin #kin help #kin stuff #antikin #kincringeemporium #kce #refs #resources #guide #resource #mental health #mental help #coping

[imagine036]

Bell Let’s Talk

I’ve never done this before. I’ve never wanted to. But this year, something told me I should. It’s time, and while I’m not ready to talk to the world about it, I can talk about it here. There are a few of my followers who know me, but for the most part, I remain relatively anonymous on this site. That makes it easier. For so many years I’ve kept it all hidden beneath the surface, afraid of the weakness of letting it out. This is the first step in what I hope is a road to honest recovery rather than the path of avoidance I’ve been treading for so long.

 So here I sit, with my coffee and my best friend anxiety, and I’m ready.

 I think.

I rarely answer the question “How are you?” with “Good”. Even more rarely do I answer it with “Great!”

Usually, if someone asks me how I am, they get one of three answers:

“I’m… ok.”

“I’m… still going.”

“I’m… alive.”

On the off chance they do get a “good,” it’s an autopilot response, one they’ve been expecting, and they smile and answer in kind before moving along. It’s an expected interaction, not an honest one.

 Honestly, the reason I don’t say “good” is two-fold. Half of it is my own brand of humour, designed to be morose with a touch of self-deprecation. The other half is that “good” isn’t an honest answer. I rarely feel “good” when people ask. For me, “good” is some far off, nearly unattainable answer I strive to mean. For me, those three standard answers aren’t just a way to draw a smile or a good-natured eye roll from the asker. They’re Honest to God triumphs. If I can’t be good, I can celebrate that I’m ok, still going, and alive.

 The problem is, no one really understands the meaning behind the words. They assume I’m kidding around, or just being myself. And yes, to a point, those answers do capture who I am as a person.

But beyond that point, those answers are the most honest ones I can give. I just can’t bring myself to lie sometimes. I can’t give the expected but empty “good” when I don’t feel it. So I tell them I’m alive and they smile and give some answer like “well that’s good” and we move along. They don’t realize that, yes, it IS good. For the amount of times I’ve just wanted it all to stop, continuing to chug along IS a good thing, even though it’s taken me awhile to see it.

 I project a certain image of myself to the world and, if I do say so myself, I’m good at it. I’m happy and fun-loving, always prepared, and always good for a laugh or joke. I’m not the type of person who internalizes everything and wars over it in her head for hours on end, unable to sleep at night because her mind won’t stop racing. I’m not the person who lays in bed for an hour longer than necessary every morning, wondering if getting up and putting on her face is even worth it.

 I can’t be that person, because I’m the person who’s always joking around and smiling. I’m the person who powers through the anxiety to give confident presentations in class. I’m the person who babbles in social situations and talks too much and it’s cute, endearing, and a bit annoying.

 …Right?

 I’ve been this way for so long that no one can see what’s going on underneath the surface. No one sees the white-knuckle grip on the presentation podium or feels my knees nearly giving out as I stand in front of them. No one pays attention to my near-constant hand-wringing in social situations. No one notices that I’m regulating my breathing and cringing at my compulsive over-sharing. No one feels my stomach tied up in knots constantly.

 Even though I’m relatively open about my anxiety, I’m open in a manner which maybe makes too much light of the matter. I never talk seriously about it. I don’t tell people about the night before starting grad school, standing on a bridge and staring down at the traffic racing below me, thinking about how much easier and more peaceful it would be to just drop down to the road and cease to exist. It would all just… stop. I don’t tell them that, when I take my medication in the morning, I stare at it and I wonder whether I really need it. Whether I have ‘enough’ anxiety to warrant medication.

 It seems everyone these days has some level or form of anxiety. Given the world we live in and the increasing pressure to be successful, beautiful, you name it, who can blame anyone for letting the pressure get to them? But with this increase in people talking about anxiety and pressure comes a sort of sliding scale of ‘true anxiety.’ People start comparing anxiety levels and judging based on where others stand relative to them. A little bit of anxiety is ‘normal’ but one person’s definition of a little bit is different than the next’s. What I feel as ‘true anxiety’ may not be defined as such by someone whose anxiety is worse relative to mine.

 It starts a never-ending internal spiral of ‘am I really anxious? Do I have any right to say I am? Can I identify as someone who struggles with anxiety when I still get up in the morning and go about my day with a smile plastered on my face and a joke or witty comment ready to go?’ Am I really anxious or am I just ‘seeking attention’ or ‘trying to be dramatic’ or ‘trying to excuse my nerves with an acceptable excuse.’ After all, there are people out there with far worse anxiety than me, right? What right do I have to put myself in a category with them?

 I fall down that rabbit hole at least once per week and I never talk about it. Instead, I make light of it. Whenever I reference my medication, I call them my ‘happy pills’ or my ‘chill pills’ or I make some joke about how I used to be much worse, if people can imagine that. I call myself psychotic and a basket case and I truly am joking around in that moment, but I’m starting to realize that my joking around may be, in part, how I honestly feel about myself. I make so much light of the situation that I start to doubt if I should even take myself seriously. Do I really have a problem, or am I just over-exaggerating for the laugh? Am I really anxious in comparison to others?

 So, I keep telling people I’m ok, still going, and alive, and I smile back when they assume I’m joking, because part of me is, and that’s the part I’ve chosen to accept. If I sell this version of myself long enough, maybe that nagging part of me that knows I’m really being honest will cease to exist. If I joke around long enough and keep hiding it, maybe it will disappear.

 Or maybe one day I won’t feel the need to try to hide it. Maybe I’ll be able to tell someone I’m not having a good day when they ask. Maybe I’ll be able to seriously and openly discuss it rather than hiding beneath a layer of humour and ‘I’m alive.’ Until then, this long, rambling post was a good enough baby step for me, so if you read all of that, thanks for listening. I appreciate it.

#bell let's talk #mental health #personal