//; Okay so I got to come clean, and externally process I think.
This post honestly is for me to expose my thoughts in relation to rp/being creative-- and in this case: my blogs in particular.
It’ll all be undercut. You do not have to read. Again, this is a step to see if it helps me finally move forward.
Comments are welcome-- constructive ones of course. Let’s not get mean, cool?
warning: negative; rambling; self critic
As it is well-noticed I have a habit of disappearing, and often mention how much I want to return and don’t. I’m not proud of this cause I feel like it’s a huge let down and disappointment to people I role-play with-- more than likely it is at least a small to mild disappointment. And that includes myself because I love rping! It’s an It was outlet for me.
But for the past year it’s turned into a stressor. I simply log on and my mind starts thinking negatively towards myself. And I’m also thinking: me @ me: What the fuck?
It’s like I’m failing before I even log on, or I’m expecting to be hated by my partners. (which very often has been the exact opposite.)
And yes some of the reasons for my absents are because of life. Work picked up because two producers were out, I’ve been trying to take care of/further finical stuff on my own so I can better support myself, car issues, therapy, etc.
All things we deal with one way or another. And that right there is were I start to feel like, “Why can’t I manage this and life? Everyone else can? What are you doing wrong?” (Hello self critic welcome to party) I can’t help but play the comparison game and wonder, “Why aren’t you like them?”
To be honest this is the mindset ( “Why aren’t you doing more? Why don’t you create something of value? You aren’t as creative as them. You don’t belong. You are a let down. What is your worth? Why can’t you do this? Why aren’t you good enough?” ) I’ve been dealing with and trying to change for almost a year now. I feel so lost and anxious. I don’t want to be.
It’s infected nearly everything I enjoyed once, and I hate it.
Yet I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if I just need to start writing again, and don’t look back. Or if I need to take an official hiatus. Or if I need to do something else I haven’t thought of. I don’t know.
His scout was sneaking through the halls having gotten the intel she needed. The instant the red lights of a lockdown activated Ash turned back and slid back under the door she just went through before in collapsed Ash jumped hearing Jazz in her commline, :: Jazz! What happened??::
Go. Immediately she started to sprint down the hall back the way she came. This isn’t going to end well…
Blaster fire scorched the top of his shoulder with a graze that drew a curse from the Polyhexian. Pivoting on a dime he ducked under another, tilting his own gun up and firing into their chest. Pushing off hard he launched into a run once more.
:: Tryin’ to figure that out for myself, but ain’t much luck. Look-- how about this-- :: he paused to skid to a stop and duck behind very little cover. :: Once we get out we can think all about it! ::
“Scrap!” Jazz hissed the curious, activating the commline to his scout without delay. Pedes pivoted from the console sprinting to the exit, or where the exit was suppose to be. Only the door he had come through was locked with a base-wide lock down going into effect. Rapidly.
:: Ash, get out! Security has been tripped, got to find another way out. Head out, and meet at the rally point. :: The safehouse miles from here.
A small frown appeared on Prowl’s faceplates, optics narrowing ever so slightly. When was his timing not perfect? Should he feel offended?
Doorwings briefly flicked with subtle hint of annoyance, then after a moment shifted into a surprisingly relaxed stance. This was Jazz. Jazz was most likely just…teasing him, just like he’s done so many times in the past.
:: Well. I tried, but no-one else was available, :: he shot back in his most flat and dead serious voice, before hesitating for a second or two and finally adding, :: It was a joke as well. ::
Perhaps not the most amusing one.
First sounds of Jazz’s song reached him, bringing all of his thoughts to a screeching halt. Prowl’s entire frame stilled for a moment and he listened in perfect silence; he’s always liked the other’s songs, even if he rarely admitted this openly. And yet, right now the tactician was also unusually nervous. What will Jazz’s answer be…?
And then the answer came, filling his spark with a wave of relief.
Because this time, the spy wanted to come with him.
:: Excellent! :: the tactician responded with something that sounded suspiciously close to excitement tinting his usually monotone voice. :: Pack your belongings and send me your coordinates. ::
:: Teasing ya, love :: Jazz hummed over the line while drifting through another turn only to take a sharper on to go off road. To get anyway for anything that resembled society. Earth was nice for that. Playing house to not only thousands of cities, but managing to have landscapes unmarked by human touch. You could disappear if you knew how and the right places. Reaching a rockier plane Jazz fluidly transformed launching himself onto a dusty orange surface and began scaling.
He laughed at Prowl’s joke, voice tinted with humor :: You wound me. :: A softer laugh followed after the playful banter was returned. Then all sound dissolved into suspenseful silence till his song paired with an answer followed.
Yes, he would follow.
Like he should have long ago... maybe. But the past can’t be rewritten.
Registering the excitement was a balm to Jazz’s spark. :: Love, I got everything I’m ever gone to have on me now. All I got is me. :: He sent his coordinates neither the less from the small desert mountain top he perched himself on.
//: sooo I’m alive, still. Nothing like a month of internal work, and reading a book called “You are a Badass” to get you going again!
This post is to say for the new year making a come back. I think Thursday/Fridays (the days I’m usually off) will become my posting days. For now I do need to put myself on a schedule so I can focus better, and not get overwhelmed.
Disclaimer: If life gets busy/overwhelming I might disappear again from time to time but I’ll try to be more communicative.
Also I felt sort of cute today??? So under the cut is the mun doing her job as a producer (please feel free to ignore).
More specifically: who wants their muses to have to face down (an illusion of) whatever it is they most fear?
That’s what I thought.
So what’s the event?
On Halloween, a bunch of random Phobia shields will be dropped on a bunch of random Cybertronian-populated areas across a bunch of random universes. Phobia shields were introduced in Spotlight: Hoist as an invention by the Galactic Council to drive off Cybertronians from worlds they haven’t yet invaded.
They function by latching onto a single conscious Cybertronian’s brain, reading it to find their worst fear, and creating a physical manifestation of the fear—think holomatter, although we don’t know if the shield actually uses holomatter or some similar technology. If that Cybertronian passes out, then the Phobia shield latches onto another nearby Cybertronian and starts generating their greatest fear instead. So if your greatest fear is fighting Megatron, suddenly there’s a solid Megatron charging at you with fusion cannon powering up. Make your character face their greatest fear!
When is it happening?
Halloween day! The magic anons will be sent out the day before on the 30th, to be activated on the next day. If you want to activate it as soon as you get it, or save it for a few days before you activate it, you’re free to do so. There’s no overarching plot that depends on everyone doing it at the exact same time.
How can I participate?
We’ll be sending out magic anons to people who are interested on Halloween. Like this post, reblog it, or send a reply, an ask, or a DM to indicate that you want to get the anon. If you find out late about the event and want to get in on it, feel free to copy/paste the magic anon and send it to yourself. You’re also free to send it to any of your buddies you want to haul into terrifying hologram hell with you.
How long does the event last?
It’s an open-ended event; the magic anons will be sent out on Halloween, but your threads and involvement with the event will last however long it takes you to find and destroy your Phobia shield. If you want to go on a three-month-long epic quest with eight other muns to find and destroy a dozen well-hidden and well-guarded Phobia shields planted at strategic coordinates across Cybertron, you can. If you want to spend two hours goofing around with your muse climbing on a table screaming because their room is filled with a hundred tiny Airachnids and then declare the Phobia shield’s battery burned out and everything is back to normal, you can do that too. There’s no rules here; once you get the magic anon, you get to decide how much or little you want to engage with it.
Under the cut I’ve put more info about fear shields based on what we’ve seen in canon.
Please reblog to signal boost if you’re interested in participating!
::Heck yeah those days! The best ones would have all four, in that order.:: The red mech made an annoyed grunt over the line before he continued. ::Now it’s mostly the getting drunk part on my end, and only on occasion. No missions, no kicking con aft, and the stunts just ain’t the same without someone to watch and tell you it’s a bad idea. ::
::Anyway, didn’t call just to complain your audio receptors off. What have yah been up to lately? Getting into any fun messes I should know about?::
Jazz laughed over the line. The best ones would have all four... yeah, that was one idea. But if a mission went bad, or something wasn’t lining up, it made for a bad day.
And the visored mech was so jaded now. Not that his former agent needed to know that.
He shook his helm fondly with a tight, small smile at the edges of his lips. :: Ya are still the same Cliffjumper I knew, loved, and had to make sure didn’t offline himself with one of those stunts, mech. But I got to hand it to you, ya did have style. Well, not quite my style, but hey, ain’t no one goin’ to. :: The former commander bantered with another laugh.
:: Who, little ole me? Oh, mech, all the messes I can find. Sort of off the Autobot grid, to be honest with ya. Didn’t see optic-to-optic on some things, so I’m doin’ my own mission. ::
:: That is one way to describe it :: Jazz laughed. A reminiscent hum drifted across the line. :: The old times, if I remember right, consisted mostly of dangerous stuns, missions, occasionally gettin’ drunk, and fightin’ Cons. Those days? ::
Send me a word and my muse will reveal a memory that has to do with it.
They all knew the risk.
A cheap phrase used to dull down the reality of what they were doing. What they were ordering them to do. A phrase to bury the guilt and make everything worth the price. Because they knew, but no one could ever fully know where a the breaking point was. Not until it was reached.
Until they gave up, only they weren’t allowed to give up.
Keep moving. Hold the line. Keep your chin up. Be tough. Stand strong. Push through.
The result was the same: they kept breaking. They would keep cracking beneath the surface and stumble on. Eventually those cracks would shatter a bot.
Jazz stood still in the doorway of one of his agent’s hab-suite. Light casting a stark contrast against the shadows. His own shadow stretching across the greying frame of the crumbled mech on the floor. Energon glistened in the artificial light pooling beneath the mech’s helm.
:: Ratchet. I need you at suite 425. ::
Taking a step in the door pinged to close behind him. Blue visor now being the only thing illuminating the dark. Vents expelled air in the form of a heavy sigh as the commander knelt beside their frame. A tender servo reaching out to stroke over their helm in a comforting gesture that came too late. His touch moving to shift the blaster away, looking at it with disdain.
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