Hi guys and gals. It's Heather, a.k.a. Derek mun, here. I know that it's been awhile since I've actually posted anything that consists of my writing as Derek, for which I am sorry about since this is an RP blog, and that I've sort of explain why that is, but I feel like, in order to be able to come back onto Derek's account without having any sort of attack, I need to explain more fully what's been going on that's been making me avoid being here.
Due to the length and the fact that it's rather personal in nature, I'm going to be putting this behind a 'read more'. Feel free to ignore this if you want, but if you're one of my RP partners or you want to be, reading this might be a good idea.
Please bear with me on this. I'm typing this up on my break from classes, and I'm naturally a very private person, so this is doubly hard on me because I hate opening up and being emotionally honest, and I'm more than aware of my surroundings, so I'm trying to make sure I don't work myself up too much while also making sure I get everything I need to say out there.
Okay, as I stated previously, I've been struggling with my Derek muse, and while part of it is due to what's happened in the show--from Allison's death to Aiden's and to all the other crap--the biggest reason why I've been struggling with him is the fact that, since I had to originally put Derek on a semi-hiatus due to school last quarter and focusing on all that I needed to in order to survive finals, I have been getting an abundance of messages--both on and off anon asking me things like if I'm ever going to be coming back, if I plan on doing replies, if I plan on writing again for so and so reasons (ie, enjoying my take on the muse, the way I write for him, etc.), and while a good majority of them are flattering, they're also really, really stressful to see day in and day out.
On average, I get about five messages a day (thank you gmail for always notifying me when I have things, even when I'm not on) that run along this sort of vein, and it stresses me out and makes it hard for me to even log onto this account without having such a negatively visceral reaction.
To put it bluntly, I feel like a failure as an RP partner and, most importantly, as a writer.
I know that that probably sounds extreme, but it's true. When I can't get out replies as fast as my partners or as often, either due to outside obligations or lack of muse, I feel like I'm letting people down and disappointing them, but the thing is that most of the time, I literally cannot simply spend all day on Tumblr RPing no matter how much I want to. I've got school two days a week, a fiance that I'd like to spend time with, and three current original works I'm hoping to eventually publish, so it's impossible for me to do what others can despite the fact that I'd actually, really would love to. And when I feel like I'm not getting replies out fast enough? I have a tendency to put out work that I don't consider to be my best, which makes me feel like a failure of a writer because I get such amazing replies from my partners that I feel like I'm not holding up my end of the deal, and I hate not producing my best work.
Really, I could go into the complete psychology of how my mind works and how this even actually occurs and why I'd be like that, but no one wants the psychologist analysis and the whole "Well, it stems from this and this that's happened in my life" shtick, so I'm going to avoid all of that. Just know that it is something that occurs more frequently than I'd ever want to admit.
I don't know what I'm going to do about this. I'm not certain if there's anything I can actually do, really, but I don't want to give up on this blog. I've let people drive me from other blogs and potential blogs. They've guilted me for getting another muse or paying attention more to one muse than another or when I don't reply immediately, and that's what it feels like people are doing here when they send me things like:
"When are you going to be replying to our threads? I'm not trying to rush you. It's just I'm really excited about our thread and would love to continue and see how _____ and Derek's relationship grows."
Yes, that is a message I've gotten (a couple of times) from a partner of mine. I've also had a few close people attack me on this and pretty much made me feel even worse about all of this than I already did.
(And for the one person I know who's reading this and thinking about some rather recent and painful events, you weren't the first person to do this to me as of late. You were, simply put, the straw that broke the camel's back, so please, please, please don't feel like this is an attack on you.)
Guys, I don't want that to happen here. Derek was supposed to be my reprieve from that sort of thing, but he's tied with my Killian blog for this sort of treatment, and while I know you all mean well and are, for the most part, trying to be encouraging and flattering with the messages, the truth is that it's putting a lot of pressure on me because I want to make everyone happy, but making everyone happy is making me and mine miserable because I don't feel like I'm meeting all these expectations.
Really, I don't know what to do. I don't want to turn of anon because I've gotten a lot of really great anons, and I want people to be able to talk to me in whatever way they're comfortable with, even if that means having anonymity, but I might have to since most of my messages are from anons, and I know that'd be an easy way to get rid of a lot of the stress I'm feeling until I'm able to find my footing again.
I just---I don't know what to do, but I know I have to do something to prevent this happening, so please, until I can figure things out, bear with me. I've taken to copying all the things I owe so that I can hopefully write them out during my breaks from classes and generally be productive even when I'm not actually here.
To those I've been plotting with or who want to plot with me, I'm not putting any of that on hold. Just ask for my email address instead. It'll be the fastest and easiest way for us to continue working on plots and ideas and everything.
Kate raises an eyebrow. “Oh really, Lydia? Why don’t you stop telling me what you’d do and actually starting doing something about it. I know you’re not shy.”
To those tagged in this post---these are the people I remember plotting with, messaged, and haven't heard back from since last replying, so if you either never got anything or you sent something in response and I haven't responded, it's because Tumblr got hungry. If you still want to plot things, can you let me know? Because I don't want anyone to think I'm ignoring them. :/
Chris and Allison are away for the weekend, leaving the huntress all alone with the Argent bestiary and the arsenal. She's been patiently waiting for the day the two of them decide to let her off her leash. It's not like she came back from the dead needing a babysitter. She was a big girl, very capable of taking care of herself. But with that came a certain ability to get into trouble.
Kate knew from the moment she was risen from the ground that she wanted to get revenge on Peter. Almost every free moment she had was decided to coming up with the perfect plan. She was taking this slowly. No need to rush. That's where she messed up last time. Peter wasn't the only thing on Kate's mind. She'd become more and more interested in Lydia and what she could do, and of course it interested Kate even more to find out that Peter Hale was interested in the banshee.
Kate had sent the banshee a text acknowledging that she knew about Lydia's trouble with Peter. Kate proposed a beneficial partnership between herself and the banshee. She told Lydia to meet her in Chris's office is she was interested. The huntress eagerly awaited for a response of any kind as she browsed through the bestiary.
Isaac looked around his small apartment, cursing under his breath as he moved stuff around, making a general mess of it. He was barely on time, and he couldn't find the one thing he needed: his lucky bracelet. It was a simple band of brown leather with an I on it, but it had been the last gift from his mother, and he'd never lost a race while wearing it. It was his lucky charm. But it was nowhere to be found. He gave up after several minutes, leaving his apartment looking like a tornado had run by.
The moment he sat in his car, however, he saw the bracelet tied to the steering wheel, a small note along with it. 'You left it in my car, douchebag - S'. Scott, his best friend and Alpha. Oh, right, they'd gotten drunk off their asses the previous night - wolvesbane laced vodka -, and they'd ended up sleeping it off in Scott's car. He smiled as he put on the bracelet, then started the car.
This was probably the most important race of his life. The guy who had challenged him, Jackson, was the biggest opponent he'd ever met during his two-years long illegal racing career, and it didn't help that he was the kind of guy Isaac hated. He was arrogant, full of himself and just generally not a good person. And he was a werewolf. So Isaac needed to win this challenge, because it would have meant shutting him up for good, maybe even forcing him to change territory.
So when he drove through the worst neighbor in town, heading to the spot where the race was going to take place, and saw a quite expensive car on the side of the deserted street, he almost ignored it. Some idiot had ventured into the place without knowing what expected him, maybe looking for an adrenaline rush, and he was probably going to end up walking home. He slowed down, however, when he realized the car door was still open, and not far from it there was a girl, seemingly trying to defend herself against two guys. Isaac took a deep breath, looking at the clock on the dashboard, then sighed, cursing his damn conscience. If it had been a guy getting mugged, he could have lived with turning a blind eye, but he couldn't bring himself to ignore the fact that the girl could be in bigger danger than a simple mugging. He stopped the car and got out, quickly heading in their direction, just as one of the guys leaped towards her.
"Hey, pick on someone your own size, asshole," he called out, approaching.
