#not sure if this is helpful

[autumnslance]

I have a question! How do you get over a fear of writing and creating a character? I try to write but I start feeling anxious. My brain doesn’t want to come up with anything. Even trying to imagine a character in another series causes the anxiety. I know I should stop but I don’t like the idea of stopping as I feel like I’m failing.

Is it the creation, or the potentially sharing with others, that's actually scary? Is it what others may say? Is it feeling like what you might come up with isn't "good enough" in some way? Is it fear of a self-insert, or of being derivative? Feeling like you have to create characters and stories to be in fandom, rather than wanting to create for the sake of it?

A lot of times, it's our fear of how others might react or think that stops us. We're afraid of looking dumb, or oblivious, or otherwise Incorrect in some way, and that we'll be ridiculed or scorned for it. We're taught to fear failure and the judgment we think comes with it.

It's easy to say "kill the cop in your head" and "screw what others think, create for yourself" but it IS hard, if it's a point we want to even get to for ourselves.

So figure out what part of the process actually is scary. I guarantee it's not actually "all of it!" There's at least a ranking of "scariest" to "least scary but still nerve-wracking". Once named and acknowledged, and broken down, it's a little easier to tackle.

I made up stories and characters in my own head for years before I ever shared them with anyone. A teacher singling out my and another student's stories as meeting the mark of an assignment in completely opposite ways helped. Screwing up the courage to post to my high school's nascent lit journal was hard.

I was terrified. I was one of the weird kids constantly bullied or ignored. If people knew who I was, they didn't like me cuz I was awkward and unsociable. But I wanted to write, and adults I trusted who read the few things I actually turned in told me I was decent at it, so I did it scared anyway.

And nothing bad happened. Some folks thought my stories were OK. If they said anything at all.

It took me several years before I was able to post anything online. Some was access. Some was fear. Some was feeling like I didn't have characters or stories to share. I got into roleplay, online and in person. My characters were...well, LynMars, my usual handle, is from a Vampire LARP character I played over 20 years ago, and made a lot of baby roleplayer mistakes on. I did her dirty in many ways. She wasn't a good character. Had a basic screwed up backstory but no real goals or plans. I played her for a few years and learned a lot from her, and so she's stuck with me as a reminder.

Several of my characters from those days weren't great; unimaginative, derivative, some very much "wow I did not know better back then..." But...we had stupid goofy RP fun anyway, learned from those characters and each other, tried new things. Sometimes they worked. Sometimes they didn't. A lot of times it was nerve-wracking.

There's a lot I write that I don't post. Some because it isn't ready yet. Some because I'm not ready and don't know that I ever will be. It's scary. And some of that is the bully still in my head, and I know it, and some days that's easier to deal with than others. Some days I can tell the bully to screw off. Sometimes I keep those stories private, I tell myself as indulgences.

I give myself the grace to fail, and remind myself that doing it scared anyway is where many of us live every day.

Anxiety sucks. Even with meds and therapy, it doesn't entirely go away. Figuring out how to work around it, or through it, or even wrangle it into submission and work for oneself, is tricky and individual. But it doesn't own or define you and your creativity.

Start small. Start simple. Start for yourself and don't worry about sharing it yet. If making up a new character is hard, find a favorite canon character, marinate and rotate that blorbo in your brain awhile, then file the serial numbers off as you imagine them in What Ifs and AUs. Share only if and when you're ready, if it's a thing you want to actually do.

And you may not. You don't have to create anything to be part of fandom. You don't have to have OCs with full backstories and planned futures. You don't have to write or draw or screenshot stories. You can just vibe.

Find why you want/need to create. How much it means to you. Isolate what parts of creation and/or sharing are so scary. Figure out if it's something you personally truly want or need. Then you'll be able to chart your path forward, one way or another.

[kochei0]

I turn to Ares.

Thanks to Tyler Miles Lockett who allowed me to draw inspiration from his ARES piece for page 2! Look at his etsy page it's SICK

⚔️ If you want to read some queer retelling of arturian legends have a look at my webtoon

[marlynnofmany]

Add another one to the list of hilarious examples of why generative AI doesn't produce correct answers, just statistically likely ones.

(Customers asked for how-to videos, which the company doesn't have. The AI chatbot decided that a million internet users linking to this video after similar requests couldn't be wrong.)

[merrigel]

Everybody do the wenis!

Gif alt:

[canisalbus]

✦ Bread ✦

[hinamie]

mentor

[psychokatrixxxy]

Love when the Justice League thinks Batman is a cryptid. This believe is only further enhanced by the face his sidekick, Robin, is clearly a shapeshifter, what with changing their height, hair style, skin tone, and even gender.

Batman clearly thinks that by having Robin look different every couple of years, it will show that they aren't cryptids like it would if Robin didn't age.

But the Justice League is too smart for that. They figured it out! But they are good friends (colleagues) and won't spill Batman's secret, but they will drop hints to him that they know, to show that they are smarter than he gives them credit for (they aren't.)

-

When the batkids learn that the league thinks this, they start periodically going to the Watchtower with Bruce, taking turns dressed up as Robin.

The League is surprised as Robin seems to prefer taking the form of a child, perhaps to have villains underestimate them? But they just assume Robin is trying out something new.

The batkids definitely tell eachother about what was said/happened as to further sell the act of Robin being a shapeshifter, because clearly it has to be the same person, Robin knows what happened, so it couldn't of been someone else dressed as Robin.

[c-rowlesdraws]

Ratatouille would have been a better and potentially much more interesting story if Remy had partnered with Collette instead of Linguini. Two underdogs with talent and passion forced to maintain a dangerous ruse. Fiercely independent Collette giving up temporary control of her body to a creature who, despite the insanity of a rat wanting to cook professionally, she can relate to on a personal level and who she does want to teach. The inner conflict of wondering if Remy’s growing talents are eclipsing her own, if the praise their food is earning belongs more to him than to her. Her guilt over feeling resentment and jealousy towards this little guy who wouldn’t have a hope of realizing his talents if not for her trust and protection. Both of them unraveling the mystery of that sweet but bumbling kitchen boy with the obvious crush on Collette being Gusteau’s secret son, and working together to thwart the new evil owner’s plans to stop Linguini from claiming his birthright. The message of the movie not being this weird, almost smug “some people are born with talent, some people aren’t, and that’s how being a ~great artist~ works”, but something more like, “if you have a dream, you deserve to pursue it, and be supported and encouraged in your pursuit of it, even if other people tell you that, because of some intrinsic aspect of yourself or the circumstances you were born in (like being a human woman in the restaurant industry, or being a literal rat), you have no place pursuing this dream. Also, raw talent can only get you so far, and skill and passion existing in the right balance is key.” I’ve been thinking about this for seventeen years. I’m breaking my silence

[my-autism-adhd-blog]

I Need Screen Time at Night to Fall Asleep As an ADHDer

AJ’s Brain

[uncanny-tranny]

Fat people deserve mobility aids, too. No matter if it's connected to their fatness or not, because having a mobility issue that is connected to one's fatness won't change that they're still fat and still have the issue at hand. Fat people don't deserve to "tough it out" because fatness should be this divine punishment doled out to those who "deserve" it. Fat disabled people deserve to have the peace of mind that they can exist in whatever way is most comfortable and accessible to them

[3rdsday]

Tommy basically said "the DSMP was good because it was, and still is, loved" and that basically sums up my feelings on the matter too.

[jakeperalta]

letting celebrities think they can and should "use their platform" to speak on all current events and political issues regardless of how educated they are on them was a grave mistake

[cartoonsinthemorning]

Girl Help, I can't stop thinking about Stan's drifter years

[starry-bi-sky]

I am loudly pushing the batdad agenda i am loudly pushing the— DPxDC Prompt

“Woah. You look like shit."

Granted, that’s probably not the first thing Danny should be saying to the guy that just bit the curb, but in his defense; he’s not running on 100% right now either.

The man -- tall, towering, and broader than Danny is tall -- whips around on his heel, black frayed cape flaring out impressively. Danny would've whistled in appreciation, but he takes the time instead to wipe the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing the blood running from his nose across his cheek.

"Sorry." He blinks widely, not even flinching as the man with the horns zeroes in on him. "That was rude of me. I have a really bad brain-to-mouth filter; Sam says its what always gets me into trouble."

And she's not wrong either, per say. His smart mouth is what landed him in this situation -- with blood blossom extract running through his veins and cannibalizing the ectoplasm in his bloodstream. Thanks Vlad.

The man grunts at him; a short, curt "hm" that shouldn't make Danny smile, but he does because he's somewhat delirious and probably concussed. The man keeps some kind of distance, sinking towards the shadows of Gotham's alleyway like he dares to melt right into it.

If it's supposed to scare Danny, it doesn't work. Danny's never been afraid of the dark; he's always been able to hide himself in it. He blinks slowly at the mass of shadows.

"You look hurt." The shadows says, blurring together around the edges. Danny squints, and licks his lips to get the blood dripping down his chin off. Ugh, he hates the taste of blood.

"I am." He says, "My godfather poisoned me. M'dying." The agony of the blood blossom eating him from the inside out looped back around to numbing a while ago, so all he feels is half-awake and dazed.

"Hey," Danny stumbles forward towards the man, a bloodied hand reaching out to him. "You-- you're a hero, right? You're not attacking me; which is more than I can say for most costumed people I've met." Maybe it's a poor bar to judge someone at, but he's already established that Danny's not in his right mind.

The man makes no change in expression, but Danny realizes blearily that it's hard to tell with the shadows on his face. He stays still long enough for Danny to latch onto the cape -- stretchy, but almost soft under his fingers.

He looks up blearily into the whites of the man's eyes. "Can you help me? I don't-- I don't wanna die." Again. He doesn't wanna die again. He blinks slow and lizard-like. "I mean- I'll probably get to see mom and dad again, but I told them I'd at least try and make it to adulthood."

There's a clatter down the street, and Danny's ghost sense chills up his spine and leaves a bitter, ashy taste in his mouth. He immediately knows who it belongs to even before the deceptively gentle; "Daniel?" echoes down the way.

"Daniel? Quit your games, badger, Gotham is dangerous for children."

Danny's mouth pulls back, and blood spills against his tongue. "Please." He rasps, and grabs onto the shadow's cape with both hands. "Please. He's going to kill me. Please--"

"Daniel? Is that you?"

His lips part, dragging in air to plead with the darkness again. He doesn't need to, the whites of his eyes narrow, and the cape whirls around him before Danny can blink. Soon swaddled in shadows, the Night lifts him up, and steals him away.

[jaynovz]

if yall ever want like serious advice from me about how to solve burnout as a creative it's like...

literally ignore it. stop pushing. go do something else, enjoy your life, fill it with other things, do what brings you joy in the moment if you can.

go to the gym, take a walk to touch grass and look at dogs and smell flowers, cook dinner, watch tv with your friends, talk about your feelings as needed with ppl you trust, take a drive and blast your music, do the chores you need to do, the job hunting slog you need to do, read books that aren't for research, stop cordoning off your brain for The Craft or The Draft or whatever the fuck

forget about the project, stop thinking about it for as long as it takes to be excited again.

fuckin rest, basically

[drulalovescas]

There were two recliners. And two beers between the recliners. TWO. And Sam didn't know about the Dean Cave. He had no idea. But Cas knew. CAS KNEW--