#wrote this in a fit of venting recently

[daughterofhecata]

Have some Bob with unhealthy coping mechanisms.

[swordoffrivolousthings]

Rick Riordan has no scale for what it means to give characters positions of power or influence

I have seen a trend recently while thinking about the positions of power in PJO and HOO and who occupy them. A post that I can't find again also has breached this topic on a much smaller scale, so credit to them. (I'll try to find them and tag them.)

What I mean by positions of power and/or influence is this: positions from where a demigod has the ability to control organisations (i.e. the Hunters of Artemis and Camp Jupiter) or influence how and why things are done in a certain way (i.e. Annabeth's redesigning of Olympus and Jason's designing some of the other gods' cabins).

The first example is THALIA and how, upon becoming a hunter for Artemis, she is instantly catapulted to the top of the chain. Artemis bestows upon her the role of Lieutenant of Artemis. She is Artemis's second in command if the goddess herself isn't present.

But what does Thalia know of the inner workings of the Hunt? Next to nothing, because until a few days before, she hated them and what they stood for. She gets over her hate, which is part of her development, but it doesn't make her any less informed. One can't speculate that at some point she and Zoë have talked about the Hunt, because we have no hint of that happening in the books. One can headcanon that they'd had such a conversation, but we are speaking about canon. So she is blind. That would be fine, because she is a newbie, and has time to learn.

But no. Riordan gives her the most important place a hunter can occupy in the hierarchy. Why? The way I see it is Riordan decided that now that Thalia's completed her arc, she needs a physical reward. But going by book logic, I would also assume that Artemis was displaying some major nepotism. Because look, that is her sister, and she is in a meeting with daddy and she'd already crossed a line when interacting with her father. (I mean that she wants to reward the heroes while Zeus, most probably, just sees what they did as their duty and not something to be rewarded.) So Artemis boosts her sister up in the hierarchy so she wouldn't slight Zeus again.

Also, we've been ignoring the fact that there are far more experienced and reliable huntresses in the Hunt. Some of them have been with Artemis for many, many years bordering on millennia.

Next up is ANNABETH, about who I've already vented my frustrations, but let me say it again: Annabeth, while inspired by architecture and wanting to be an architect, is not trained and has no experience with it besides a few books and what I can assume is trying her hand at drawing potential projects. She isn't fit to redesign Olympus and certainly not able to think about all the facets of what it would entail, because she doesn't have the practical knowledge and the studies.

Yet Riordan writes it so that the gods offer her the opportunity to redesign their city state (is Olympus considered a city state??? Because it's what I've been thinking of it as). Why so? Because she has survived the war? (not like he was going to kill her, and I didn't think he would do it at any point in TLO.) And therefore she should get what she wanted besides all the PTSD and other disorders that most survivors get?

Because this is what I see.

We already know that the structure within Camp Jupiter is hinging on the child soldiers they train. The Senate is made out of centurions and ghosts and older citizens of New Rome, and we weren't shown that there had ever been adult Praetors. This is what Riordan intended, because this is what he wrote.

But it begs the question, why have REYNA and JASON specifically done to be awarded the position of Praetor that early in their lives? We are told that they went on at least a quest together, so they must have been pretty close before being made partners, and they seem to have worked well together.

We know that Reyna is a highly capable leader and managed to lead Camp Jupiter on her own for roughly 6 months. Jason was raised as a leader, so it is natural to assume that he knew how things worked. But that doesn't show why they were specifically chosen, especially after such a big conflict.

Just because Jason defeated a Titan single-handedly, it doesn't mean that there weren't any more capable hands for the duty to fall on. Also, has Reyna's POV ever revealed why she was chosen? Because I can't remember.

What I mean to say is that there were other, adult, people for the reasonability to fall back on. Because there had been said to be adults in the Senate. But Riordan, like before, has decided that the duty should fall on hormonal teenagers that have dumb ideas (not referring to Jason and Reyna, but more like stereotyping) instead of the adults. The excuse that demigods older than late teens and early twenties doesn't exist in New Rome. And don't tell me that not one of those people would take the duty, because there is shown to be influence and political power associated with being Praetor.

Alongside this, lets go to PERCY. Riordan decided that the Romans would raise Percy as Praetor because they'd seen him fight and the fact that he kind of saved their asses. Cool, I could understand this reasoning if the Romans had more time to get to know him. Because Percy's great! but he still is a child of Neptune, who they don't trust, and they don't trust him, because he was there for only a few hours a few days ago.

There is no basis on which to raise him straight from probation to praetorian-ship.

But Percy saved them! So Riordan decided, against all common sense, that he should get a position of power somewhere he knows next to nothing about, because of plot reasons and drama. Why couldn't Percy have just been seen as a great help and on that the Romans would build their trust upon him? To start to value his opinion?

But the plot of HOO moves so fast is was no room to take a breath and let things unfold naturally. So Riordan gives political and military powers to characters willy-nilly because it will help the story along.

Again to JASON, the cabin design things is the same as Annabeth's, so there is nothing to really say again. Other then the fact that they parallel each other in this way, and not in the good way when talking about writing.

Riordan has no scale of what it means when he gives his characters power and authority where they hadn't achieved it. He gives them upgrades in authority as a way to pay them for their good behaviour and character development, or simply because he hadn't thought all the way through what their positions would entail, and their ramifications.

I hope that I made a great job at explaining what I wanted. If you didn't understand what I said at some point, please do reach out. I can talk about this for a while.

[drconstellation]

The Altar of Eccles Cakes

(updated 21 Oct 2023, for Grain Offerings example) (updated 21 Nov 2023, for link to First Temptation)

The mysterious plate of Eccles cakes. Are they really to "calm people down?' And why do they just ...disappear? They must be there for a reason?

Yes, they certainly are. They are just the first course of a fascinating meal on offer in S2.

So far, most of the meta around the Eccles cakes has focused on the meaning of their name. Eccles is an old name for church. We could view it as Aziraphale trying to calm Crowley down. They are also known as "squashed fly cakes." The white outside and the black inside could be seen as a metaphor relating to Gabriel. Or it hints at the Roger the Stunt Fly, that contain Gabriel's memories, flying around the book shop, who's purpose we don't find out about until the end. There is even a link to the 1650 Sorry Dance that Aziraphale mentioned, in that were banned by Oliver Cromwell for being pagan! (Did I get that right? I've not kept the post link.)

[Edit: They also represent the First Temptation as Jesus fasts in the wilderness for 40 days before the Entry into Jerusalem at the start of the Passion narratives, where bread was made from stones.]

Take another look at the blocking in this shot. The dark horse statue, representing Crowley - even wearing his sunglasses! - has the placating plate of Eccles cakes placed before it, in supplication. Yeah, it didn't work this time, but it's the thought that counts. What we have here is Aziraphale making an Sin offering to the altar of Crowley, to ask for atonement in advance for what he has done (taking Gabriel in.)

Once you frame it in that reference, you realize its not the only altar offering made during S2. It also adds a bit more depth to some of the other scenes, where they have all been mentioned already in some way, but it certainly helps to explain the Eccles cakes!

Firstly, we need to mention the main types of altar offering that are made:

Burnt offerings - for general atonement of sins and for expression of devotion to God. It could be a bull, a ram, goat, or a bird in the form of a dove or pigeon. Such as this magnificent example in the Job minisode.

Aziraphale certainly devoted himself to the sin of gluttony on that occasion. (hang on, that didn't come out the right way, did it...?) But he was still devoted to God, despite his nocturnal conversation with Crowley while they waited out the storm in the cellar.

Grain offerings - a voluntary expression of devotion to God. This was grain prepared in different way, but always seasoned, unsweetened and unleavened. Recall at Gomorrah Lot offered to prepare the visiting angels unleavened bread as part of a meal.

Originally when I wrote this post I didn't think I had any Grain offering examples, but a few days later as I was writing my post on The Ineffable Ducks I realized where the missing S2 Grain offering was - in S2E1, when Crowley yells at the Azerbaijani spies in St James Park. The ducks are usually offered bread, which is leavened with yeast, so technically not quite correct, but when you review all the instances of feeding the ducks crumbs or bread crumbs it certainly fits. Unless you are Crowley, and you'd rather have the current state of quiet "frozen peas" between Heaven and Hell. See my Ineffable Ducks post for an elaboration.

Peace offering - This could be cattle, sheep or goat without defect, but the main purpose to was consecrate a meal between two or more parties before God and share that meal in a fellowship of peace and commitment to each other's future prosperity.

You know where we see one of these? At the eldritch ball!

I did see a nice meta about the vol-au-vents recently, mainly about their name, but I don't seem to have saved it, and can't find it again. They are usually filled with chicken (a bird) and the eldritch ball is ostensibly the shopkeepers monthly meeting, after all, where they are there to talk about their mutual prosperity in the future. Just so happens its also an opportunity for Aziraphale to talk to Crowley about their future...oh, and Nina and Maggie's, as well, of course!

Sin offering - atonement or unintentional sin. It would have the elements of a Burnt offering, as well as a Peace offering, but not be shared. These are what the plate of Eccles cakes are, so they were never meant to be eaten. They were an olive branch to Crowley regarding Gabriel, but he turned it down. So they softly and suddenly vanish away, never to be met with again.*

There is one more altar offering that needs to mentioned, another Sin offering. The one Crowley consumed in Elspeth's place in The Resurrectionists minisode in 1832 Edinburgh - the laudanum.

It pretty clear to most observers that Crowley did a good and "kind deed" for Elspeth here, which angered Hell in the process and then he was dragged forcibly downstairs to be duly punished for it. There is a post here from atlas-hope that suggests this is a parallel of Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane, drinking the cup of God's wrath to absolve Christians of their sins. They point out the laudanum is even poured into a goblet. Crumbs, that's a hefty bit of spiritual lifting, dear demon. What were you thinking, Anthony J. Crowley? It might cast that conversation you had with the carpenter back on the mountain in a new light, or least make us look back twice at it. (Plenty of time for contemplation before S3 arrives...)

Remember, a Sin offering has elements of both a Burnt offering and a Peace offering: a giant Crowley gets Elspeth to promise to devote the rest of her life to being "properly good, not just pretendy good" and the money Aziraphale is forced to donate to her ensures her future prosperity. Sounds like a win-win situation there, Elspeth!

[*OK, if you don't get the ref, its from the Hunting of the Snark. The Snark represents happiness, a most elusive thing to find, and more often than not its a fruitless search, and you find the terrible Boojum instead. During the third verse the Baker recounts the lecture his uncle gives him about how to hunt the Snark, and to be aware of his fate if he is unlucky enough to encounter a Boojum. It kind of fits in with S2, I feel.]

[wooahaes]

hii this is maybe a little random but i'm having a bit of a rough night and it got me wondering if you have any favorite comfort fics among the ones you have written (or read, for that matter, i'm just a sucker for your writing)

hi anon im really sorry this is late and i hope your night got a little bit better :( but i'll still throw some recs out!!

very very long, but [under the sun] itself always gives me comfort? something about the world just feels very cozy and i've heard from other people they consider it a comfort fic. i don't think you Have to read the initial parts to understand the individual parts (it gives world-building + reader gets dubbed 'mouse' there as a nickname that pops up throughout individual fics), but i personally think seokmin, jun and joshua have some of the more softer parts personally? jun's does have to deal with reader getting injured, so heads up for that.

i wrote the hyung line [comforting reader when they're upset] earlier this year. its very short and sweet, but it fits what you're looking for.

most recently, i had a maknae line fic [to be together (even when it's hard)] since i was going through a bad bout of depression and wanted the comfort.

there's also a full group drabbles post of comforting them which is kinda in the same vein, but its just a lot of [holding them].

this ones admittedly not very inclusive but on the off chance its what ur dealing with, i wrote a vernon fic while i was dealing with some accidental biphobia from a friend. everythings all good now, but i needed the comfort, so i expanded on a nonranghaes drabble i wrote and made it into [of your choosing].

[taste of love] isnt explicitly a comfort fic but its very comforting imo? its longer, but its a sweet jun fic that focuses on the connection that food can bring to people <3

[to heal together] is a jeonghan fic where its kinda mutual comfort

[to weather together] is another short fic for jun that involves comfort and cuddling and him supporting reader as they cry :0

[call on me] is a dino fic where he comforts fem!reader after her family forgets about the promise they made her

[i need an angel's hand] is a more personal comfort fic where cheol comforts fem!reader while she's dealing w fears of abandonment n so forth. its personal, but its out there for anyone who relates and needs it

for nonranthaes stuff: personal but cheol being there for reader when they decide to drop out of grad school

wonwoo comforting reader who is a victim of sexual assault

joshua holding reader as they cry

married fic of reader comforting cheol over weight gain that he's a little self conscious of

personal but vernon comforting reader who has an abusive parent

vernon fic where readers happy to have a loving relationship after having shitty ones in the past

jihoon listening to reader vent and being there for them

jun comforting reader after he finds them upset

lovey dovey soonyoung being patient and kind

in the same vein as the svt maknae line fic, there's a short 3racha fic [a little less daunting] that's also comfort.

there's a poly minsung fic [reassurance] that deals with reader getting comforted while they're dealing with some stress from work that impacts them in other places in their life.

this has a fem!reader since its from my bday fics this year, but [i'm just lonely, someone reach out and hold me] is a jisung fic where reader gets comforted after other ppl forgot her bday.

i feel like i have way more comfort on nonranghaes so:

platonic chris fic where he holds reader and comforts them

platonic chris fic where reader feels like they're 'behind' on life things

short felix fic where he's ready to comfort reader

lee know comforting reader during an anxiety attack

jisung comforting reader after someone accidentally made a comment that really hurt them at a party

lee know comforting reader while they have a bad headache

unfortunately i dont really have anything for trsr/golcha or mark lee (i havent written anything else for nct yet unfortunately skdfhsf so its just. mark.)

fic recs!!! for stuff from the same author i'll @ them once and do a little ^^ to mean its from the same writer <3

@jinkoh reader drops an egg and vernon comforts them. very cute, can confirm <3

^^ ex-boyfie wonwoo helping reader who is going through panic attack bc mans would come running i just KNOW it. very soft and sweet <3

@hoshologies's woozi fic w reader dealing with mental health problems and jihoon helping/comforting them. very very tender <3

my beloved livvie @husbandhannie's jeonghan fic where reader is in a toxic work environment

my beloved savv @savventeen's cheol drabble about reader feeling safe w cheol

i truly need to read a lot more tbf but all of these come from my recs tag!! most of what i read is pure fluff imo but these are the more comforty ones <3

i hope this helps!! sorry again for getting to this late anon :( <3 my sleep schedule is thrown out of wack bc of thanksgiving unfortunately...

[monstrousvoice]

Goodbye

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Relationship: Alastor/Vox, Radiostatic, Background Radiostatic

Tags: Background Relationships, Background Radiostatic, it’s there it's just not the main focus, Pre-Relationship, Personal Fic, Vent Fic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Loss of a Pet, Vark hasn’t made an appearance in the official show and that had me thinking, Angst, Bittersweet Ending, basically I push all my emotions onto Vox and have Alastor deal with it, Shark Facts, Vox is autistic about sharks like me because I said so

Summary: Alastor decides to spend the night people watching and comes across Vox instead.

AN: So as of me posting this, in less than 24 hours I will be saying goodby to my cat. I got her at 6 months old and have had her in my life for 17 years and 11 months. And now it's time for me to say goodbye to her and I’ve known it was coming for months now. So I wrote this. I don’t know why, it just helped a little.

Read on AO3!

When Alastor decided to spend his night people watching, he preferred to go to various bars and dance clubs around the Pentagram. The itch to maim and kill would arise and he'd sneak off to follow his prey for the night, but occasionally when these moods hit him he simply preferred to sit and observe. 

Tonight was one of those moods, the ravenous hunger that gnawed at him was sated for the evening and he was feeling rather…nostalgic might be too strong a word to describe the feeling, but it was the most fitting that came to mind. It would explain why he chose the establishment he did for this night. It was a familiar bar bordering Cannibal Town, and one he hasn't been to visit since…well, for quite some time. 

The building was still the same as it had been for decades, with the same worn leather booths and easy going atmosphere very few bars offered in hell. When Alastor stepped through the front door, he could have believed for a moment that he was back in a simpler time; a time where he didn't feel the oppressive weight of a collar around his neck, when the shark-toothed smile of his picturebox didn't cause such an ache in his chest-

He immediately abandoned that line of thought, focusing on the now to ground himself again. There were a few updates here and there in the building that caused cracks in his nostalgic memories. The floors had clearly been replaced recently, the hardwood stain free with fewer cracks from wear and tear. The far wall had a new coat of paint, and new framed paintings to go with it. The register at the bar was modern and electronic, and there was even a TV at the corner of the bar. 

Alastor did a double take, blinking owlishly for a few seconds before his face settled back into his trademark, unbothered smile. That was no regular TV.

Vox sat in the far corner of the bar top, eyes lidded and a soft frown on his screen. His right hand held his head up as he leaned listlessly against the counter, his left hand hovering over his glass of whiskey, pointer claw circling the rim idly. Now that he saw him, Alastor picked up the familiar feeling of static and electric frequencies that always announced the presence of the television. No doubt he had picked up on Alastor's presence as well.

A spark of glee went off in Alastor’s chest. A night teasing and provoking his old friend for attention was not how Alastor thought this night would go, but he wasn't about to complain. As he understood it, Vox rarely actually left Vee Tower these days, so buried by work and ingrained in his cameras and electronics as he was. To find him idling the night away in what was their hang out spot back in the day was a real treat indeed! 

Paying no mind to the other patrons of the building-they didn't matter anymore, not when Vox was here-Alastor made his way to the empty spot next to where the television demon sat. He still hadn't looked up from the bar counter, and Alastor noticed his phone lying in front of him. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Silly picturebox, he always got so wrapped up in work he couldn't even relax properly. Well, a good verbal spar, possibly followed by a physical one, would do the shark wonders, he was sure. And if Alastor got to bask in his rival’s undivided attention in return, then that was his business. 

“Vox, old pal! What a surprise!” His voice was cheerful and not entirely false. After seven years of not seeing the demon’s familiar shark grin, Alastor had been surprised at himself by how much he missed it. Not even the hurt from years before could dim the pleasant feeling that had flooded his veins when he walked through town and saw Vox taunting him on live television. It was exhilarating to have so much of the TV’s focus on him once again. 

He couldn't wait for those red and blue eyes to look up at him - annoyed, surprised, angry, it didn't matter. As long as Vox was looking at him-

His words got no response. Alastor’s left eye twitched, his smile tightening at the corners as he pressed in closer to the media demon's personal space. 

“Vox? Helloooo?” Still nothing. “You are being awfully rude, old friend. I suppose with all your upgrades, manners must have been lost somewhere along the way, hmm?” Static laced his voice, his only tell that the lack of attention was irritating him. He waited, bent over Vox's shoulder, eager for a response. 

Finally he was given one. Vox’s shoulders rose and fell with a deep, weary sigh. His gaze still locked on his phone. 

“Go away Alastor.” He rumbled. Well that simply wasn't going to happen. Vox still hadn't looked at him yet. With narrowed eyes Alastor peeked down at the phone, annoyed at whatever could have his picturebox so enamored. 

His eyebrow raised in curiosity. It wasn't work that Vox was staring at, it was a picture. Or rather, pictures. The TV was clearly using wireless commands on his phone to flick between picture after picture saved to the device, all of them with the main center point being his beloved pet land shark. 

“My, my, is that Vark? He's gotten rather big!” The radio demon commented. Even with his dislike for dogs, the land shark had been an exception to this rule, much like Vox has been an exception to every other rule Alastor had ever set for himself.

The shark demon's left hand stopped playing with his glass, slamming against the bar top as he finally-finally-looked at Alastor. 

“Fuck off, Alastor. I'm not in the mood.” He growled. His massive teeth were bared in his direction, his left eye swirling in apparent irritation. And yet despite the outburst, Alastor could see that he wasn't truly angry. 

With a clear up-close view of his screen, Alastor could see the stress on the demon's face, could see the lack of fire in his eyes when Alastor poked at his buttons. Eyes darting down, he took in the rest of the media mogul’s appearance. His bowtie was undone around his collar, vest slightly wrinkled, the sleeves of his undershirt unbuttoned and rolled up to his elbows.

He looked disheveled, stressed. Tired. 

Very interesting. 

“Now my old friend, what could have you so out of sorts on such a fine night? A less than perfect appearance in public? Very unlike you.” Alastor couldn't keep the purr from his voice. Vox always had a way of making his softer side bubble up to the surface…

Vox scoffed and rolled his eyes, taking a sip from his whiskey before looking back at his phone. As if Alastor hadn't even interrupted his apparent brooding. The flickers of irritation Alastor felt before were changing, morphing into discontent and genuine concern. This was very unlike the Vox he knew. 

He sat on the empty stool beside Vox, pleased when the action got an irritated twitch from the demon's left hand. He wasn't able to ignore him completely it would seem. Alastor brought his elbows up to the bar top, lacing his fingers together and resting his chin on the link they made. Vox’s gaze darted towards him, his frown turning into a scowl very briefly before he flicked his attention back to the pictures of Vark.

“If I didn't know any better, I'd say something happened to darling Vark to get you into such a state.” He prodded, not all together unkind. Even with the years of animosity between them, there were unspoken rules to their interactions. Jabs and insults were superficial and shallow, about their work or preferred aesthetics. Meant to annoy and vex but not actually hurt. If something genuinely distressing has happened to Vark, Alastor would take great care to not use it as future ammo.

Vox glared at him, confusion clear in his gaze. 

“What do you care? I'm surprised you even fucking remember his name…” Alastor blinked in response. 

“My dear, why would I not remember him? I was there when you found the mongrel and insisted on keeping him!” Alastor’s brow furrowed in confusion, smile close lipped as he took in Vox’s words. How could Alastor not remember that night? 

Vox had gone with him to one of Rosie's soirees. He had charmed many of the local cannibal residents with his quick wit and sharp smile. Alastor had been a confusing mix of pride at how much attention his dear friend had been receiving, and jealous that he hardly had a single moment of Vox's undivided attention the whole evening. It was when Susan had started fawning over the TV that Alastor had excused them both, his limit for the night reached. Alastor had walked Vox back to his apartment block, arm in arm, as the shark talked and talked, words as electric as the very power he controlled. He had been so giddy, asking Alastor in every way except words if he had done a good job that night, made a good impression on the community Alastor held so dear. 

It was a tiny squeak from an alleyway that stopped the demon's excited chatter. Vox froze, stopping Alastor too due to their locked arms. Alastor had been certain it was just a random sinner, high out of their mind and possibly overdosing, not that he cared much. They would regenerate by morning, he had reminded Vox. But the silly tv had shaken his head, insisting it was something different. He had pulled away from Alastor and gone into the alley, and Alastor had ‘tsk’ed but followed, only to see Vox crouching over a box. 

The look he had given Alastor then…wide eyes hopeful and pleading, clearly enamored by whatever he found, had made Alastor’s heart skip a beat and pound against his chest. He knew right then that it didn't matter what it was, if Vox said he wanted to keep it, Alastor wouldn't have the strength to dissuade him.

Vox had taken his blazer off and scooped the contents of the box up, wrapping it snug and tight. Curious despite himself, Alastor had stepped forward to see better, and was greeted with the most pathetic looking creature he could recall ever seeing in hell.

Vark had been a small pup, massive eyes swollen shut with infection as he wheezed in Vox's arms. His gills were scarred and battered and his body much too thin. Alastor could clearly remember the way his skeleton pressed against the confines of his filthy skin. (Vox had later explained, in great detail, that they weren't actually bones made of calcium, but rather cartilage. The only ‘real’ bone sharks had was their jaws and teeth. Alastor had been drinking his tea, trying not to let how smitten he felt in the moment show. Then Vox had said that shark's skin was actually made of the same stuff as his own teeth - dentine - and not actual skin, and Alastor had been so startled by the information he couldn't help but laugh.)

By the way Vox was cooing over the small creature wrapped like a burrito in his arms, Alastor correctly guessed that the demonic shark pup would be a permanent fixture of Vox's life moving forward. 

“The pairs of wingtips I had to replace when that pup started teething…” Alastor sighed, rolling his eyes with fondness that he only let a select few, Vox being one of them, see. “Although he is much bigger now than back then. He used to barely be able to reach your knee when on his back legs!” He chuckled, signaling to the bartender with a wave of his hand.

Vox simply stared at him in surprise as he ordered his three fingers of rye. He still didn't say anything about what had him so upset, and the two of them sipped from their drinks in silence for a few minutes. Alastor was content to sit and wait till the tv finally spoke again. He didn't have to wait long. 

“Why the fuck are you here Alastor? Why do you care why I'm here?” Vox glared at him, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You fucking hate me.”

Alastor choked on his next sip, the burning alcohol getting stuck in the back of his throat as his mind scrambled. Quickly trying to save face, he covered his mouth with a hand, coughing and clearing his throat as discreetly and quickly as he could. Vox looked like he wanted to laugh for a moment, before the general malaise of his thoughts settled over him again. Alastor's voice still sounded a little choked when he spoke again. 

“M-my dear-what-” He took a moment to compose himself again. “What ever gave you that impression?”

Vox looked at him like he grew a second head, indignant and offended. 

“The fuck do you mean, ‘what gave me that impression’!? Alastor. We almost killed each other.” There was the familiar fire in his eyes. Alastor was glad to see it back.

“Oh please, the occasional brawl is nothing for us! An exhilarating battle to get the blood pumping.” He responded, his smile turning eager at the thought. Vox always looked so very pretty when upset…Not as pretty as when he was flustered and shy, to be certain, but Alastor hasn't had a chance to see those wonderful expressions in quite some time…

Vox looked at him with wide eyes, mouth open in shock like a gaping fish. It was rather cute.

“I asked you to join me.” Alastor opened his mouth to respond only for Vox to keep going. “Fuck Alastor, I was in love with you.” He closed his mouth with a sharp ‘click’, staring at the TV demon. 

“You made it very clear you don't feel the same. You said ‘no’, and left. How else am I supposed to take that!?” Vox's voice was laced with static, his left eye swirling again as sparks shot between his antennae.

“Ah…I believe my dear friend…that there was a miscommunication.” Alastor watched as Vox's face went through a slew of emotions, many negative, before settling on confusion and hurt. 

“...What?”

“My dear, I had to leave no matter what. A partnership was never an option for me at the time. I was under the impression I had made that clear.” His voice was soft, red eyes watching the tv next to him. 

“I thought…the way you left, I thought it was because of-of how I felt-” Vox's voice was practically a whisper as he spoke. “I thought you hated me for it…”

Alastor felt his chest ache, realization of how Vox had felt during that time crashing into him hard, like a punch to the gut.

“Vox, my leaving and rejection of your partnership had nothing to do with emotions. Nor should it be taken as a declaration of how I felt towards you at the time. I…truly did not intend for my rejection to be so harsh that it could be taken in such a way.”

Vox looked away from him, setting his elbows on the bar top and cradling his screen in his claws. Alastor took another sip from his rye, giving the other a moment to compose himself. 

It was only a few moments later that Alastor realized Vox was trembling. He placed his drink down, and subtly used his shadows to darken the corner of the room they were in. In the next few moments he was glad he had done so, as the first few tears fell from Vox’s screen. Alastor leaned in closer, his smile strained.

“Vox…?”

“What the fuck…” His voice was barely audible, the words spoken with a shuddering inhale of breath. Alastor felt something worm its way into his gut, slimy and viscous, choking him from the inside out. Vox crying was something he had only ever seen once before, and now with new context added to the situation, he could understand why his rejection all those years ago had caused them. He wasn't sure what about his words had caused them this time. 

He laid a gentle hand on Vox's shoulder, and the other jumped at the feeling. Alastor pulled his hand away as if burned, shocked at the raw hurt and pain he saw on Vox's screen. The shark shuddered as more of his tears fell.

“I-I can't d-d-do this right now, Al-Alastor…I can't do this t-tonight-!” He hiccuped, and Alastor's own expression turned pained, smile strained and trying to pull down against the invisible stitches lining it. 

“Vox…?” His voice was gentle as he called the other’s name. Vox's eyes darted down to his phone. Alastor followed his gaze before looking back at his face. Vox’s eyes were wide and glitching ever so slightly, fat blue tears leaking down his face in rivulets and collecting on the edge of his monitor before falling to the table.

“Do you th-think it's fucking-...fucking funny!? Is that why you're here now!?” Vox gave a humorless chuckle that choked into a quiet sob, burying his face in his hands. Any other sound he would have made was muffled, only the shaking of his shoulders revealing that he was still upset. Alastor’s eyes darted around the room quickly, looking to see if anyone had noticed the apparent breakdown happening next to him. Only the bartender met his gaze, simply raising an eyebrow and nodding towards Vox, then the bottles of booze lining the wall next to him. Alastor shook his head, Vox didn't need more alcohol clouding his judgment.

“My old friend, I'm afraid I don't entirely follow.” If he could frown, he would do so right now. “I would think clearing up this misunderstanding would be excellent news! Why are you so upset-?” 

“Just-! Stop. S-stop talking, dammit…” The television's voice cracked with emotion, head still buried in his hands. Alastor felt truly lost. He was never very good at the ‘comforting others’ business, a power his mother had in spades that he never quite got the hang of himself. It hadn't ever been a problem in the past when it came to him and his picturebox; Vox was prone to anger over sadness when things in Hell became difficult, but on the occasions he was genuinely upset…Well, at the time all Alastor had to do was place his hand on the shark demon's back and that would be enough. Vox would be grounded by his touch and come back to him, tired but good as new. 

Considering the revelation of the night, Alastor was pretty certain such touch would be unwelcome right now. 

“...Fuck. You really have just-...the worst f-fucking timing, don't y-you.” Those wide, expressive eyes were back on him. Despite the fresh tear tracks, the ragged and heavy breathing, the pain in Vox’s face…Alastor still felt his insides grow warm and mushy at having all of Vox's attention on him still. 

He wasn't sure how to respond to the other's words, so he took a sip of his drink instead. 

Vox heaved a bone-deep, shuddering sigh, shaking his head gently. He took a slow sip of his own drink, and Alastor's eyes were glued to the motion of his throat as he swallowed. There was a lull between them, one that had Vox opening and closing his mouth several times. Just when Alastor thought the TV would speak, he'd stop himself, taking another sip of liquid courage as he thought.

Alastor sat and waited. 

“Vark…” Vox took a deep breath, suddenly leaning backwards and scrubbing his hands over his face hard enough his screen distorted into rainbow pixels before clearing up. As if said hands were suddenly made of lead, Vox dropped them into his lap, eyes fixed on a point in the ceiling. He blinked once, twice…and more tears pooled at the corners of his eyes. The fat water droplets raced silently down the television's face. He didn't bother trying to wipe them away. 

So Alastor reached a hand up and used his own thumb to do so. Vox startled, face snapping in Alastor's direction with shock written all over his expressive face. Concerned and confused as he was, Alastor couldn't help but file yet another pretty face Vox made into his memory to think about later. Out of all the crying faces the Radio Demon has seen in his long after life, Vox’s was by far the prettiest. 

The TV sighed after a moment, eyes fluttering shut as he leaned further into Alastor's palm, his own hand coming up to grip at the deer demon's wrist. 

“...Vark passed yesterday.” The words were muffled and quiet, so difficult to pick up Alastor’s ears twitched and strained just to catch the sound being whispered by his picturebox. He stiffened, back straightening when they finally registered. 

“He…?”

“He was old.” Vox whispered. His lips pressed against the warm skin of Alastor's palm with every word. “He was tired, and in pain. He lived for so many years…” Another painful breath in, shoulders trembling as Vox tried to speak. 

“I couldn't-...I couldn't watch him suffer anymore Al…I couldn't do it-'' A choked noise left him, a sound that came from deep in his chest. Alastor felt a pain in his chest, a sharp sting that made his brow furrow and his stomach ache. His strong, clever, independent picturebox…looking broken hearted and sad…

“My dear, I'm so sorry…” he whispered. It was all he could do. He kept his hand where it held Vox's face, moving his free hand to the demon's other cheek. Cradling his screen like it was the most delicate, fragile thing in all of hell. 

Vox gave another quiet sob in response, head bowing as he leaned further into Alastor's space. The deer simply moved with him, adjusting his hold to let the television rest his screen on his chest, wrapping his arms tight around the others shoulders. Vox's own claws gripped the back of his coat, holding on like Alastor was the only thing grounding him to reality. 

“H-he's gone-he's f-fucking gone and I d-don't…I fucking miss him so much Alastor…” Vox cried into his chest and Alastor bit his tongue to keep his own emotions in check. This was not the place for such honesty. No one else should have the privilege to see his shark demon so vulnerable. Without a second to waste his shadows curled over the two of them, melting and carrying them far away from prying eyes and ears.

Barstools were replaced with the soft cushion of a mattress under them, the sound of rowdy patrons and jazz melted away to the silence of Alastor’s room at the hotel. He felt Vox freeze where he held him, muscles tensing up as if to attack or run. When Alastor simply continued to hold him, Vox relaxed by slow degrees. His breathing still came in choked whimpers and restrained sobs. The only thing Alastor could think to do to help calm him was to reach a hand up and gently play with an antenna. 

The television demon jumped in surprise, but he did not move away. Instead, he gripped Alastor tighter, cyan claws gripping him like he would be torn away any second. The deer let him without complaint, his own eyes slipping closed as he held his darling picturebox in a way he hadn’t in decades. Did Vox miss this as much as he did? Did those two colleagues of his give him the attention Alastor knew he craved? Abandonment issues were Vox’s biggest weak point; and now Alastor knew that his main support system, his beloved Vark, was no longer there for him.

Alastor realized suddenly that he would never get to see the pup again either, and bit his bottom lip at the sorrow that swept over him at the thought. He may not be very fond of pets himself, but Vark had still wiggled his adorable shark butt into Alastor’s tight group of things he cared about, and he would truly miss him. He decided Vox should know this.

“He was a truly sweet creature my friend. You always did your best for him, I know.” 

Vox shuddered again at his words, a new wave of tears soaking through Alastor’s coat. He stamped down his immediate gut reaction of disgust. It would wash out. He could handle it. It was as he held Vox close and let the other calm down that he was struck with a sudden thought.

“When was the last time you ate, my friend?” 

Vox coughed, pulling away from Alastor to wipe uselessly at his tear stained face. His multicolored eyes stared off to the side, and Alastor was struck again by how…small he looked. Like the lightest wind could blow him away. Vox gave a barely perceptible shrug to his question. Alastor huffed, pushing lightly at the TV’s chest to stand up from the bed.

“I shall make you something. Sit here.” Vox’s eyes went wide and his hand reached out; as if to grab Alastor and pull him back in and never let him go, to hold him close. The deer demon shushed him, encouraging the other to stay still. “I’ll be but a moment my darling. Take some time to calm yourself, maybe even clean up a little. The bathroom is right through there.” He gestured towards the red wall at the beginning of his room where a door innocently sat before the wall fell away to the endless bayou scenery of his hometown. He pulled his coat off and held it out, his shadow plucking it from his fingers to be washed and dried later.

Vox bit his bottom lip but nodded, pushing himself further back onto the bed to lay comfortably against Alastor’s own hardly used pillows. The sight was one he thought he’d never see again; Vox causally on his bed, in his room, surrounded by his presence and scent. It made a dark possessive part of him hiss in joy. He was careful to ignore it. Now was not the time, Vox needed to be allowed to grieve. He would stake a claim on the television another time when Vox was in a better mindset.

He gave his shadows a silent instruction to watch the shark demon while he was away. With a step towards the door of his room he melted into shadow and stepped back out into the hotel kitchen. He was thankful the late hour meant no one was there to disrupt him. He needed to be done with this fast, to get back to his picturebox for the night. With practiced ease he whipped something up, a pan seared slab of meat (not sinner, he was careful to make sure) with some simple sauteed veggies on the side. He didn’t need anything fancy, just something tasty to get into Vox’s stomach before the shark withered away to nothingness.

When he stepped back inside his own room, two plates of food steaming, Vox was sitting right where he left him. The TV was staring out into the vast openness of his bayou, mismatched eyes darting from firefly to firefly as they flickered. His own coat was off, folded neatly on the edge of the bed with his shoes on the floor. Alastor was pleased he felt no reservations about making himself comfortable. He didn't speak, letting the peaceful sound of water lapping against the floor settle over them both. Alastor used a shadow tendril to drag his arm chair closer to the bed.

Before sitting, he held out Vox's plate. The television looked at him, gaze hollow and…so tired. It made his heart twinge in his chest. He gently pushed the plate into Vox's lax hands and settled down to eat next to him. In silence he ate, trying his level best not to stare at his companion or force feed him the dinner cooling in his lap. His patience was rewarded. 

Possibly encouraged by Alastor's eating, or perhaps he just couldn't ignore his body’s desire for sustenance any longer, Vox took his first slow bite. He chewed listlessly, eyes still fixed on the glowing fireflies hovering over swamp water. Every bite was still progress in Alastor's eyes. 

“I don't…want to go back to that empty apartment…” His voice was so soft, so quiet Alastor questioned if he had even heard the other at first. He didn't draw attention to the fresh tears dripping down Vox's screen.

“Then do not. You may stay as long as you wish.” Alastor replied. He continued to eat, even as Vox put his own unfinished plate aside. Alastor had a shadow move it from the unstable surface of the bed to one of his dressers to deal with later. Vox simply laid back against the pillows once more, tears leaking from his face but nothing else. Perhaps he was too tired to cry any longer. 

Alastor knew it wasn't going to be easy. Not for him, not for Vox. His picturebox wasn't going to be ‘okay’ for a while now. But as Vox’s screen finally powered down, Alastor found he was content with that.

[archipelago-siren]

I had to write my thoughts down and wanted to vent to the void. I wrote this last night after waking up at 3am from a dream that was very much *headfuck* and needed to finally format some of my processing.

I started identifying as being on the Aromantic spectrum last year, and got into a QPR just over a week after discovering what Aromanticism was. (Which in hindsight, I should have stood my ground and waited longer until doing so but nevermind)

Anyway, 2 simultaneous QPR's and a lot of trauma later I've been riding solo for over 4 months now and finally had that sexuality self evaluation that I've been wanting. Only now it's with more experience and awareness/knowledge of the Aromantic spectrum and community.

For the past year I've found comfort in my online Aro communities, specifically being AroAllo. I've found a niche little group of people who I can relate to and make me feel seen.

My evaluation and self reflection regarding my sexuality has made apparent something which hasn't taken me by surprise per say, but has definitely thrown a spanner in the works.

I realised very early on in my learning and journey that Aromantic and Asexual identities have parallel labels,

E.g. Lithromantic, Lithrosexual etc.

As I've been digging deeper into the rabbit hole that is sexuality microlabels, (because the Autism requires labels, irrelevant if I do or don't use them I needs them!) ((I just had gollum's voice in my head as I wrote that 😅)) I've unintentionally been learning a lot of specific asexual identities aswell.

Now, I've always had a complex relationship with my sexual attraction/sexuality surrounding sex, but for a long time just shoved it off as being because of growing up religious, sexual trauma, and just being wired a little bit differently.

The Asexual label never resonated with me because 1) I can experience sexual attraction and enjoy sex, and 2) my feelings on sexual attraction often change and fluctuate.

There had never been an on switch in my brain that went 'It me' and meant I compulsively had to go down a rabbit hole of finding my microlabels.

Until recently, sort of.

After a lot of self reflection I've come to realise I am somewhere on a very niche and obscure part of the Asexual spectrum. I don't know where, or exactly which labels specific to being on the Acespec I feel would fit just yet. This is causing me distress.

On the one hand I feel I will have a lot of mental stability and calm once I find my place, and a better understanding of myself going forward which will help me with, well, a lot.

On the other hand - I've grown attached to my AroAllo label and the community I have found myself in. I don't want to lose that.

Once I find my place and where it is on the Asexual spectrum I lie, I don't want to be giving up any previously established parts of my identity, and instead feel I can only claim AroAce (which I don't feel adequately represents my identity and comfortably fits me ).

My compromise/comfort term I have found regarding both my Aro and Aceness is Arohaze: a label which can be used as a middle ground for AroAllo and AroAce.

I just hope once I've finally figured my sexuality out my brain doesn't start telling me I can't co-exist between the two.

[starrcrossrose]

Welll, essentially, I have been reading Across All Time again and in chapter 5 I think it was, Leo was training with a wooden dummy and cut its head off in the process. His realisation was written so well as in he couldn‘t quite believe what he had done even if it was just a dummy, but I was reading it and after that scene I had a thought „well, he will end up doing so anyway“ thinking about Villain Leo, but then I remembered that those are different storylines, but maybe they‘re not? Across All Time is a compilation of different scenes from different timelines (as far as I know) and so I was wondering if that bit was actually from the Villain Leo Saga, or if any of them were actually. The ask is a bit long, so I didn‘t want to put that to the other one bc I primarily wanted to wish you a good day ^^

Oh! Okay it’s so funny you ask this because I was just recently rereading those one shots and when I got to that one I went “huh”. 😂 because when I wrote it originally, I didn’t even HAVE a fully realized idea about Leo becoming a villain. In fact, that one shot was more of a vent-writing tidbit that I ended up expanding upon later for a whump theme hehehe.

Though I can see where this could potentially fit into the villain AU, I’d like to think it’s still a different timeline. One where he COULDVE become that but went to his family instead of holding it all in and letting the dark consume him.

Also thank you, I hope you’re well too! 💙

[lesbianwithchainsaws]

5, 15, 17 + 18 for the fic writer asks !!!

Thank you!!!!

5. What's a fic idea that you've had that you'll never write?

Definitely some vent fics/fics based on personal life situations that I've thought about, but will probably never actually fully write. Also, since I wrote the trobed saw fic, I've been thinking about mixing other horror movies with community, but I doubt I'll ever write most of them

15. How do you come up with titles for your fics?

For Community fics, I mainly try to have a similar title to episodes, with fic titles sounding like courses. For other fandoms, idk I kinda just try to think of something that fits what the fic is about

17. What's something you've learned about while doing research for a fic?

Umm, most recently I remember looking up if Jehova's Witnesses have a concept of hell since Troy is technically one. From what I read, it seemed like no, they don't really. At least not the way it's depicted in most media

18. What's one of your fav lines you've written in a fic?

I honestly really like the simple declarations of love/care. Fav off the top of my head is this in Intro to Secrets and Homosexuality:

[rivergraceful]

Beautiful Sadness; A Commodity?

Introduction:

Have you ever taken a selfie while you were crying, then decided to delete it because you felt like you weren’t pretty enough, or, have you ever been having a pretty decent day, saw a row of 5 depressing tiktoks, then all of a sudden, you're crying too? Something I have been noticing recently, especially since the rise of TikTok during the lockdown, is an influx of just, depressing content to say the least. Now by depressing content, I don’t mean to say that venting is something that should be shunned, instead, I mean to open the conversation to analyzing the seemingly recent oversaturation of often, romanticized, aestheticized, and commodified sadness, in our media. 

Emotion isn’t raw anymore:

Emotion isn’t raw anymore, it seems like it is, but it's not. Maybe it never was? With just a quick scroll through social media, specifically TikTok, the rise of the “sad girl/sad aesthetic” is at an all-time high. Most commonly, the “sad girl/sad aesthetic” is most rampant within the venting/trauma dumpish/”the world is absolutely terrible and there is no fixing it,” Tiktok posts, which are often accompanied by a pretty girl or feminine presenting person, and or, an “aesthetic” sad song. This specific trend, or should I say culture, is very common, and the comments are often filled with people agreeing with the creator.  Another trend that fits into the “sad girl aesthetic” includes images of usually conventionally attractive celebrities/characters looking sad, often while also abusing a substance of some kind, behind a text that discusses mental illness. Lastly, a trend that also fits into the “sad girl/sad” aesthetic is the trend of “female rage edits” that usually include just clips of conventionally attractive white characters screaming, (with the exception of TikTok editors who made a primarily white edit, added Katherine's speech about how she was dealing racism in the movie Hidden figures, and then wrote it off as just a female rage edit, yeah that really annoyed me), accompanied by music like Ethel Cain, Lana Del Ray, Phoebe Bridgers, Fiona Apple, Mitski, Black Box Recorder, or other “sad girl” dubbed artists. 

Now you might be wondering, “How is this an issue?” Well, I'm here to tell you that this trend, is not just an issue, but it’s an epidemic. Not only is TikTok an app that is used by two-thirds of the US teen population, (according to Time Magazine), but it is also used often constantly by youth. I mean, think about it, it's an app that allows for the extremely rapid spread/influence of information and trends to occur, how could the rise of an aesthetic that romanticizes sadness, not harmfully affect, not only youth but social media users in general? What scares me about this aesthetic, is that venting turns into encouragement, trauma dumping turns into mass hopelessness, and spreading awareness about your eating disorder turns into a “How-to.” And the thing is, oftentimes, it's not intended. In a society where wages are low yet food prices are high, the globe is being warmed, celebrities don't want to stop flying their jets to lower carbon emissions, economic crisis strikes the world, the most “progressive” countries reverting back to systematic bigotry, and capitalism becoming increasingly more evident but seemingly more unstoppable, humanity is seeking for a way to cope, and social media is an easy gateway to detach.

 However, the issue with everyone wanting to detach through social media, is that it's sort of something that takes but doesn't quite give. For example, you're taking in the slight relief of romanticizing your depression, eating disorder, and or substance abuse, however, you're contributing to the mass oversaturation of romanticized, too perfect to be human, sadness, which is going to harm people in multiple ways.

The first way it harms us is through body image. Constantly using actors and models, made up to look the best when told it’s their worst, is only going to push the idea that “We're just not doing sad right.” I can assure you if you are a POC, an unconventionally attractive person, and or LGBTQ person, only seeing sadness or women's issues being discussed when its a romanticization using only a rich, conventionally attractive, cishet, celebrity, woman, isn’t going to help. It's usually not relatable and it's usually just influencing people to not try and get better, but instead just become beautifully perfect while they're sad. 

You can’t show raw emotion without it being primmed, cut, refilmed, edited, romanticized, and aestheticized before it's posted. Emotion is no longer raw but pampered, you aren't allowed to just be human anymore, instead, you are forced to compete in the beauty Olympics of sadness. Social Media has made Sadness an accessory and status symbol, akin to basic outfits: it's only praised when it's on a beautiful girl. 

The commodification of sadness, is it the result of Capitalism?:

Now more than ever, we have access to knowing every bad thing, happening in any part of the world, at any time. That aspect of our new technologically advanced world alone, is a significant causation of society's mass depression, alongside our heightened awareness of ourselves, insecurities, capitalism, and how the world works. However, let's focus more on the topic of insecurities, specifically, the beauty standards, women, insecurities, and capitalism’s relation to them.

 If you're not familiar with the terms “Individualism” and “Collectivism” I'll explain them to you. An individualistic country is one that praises the individual, being unique, standing out, and being the best. An example of this is how being unique, and coming up with the best plan to become a billionaire, (even if that includes exploiting other people) is praised in America. Subsequently, a collectivist country is one that praises community, being uniform, and fitting in. An example of this is how in China, having a “respectful” attitude, appearance, and career is a reflection on your family and community. The way America operates, (which is mostly, if not completely due to capitalism and colonization), is to praise uniqueness and or anything that gives money to capitalism. This is the cause of hustle culture, a job’s salary determining your worth, a 9-5 till you die mentality, the reason people feel the need to change their entire self to fit into an insanely niche, aesthetic subgenre, and the commodification of women. 

Interesting fact, underarm hair as an insecurity used to not really exist, well, until razor companies realized that they would make way more money if women bought razors as well. Therefore, companies started putting advertisements out there to make it seem unfeminine, and thus another woman targeting insecurity was born, or should I say, constructed. This is an example of an extremely common case of beauty companies making insecurities for women to endlessly buy their products. In the end, companies use extremely beautiful, often photoshopped, often surgically enhanced, women to advertise their products, (usually products that those women did not even use), and accompany that advertisement with a beauty standard that they know naturally, you can never achieve, and will forever chase, while buying their products. Similar to the commodification of women’s insecurities, through social media filters, trends, and aesthetics, trans women, cis women, and feminine presenting people, are seemingly unknowingly, participating in the oversaturated and aestheticized, romanticization of women’s sadness, pain, and issues, which in turn, will water down our movements, contribute to the system that we are trying to fight, prevent people from wanting to get better, and will make sadness an aesthetic, not a human emotion. 

Sources:

[corkcitylibraries]

Cork in Verse | Ana Spehar Interviews Sloane Quirke

Sloane Quirke is an artist from Cork. They’re currently studying drama in Kinsale and have written pieces for the online publication Good Day Cork. They find poetry to be a really good emotional release for them, and it inspires their drawing and acting as well. They love trying lots of different art forms and try their best to have fun with it all.

Besides writing you are an artist and studying drama. How do you manage to fit writing with other demands on your time?

To be honest I do find it difficult to set time aside for writing. I can make time when there’s a deadline on it, I think because there’s someone relying on me getting it done. To fit writing stuff that’s just for myself or my personal projects in though, I find that keeping a notebook on me really helps. I’ll often have random ideas or nice sounding lines pop into my head, and I jot them down in there. Then if I’m ever waiting somewhere with nothing to do, such as on a bus or in a cafe, I’ll take out my notebook and develop those ideas a bit more. 

Where do you seek inspiration from? Who are your poetic influences and why?

Most of my inspiration comes from my life, sometimes I’ll have a great experience with something, and I just have to write it out to keep the memory. Sometimes I write to vent, sometimes as an observation on ways that I think or on the world. The vast majority of my writing is about my experiences of being non-binary and navigating the world and all my relationships with people as an autistic person. I am guilty of not reading a whole lot of poetry, but I know this woman, Róisín Taylor, and she wrote a book with her poems. It’s called Mind Full of Memories, and it’s about her travels around the world. I was really inspired by the way she told her story and conveyed her feelings through a series of poems.

Does the creative process of writing affect your mood, and if it does how?

The creative process definitely affects my mood. I very often write to vent so that I’m not keeping emotions and thoughts in me. Writing out what’s going on, whether it’s just a stream of words or a coherent piece of writing, is so useful to help make sense of the messiness that can be in my head. I’ve also found recently that it’s a good way for me to challenge my own thoughts and thought patterns. When I was writing my piece, I’m Choosing To…, I had pages and pages of my thoughts on the topic of binary thinking, and eventually realised so much of it was just me being annoyed. After making that realisation, I started to look at it from a different angle and thought about the beauty and freedom of breaking out of that thinking, while still acknowledging the negatives of being stuck in those binary thought patterns. I would really recommend writing as an emotional release, and it doesn’t have to be good, because nobody else needs to read it ever.

Could you tell us more about your creative process of writing?

I have different processes depending on each project. Sometimes a poem just comes to me in its complete form, in a burst of inspiration and I end up writing it out frantically. Then I go back to it a day or two later and make minimal edits just so it’ll flow better. If I’m writing about a theme, or even about an aspect of my life, I’ll take some time, get some tea or coffee, and write out whatever comes to mind regarding that topic. Once I have some thoughts out, I can look through them and see if there’s anything that could be a good line in a poem. I compile these lines or blocks of writing, write some stuff to link it together, then edit it all to make it sound better when read out loud. I find reading my poetry out loud really helpful, whether it’s just to myself, my dog or a friend. A lot of my thoughts or lines get scrapped from poems, but I try to never fully throw away or delete things, because going back over old work can spark inspiration for new work.

What book would you recommend to our readers?

I have to recommend Inside Out & Back Again by Thanhha Lai. It’s a semi-autobiographical book written in verse about a 10 year old Vietnamese refugee in Alabama in 1975. It follows her escape from Vietnam and her first year in America. The way it’s written conveys the mind of a 10 year old so well, I can’t properly explain it. Some of the poems read almost like diary entries, while others feel like in the moment thoughts and emotions. It’s a really good read, and definitely impacted how I look at storytelling.

“Sun”

If I am the moon, then she is the sun

Without her I could not shine

She brings warmth to the day when there is none

I am forever blessed to call her mine

Her smile lights up any space

And her laugh will always brighten your day

When I see her, she puts a smile on my face

When she is gone, my charm slips away

Every moment is Heaven with her around

And it will stay that way until we are six feet under the ground

“I’m choosing to”

I’m choosing to challenge binary thinking

I’m choosing to take the boxes

That I’ve been forced into

Crammed into dark spaces

Too small and cramped for me

I’m choosing to tear the boxes to pieces

To claw my way out

Until all that remains

Is shredded cardboard

That will be used as kindling

For the fire that is burning in me

Fire

A word that usually brings to mind

Images

Of chaos and destruction

And I choose to challenge that

I choose to not be a raging wildfire

Just growing and burning

Not caring what I destroy

Maybe I’ll be a crackling fire

In a hearth

Growing at the rate of which others give me fuel

Or perhaps a candle

Steady and reliable

Called upon in emergencies

I’m choosing to leave my options open

To maybe jump between forms

Even revisit wildfire if I see fit

And that suits me more

Than that cold, dark box

That I once dwelled in

[noonehere-rightnow]

having bigger accunt (its not rlly big or anything, but some posts randomly got thousands of interactions and i feel weird) on twitter is wild

at first i started be active to help with my anxiety abt writing things with many mistakes due to dyslexia

then i had worse time in life, so I started to vent, i found moots with similar thoughts and we were just vibing

then i started to post pictures of my food, ppl asked abt recipes, so I started also posting full recipes

then I started writing long threads just abt my thoughts caused by my recent observations, and holy shit this has blown up too fast

and then I improoved my style, so I wanted to show my fits. so I started posting fitchecks more often.

and now im in the place when my notfications contain comments abt existencial crisis, debate abt which plant milk is better and someone who wrote down, that they want to fuck me, which is lil uncomrortable when I think that some of my moots recognised me irl

[glapplebloom]

The Switcheroo here is I read the book instead of listening to an audio read.

We’re having a Pie Eating Contest and in a surprise twist, Pinkie Pie is not the winner. It came down to Mayor Mare and Cranky Doodle, and Cranky Doodle won. Apparently Applejack expected the Big Ponies to win (being specifically named Big McIntosh, Senior Mint, Overhaul, and Snowflake AKA Bulk Biceps). This inspires her to write in the Friendship Journal (while also explaining why it suddenly went away).

But before that, Blue Ribbon showed up saying the Apple Orchard is up for Best Orchard in Equestria contest. If all goes well, they would get Free VIP Treatment, be exclusive suppliers for Canterlot and extra land to grow said Orchard. And she got a week to ensure their Farm lives up to the nominees. So her friends offered to help her since it was a big job. She wasn’t going to overwork herself like last time.

Before the next day, we could probably figure out what the issue is. We see her disciplining Big Mac and Apple Bloom for being late, despite AJ being the only one really upset about it. And with Granny giving Applejack her mother’s old book for writing stuff (as well as the title) you can probably figure out that she’s going to be venting her frustrations in the book and at some point someone else would get it by mistake.

And for a good number of chapters, Applejack gets the fuel to vent. Pinkie Pie’s overactivity makes working too slow. Rainbow Dash does things too fast and it damages the trees. Fluttershy just isn’t the kind of pony to evict squirrels out of trees. And Rarity’s sign isn’t exactly what Applejack wanted. She even refused Twilight’s help. But after Twilight apologizes for suggesting an extension since she knows AJ prides herself with her scheduling, AJ begins to regret the things she wrote.

And finally in Chapter 13, the Big Switcheroo happened when Rainbow Dash came looking for the Friendship Journal and Apple Bloom accidentally gave her AJ’s Journal. Dash reads it to the others and Applejack apologizes, but they quickly forgive her because they understand. If only Twitter can learn this lesson. It ends with Applejack winning because he actually liked that non-Farm Ponies are learning skills.

The final chapter ends with new ponies learning to farm and everything being fine. There are a few bits of continuity hiccups here and there (Fluttershy saying the Vampire Fruit Bats were ruining the farm unintentionally, when she was saying that they would help the farm in the long run being an example), but overall harmless. Though if you don’t like to read a bunch of chapters where Applejack says mean things about her friends, you can skip it.

As for how it’ll fit in GLAB canon, I’ll make it a more recent event so Twilight can be included. Maybe Applejack has to focus between classes and Farm work, where the students eventually volunteer to help and that helps AJ win.

[vizybs]

//vent

Yknow i kinda think im a bad person whenever i look back on how i ended it with her, how i just like slowly distanced without telling her why but then I remember how she wrote on the public padlet on how we grew apart as friends (at this point i was still talking to her) and im just shocked a bit

Because like every year ive known her i put my everything into our friendship, im always making sure she isnt sad that shes having a good time that she isn’t lonely that she feels special that her feelings are heard that she isnt this this or that and it isnt my responsibility. She never asked me to do those things but you kinda know you have to, but she didnt do those things for me and its just

I dunno, im not mad anymore but im just in like, disbelief, because the moment i stopped putting my all into her suddenly we grew apart and its not like at the time i was suddenly no contact with her, hell i even sat next to her everyday. But the moment i let myself chill and stop giving her 100% suddenly its too much? We arent close?

I guess i just realized that maybe i was putting in so much work while she never really felt like she had to for me. I dunno. Still messed me up sitting down and reading that message right beside her on how we drifted like hello? Im right here you can talk to me?? I was waiting for maybe some kind of lets talk so we could get back on track and stop being so stilted around eachother this was so roundabout and so entirely like, avoidant to pointing at the matter at hand i was just angry and ignored it all.

Theres a thing i realized about how i used to accommodate my friends alot and how it kinda just messed me up? If i put a 100% into you and you dont give me some energy back it was like are we really friends? Its gave me a lot of anxiety issues about friends which is hilarious because now its like people ask me to do stuff w them like hang out and im just like woahhh what the fuuckk when its completely normal its actually driving me insane

Im glad im done playing that game of are we friends or not with her because it has done wonders for my self esteem and confidence.

I have a lot of friends now, i guess putting yourself out there instead of focusing people who seem to only care about you because theyve got no one else who talks to them is awesome and i will continue because i like friends who like me when i do what makes me happy and arent afraid of doing something embarrassing 24/7

i feel kinda guilty because its like ‘wow did i just abandon her for like other ppl’ then i think about how miserable i was trying to people please her all the time just to feel like we were sorta maybe friends and how she made me feel like she was embarrassed to be around me and that all goes away

Im not sure what to say, its wrong to abandon people close to you but it was draining the hell put of me trying to humble myself to fit into her kinda self deprecating choice of life

It’s unfortunate, she really is sweet but she makes me feel like im tired and all i want to do is shut up around her but i always had to keep talking because someone had to try right?

Shes not a bad person, i think that if we recently became friends i would love her. But theres so much history and it still felt like we walked around eachother, it always felt like i had to be careful around her it was uncomfortable. And shes different, very different, its something else.

People grow and change but shes so shy and cautious it makes me feel so wary, especially when she used to be so outgoing and confrontational. Its like shes a new person, i dont know how to feel.

Shes a good person, maybe not so much good for me but ill still wish her luck on future friendships. We arent friends anymore, we dont say hi in hallways or sit together in awkward forced silence and its just how it is.

I think im good now though, like the guilt isnt as bad.

[straycatboogie]

2023/05/06 English

BGM: Masayoshi Yamazaki - パンを焼く

As usual, I put my memo pad from the pocket and start writing my ideas in English. And trying to read them in English by myself... I certainly get fear of thinking that these my memos might be just a nonsense or chaotic random. I can't see if these English "graffiti" can have a certain meaning by the eyes of native speakers. So I try to post the pic of it to Discord and MeWe. I want to make native speakers read it and say some comments. About this kind of problem, I get a sympathy with a philosopher, Wittgenstein. He was the person who had thought this communication's problem really deeply and kept on writing as his masterpieces. An enigma of communication, being delivered by my rough words... I can read them by myself and understand what I wrote. Wittgenstein had thought about that magical or radical potentials. I respect him.

A friend said to me as "quirky" about this memo. I googled and found that this is a word which describes a difficult thing. Any "strange" but "wonderful" things. Me, I think myself as really strange because I write English memo although it is not my mother tongue. It was just from an "instant idea" and that's all. Once I had written my memo in Japanese, but it had not suit for me therefore I couldn't keep on doing. But once I just thought I wanted to write my ideas in English, and tried to do so. Then, it fit me so I keep on doing that until now. Through a test which checks my autism, I was said that my skill of writing and reading words is high. That is the key of this "quirky" activity. Yes, that is me so I keep on reading many, really many books every day, and from them I think about a lot of things. I even write my diary to let them out actually. But, then who is not a "quirky" person on this planet? Is this just an excuse of an autistic person?

Reading Twitter after a long time, I found an interesting tweet. It was about the fact of being an autistic person. Blaming many troubles or any difficulties of living this life to autism. Indeed, they are important trials. But if we stop our progresses by blaming them, we can't go anymore. How should we live on thinking autism as the things we already know and should overcome. Yes, I once had a period of thinking "I must be unhappy and miserable because of this autism, and everything is too late to change in a better way". But recently I am thinking that I must have some things to change this situation even if it is a hard precondition. As kinds of "some things", I learn English and read books. I won't stop keeping on learning every day. I heard Martin Luther had said as "even though this world would end tomorrow, I would plant apple trees onto this ground today". This quote is also famous in Japan. Indeed, we need to complain or vent, but our life is too short to complain only.

Today I worked early. The evening I thought I would enjoy my reading time elegantly as usual, but my mind didn't stay quiet. Many books attracted my mind. Reading Shinji Aoyama's diary with Augustus Pablo's music, or trying to listen to Debussy and Satie... Ah, what a free and loose life. Reading my diary by chance, I thought why I was this kind of bigmouth. Learning English makes me enjoy letting out my troth to this world. I find the pleasure of communication with friends from all over the world. I criticize that my bigmouth comes from that kind of worldwide communication. That gives me huge self-esteem. In other way, I say I am basically just a weak person but my skill of English hides that. Learning languages cures our souls. I feel that. I recommend you to get or gain great self-esteem by learning them.

[prismaticstreams]

The trouble with unsolicited advice

I saw a post on Facebook by Jack Adam Weber recently about unsolicited advice, and how it can sometimes be helpful to illuminate our shadow. He wrote: “Since our blind spots are invisible to us, unsolicited advice can be most helpful for shadow work.” It made me ponder, as I've often had a difficult time with unsolicited advice.

To me, it often feels disrespectful and condescending, as it can feel like someone is implying I am incapable of solving a problem myself. It feels like an intrusion on my autonomy. It also can feel like a criticism, or even blame - like there's an unspoken message that if I just did xyz, then I wouldn't be dealing with these problems. This is particularly hurtful when dealing with a health issue. Or if the advice is extremely obvious and simplistic, it can feel like an insult to our intelligence and competence.

However, not all unsolicited advice is created equal. For me, it depends greatly the person it's coming from. Factors like the timing, the tone, the relationship, and the topic all make a difference in how I feel about it. Often the issue with unsolicited advice is not the content of the advice but the context.

Offering unsolicited advice can definitely be a power play, where people try to "put others in their place" by setting themselves up as an expert or authority. It can be a game of "one upping" sometimes. Unsolicited advice can be used as a way to establish status or dominance, and create a kind of pecking order. It can make people feel superior, like the wise, all-knowing guru or parental figure. This is why it’s often considered more offensive for someone younger to give advice to someone older than them, unless given express permission.

The thing about advice is that it’s often not a straightforward, direct form of communication. It can come with a lot of subtext. It can be a person’s way of saying, “I’m overwhelmed and I’ve had enough of hearing about that”. It can also be someone’s way of saying, “I want to help and fix this but I really don’t know what to do”. In other situations, it could be a way of saying, “I have higher status in this group than you, so you should stay in your lane”. 

It can also be a subtle way to bypass real empathy, compassion and emotional support. I've noticed when people get emotionally overwhelmed and can't listen, they frequently switch to advice giving mode. It often tells me more about the advice giver and their emotional capacity and/or ability to tolerate discomfort. It can be a sign that I need to step back as that person may not have the maturity or the energetic boundaries to handle what I am sharing. 

Unsolicited advice is often the first port of call for people who are tired of listening, or don't have the emotional bandwidth to really hold space. It can be a sign that someone is overwhelmed or dealing with empathy fatigue. Sometimes it’s a sign that someone doesn’t really care, and just wants you to stop venting to them. In most cases, people genuinely do care and have good intentions, but it really depends. It’s hard to make a one-size-fits-all rule.

I've noticed when I share a really difficult, thorny problem, it's not uncommon for others to get highly distressed and immediately start offering solutions which are often very inappropriate and even ridiculously illogical. It's a coping mechanism for many. Sometimes it makes me sad when I see the lengths people go to just to cope with a problem that seems unfixable. I take it a lot less personally when I realise that doling out advice is actually a form of self-soothing, that has nothing to do with me.

That said, sure, at times it can be valuable. Sometimes a friend has said something very timely that has worked out. Occasionally people have a spark of insight or intuitive nudge, and it pays to listen. 

I recall in one share house situation, a friend told me to start looking elsewhere immediately. She was very pushy about it, which I would normally react poorly to, but deep in my gut I knew she was right. I quickly found a place, then the following week was informed the house was being sold. Now and again I have had serendipitous experiences where I am glad I listened... But I did already have a relationship of trust with this friend. 

I find advice from other people with similar health conditions or life circumstances is often more useful, as it comes from actual lived experience - and is less likely to be coming from a place of blame, shame or subtle ableism. That said, it can still feel intrusive and controlling, depending on how it’s presented.

Unsolicited advice is complex, and very much context-dependent. However, I would say it’s okay if you don’t like it and don’t want it. It’s totally valid if you prefer people to ask permission before giving it. I certainly prefer that, though I know many people don’t, and that’s okay too. People have different communication styles and preferences with regard to giving or receiving advice - and both are valid. 

[craftyandy]

Art Review Part 23

The years are becoming a blur, even before the covid pandemic the days have overall felt like they come and go with little to remember them by. Really it’s because the current state of things in occurrence with my life is pretty good. In comparison at our lowest financially and emotionally, the year would be a lengthy series of unfortunate events. Something breaking or needing repair would be an upset. We could never enjoy ourselves without the upcoming work day casting a dreading shadow over us. If my current state of things is the peak then already I can go forward satisfied that I accomplished more then what was expected of me by the culture of the US society, religious teachings, and peers. Currently I have one rather large Ratchet and Clank commission to finish and then it’s a mostly strict focus on the kids book. I’ll be documenting the progress as much as I can. Through out the year I managed to put together a series of videos to try and advertise my CraftyArts channel more. I want to do more focused scripted commentary for my WeirdZoRs channel, in fact I recently wrote up a script for furry puritains that is getting re-worked in order to be more humorous then lecturing. I’d rather attempt something more challenging and be seen as a failure then to play things safe and easy. Having a full time job remains the main barrier to getting projects done. Gotta balance the work life, family and interests accordingly. It is painful, but it does mean some aspirations get st on the back burner permanently, or remain unfinished and never see the light of day. I have scripts that could fit on a shelf to gather dust and some videos unfinished taking up hard-drive space. I itch and scratch with anxiety over wanting to see ideas made and done. However I am in no position to have someone do work for me with merely a promise of future payment. I suppose the idea would be then to sell myself and my current skill. How? I don’t know, we’ll start by seeing how this self promotional pus goes once it is complete. This is all just a mere venting, by all accounts things are going better then I could ever hope for thanks to my two husbands and their efforts to keep me social and grounded in reality and have a grasp on the bigger picture. They understand none of this was ever for simply money, or fame but creation for creation sake and giving meaning to my life. maybe I’m the living example of why you should have a backup plan in place if doing entertainment in any form doesn’t work out, so be it. How many potential creators have we all seen drop off, give up, or cost themselves a career over poor judgment. All lack of recognition aside I feel pretty damn accomplished right now because fame and fortune was never the goal I was aiming for. Thank you to my supporters, family, and friends, without those attachments I wouldn’t find much passion in what I do either. Good luck in the new year everybody. CraftyArts www.youtube.com/c/craftyarts WeirdZoRs www.youtube.com/c/WeirdZoRs PAWS OFF www.youtube.com/channel/UCXzhzDaEUET1DFwLfyWlqSw Patreon https://www.patreon.com/craftyandy

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