Unstable Calami-Tea

The urge to write is strong, but never stronger than the urge to spend hours designing a cover for my story instead, despite the fact that there’s copious amounts of picture evidence on this blog proving that I am most definitely not artistically inclined.

One of the harder parts about being autistic is that some people will just blatantly tell you that they don’t care about your special interest whilst you’re quite literally midway through talking about it, just because it’s perceived as too childish or weird. Like, okay, Chad, rude. I don’t care about football, but I still listen and nod when you talk about it for hours. I even make a point of asking you questions about it because I know you’re excited. Just because whales can’t wear jerseys or abuse umpires doesn’t mean it’s okay for you to cut me off and change the subject when I’m telling you about the new documentary I like. I also find it deeply ironic, seeing as we’re the ones who are apparently “too honest.”

Just a random piece of fanfic advice that popped into my head as I finally made some headway on the story I’ve been procrastinating: even if you’re writing something non-canonical, establishing your own canon is still extremely helpful and important. What I mean is, even if you’re writing an AU, or working with details that aren’t confirmed in the canon of whatever fandom you’re writing for, making a set list of what’s ‘fact’ in the universe of your story is great for building yourself a baseline and reference point that you might not otherwise have. For example, in the Hazbin Hotel fandom, we no longer have a canonical answer for exactly how old Charlie Morningstar is or when she was born. As far as we know, she could be 25 years old, or 200 years old, or anything in between. It’s really up to each writer to make their best guess or choose what works best for their story. Even if her age is never directly relevant, I still choose a birth year for her and write it down somewhere in the story plan, purely so I can use it as a reference point if I ever want to allude to events in her life, especially seeing as the rest of the cast are all from various different times. Charlie’s born in 1820? She could definitely mention how she was obsessed with human fashion in the Victorian era. Charlie’s born in the year 2000? Of course she doesn’t really know who these overlords are or what their business is– they were old news by the time she was born! Regardless of what I choose, having a date and treating it as canon for the purpose of that one story does wonders for consistency. It stops me accidentally flip-flopping around, and has the added bonus of giving me something to fall back on if a reader has a question (because, trust me, the questions are never about what you expect them to be). I recommend doing this for any relevant detail you’re creating or interpreting for your story. Vagueness in canon is great for creative opportunity, but it’s way too easy to get muddled up if you make it the entire basis of your fic without giving yourself at least a little scaffolding. Even if your readers never know about it directly, the groundwork will help the quality of your story.

Ah, here we are again. Yet another night where I wanted so badly to work on the story that’s been living rent free in my head for weeks and fully intended to do so, only to blink and find myself staring at the ceiling three hours later with the intro riff of Sweet Child O’ Mine playing on repeat in my head. Gosh darn it.

This is a gentle reminder for all my fellow neurodivergents (and honestly everyone) that “that show is too stimulating” isn’t just something that applies to kids. It’s absolutely a thing for adults as well. Your brain is just as susceptible to overstimulation from overwhelming visual, mental and auditory input as the toddler who just had their Coco Melon taken away, and it doesn’t matter if it’s your special interest or your comfort show. I love Hazbin Hotel more than I probably should, but if I’m having a high-anxiety day or am already on the brink of a sensory meltdown, the chaotic, musically driven show illustrated almost entirely in shades of red or bright neons with a plot that goes a mile a minute definitely isn’t the best choice for my wellbeing, even if it’s all I want to turn to. If I need something mindless to throw on while I decompress, I usually turn to YouTube documentaries about whales or my other special interests at the time. If I need something with an engaging plot but not so sensorily stimulating, I put on The Golden Girls. Learning our own cues for distress and developing strategies/routines to deal with it is so incredibly important. The world is stacked against us enough without us accidentally making things harder for ourselves. I’m not saying that anyone needs to give up their favourite anime or that you should stop using the colour-fest action series to wind down if it genuinely works for you, but if you find that you’re starting to burn out of your favourite shows faster than usual, or that you’ve started having those no-good, averse feelings when you think about watching, it might be worth sitting down and really thinking about the sort of state you’re usually in when you reach for them. Any brain is bound to develop negative associations towards something it’s consistently exposed to when it’s overwhelmed or on the verge of fight-or-flight mode. Protect your joy and your wellbeing by checking in with where you’re really at before hitting “Play.”

I don’t know how to explain it, but I’m really starting to think there’s a link between personality and the names people choose to use for the same ship. Maybe it’s just the result of being in different circles or fandom spaces, but MurderMedia people and RadioStatic people have different vibes and I really have no way of elaborating on that. Let’s not even start on the semantics of FrostIron and IronFrost. Please.