#i genuinely am having a relatively good day today!

[sosomonimagines]

House's girl, part one — House x Daughter! Reader

Summary: House learns to love his daughter.

Warnings: diet talk and harassment, but nothing too in-depth

Author's note: English is not my native language. I have an idea for a saga about this, but I want to see if anyone likes it first 😭😭

Part two:

SUNDAY

You rarely saw your father. 

By the time you were born, your parents had already divorced, and he chose to remain largely uninvolved in your life. You knew your grandparents and received some Christmas and birthday presents, but nothing that made a lasting impact. Most of the time, he lived as though he weren’t a father at all.

Yet here you were, standing in front of his apartment, holding a suitcase with a few changes of clothes. Your mother had become involved with a man of questionable character — a manipulator with a minor criminal record that included harassment. You had reported him for making comments that made you uncomfortable, but your mother, who was deeply entangled with him, dismissed your concerns as lies. Consequently, the women's police station decided to send you to live with your father, as you had no other close relatives.

You knocked on door 221B and waited for about five minutes. “He must be trying to escape through the window, but luckily he’s limping,” you thought with a hint of irony.

“You actually came,” your father said as he opened the door.

“Sorry I didn’t choose to become a homeless person,” you replied.

He stepped aside to let you in. The apartment was surprisingly tidy, which took you aback; your mother had often complained about his disorganization. You couldn’t help but wonder if he had made an effort to clean up for your arrival.

“You’ll stay in the guest room; it’s the second door on the right.”

“Why do you have a guest room if you never have guests?”

“Sometimes, the prostitutes prefer not to sleep in the same room as me, especially when I hire many.”

“Did you know I’m only fourteen and that sexual jokes and exposure to excessive affection can damage my mind, like abuse?”

“Good thing it wasn’t a joke.”

You sighed deeply and walked to the guest room. It was a sparse space with just a bed and a dresser. As you quickly unpacked your clothes, you realized there was no suitable place to study— something you would need to address soon, especially with a math exam approaching.

“Where am I going to study?” you asked your father, who was sitting on the couch with a glass of whiskey. “You’re drinking at eight-thirty in the morning?” you added, somewhat perplexed.

“Are you studying at eight-thirty in the morning?” he retorted with irony. “Study in the kitchen; there’s a table there.”

“But there’s no door between the living room and the kitchen.”

“That’s really a shame.”

“If you watch TV, the noise will distract me. I have Sensory Processing Disorder and need a quiet environment.”

“I’ll buy a desk for your room tomorrow,” he said.

“But I need to study today.”

“One day won’t make a difference.”

“It does when you want to get into Harvard.”

“You’re in middle school; nobody studies in middle school.”

“Actually, I’m in high school. I’m three years ahead.”

“Oh my God, you’re so annoying,” he exclaimed, getting up and heading to his room. “Study in the kitchen in peace. I’ll stay in my room.”

“Don’t you have to go to the hospital?” you asked.

“Unfortunately, no,” he replied, slamming the door behind him. You didn’t mind the harsh tone; you had come for a place to stay, not for a father.

•••

MONDAY

You woke up at six-thirty, the same time as your father. With two bathrooms in the house, you both managed to get ready without crossing paths.

When you met in the kitchen for breakfast, a heavy silence lingered. He served himself without offering you anything, but you had learned the previous day that if you didn’t help yourself, you’d end up going hungry.

You helped yourself to Pop Tarts and a cup of black coffee.

“Aren’t you a bit young for coffee?” your father asked.

“It’s a legal drug, and there are no age restrictions,” you replied.

He didn’t respond, and silence settled between you again. The next sound was the doorbell, followed by the creak of the door opening.

“Hey, House,” a man said as he entered. Seeing you, he paused, visibly shocked. “Is this your daughter?”

“Touché,” your father replied, his tone a blend of sarcasm and resignation.

James Wilson knew that House had a daughter and understood that, despite his reluctance, he cared about her. However, seeing you there was still a surprise.

“My name is James Wilson. I’m a friend of your father’s,” James said, extending his hand for a handshake.

“My dad has friends?” you asked, surprised, making James laugh.

“Alright, alright, that was a really funny joke,” House interrupted. “Let’s head to the hospital; I don’t want to be late.”

“You’re always late, House,” James retorted. “We’ll drop your daughter off at school first.”

“Seriously? Thank you so much!” you said, thrilled, and dashed to grab your backpack.

As you left, James turned to House. “Don’t look at me like that. I know you care about her.”

•

You arrived home at four in the afternoon, utterly exhausted. After studying late into the night and barely catching glimpses of your father throughout the day, you felt the weight of the long hours. Whenever he did venture into the kitchen, it was in silence, leaving you to wonder whether he was avoiding conversation or simply giving you space.

Heading straight to the kitchen, you rummaged through the sparse offerings. With little more than cereal and Pop Tarts available, you poured yourself some cereal — without milk, as there was none. As you were eating, the doorbell rang.

“Yes?” you called out, opening the door to find a tall, burly man holding a clipboard.

“Gregory House?” he asked.

“This is his house. I’m his daughter.”

“He requested that a study desk be delivered here.”

You smiled to yourself as you let the man in. He proceeded to set up the desk in your room, a small but meaningful gesture from your father.

•••

TUESDAY

You hadn’t seen your father the day before. When he came home, you were already asleep. Besides setting up the study desk, he called later to let you order some food, a small sign that he was making an effort, however minimal.

The next morning, as you both sat down for breakfast, you decided to strike up a conversation, unsure of how receptive he would be.

“How was the hospital yesterday?” you asked.

“Hmm?” he responded, looking up, surprised by the question.

“Any interesting cases?” you pressed.

“A girl with cancer having hallucinations.”

“Was the tumor pressing on the brain?” you inquired.

“No, the tumor was in the heart.”

“…A clot?” you guessed.

“Exactly.” House paused, impressed by your accuracy. He knew you were intelligent, having skipped grades and attended a prestigious school on a scholarship. However, he hadn’t realized your aptitude for medicine. “Do you like medicine?”

“A lot,” you replied. “My dream has been to become a doctor since I was nine. I attend pre-med camps, study whenever I can, read extensively about it, and watch medical shows to guess the diagnoses.”

“I enjoy doing that too,” he said, taking a sip of coffee.

“I was wondering if I could read your medical books.”

“If you can.”

“My reading level is quite advanced. I might not understand everything right away, but I’ll research what I don’t get. And my dad’s a doctor, so I can ask him about it,” you said with a sideways smile, almost catching a glimpse of a smile on his lips.

Moments later, Wilson arrived to take them out. As he dropped you off at school, House mentioned to him that you were aspiring to a medical career and were very intelligent. It was the first time Wilson saw House display genuine pride.

•

When you arrived home that day, it was the first time in days you could truly relax, free from looming exams or relentless homework. You took a shower and settled into the living room, turning on a cartoon — your favorite way to unwind.

As you were engrossed in an episode of The Flintstones, your father came in.

“Aren’t you studying?” he asked, surprised. It was the first time he’d seen you doing anything other than studying since you arrived. To him, it seemed you were engaged in it constantly.

“My exams are over for now. When I finish a round of exams, I take a day off. And you, why are you home early?”

“There was nothing to do.”

“Did the patient die?”

“No, he recovered.”

“Congratulations.”

“Why?”

“For not having killed him.” House wasn’t sure if you were being serious or sarcastic, but he didn’t care.

He limped over to the refrigerator, grabbed a beer, and sat down next to you. This surprised you; you had expected him to retreat to his room.

“That cartoon isn’t from your era,” he remarked.

“Yes, but I prefer the old ones. Do you want to change the channel?”

“Don’t be overly nice; it’s annoying. You want to watch the cartoon and you got here first, so go ahead.”

You nodded and the room fell into a comfortable silence. Occasionally, you glanced at your father, noticing him getting caught up in the cartoon, even suppressing laughter at some scenes.

After a while, he asked, “Want to order a pizza?”

“I ate out yesterday.”

“So what?”

“My mom only lets me eat out once a week at most. She says it’s unhealthy and makes you fat.”

“Good to know your mother’s paranoias haven’t changed. I’m a doctor, and you know what’s worse than eating out? Not eating at all. Do you want pizza?”

“I guess so.”

“Then call and order it.”

You followed his instructions, ordering your favorite pizza. When it arrived, you ate it in the living room—another thing your mother would never allow. After the cartoon ended, your father switched to a medical drama. You watched in silence until, midway through an episode, he paused and looked at you.

“So, what do you think?” he asked.

“Pardon?” you replied, confused.

“Sudden and inexplicable nail disintegration, colorful and shiny mucous lesions in the mouth, temporary and recurrent inability to recognize faces, rapid and unpredictable changes in blood pressure, and intense heat sensation without fever. What is it?”

“Are you serious?"

“You said you’re good at this, right?”

You paused, considering.

“Stiff-Person Syndrome?”

“I need you to be sure.”

“Stiff-Person Syndrome. It’s a rare autoimmune condition that can lead to progressive muscle rigidity and pain, along with various neurological symptoms like motor difficulties and changes in sensory perception.”

“Great. You’re better than my team,” he said.

You watched two more episodes before falling asleep. In the middle of the night, you woke to find yourself covered and with your foot adjusted for comfort. You smiled, knowing that your father had made sure you were tucked in for a good night’s rest.

[jamiepaige]

Constant Companions Closeup #9: OBJECT OF AFFECTION

(also on spotify!)

O, wayward soul, I beg of thee an ear; Companionship, a Constant of desire, is all too fleeting. Would thee quell this fire? My love, do you know what you want to hear?

Welcome back to the Constant Companions Closeups - a series of in-depth dives into the songs off of my latest album, Constant Companions! Yesterday was some gay shit (Liaison) and today is some more gay shit (Object of Affection)

---

I'm usually pretty good about letting go of the things I make and letting them live imperfectly, but there is exactly one released song of mine that I've ever been actively unhappy with the final product of, that I haven't been able to let go of my displeasure with.

Honor Majesty, off of Autumn Every Day.

It's not that it's a bad song, or that it didn't have good ideas! In fact, I genuinely think it shares more with the music I make now than a lot of my older work does. Rather, it was incredibly rushed and full of uninspired choices I made for the sake of completing the song rather than making it the best version of itself, and it ultimately ended up falling incredibly flat relative to what I wanted it to be!

I really like the intersection of synthpop/electropop and fantasy. One of my favorite musicians ever is Baths, whose album Romaplasm is chock full of this exact thematic and sonic intersection, and it's so deeply inspiring to me that it still gets put on whenever I want to dream things up. I've always wanted to make things like that! Bubbly and fantastical, brimming with a sense of magic so pervasive it makes even the mundane seem mystic.

...Also I'm just a fantasy dork okay. I like wizards and shit. Sue me

I've been wanting to make a grandiose and fantastical story song for years, and my single attempt to do so felt like it missed the mark entirely. I did touch on fantasy a couple times on Bittersweet, but ultimately, when I started working on this album, I knew exactly what I wanted to take a second crack at.

---

The intended story in question here is fairly vague, but to sum it up as literally as possible:

A rebellious, disobedient, gender-questioning prince has mildly inconvenienced "his" royal lineage one too many times. Their solution is to invoke magicks widely regarded as heretical - what's a fantasy monarchy without some hypocrisy - to seal their "son's" soul within an automaton body, rendering "him" a perfect, subservient doll.

This doll is promptly spirited away under cover of darkness by a mage, and is granted free will once again. She experiences the crushing weight of newfound self-awareness and nearly spirals out of control, before realizing the mage who saved her is the same - a doll. It turns out being a magical-mechanical construct has its perks if you are TRANSGENDER. then they overthrow the monarchy and fuck nasty or whatever idk this is where the story gives way to things like "metaphor"

this is a song about artifice and being transgender

Seriously, though, I know that being an electronic-music-producing transgender lesbian with a thing about dolls or robots or whatever is a major endless-store-shelves-of-identical-buzz-lightyear-action-figures moment on my part, but dammit, I own a copy of Logic Pro and a genuine leather wizard hat, I inject estrogen into my stomach fat every Wednesday, and I think ball joints are cute. I'm posting this on Tumblr, for gods sake, I am unconcerned as an active choice

---

With the exception of Liaison, the entirety of Constant Companions utilizes only three unique vocal synth characters - ANRI, Gumi, and Teto. This trifecta was born organically from simply being the vocal synths I enjoy using the most, and in this song, I wanted to use all three of them almost like one single singer, freely shifting intonation based on the context. I messed with this idea before on Ballroom, my voice meshing and melting into Gumi V3's voice, but it felt especially appropriate for this context; Plus, I feel like there aren't a lot of examples of vocal synths being used/recontextualized in this way, and that's a shame in my opinion!!

I really want to do more story-driven songwriting like this in the future as well. Now that I'm a bonafide VocaloP I've been floating the idea of doing a song series with this trio... I'm mostly just worried I'll want to get too ambitious with it.

Off the top of my head, Object of Affection references at least eight other songs of mine - Honor Majesty is an obvious one, but it also directly samples parts of Autumn Every Day, and lyrically references genuinely just a bunch of things. I'm probably forgetting some, even!

I know I'm the Leitmotif Lover, but it's a lot even by my standards. However, this song's entire existence already served to satisfy a fairly self-indulgent desire, and these days, I don't deal in half measures. I think the final product serves as a lovely little look back at where I've come from, though, and perhaps even a little glimpse into the future!

That all being said, Object of Affection in some sense is also a love letter to a beloved part of my creative process - the voice memo. A lot of the audio I've provided with these posts have been recordings off my phone for good reason! Not only are the chops at the beginning of the song entirely comprised of edited recordings I got on my phone, but the sample at the very end happens to be from a particularly legendary recording, never before heard by the public...

Until now. I present to you an excerpt from "the worst beat on planet earth", featuring none other than unit.0.

That's about it for today!! If you have any questions, I'll gladly answer them below, but otherwise, I'll be back here tomorrow to talk about this album's title track laid askew - My Darling, My Companion!

[noxxuniverse]

🐭anon here with some success stories of today!

I was looking for my iPad, which I had lost somewhere in my room since 2 days. While getting dressed, I was fed up and decided I wanted my iPad NOW. So I said once "I'm going to find it in one second.", I let it go, then a second later, while I grabbed my hoodie from my closet, it was under my hoodie in my closet? Why would it appear in my closet? I didn't leave it there? Another piece of evidence that manifesting doesn't need to happen in a logical way. But I'm very happy that I manifested instantly and that the limiting belief of needing to wait for it, is finally out of my mindset!

Another success story, I wanted new clothes desperately, but my mom didn't want to buy me any.. since she said my closet was too small and that I could barely fit new clothes in there. (But I live in a big house, with a giant walk in closet? So idk what she be talking about, but it doesn't align with me~~)

But not even a few minutes later, I found a new hoodie in my closet, which I don't remember ever wearing or buying. So I asked my mom if the hoodie belonged to my stepdad and she said it was mine and that I had bought it recently? Which I have no memory of, so I must've shifted somehow. I don't really know how this worked, but idk, I got a new hoodie now. 😭☝

Now another success story of the day, of which I am the most proud of. I revised my uncle's death. My mom told me two days ago that he had passed away, between the 3rd and 4th advent. But no one informed us about this, so I only found out two days ago. I was devastated, he is a distant relative of mine, but I was still very close with him. So I barely ate the past few days and my mental health was shit, but I still pulled through, even with doubts and grief. SO YES FFS, YOU CAN MANIFEST WITH DOUBTS + FEELINGS DONT FUCKING MATTERRRRR.

And today my mom came into my room, telling me he isn't dead and that some neighbor lied about him being dead, and that our aunt simply spread that shit around. I called him, he is alive, he is well, he is doing good.

HOLY FUCKING SHIT 🐭 ANON!?!?

I'm actually so proud holy shit!!

Yes, manifesting really doesn't need to happen in a logical way, it's instant and our desires can come in any way we want it to. You could literally have a fairy deliver it to you on a plate lolol

Genuinely so proud!!

[fat-bear-in-progress]

I'm probably not the right person to do it since my disability is relatively minor, I have no platform and I don't talk like i have a degree, but I think we need to talk about the positive effects of feedism on our perceptions of physical disability because its really something special that needs to be nurtured

So many feedists being neutral/accepting or positive about mobility issues extend that far past the fantasy of kink and into their fat liberation and general lives. I don't see nonfeedists in those spaces talking about disability as anything but unfortunate reality, even if they're disability activists too. No one but a feedist has seen a good side.

Feedist disability positivity has encouraged me to actually use my crutches, bath boards, and alter my activity levels without feeling guilty. Feedists are genuinely the only people I know that accept "I can't physically manage that today" as a non negotiable answer regardless of whether they percieve my disability as being my fault or not (I was in an accident but people make up their own story since ive gained 100+lbs since then: either way I shouldnt have to specify how i acquired it!). They dont make me feel like shit when I admit I haven't been out or exercised in a few days even if I don't go into detail about why, largely because they don't associate it 100% with negative experiences by default. It can be a good time, a fun thing, hot even*

And to be clear, I don't just mean this is a cute way. There are good and bad sides to fetishising disability aids but seeing having to use a bath board to wash as something sexy makes me not hate myself for needing it. It's not for everyone but I am not everyone

*@fernisfat once said something in a photo caption about spending the evening at home getting fatter and I've been thinking it to myself even since. I'm not wasting time, I'm spending it on one of my favourite hobbies actually.

Ps. I know plenty of feedists are ableists and not like this but I don't want to talk or think about them right now thanks

[soapymansuds]

Eternity and Counting

Pt.3

(Pt1, Pt2)

(I am SOOOOOO sorry I didn't post on Tuesday. Full honestly, I forgot. But today's chapter is a touch longer than usual as an apology. And by just a touch, I mean almost double the length of both previous chapters<3)

Obey me! X Angel!MC (They/Them Pronouns)

TW: Suicide, depression, self-deprecation, death, big feelings, lots of sad.

MC just can't handle anything anymore and takes their own life. Imagine their dismay to find even death isn't the end for them.Keep reading

~/\~

Since that day, my life, or afterlife I suppose, has been relatively simple. When I'm not resting in the garden, I'm running small errands for Michael. It's easy enough to avoid recognition here, but for the sake of my peace of mind, I wear a cloaking spell whenever I'm out. Simeon agreed not to tell anybody about my presence, and in exchange, he asked that I let him join me on my errands, even if he doesn't recognize me. He claims I could have any face in all three realms, and my presence would still bring him comfort. Sometimes he brings me updates on how the others are doing. Usually, he talks about Luke and his growth. He often avoids talking about the Devildom, and whether that's because he doesn't want to upset me or because he simply can't face them knowing what he knows, I've yet to figure out. It's a nice thought, him trying not to remind me of the best part of my life. But it's not overly helpful, given that, even if physical representations of our bonds weren't burned into my skin, everything I do reminds me of them anyway. I know it's selfish of me to make him keep my secret. But to be fair, I decided nearly a year ago that I am an inherently selfish creature, and I've come to terms with it.

Now that I'm on my own, things are easier. Nobody relies on me for much more than fetching papers or goods, and any failures that occur are mine to handle alone. It's simple. It's lonely. But it's simple. And it's good.

I suppose all good things must come to an end though. As I follow my long-since memorized path through the Celestial Palace, I can't help but wonder why I've been summoned. Usually, if Michael has a task for me, he simply brings it to me. But today he asked I meet him in the throne room, so here I am.

I'm greeted as soon as I swing open the door. "MC! Thank you for coming so quickly."

I'm nearly caught off guard by the use of my real name in public. For the sake of secrecy, Michael and Simeon have taken to calling me a fake name for the duration of my stay here.

"How can I help?" I nod as I close the door behind me. I take notice of Simeon's presence and he looks nervous. Never a good sign.

"I have some paperwork I need run to the Devildom. Usually I'd send Simeon, but I need him for another task today and this is rather urgent." Michael grins at me, likely in an attempt to sweeten the plan he's certain I would protest if given the chance.

I'm nearly nauseous at the idea of it. "You're joking, right? I mean this so genuinely, have you lost it?"

There's a flash of amusement on his face before he responds, "I would never make light of your trauma, no I am not joking. You have your cloaking spell, and all you need to do is hand the papers over to Barbatos. Maybe if he's busy, you'll have to hand them to Lord Diavolo himself. But then you can just come straight back. Simple and easy."

I stare at him, dead eyed and confused. "Yeah, seems super simple." I groan, sarcasm laced in every letter. "There's no getting out of this, is there?" I glance desperately at Simeon who seems to have loosened some of the tension in his spine at my pseudo acceptance of the whole ordeal. He shakes his head.

"Fine." I sigh. "Open'r up." with a lazy wave of my arm.

Michael nods, same fatherly grin plastered on his face as always. I'm sure he's convinced he's won some sort of mental battle, and maybe he has. Either way, he summons the portal, and I steal my nerves to step through. "I'm getting two days off when I get back." I call, lunging through the portal.

On the other side, I take a quick moment to make sure my cloaking spell hasn't warn off before looking around. I'm right where I had assumed I'd be. The courtyard's grand arches and elegant gazebo bring a chilly feeling of recognition to the back of my mind. How many gallas and celebrations had I spent out here, in search of some form of peace from the hustle and bustle? How many times had I stumbled upon Levi, or him upon me, in search of the same thing? I think for a moment that I wouldn't mind him stumbling upon me now.

I shake the thought from my mind as quickly as it occurs. Just deliver the paperwork.

I begin the path to the castle without a thought. The trail ingrained into my very psyche. I almost laugh at the thought. I abandoned this place, yet it never left me. What is it Djo said about men and cities?

I never allowed myself to dwell on it from the comfort of Michael's garden, but God did I miss the sky here. Something about the ever present swirling of purples and blues splashed across the stars is purely... divine. Not to say that the Celestial realm wasn't stunning. But there was always this sense of perfectionism, even in the natural landscape. It never felt right to me. Not like this at least. This has always been chaotic, but in the way a toddler helping in the kitchen is chaotic. Sure, shit's a mess and you're near certain it's going to end poorly, but if you take just a moment to watch it unfold, there's beauty in it.

I wish I could have been reborn as a demon.

No. No I don't. Living out the rest of my days, infinite as they may be, facing them with my own selfishness. I'm sure it would kill me a second time.

I'm utterly lost in thought and the view of the sky as I follow the path. So much so, I nearly miss the tail swishing on the ground in front of me. Luckily for me, it bats my ankle gently before I manage to step on it. Double luck, the contact doesn't wake it's sleeping owner.

Belphegor snores softly in the grass next to the path, curled up with his back to me. Something in me instinctively wants to curl up with him, but I know I can't. So instead, I sit. Divine garb be damned, I'm sitting on the dirt, watching him sleep. I consider making a run for it, but the subtle pull he's always had keeps me calm and still. Even in his sleep, even with our pact burned away, his presence still lulls me like a child.

I shake my head as if I were actually dozing off. Was I? Regardless, I stand up, settling to move him out of the trail, just a little. For the sake of the hazard he poses to himself and others. He's as warm as I remember as I press him further into the grass, tucking his tail over his leg before quickly stepping away and back to my task.

A warm feeling I can just barely remember washes over me and stops me in my tracks. How could I, after over a year away, fall so quickly back into routine. Not only how could I, but how dare I? I made my decision, and I've got no right to just wander in here and return to my position, doting and fawning over them. I truly am a selfish creature.

I tried to explain it to them, time and time again. But they simply refused to believe me. I cared so much, not because of them, but because I needed to. I needed to care for them to feel useful. Asmodeus once told me that I was a "pleasure sub". I told him I was willing to rip my own heart out to please him, but mostly because i never much cared for it anyway.

(As always, thank you soooo much for reading. If you'd like to be tagged in future uploads, please comment to be added to the list!)

-Your Friend, The Author

*tags*

@spffldlbrnf

[grenade-maid]

there's a lot of reasons more people aren't into yuri that are troubling to consider, but equally, I genuinely think it cannot be understated how much of it comes down to most yuri being boring as hell. Like truly. I've been reading the front page of Dynasty Scans like it was the newspaper for 15 years I am not exaggerating I can show you the download file data 15 years.

You know what the complaint about yuri by yuri readers was back in 2009?

"wow that really was just 5 volumes of them blushing at each other and then they don't even kiss"

You know what the complaint about yuri by yuri readers is today in 2023?

"wow that really was just 5 volumes of them blushing at each other and then they don't even kiss"

Don't get me wrong, Yuri has grown a LOT in that time, to the point that most people today wouldn't even understand a Maria-sama reference if it were dropped in front of them (thank God). It's expanded and evolved to encompass more stories about adult women, wider varieties of scenarios, a greater acknowledgement of real life lesbianism, and is more comfortable showing girls kissing with tongue and having sex.

Yuri Manga is maybe the best is it's ever been, and it's also getting the widest readership it's ever had in the English speaking world. The titles we carry at work are always on back order with long queues, and, when I've asked them, most weebs of all gender or sexualities report keeping up with at least a few Yuri series.

At large though? Most of it is still really boring. That's not a bad thing necessarily. I like it because it goes down easy. For the most part any series you pick is gonna be pretty chill. Even shit from Sal Jiang which is PRETTY EDGY for yuri is a pretty breezy read. More serious ones like How Do We Relationship? cover some pretty real subjects about how intimacy is actually quite difficult even when both of you love each other, but it's not like... Exciting. Yuri isn't where you go to pump your fist or get perched on the edge of your seat.

So when the comparison is made to yaoi, well, I mean, have you READ any yaoi? Even in some of the more restrained titles those boys are likely to be sucking and fucking balls and all within the first volume or two. There's gonna be drama, intrigue, shit is gonna get messy, passions are gonna get heated, clothes are gonna be ripped off, people are gonna get sold to One Direction, it's stuff you can sit down with a bowl of popcorn with you know? Stuff you can message your friend and gush Hey Can You BELIEVE? A lot of it is pretty trashy, but that's the appeal. The generic state of yaoi is torrid and exciting and sexy. Ultimately, as a species many of us like to see pretty people fuck. In yaoi you'll get that. In yuri you won't. Nothing wrong with that, but it is gonna be a major contributing factor to their relative popularity.

It's also worth making the comparison to hetero romance manga, which has undergone a renaissance of it's own in recent years. There's now a whole meta around crafting a handful of mean shitty grouchy dysfunctional bully women and flinging them at the protagonist of the day who, unlike in years past, may actually have a face and personality. Most of these are also very trashy and truly scrape the bottom of the bucket in terms of writing.

AND YET?

I would bet money on the fact that you'll have heard of these women and probably even have a good idea what they're like without ever having touched a page of their manga.

I'm sorry but the straights are whipping donuts around the yuri girls in terms of delivering a wide variety of weird compelling fucked up women. How many yuri leading ladies by comparison can you point to as standout recognizable characters even divorced from their story? There's definitely a few, but not many. I'm not talking quality or depth of writing, I'm talking straight up pure recognizability. There are many beautifully written women in yuri, now more than ever. I can't think of many who'd like, get a figure made or have their face splashed on merch, though.

I don't really have a conclusion here. I love Yuri a lot, but at the end of the day this is just kinda the state of things right now.

[hiskillingjar]

law with user who is super attached to them? i have bpd so i am. projecting. or maybe law with opposite aesthetic user. ahhggg help me

yeag 🥀

1300+ words, sfw, meet cute but they may both be demented yayyyyyy cute!

"Oh, hello! What can I do for you today?"

The pretty sales clerk smiled at Lawrence over the hardware store counter, dimpling their round cheeks, punctured by silver barbell piercings at the corners of their smile. 

They had seen them around before, working at the counter when they were assessing the new shipment of plants (they came in every Wednesday just to check for anything that needed saving) and putting out stock when they were checking out, but they'd never had the opportunity actually to talk to them until now. 

Granted, Lawrence didn't have much opportunity to talk to anyone, but that was generally by choice.

“Hello,” Lawrence mumbled with their best attempt at a polite smile, one they’d practised extensively in the mirror and looked relatively normal looking (it didn’t touch their eyes, but they would do what they could). “Um…I was looking for planter twine. It, uh, it wasn’t where it usually was?”

"Yes yes," They said quickly, stepping around the counter (they were wearing their work apron over jeans and black cotton and fishnet, silver chains hanging from their hip, a bitter exterior hiding a sweet centre) and starting to walk towards the greenhouse section that Lawrence had just come from. "Yeah, one of my managers did a restructure of the planting stuff for whatever reason." They waved their hand flippantly. "Said it would make more sense to put supplies at the exit or something."

"Oh," Lawrence frowned, their brows knitting together as they walked behind them, shambling slowly to make up for their taller stature (even in platforms, the pretty sales clerk was almost a head shorter than them). "That's not very considerate..."

"Tell me about it," They rolled heavily made-up eyes before looking back at Lawrence over their shoulder and smiling, more than just good customer service, it appeared actually fond. "But you can always ask for my help, if you need it. I'm, uh," They chuckled and scratched their neck as the automatic door slid open for them. "I'm glad you did. Ask me, that is…heh, sorry, I’m all over the place…"

"Mm," Lawrence nodded with their own smile, no longer a polite social nicety, more genuine (more offputting). "Um, yeah, no worries. I...I appreciate that."

"Ah!” They explained triumphantly, reaching towards the display for the coil of planter’s twine. “Here you are. All the planter twine you could need."

They held it out for them, and when Lawrence reached to take it, their fingers grazed over each other. 

It was barely a touch, just a brief moment of skin on skin contact, but it was more than enough to send a sharp prickle of excitement up Lawrence's spine, tingling up their brain stem and down to their toes.

That was bad, they thought, instantly pulling back. 

They couldn’t be excited around someone like this. 

Someone innocent and undeserving of any of their potential cruelty. Someone kind. And…so, so pretty.

"Um, I-I hope you don't mind me saying this..." The pretty sales clerk mumbled before Lawrence could dismiss themself, looking all the prettier with an embarrassed look, their dark eyes flitting down, heavy platforms meeting as their knees touched. "But, uh, I've seen you around here a lot…basically every day I work here, actually."

Lawrence felt embarrassed, being confronted with their obsessive consistency like this, but they had a sense that this wasn't being pointed out in a judgemental light.

In fact, it was probably the exact opposite.

"I’ve kind of gotten…a little attached, as creepy as that sounds.” 

“Attached?” Lawrence repeated quietly, cheeks flushing a little darker.

“I’m not a stalker, I promise.” They chuckled, idly toying with a strand of their hair, dyed black to match their bitter exterior. Something in Lawrence ached to see what they were hiding (and maybe they actually would have let them). "But, uh, I can see you like plants too. That's really cool. I mean, I do too, but I can barely keep a succulent alive-"

"Oh?" Lawrence looked up then, their flushed cheeks subsiding at the mention of plants. "W-What are you struggling with?"

"Um," They blinked before chuckling bashfully again. They clearly hadn't anticipated them picking up on their gardening woes. "Ah, I-I'm not sure...they just tend to die on me, most of the time…maybe I just have, like, the opposite of a green thumb or something."

"Well, succulents go against human nature," Lawrence mumbled, their fingers toying with the twine, the fibres rough and scratchy against their skin, flashed images of the twine looped around something else in their mind making their expression and something else twitch as they spoke. "They don't need watering very often, and they do well when they're just...left alone on a window sill, something like that. They’re not really plants as they are…well,  decorations."

Their tongue poked out and wetted their lips nervously, their grey eyes going to meet the eyes of the pretty sales clerk, who appeared to be listening.

"They're good plants for people who work a lot, students, people without much time on their hands," They continued to explain, idly pacing and gesturing towards a display of succulents and cactuses in novelty pots (most of them foodstuffs and animals, the kinds of things Lawrence found tacky). "Because they don't need as much as other plants do. Not like a pothos plant or most ferns, or god forbid, an orchid...they need constant attention."

They looked back towards the pretty sales clerk with a slight smile, softer and gentler than they could normally manage but probably just as eerie as ever. 

People didn’t like their smile, normally, but…they hoped the pretty sales clerk had an appreciation for it.

"Maybe you’d do better with…something a little needier, as opposed to something more independent like a succulent..." They canted their head slightly. "What do you think?"

“I think you’ve been talking with one of my exes,” They laughed, toying with that strand of hair again. 

Their laughter made Lawrence laugh too, though theirs was quiet and tittering, well controlled and subdued lest it grow into something bigger and scarier.

"I also think you're remarkably patient," They continued, pushing their free hand into their apron pocket, idly swaying from side to side as they spoke, restless and needing something to do while they were speaking. "If those are the kinds of plants you look after."

Lawrence shrugged.

"I just like paying attention to something." They said with another little shrug, eyes going upwards in thought, their lips pressed together as they considered what to say next, what they wanted to reveal to a quasi-stranger. "I like to...to be needed, I suppose. It...gives me a purpose, you know. Something to bring me home when…things are bad."

Normally, a statement like that would earn pity, sympathy, things that Lawrence didn't care about and flat-out abhored most of the time.

But the pretty sales clerk didn't pity them.

They understood them.

At least, their gaze implied as much.

"Yeah," They mumbled, their smile and their gaze softening slightly as they teased the hoop through their bottom lip with their teeth, looking thoughtful. "That's...really beautiful, when you put it like that. Maybe that's what I need too..."

"Hm," Lawrence hummed, before looking back down at the planter's twine, now welcoming the images of the rough fibres wound around the pretty sales clerk's wrists, ankles, their jaw, their lips, rubbing skin raw, bringing up sores and blood-

"You know,”  They said, derailing their train of thought “I see you around here so much, but I don't think I even know your name." They smiled bashfully, looking to the side again. "You've just been...'the pretty blonde' when I think about you in all my creepy stalker fantasies that I totally don’t have…heh."

"Hah," Lawrence let out a strangled breath, dead eyes alight with unfamiliar life, and tried to cover it with a laugh, tried to appear normal, if only just for a moment. "That's...that's way too nice..."

"Maybe if you give me a name, I won't have to be so flattering," They replied with another chuckle. "Do you trust me with that much?"

"Yeah...I'm Lawrence," They smiled that eerie little smile again. 

"And you?"

[casteliacityramen]

Previous post (mini recap)

"Can we talk?"

"That depends if you'll yell at me and take off again."

"Depending on what you say, I just might."

[PART 1 OF 2]

"... Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't know how to, without... that... happening. It was sheer coincidence that led Ingram’s descendants to keep coming here. I didn't think you'd believe me," Ray responded telepathically.

"I still don't."

"I have nothing to gain by lying to you."

She hates that part of him, how he manages to sound so disingenuous while still telling the truth. There's always something underneath the surface, but he never goes there unless she pokes and prods. She could have ended that explanation right then and there, but she continues.

"But not telling me that the Dewott that I've seen every other night was a Matsumoto this entire time? Keeping that to yourself is okay?"

One of the many problems of an infinite lifespan means that there's no longer agency to anything. There's no immediate need to address any personal matters when they theoretically have all the time left in the world.

He figured that he could have talked to her further down the line, when they both settled down and processed all of their feelings... Or so he thought. 

Touchy subject or not, it was starting to sink in that he should've talked about this sooner. Granted, he never would have guessed that the circumstances would have led them to where they were now. Neither of them imagined that today would’ve gone like this.

"Of course not...

... But can you blame me when you reacted like you did?"

"Alright, asshole, I came to apologize but if you’re going to-"

"You scared me."

"Rio, when you were released, when you found me again, you sat on that seat and you said…”

“... Nothing.”

The two of them sit still, time grinding to a halt while Ray’s eyes roamed the space underneath his hands–as if the grain in the wooden countertop was magically providing him instructions on how to organize his words.

Gods, he wished.

"You were so quiet, it was unsettling. You’ve never been one to shy away from talking about how you feel, so I know that something went terribly wrong. A Matsumoto stopping by every now and then seemed so inconsequential at the time. But… the more I thought about telling you, the more I second guessed myself.

So I left it unspoken. I had a feeling you would be angry with me and I was right... But I never thought you'd be furious.

We carried on quietly for the past six months because I wanted you to take the first step. I figured that you’d be ready whenever you felt like it, but I should have told you about this without having to make you dredge up the past by yourself."

I'm sorry."

"This is supposed to be my apology about yelling at you, you prick." Rio telepathically mutters, not expecting this level of genuine introspection from him. "How am I supposed to follow that?"

She watches as Ray visibly laughs off the tension in his shoulders. She lets out a short huff in response, turning back to the counter.

"I thought I was fine. I thought I was better than this–above it all. We went through something like this before, back when we first started. I thought we’d shrug it off like we did last time, but then I snapped like a toothpick today."

Ray watches as her face scrunches up in a cocktail of negative emotions. She seems like she's physically struggling to get anything out, which is an effort that didn't go unnoticed by Ray.

"I think running a ramen stand as a rockruff is exactly how I am now: absolutely useless. I'm not allowed to be useful. I'm not allowed to do my job as a Shepherd.

And that's a good thing, because now I can't stop thinking about all my mistakes--all the people I failed to protect. There's no use in a guardian angel that loses faith in herself."

She turns, facing the street, thankful that it was relatively empty at this time of hour.

“So... I sat here, on this very stool, watching every day as everybody moved on with their lives without a care in the world. Ordinary people who seem to be doing fine without me.” 

Rio shakes her head at the term "ordinary people,” laughing bitterly as she turns back around.

“I know I’m being stupid. A carefree life for everyone is what we work so hard for, yet I feel so… so pissed off at them for being none-the-wiser.

Imagine that: being mad that peace is the new ‘ordinary.’ Angry that these people don't know what it's like to live with the constant threat of death, even though none of them deserve it. It makes me feel like a shitty shepherd.

I thought it'd be easier if I slept through those moments, but every other time I fall asleep, I have a nightmare. When I try to think of anything else, all I can think about is how this all started. I thought about all the things we did to get to this point. I couldn't, and still can't, stop thinking about everything I did wrong back then and now.”

Ray heaves a heavy sigh, partly because he feels relieved that she's opening up to him, but another partly because he knows exactly what she's talking about.

“Yeah.”

She didn’t need him to say anything else. She knows that he knows. She'll tell him the full extent of what she went through and what she's going through, but that's for another day. That isn't the purpose of this specific conversation, after all.

She paws the empty glass around on the table sheepishly for a long moment. Finally, she gathers herself and turns to him.

“I’m sorry I made you cry.” 

“I know.”

“Thanks for putting up with me.”

“You’ve been there for me. I wouldn't have it any other way.”

[Next]

[us-the-voices-and-more-voices-2]

random Conner being a good bullshitter moment

Teacher: today class we are doing a genealogy thing, basically we are going to track your family tree. It’s an assessment of your research skills, go ham just make sure your information is correct if it isn’t you will be docked accordingly.

Later

classmate: so Conner? How are you going?

Conner: oh I realise my family history is a bit confusing but when the day comes I’ll explain it, how are you going?

classmate: oh fine, my family already had a family tree book made so I just have to present it.

Conner: cool, I have to make mine from scratch but it’s alright.

a week later after a few battles with random space pirates

teacher: well class I hope you’re ready to present your assignments, who wants to go first?

Conner: *raises his hand*

teacher: oh well, Conner go ahead.

Conner: *clears throat* okay, so my dad clark is actually my half brother *conner starts to singsong* my mother is actually some rich lady named Lex, my dad is actually this guy Elliot, my half brother is also my older brother, I know it makes no sense but keep on listening. My cousin is Kara, my family is Jonathan and Martha Kent, my stepmom is Lois lane and my nephew is Jon Kent. Yup that’s it.

the class applauds after Conner’s PowerPoint presentation

teacher: wait how is clark your half brother?

Conner: just is, my dad Elliot knocked up Lex and he left shortly afterwards. He was one of Jonathan’s distant relatives, he ended up leaving clark with the Kent’s because well easier than leaving him alone, since his mother died when he was a kid. He did die only a short while later it was only supposed to be temporary until he did die. So they ended up adopting clark, he’s still a full blooded Kent but yeah his dad is dead. And I’m his half brother because our dad had a kid with this rich lady Lex. As you can see on the chart. And Kara is our cousin who I don’t know who’s parents are.

teacher: well that’s something, I honestly was expecting something else.

Conner: I’m still in touch with rich lady Lex, since she’s a doctor and did raise me for the first years of my life, and I have family health issues. But I am the Jonathan and Martha’s kid though, Lex is just reluctant about me being with the other side of the family because she didn’t really know them well. Since dad died long after she knew she was pregnant, i was a ivf baby lol because she froze his sperm. I call clark dad because well he’s been my dad. But we are half brothers, it’s more of a “I didn’t know we were half brothers so I’m going to call you dad” thing I was 14 when I came to live with them, I had a falling out with my mother.

the class listens eagerly because this is so much Kent lore, and explains literally everything about why the fuck they look a bit different and where clark came from! the decades long mystery is solved!

Conner: so now I just alternate between the two houses, it’s not a split custody agreement or something it’s just I like living with the Kent’s. And I’m old enough to make my own decisions, so it’s just mostly living at the Kent’s and visiting mother.

teacher: well that’s something. Thank you for sharing this, you receive a B+ because I don’t have access to any of your records or know who the heck you’re talking about so B+. Whoever’s next get ready.

later

Conner sitting at the dinner table eating some roast, and slightly kicking his feet under the table asks

Conner: I did my family history thing today

Jonathan: you didn’t screw up and tell everyone something that could trace us back to superman right? *chuckles*

Conner: nope, did finally explain that clark is my half brother.

Jonathan: *fork drops* what

connner: well obviously no one believed he’s my dad, because that’d make him a teen father or something and honestly it was genuinely getting pretty weird. So I explained that Elliot, Jor el. Was my father, and that he had a kid with a rich woman named Lex because technically it’s true who can actually confirm or deny that, through ivf after Elliot died. He also had a kid with unnamed woman who is Clark’s mother, he left clark with you as he couldn’t leave him alone and he died shortly after. Isn’t that a better back story?

Jonathan super surprised by conner’s web weaving skills just nods

Conner: so now I can talk about Lex, no one thinks I’m a teen father’s child anymore, and you have some one to blame if someone does actually accidentally test Clark’s blood. I am amazing!

Jonathan: well, I guess I’ll inform everyone of the situation you just made, but I commend you for your hard work. You did a good job kid.

Prev | current | next

(yes this is a series please read the first one it's hilarious)

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for (non-confrontationally) communicating my frustrations to my sibling with misophonia?

🟨 for saving

I (22) am currently living with my dad and my younger sibling (21). We all live in a relatively old one-story house. Both my dad and sibling sleep in separate rooms on the first floor and I sleep in the basement. Whenever I go upstairs and walk around in the kitchen (which is connected to my sibling’s room) they often complain that I’m making too much noise and that I need to quiet down. My dad’s room is also next to the kitchen, and I have never heard him complain to me about the same thing. The only thing is that my sibling’s sleep schedule is out of whack, so they’ll be sleeping in the middle of the day when my dad and I are awake and walking around the house.

Tonight they apologized to me for snapping at me today, and I said ok I forgive you but also we’ve been through this same situation several times before and perhaps, if we want to avoid this happening in the future, you could seek therapy or other sort of treatment for your sensitivity to sound. Clearly they’re suffering from this mentally and we are fortunate enough to be able to afford good healthcare and they would be able to work on this some more. I repeatedly stated that I wasn’t upset at them, and that I genuinely wanted to help them develop healthy strategies to deal with this, and I wasn’t trying to undermine them or saying that they weren’t already trying to make progress.

They were very hurt by this and took me saying this as saying that they weren’t already trying. That really wasn’t what I meant, and I just wanted to help. It’s also frustrating to live here and have someone constantly be annoyed and frustrated at me whenever I fidget or make a normal amount of noise. Was I the asshole for telling them this?

[cathchicken]

Oops I tripped on a rock-

Welp timeline change ig

Sooooo this is the new collector and king AU I made today. As you can tell, it is very different from my normal aus. I’m tempted to not even call it an AU at all, since it is almost one in the most literal sense…

Essentially: king and the collector exist as different people in a completely different witch and demon universe. The collector himself is a witch, or “wizard” as I call them. King is, well, a demon still, or a monster more specifically. They live somewhat different lives, and are somewhat different people, but are still collector and king nevertheless.

Definitely not a traditional AU. But I think this will be fun

The collector: he is a young wizard who is mainly socially reclusive. Probably late teens, as compared to the typical ToH collector. Not immortal. Their communication skills are… not great, and often resorts to talking with their hands. They try their best. His status as a wizard means somewhat; he is able to provide spells to non-magic folk, but for relatively cheaper costs. It thankfully is enough to make him a reasonable living. He’s not afraid to chew on a few stray comet newts every once in awhile…

King: a monster. He is usually ignored by most people, and often prefers to stay unnoticed anyways. He one day find the collector, however, and is allowed to crash for a bit before he continues on. A nomadic lifestyle is common for monsters, anyway. But soon, they get close. And King decides each day, essentially, “tomorrow I’ll leave”

TW FOR BELOW: disturbing themes mainly

Their overall relationship is extremely complex. The collector… craves intimacy. He’s not sure how it really works though, but he’s sure what he wants is more than just something to fill the void of his loneliness. He sees king as an opportunity, but doesn’t want to force anything. They are pretty desperate though. King, on the other hand, has his own issues. As you can see in the art, he doesn’t actually possess a skull-like face. It’s just a mask. King isn’t afraid to show his own face however… he just eventually found the mask as a way to better express himself, in to an almost idealistic fashion, without his insecurities getting in the way. But sometimes… his own feelings of wanting a genuine relationship bubble up… especially around his new buddy, Collector. The Collector says he should embrace his inner self, as it’s what makes him beautiful. But it’s soon pretty obvious that when King lets go, he REALLY lets go. He can’t control himself anymore, and sometimes ends up hurting collector. He knows it’s bad, but with the constant praise of the collector, he chooses not to stop. The collector also gets the feeling that he shouldn’t convince king to keep giving in, but he also knows that this is essentially Kings raw and unaltered version of affection… and he likes it. He’s so happy at the thought of receiving love and friendship, he doesn’t realize he is being bitten… and scratched… and torn apart…

In the end, this AU is about two people who, essentially, are not neurotypical in any way. They are trying to fit into societal norms, but also wanting to be able to be themselves in a healthy way. This relationship, as you can tell, starts off really dirty. But if I ever develop this story a bit more, I want it to be about them both finding how to care for each other in their own way, but also in a healthy way. It’s not that they won’t make good friends, they both have just never had a friend before. This is a journey they will face together

Ok it is 3 am. Sleep time!!!

[rezcowgirl]

Trying to keep up. Up feels very far away. This is why I was saying I need stilts. See? SEE?

cw: suicide, drug use, death

I get through an increasing amount my working day-to-day by disassociating and it’s probably Not Great. It isn’t that I don’t want to be present for it - I obviously care about our stated Mission & Values, our projects, our outcomes. I care deeply about my coworkers, too. And look, I know how fortunate I am to have a position working on something that is close to my heart and pays a living wage.

But I think it’s the close-to-the-heart thing that is eating me alive. And it doesn't even have the mercy to do it quickly. It's a slow bleed out, spread out over nearly a decade.

Today, tomorrow, next week, I scan in and talk shit with my coworker for 20 minutes (they’re getting a kitten). I play my voicemails. I read the latest coroner’s report (180 deaths/month). I read more (Indigenous community has 13 fatal overdoses and 6 suicides). I signal boost another GoFundMe (for another devastated family, for more kids left behind). Occasionally, I get to do a walkabout with a street nurse (uneventful so far). I say nice things to our partners in government (or else they will be mad). I dig success stories out from this massive pile of shit and my endlessly broken and increasingly boarded up heart.

I coordinate these monthly meetings with politicians & co. across the province. You can believe me or not, it doesn’t matter, but I think they’re good people. Or they’re at least actively trying to be if they aren’t already. They show up to these voluntary Friday afternoon things because they care about the overdose/drug poisoning crisis, even though we’re inching up on a decade of “crisis”, and the vast majority of people have stopped caring outside of any opportunity to moralize (And can you tell me: when does a “crisis” stop being a “crisis”? When do you admit it’s just business as usual?). They’re people I genuinely think are trying to do the right thing. (Let me have this. Please.)

I’ve seen a few of them cry and be horribly embarrassed and apologetic about it. And I always think: stop apologizing. Let me meet you as a human here. We’re both here feeling hopeless and hopeful, that’s why we show up. I can meet their eyes as someone who has cried at my desk more times than I can count. 

You don’t have to tell me that’s not healthy. I know it isn’t.

Here’s the other biting/drowning bit. All these extra hits in the teeth, just for me, when I read “13 fatal overdoses/6 suicides”.

I’m out in the middle of the ocean. Floating through land acknowledgements and “decolonizing” workshops and lofty “Indigenizing” ideas. Now that I’m mostly working on the (settler) political side, I’m the only Indigenous person in the vast majority of rooms I am in, other than the few times I get to attend a meeting at the Friendship Centre. I am well aware that I sit in these rooms because I am “likeable”, relatively “well spoken” (let’s not talk about speech therapy, a childhood getting yelled at for talking in a rez accent, always hearing “you don’t sound native” and thinking that was compliment until I understood it wasn’t).

This month’s topic was involuntary treatment and there was actually a presenter that was both brown and had lived experience with involuntary treatment

I clung to him like a life raft.

Our HR person referred to me as a “ray of sunshine” after one of our tandem interviews earlier this month. She said “I feel like I just knew you from the moment we first met”. I snorted, but I was happy about that. The Christmas card from my boss reads “You bring lightness and care to all of us,” and I’m happy about that, too. 

I am going on eight years in January, and here are some things I know about myself from swimming/sinking through it: I know I am really weird in a funny, friendly way that puts people at ease. I know people get excited when they get to work with me on a project because I am kind and I will pull my weight. I know that I’m good at reading when someone is overwhelmed and I can walk people off their ledges. I know that I am respected. I know that I spent more than half a year with nearly every idle moment lying on my back thinking “I should probably kill myself”, mumbling through compulsory psych check-ins (show up or the cops will show up), and somehow not missing more than three days of work.

Some years have been better than others. This year was not the worst, but definitely not the best.

Years ago, I was offered another job at a related org, but one that was less focused on overdose and more on the mental health side of the sector. I am always wondering and second guessing my decision.

This past Friday - the politician meeting day, wasn’t even a particularly awful day. When I’m not feeling crushing existential dread, I am feeling okay. This morning I was informed that the person I REALLY WANT to be my new supervisor accepted the position, so I’ll have a new supervisor in the new year. This will also put distance between me and the one person I do have an issue with. So if anything, my job will be better soon. 

Except, you know, that whole thing about of thousands of people dying from something 100% preventable and it overwhelmingly feeling like nobody cares anymore.

RAAAAAAAUUUGH -grabs your face- Ok ok ok, listen, I KNOW it won’t always be like this. I am premensing and grieving, stressed as hell and I haven’t seen my best friends in a month. This is making it very difficult for me to focus on anything other than work because work is everything right now.

But I’ll stop now. I'll have two weeks off soon. I’m having a party this weekend, then I’m Depeche Mode/The Cure-ing and Saturnalia debauching the next, then it’s my birthday and I’m getting an earl grey lemon cake and then it’s a New Year. 

I’m going to focus on something that WILL go into my gratitude journal because it makes me laugh:

We were settling in, about to begin our union meeting, and my coworker said “wait, there are fewer of us today - why don’t we go get coffee?” and I, having just finished steeping my Tourist-Trap-Hell holy grail tea cried “NO!!!” while everybody said “YES!!!” and I basically looked exactly like this fucker: 🥺

They were like “Jesus calm down, just bring it” (I immediately thought of the “No Outside Food Or Drink” sign lmao). We went to raid the kitchen for a rogue to-go cup. We found none. So I was walking around downtown with my open mug of tea, which I then smuggled into the coffee shop. I say “smuggled”, but the reality is the workers aren’t paid enough to give a shit. So I drank cold tea (because it obviously got cold on the walk over) while everyone enjoyed their fresh coffee and made fun of me. 

I complained, but I was secretly happy.

I am also going to be our new union steward in 2025. Yay. (I am actually very interested - labour stuff is one of my major knowledge gaps)

Also, this lyrics page made me laugh a lot. The "annotations" are the best.

Also, @ahasiw-okitowin re: Nu Trendz. ❤ You made me laugh out loud. That's some ndn deep cuts there. The fucking light blue one in particular. Pretty sure I melted a hole in my mom's Nu Trendz around a camp fire once.

[nicistrying]

Tues 3rd December

My uterus has finally stopped trying to murder me, so yesterday Matt walked Maggie so I could stretch and do some v gentle core work in the morning. It felt good to move ❤️ Work was fine, it's always nice to work at home on a Monday rather than having to commute. Veggie sausages with roast veg and homemade onion gravy for dinner 🤌

Today, I walked Mags and we met the girlies ✨️ Wandered around in the dark getting all the good smells, and saw some more friends on the way home. So from feeling really groggy and gross when I woke up I felt much better after seeing sweet puppies and some exercise. Managed to do 2 sets of a relatively light arm workout. It was tough with her looking at me like this though 🥺

Worked, took her out to play at lunchtime, and she was sooo good - there is an old man we sometimes stop to chat to, and he has his grandson's sharpei that he walks. The sharpei is always on his leash, and Maggie freaks out that they can't play properly and gets too boisterous for him. She can't just say hello and then walk away 🙄 so the old man was waving me over to chat and I told her to sit and stay and bless her heart she just lay down a little way away from me, the old man and the other dog and watched us very politely until I went back to her. I was so proud 🥹🥹 she got lots of praise and treats bc if it's not an option to take her somewhere with me that will trigger her, the next best thing is to know I can trust her to stay put while I go myself. We do this when I need to put her poop in the bin too. She sits and watches while I go up to the road to bin it bc if she comes with me she wants to chase cars that come by. Like she is so obedient, but just gets so overwhelmed by her triggers that she can't listen. It's not ideal and by some people's standards she's a bad, aggressive dog but tbh she just has boundaries. It doesn't look nice to people with chill dogs but this is the gremlin we got so we try to work with it 😂

Matt was home by the time we got back, we all had our advent treats, and worked downstairs together. I picked up some Christmas presents from the shopping centre, we had more sausages & veg, and I squeezed in the last set of my arm workout before my bath. Slowly getting back into it. For now I think I have to just work with what my body can manage. Genuinely 3 days ago I could not have done a pushup I was in so much pain. Trying not to beat myself up and just go with the flow, push hard when I am physically able to, try to keep moving in any way at all when I feel like I'm dying.

Now bedtime 🙌

[yvesdot]

Well, this is new! I watched the entire VMAs (just about) for the first time ever, and here is my official writeup—less so for Dots (certainly not a public-facing project), more for all my friends I want to gossip with. Here’s everything I’m going to be talking about for the next few days that happened at the VMAs, with helpful links to all the available clips.

Before anything happened, Kendrick released a new song on Instagram. This immediately trended alongside the VMAs for the rest of the night.

*

Chappell Roan snapped at a photographer on the red carpet. It’s still frankly unclear to me what happened—in the video I’ve seen passed around, you hear a voice in the background say “shut the fuck up,” to which Chappell turns and retorts, “you shut the fuck up!” When they apparently protest, she shuts them down, saying, “not me, bitch!” It’s unclear whether the photographer in question was originally talking to her, or to another photographer, and also whether she was accusing him of saying anything to her. I’m not personally invested in finding out more.

*

Eminem opened by performing “Houdini” and “Someone Save Me;” I showed up halfway through with the volume on mute and had no idea why that man was wearing the world’s worst blonde wig. I do think the obvious visual reference to his original VMAs “Slim Shady” performance is genuinely cute. It is unbelievable he still rapped the “If I was to ask for Megan Thee Stallion if she would collab with me / Would I really have a shot at a feat [shot at her feet]?” lines with Megan Thee Stallion hosting.

*

Megan was adorable and an excellent host. She is so funny, so genuine, so easy to watch and so good at balancing being personable and competent. Honestly, she and Chappell gave some very similar energy tonight and it made me wonder if they know each other (I am not very aware of Chappell things—yet!) She was also, naturally, exceptionally well-dressed. The crowd absolutely loved her.

*

Taylor immediately won the “Best Collaboration” award for Fornite with Post Malone, which began a streak of 7 awards won that night, mostly for that one song, despite the fact that her latest album has been one of her worst-received by fans and critics alike. (This is not a comment on whether the songs on the album are good or not, just on the relative success in comparison with her past work and the reception of other projects nominated. It’s surprising.) Her seven awards were the aforementioned Best Collaboration, Song of Summer, Best Pop, Artist of the Year, Best Direction, Best Editing, and Video of the Year at the end of the night. This ties her with Beyonce for most VMAs ever won. She also claims a number of other records, but I am not going to list all that. 

I will tell you that she opened this acceptance speech with “Waking up this morning in New York on September 11th, I’ve just been thinking about what happened 23 years ago; everyone who lost a loved one and everyone that we lost. That is the most important thing about today and everything that happens tonight falls behind that,” and then continued as if this had been a normal thing to say and/or she had not said it.

I’m still frustrated at the timing of her endorsement of Harris coincidentally last night. It feels too obviously set up to quell rising fan anger and ensure every award she won would be “untainted” by people’s criticisms of her.

*

Megan recreated the iconic Britney-with-a-snake look.

*

Sabrina Carpenter performed a lovely medley. She opened singing “Please Please Please” (with the “motherfucker!”) on a swing, descended to a couple of audio clips including the iconic Britney line about Titanic from her “Oops! I Did it Again” music video, performed “Taste” with an astronaut and an alien (she did kiss the femalien, though Britney Spears (!) commented she ought to have kissed a girl), and transitioned into “Espresso” with a few dozen astronaut backup dancers. I loved her outfit and especially the lipstick mark on her thigh (!!?!!), and I have to give her credit for doing this insane performance setup in front of both Shawn Mendes and Camila Cabello, about whom “Taste” was allegedly written.

*

Katy Perry accepted the previously-announced Video Vanguard Award and performed a medley of tracks—in order, “Dark Horse,” “E.T.,” new track “I’m His, He’s Mine” featuring Doechii, “California Gurls,” “Teenage Dream,” “I Kissed a Girl” (rock version), “Firework,” and “Lifetimes.” You may notice that “Woman’s World” was nowhere on this list. Also, during their performance of “I’m His, He’s Mine,” Katy and Doechii scissored in a possible reference to Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion’s 2021 Grammys performance of W.A.P., and MTV cut directly to Orlando Bloom in a likely reference to the Britney/Madonna/Christina VMAs kiss where they cut to Justin Timberlake.

In my opinion, it was a great performance from the choice of tracks to the aesthetic(s) to her voice. She clearly still has it! However, people audibly booed when her name was announced and several times as she gave her speech, which, side note, opened with ““I did that all too on the first day of my period, if you can believe it!” It didn’t help that she chose to—well, look, here’s the whole thing, bold by me.

Can you believe it? Thank you so much to MTV for believing in my weirdness from day one and for helping artists extend their worlds beyond a song. There are so many things that have to align to have a long and successful career as an artist. There are no decade-long accidents. (a long, meaningful pause, during which people booed) So I would like to acknowledge a few people: my team who have been with me for over 20 years, direct management, and my label Capitol Records.

Trust me, it takes a village of strong people, a lot of healthy discourse, and a lot of group chats. My parents and my family, the deepest roots I know. We don’t always agree, but what a lesson that those disagreements can still be full of love. Thank you to MySpace, Warped Tour, and all the bygone places where I found a voice, identity, and a community so early on. Thank you to the friends that were there when my Jetta was repossessed. My Katy Cats: You stood by me for a lifetime, and the LGBTQ community who I recognize I would not be here without and who show me that you can be both kind and [bleeped out—”cunt”?]. Thank you to Orlando for keeping me grounded, celebrated, and doing the dishes. And lastly for my Daisy [her daughter], the only flowers I’ll ever need.

I’m excited when I look around music today, and I see all the amazing young artists who are operating with confidence, agency, vulnerability and authenticity. I’ve heard a lot of “Do this, don’t say that, wear less, wear more now. Hey, don’t cut your hair.” One of the biggest reasons I’m standing here right now is I learned how to block out all the noise that every single artist in this industry has to constantly fight against, especially women. I just wanna say with my whole heart, do whatever it takes to stay true to yourself and true to your art. Turn off social media, safeguard your mental health, pause, touch grass. And do what you were born to do just like I was born to do this. 143 comes out September 20. I love you!

I probably don’t need to say it, but I find it incredibly upsetting and disappointing that she would frame the criticism of her, which has centered almost entirely on her working with Dr. Luke, someone whom numerous women have accused of being misogynist and generally abusive, as “noise that women artists have to deal with.”

Also, I don’t have video proof of this, but they played a truly bizarre intro to the award where they called her “the queen of camp” and said “she’s a mother and she IS mother” and I don’t know what to do about that. They did play the world’s briefest audio snippet of “Woman’s World” during that.

*

Chappell Roan performed “Good Luck Babe” and nothing else, which nonetheless seemed to quiet upset fans whose shows were canceled with little notice last week due to the “scheduling conflict” of Chappell deciding to do the VMAs. I wish the mixing had been better; I could barely hear her voice! But the aesthetic was lovely (very Dorian Electra “Man to Man”) and the set was extremely well-used. She definitely seems unused to performing in this more regimented style, but there’s an infinite amount of time for her to either get comfortable with it or adapt it more to her usual performance method of running all over the stage.

*

Tyla won Best Afrobeats for “Water,” obviously. Lil Nas X (presenting the award with Halle) could be heard saying “But we already knew, though, right?” as she approached the stage. She gave the world’s most diplomatic speech which acknowledged that African music is (obviously) more diverse than the label “Afrobeats.”

*

Megan delivered an incredible medley performance: “BOA,” a sample of “Wanna Be,” “B.A.S,” a sample of “RATTLE,” “HISS,” and “MAMUSHI”—with a surprise appearance by featured artist Yuki Chiba, in a cool hat! And may I just say, for all-around stage presence, choreography, vocals, delivery, everything, Megan stole the show 100%. And that’s with all the ridiculous censoring she had to do! If you are not into Megan, you need to be, now. She is the moment.

*

Benson Boone did a flip (1:29) while performing “Beautiful Things,” a song I found myself hearing for the second time ever. It is apparently the song of the summer to many people. That’s cool! I genuinely had never heard it in my life before this week. He’s clearly an exceptionally talented performer, so let’s see where he goes.

*

Sabrina Carpenter won “Song of the Year” for “Espresso” and seemed genuinely shocked, somehow.

*

Halsey did an absolutely gorgeous performance of “Ego,” a song I hadn’t heard before but found myself liking. I should get into Halsey!

*

Camila, the other half (?) of the Camila-Shawn-Sabrina love triangle, with an album which underperformed (especially in comparison to Sabrina’s), faked out the audience (including her ex and his sometime-other-girl!) by pretending to play “June Gloom,” the closer from the standard edition of the album about why he runs back to her if he really likes Sabrina so much, and then cutting the recording off to actually sing “GODSPEED,” the closer off the deluxe version—and the latest single, dropped only last week. Apparently it’s the first track she wrote for this era, after a breakup with an entirely different ex. Point being, I give her a lot of props for just how much that moment rocked.

I suppose as a professional I ought to say all this is only allegedly what the songs are about. But, you know, we know.

*

You know Glorilla rocked the house down. Having seen her in SF, I could tell just how much she’d improved since then, not just in her performing skills generally but in her confidence. You go, Glo.

*

Chappell Roan won “Best New Artist” in a moment everyone saw coming a mile away and read her acceptance speech from her diary. She’s so cute!

*

Video of the Year went to Taylor and she shouted out “my boyfriend, Travis Kelce,” in her speech. This is not news, but people screamed like it was? She also told people to vote. None of this is really important to me but you need to know that I went to r/GaylorSwift again after several months’ abstention as a result of the way people were talking about it. People chanted Taylor’s name. Also, Megan initially opened the little card upside down, which was adorable.

*

Best performances of the night: Katy Perry, Megan Thee Stallion, and Halsey.

Most deserved wins of the night: 

Chappell Roan (Best New Artist)

“Espresso” (Song of the Year)

“Water” (Best Afrobeats)

“Mamushi” (Best Trending Video, though any pick might have been good)

“BOA” (Best Art Direction)

Biggest snubs of the night: 

“Not Like Us” (Song of Summer, “Fortnight”)

“Paparazzi” (VMAs Most Iconic Performance, “Roar” — a case where any other pick would have been better)

Sabrina Carpenter (Artist of the Year, Taylor Swift)

Glorilla & Megan Thee Stallion’s “Wanna Be” (Best Collaboration, “Fortnight”)

Olivia Rodrigo, Sabrina Carpenter (Best Pop, Taylor Swift)

“Too Sweet” (Best Alternative, “Beautiful Things”)

“Von dutch” (Best Cinematography, “we can’t be friends (wait for your love)”)

“Rush” by Troye Sivan and “greedy” by Tate Mcrae (Best Choreography, “Houdini”)

Additionally, “Espresso” was not nominated for Song of Summer (“Please Please Please” was), and Britney’s “Slave 4 U” was not nominated for VMAs Most Iconic Performance.

Here’s the full list of nominations and wins. 

Here’s my compilation of favorite outfits. Katy Perry wore a QR code tramp stamp which led to preorders for her album.

*

Other thoughts:

LISA and Anitta and Rauw Alejandro’s performances were also great! I don’t know that this was the best intro to their songs (my stream was not excellent quality) but I’m glad I stuck around!

Ads for HIV medication and Kamala Harris played throughout the night. There was one ad of Camila’s “I LUV IT” playing while she did insane things and drank Bacardi that almost made me dislike the song.

Charli not being anywhere near this event was criminal. I know she has the Sweat tour to rehearse for (I’m going to see her! AHHHH!!!!) but I really felt her absence. People also expected Taylor and Ariana to perform, and neither of them did—Ariana wasn’t even present! Lady Gaga wasn’t, either, which is a possible reason “Paparazzi” didn’t win Most Iconic VMAs Performance; apparently the VMAs prefer to give awards to artists who are present so they can give a live speech. Meanwhile, they gave Artist of the Year to Taylor Swift for the second year in a row and didn’t air it because she was walking in and out. Make of that what you will.

I successfully predicted the results of 5 awards (Best New Artist: Chappell Roan, Best Afrobeats: Tyla, Best Direction: Fortnight, Best Editing: Fortnight, and Video of the Year: Fortnight). Next year I might just start gambling and put it all on TSwift; it seems an easy victory.

Let me know if you want more of this sort of thing! I've done it for presidential debates in the past, too, though that was Patreon-exclusive. Heck, if I wasn't on hiatus, this might have been, too ^__^

[shion-yu]

Not Your Fault (part 3)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Shu comes down with Alex's cold from last week, but it seems like it’s hitting him way harder. Final part, thank you for reading! Fill for my @badthingshappenbingo space "Secret Caretaking." Original work, 2,360 words. No TWs, CW mild emeto, Alex is 13 here.

The thing about Shu was that if someone near him was sick, he always went down eventually. This had been true forever and Shu was bound to catch every cold and flu that made the rounds at the office he worked in. Usually he could push through it to the chagrin of his coworkers who had the joy of listening to him cough and sneeze for the next several days, but when he woke up this morning Shu knew right away that there was no way he was leaving the house today. Thank God it was a Saturday. 

It had been a few days since Alex had come down with a chest cold. He'd been truly sick for about two days, but as soon as he started feeling better he went back to his old self, attempting to sneak off to Ryo's as soon as he could. Shu liked Ryo a lot and was extremely glad that Alex had a friend, but he had tried to convince Alex to stay in bed for another day. "You still have a bit of a fever bud," Shu had sighed. "What if you get Ryo and his parents sick too?" Alex's face had soured, but apparently pointing out that he could hurt his friend Ryo worked because he had stayed home until the fever was gone. He waited for the twenty-four hour fever free mark and then escaped immediately. Shu was just glad he was feeling better. 

Knowing how his own body worked, Shu had been trying to get plenty of sleep and chugging Emergen-C for the past several days. He was actually hopeful that it had worked and he’d somehow been spared despite living in the same household as a germ-ridden teenager all week.

Now though, Shu knew whatever Alex had come down with had hit him, and it was hitting him hard. Shu groaned and turned over to look at the time on his phone. It was ten AM on a Saturday morning; he never slept in this late. Crap, where was Alex?

Shu forced himself to sit on the edge of the bed. It felt like his bones were creaking in pain and his headache was splitting. He stood up, was hit with a rush of dizziness, and sat right back down. He felt his legs quivering like he'd just attempted to do some monumental task. Had Alex felt this poorly? When he'd wrangled the teen to the doctor he'd just been diagnosed with a viral upper respiratory infection, nothing too serious, but Shu felt like death. If it wasn't for Alex he would have given up attempting to rise from bed at all, but he told himself this was part of being a parent. He'd signed up for this, and parents didn't get sick days off. 

Shu wobbled into the kitchen, leaning heavily on the walls as he went. To his relief he found Alex right away in the living room, sitting on the couch watching Saturday morning cartoons. He glanced briefly at Shu then did a double take, his eyes widening. "Holy shit, you look terrible," he said. 

Shu snorted with laughter which turned into a chesty cough. He had to sit down. He flopped heavily next to Alex, black spots dancing in his vision. "Thanks a lot, kid. Did you eat breakfast?" He asked, wincing at the pain in his throat.

"Yeah," Alex said. "I think you should probably not be worrying about me right now though." 

"It's only a cold, you know that," Shu said dismissively. "I'm just a wimp." He managed to give Alex what he hoped was an encouraging smile but was interrupted by a loud sneeze which he barely managed to direct away from his distant relative turned foster child. "Huh'AEESHUHh!" He groaned, the powerful sneeze ripping painfully through his aching sinuses. 

"Uh huh. Bless you," Alex said, scooting a few inches farther away from him in disgust.

"Thangks," Shu said, snorting up the snot that had begun to drip from his nose. God his head hurt like hell. "You good here if I go back to bed?" He genuinely couldn't fathom doing anything else right now. Was he just getting old that this was hitting him so much harder than it had Alex? Was this what having a cold at thirty-five felt like? 

"Yeah. Pretty sure I'm safer away from you and your biohazard zone," Alex said dryly. 

Shu didn't point out that Alex was almost certainly the one who'd given him this awful cold. He just nodded and shuffled back to bed, making a pit stop at the bathroom to urinate and grab the thermometer. It had barely gotten a break between uses, he thought as he placed it under his tongue. He looked at his haggard expression in the mirror and grimaced. Should he call his mom to watch Alex, he thought? He didn't think he could keep up with the rambunctious teen like this. He decided against it for now though, not wanting her to think he couldn't handle single parenting just like she had. Alex was thirteen, he didn’t need a babysitter, but he did need to be watched closely to make sure he didn’t do anything problematic.

The thermometer beeped and Shu looked at the flashing 101.8 on the tiny screen. Not good, he thought to himself. He downed two Tylenol and then brought the rest of the bottle with him to the bedroom. He collapsed back into bed and fell asleep before he had time to think about anything else. He spent the rest of the day coughing and sneezing and using an entire box of tissues. His sneezes were most certainly audible in every room in the house. Every cold Shu had seemed to go straight to his chest and this felt like no exception. He could practically feel the junk settling lower and lower in his lungs despite the absurd amount he was already coughing up.

Around lunch time, Shu wobbled to the kitchen to grab more water. Alex was at the table doing school work, which was a nice sight. “Hey bud, you doing okay in here?” Shu asked, wincing at how hoarse his voice had become in comparison to this morning in a mere few hours. 

“I’m definitely okay,” Alex said cautiously. “You look almost dead though.”

“I’m really okay,” Shu reassured him, which was absolutely not backed up by the way he suddenly grabbed the edge of the counter to avoid losing his balance. Alex stood up quickly, face alarmed. Shu waved his hand in his direction, trying to make it seem like he hadn’t nearly fainted. “It’s great you’re doing school work,” he said in an attempt to distract Alex. Predictably, this caused Alex to scowl and go back to what he was doing. However Shu could feel Alex’s concerned expression on his back as he slowly inched back to his bedroom.

He tried to rest, but the cough was really painful and Shu could feel his fever going up despite the Tylenol. He kept thinking about Alex. Could he really trust the kid to take care of himself all day? What if he skipped eating? Not that he usually did that, mealtime was the one thing Shu could actually rely on Alex to show up for but still. Alex was his sole responsibility and Shu wanted him to have more than just enough. He wanted him to feel comfortable and happy. He wanted to take care of Alex so all those bad memories he had became more distant. It seemed like such a monumental task at times though, and right now Shu was in completely new territory. How did he keep an eye on Alex when he could barely lift his head off the pillow?

He made it to dinnertime without incident. Shu hazily warmed up soup for himself. Alex was nowhere to be found. There was a note on the table: ‘At Ryo’s for dinner.’ At least Alex had bothered to let him know where he was and it was somewhere safe. Shu shivered and managed about three bites of the soup before his stomach rejected all of it and more. He dashed to the bathroom with energy he hadn’t known he had and spent the next half hour vomiting into the toilet. He was glad that Alex wasn’t home to hear it. Afterwards his temperature was 102.6. Ouch. Alex’s own fever had peeked at 102.3 that first night he was sick. Shu hoped his own illness was following that same trajectory and it wouldn’t get any higher. 

He forced down a single saltine cracker and two more Tylenol in the hope that it would stay in his stomach, then went back to bed. His stomach and head ached, his chest felt heavy, and Shu was beginning to grow concerned. He hadn’t been this sick in a while and he hadn’t had a kid to worry about that time. He needed to hurry up and get better. He needed to sleep.

He woke up an unknown amount of time later to the feeling of a cool hand on his cheek. It felt nice... Shu forced his eyes open and squinted at the form above him. Alex? Shu was confused. Why was Alex in here? 

"You were moaning in your sleep," Alex explained, noticing Shu's eyes were open now. He looked embarrassed to be caught. He also looked worried. "You feel really hot." 

"Just a fever. I took some Tylenol," Shu said hoarsely, although he had no idea how long ago that was now. “What time is it?”

“Two AM,” Alex said.

“Oh,” Shu said, confused. “Did I wake you up?”

"It’s alright," Alex said, and scurried out before Shu could ask any more questions. Shu didn't expect him to come back and he didn't for several minutes. By this time Shu had almost fallen back to sleep and was barely conscious when he saw Alex slink back into the room with a wet washcloth. He closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep to save Alex from getting more embarrassed. He felt the cool, damp cloth be placed on his forehead and then heard Alex leave again. Shu fell asleep with his lips turned in a smile.

The next time he became half conscious it was only because he was so goddamn cold. He was shaking uncontrollably with aches and chills. He curled into a ball and tried to wait out the pain, but he felt awfully alone right now. He missed his mom. She was always so good to him when was sick, brewing tea and rubbing his arms and legs and giving him the hot water bottle to ease his chills... Just like... Right now?

Shu opened his eyes. Somehow the hot water bottle had appeared in his arms, as well as an extra blanket on top of him. He listened carefully, but there was no quiet chatter of Chinese radio in the background that always accompanied his mom wherever she went. He did hear the sound of water running in the bathroom though, and then Alex's voice saying something like, "He'll be fine, Ry, right?" Shu wanted to reassure Alex he was definitely going to be fine, but he felt too weak and sleepy and soon lost consciousness again.

The quiet chatter of Chinese radio when he came back to his senses was a sure sign his mom was there now. "Ma?" Shu croaked, forcing his eyes open.

He could smell his mom's distinct perfume as she came to his bedside and rubbed his chest. "Háizi. Boy call me, say that you sick."

Shu slowly processed what that meant. Alex had called his mom, Fulu. "Where is he?" Shu asked.

"Friend house," his mom said. "He upset, think you dying."

"Ugh," Shu said, concerned at the thought of upsetting Alex. "Ma, didn't you tell him I'm fine? I always get high fevers..."

"He no listen. Just like his bàba," Fulu said. She handed Shu her phone, silently instructing him to do exactly what Shu already wanted to - to call Alex. He didn't think it was worth correcting his mom right at this second - that he wasn't Alex's dad. Alex was his kid, and so it almost fit. He wanted it to.

Shu's hands shook as he found Alex in Fulu's contacts and called him, pressing the phone to his ear. Alex picked up right away. "Is he okay?" Was how Alex answered.

Shu coughed in surprise. Alex sounded genuinely worried. It would have been touching if Shu didn't feel so guilty about it. "Alex? I'm fine bud. I just have a fever, that's all. Same as you did, just a little worse. I promise." 

There was silence on the line for several seconds. Shu was worried he'd hung up. But finally Alex said, "You weren't getting any better, even though I did the same stuff you did." 

Shu felt a rush of affection. Alex really had been trying to take care of him, even though it was supposed to be the other way around. "It'll be a few days, and then I'll be right as rain," Shu reassured him as confidently as possible. "Do you want to stay at Ryo's this weekend?"

"Can I?" Alex asked hesitantly.

"Of course, if it's okay with his parents. Whatever makes you feel more comfortable. I just need you to understand that you don't need to worry about me. Thanks for calling my mom. I'm glad you got help when you were scared."

"I wasn't scared," Alex shot back, but Shu knew he was lying. "Can you call me again when you feel better?”

"I feel better hearing your voice," Shu said with a smile.

"Ew."

"Sorry," Shu laughed, which quickly became several wet coughs. "I'll text you every time I'm up, alright?"

"Alright," Alex agreed. "Um... I hope you feel better soon."

Maybe it was because he felt so rotten, or because he was relieved that Alex was okay, but Shu felt tears spring to his eyes. He swallowed and tried not to let his voice waver as he said, "Thanks buddy. I will. See you soon."

[thoughtfullyrainynightmare]

i can’t imagine how violating having your work fed into ai felt and the more I’ve thought about it today the more it disturbs me. you’ve put so much wonderful stuff into this fandom and it should be treated with respect.

🫂 if you want them. i’m truly sorry that happened.

Honestly I went through a lot of emotions, and I think in the moment I was mostly in shock because... they came in with like... excitement? A "hey! :D I really love what you make so I wanted to make you something with your ship! I used AI to make it!" kind of a moment and I just stared at the messages as they kept going

The only reason why I didn't purge my stuff back then was the fact that the longer they went on, the more they started to double down without me even saying a word (or them even knowing I had seen the messages), because they could see for themselves how messed up it was. And they concluded something like "so maybe this could be used as a kind of a prompt". Which was a relatively easy footing for me as well when I eventually did type back, because... I genuinely didn't get ill intention vibes from the person, and they were self-aware enough to see how it must've felt like without me having to explain it

But still. Like the one question in my mind was "if you like it so much, then why are you doing this to it?"

I know that some people are very insecure about their English skills (which is also why they sometimes comment in their native language instead of English; and I've thought about replying in my own), or creative abilities in general, which... like that I DO GET. That I understand. I've been there. I am still there. That's what learning new skills and developing them feels like. But... I don't mind the typos or incorrect grammar or structural issues or whatever, just don't... bastardize my writing.

Because it's like... I knit a shirt. You take the shirt and say you like it a lot. You start pulling the threads apart and stick it into a sewing machine to make a franken shirt, and hand it back with "it's better now! I used a machine to fix it!" Which will inevitably make me feel like whatever time and effort I put into my craft, the development of the shirt (or story) and the pattern (the characters) actually isn't good. And if you want a sweater that's made of plastic "yarn" and can barely survive two turns in a washing machine, you can go buy one. Go ahead, I can't exactly stop you, but plastic shirts (no matter how fluffy) won't keep you warm like real wool.

yeah... that was not a good day

But thanks for the hugs, they're very much appreciated