#nia says stuff

[blackgwenstacy]

i think the main thing that pisses me off about people refusing to acknowledge the copaganda in across the spiderverse is that they believe all the cops featured in the story are shining examples of how cops “should be.” i.e., family men who are supportive of their kids and want to make a difference in the world. like, genuine question: do you think the REAL cops who brutalize civilians at protests not have nuclear families at home, don’t go to parent teacher conferences, don’t love and support their teenage daughters, etc? or do you believe the requirement for becoming a cop means having a loveless lonely life akin to that of ebenezer scrooge

[f4iry-bell]

.・゜✭╰─▸ ❝ @[f4iry-bell] .・。.・゜✭・。.

✮ call me nia ⌗ she/her ⌗ 18 years old ⌗ desi ✮

this is a fanfic writing ⌗ reading ⌗ yapping blog ⌗ i aso make fake tweets and dividers (i accept requests) ⌗ i mostly write x reader fanfics (i try to avoid the use of y/n) ⌗ REQUESTS ARE OPEN !!

writing blog intro ⌗ masterlist of my work ⌗ fandoms im in

@miffy-says other blog

fandoms: the inheritance games 98% of the time. the cruel prince, the hunger games the originals, shatter me ?

music: taylor swift, selena gomez, laufey, beabadobee, lana del rey, one direction.

shows/movies: gilmore girls, modern family, star wars, stranger things, ladybird, little women '19, dead poets society, perks of being a wallflower, etc.

hashtags:

⌗ nia's intro post stuff – stuffs for intro

⌗ nia says ★ . · * - me yapping

⌗ nia sings 🎤 - lyrics/music

⌗ nia's hidden side - well a different me!

(you can find the tags in this post)

my family

[kimbapisnotsushi]

your hc jonjay pls?? 👉👈

i'm happy to oblige anon!!

i don't think jay's ever really been outside of metropolis for pleasure before because of how busy he normally is, so after things settle jon makes it a point to take him somewhere new every weekend

sometimes they get caught and jon gets scolded by customs officers or whatever. sometimes they don't

(and sometimes they end up accidentally solving some international cases because it's not like they can just sit back and do nothing when they see trouble)

jay starts meeting a lot of the other common heroes/vigilantes not just because he's jon's boyfriend, but also because damian considers him a friend and called him impressive and now everyone really wants to meet him

jay wouldn't mind except they keep popping up when he's least expecting them

i DO really want to see a meeting between kenan and jay because i'd love to know what gamorra's relations with other asian countries is like

like you can't just shove a new island into the middle of esean geopolitics and history (especially one apparently colonized by japan?? god i need to read more shit i have so many questions) and then NOT expect people to poke it

unsurprisingly, kon is the one who spills all of jon's embarrassing little kid stories

well and damian. but damian's stories are the "one of our missions got fucked over and it was totally jon's fault we almost got all of our limbs chopped off, not mine" type, and kon's are more of the domestic "jon once tried to cook a frozen pizza using heat vision and he almost burned the house down" type

jay finds both equally amusing

since nat is likely the only person in the superfam to spend the most time with jay (around their age, i mean), she's the one he's most comfortable with talking about jon, and thus he bounces gift-giving or date ideas off of her during their free time LMAO

nat is honestly probably the first friend he makes overall when everything is settled down

(i say this in the sense that, like, she's not someone he met in high-stakes circumstances or when they're in the middle of some superhero bullshit)

jon once walked in on natasha yelling "THINK FAST" and throwing a solid hunk of scrap metal straight at jay and jay phasing so that it just sailed through him. it nearly gave jon a heart attack

i think jon and jay are really cheesy in the sense that they're constantly trying to do things for each other "in return" of something, but because they keep doing things for each other it's just a never-ending cycle

like if jon decides to plan a date he thinks jay would like then jay wil plan one jon will like. and then jon will do something for jay in return. and then on and on and on and on

they're so stupid i love them

i DO want to get into the whole "jay likes physical affection because he has trauma stemming from being intangible longer than he really should have been back when he couldn't control it and holding jon's hand grounds him" idea. like yeah they're already really physically affectionate and yeah jay enjoys it as such but for it to also be a coping mechanism??? god

they try to have a convo about it and jon is like "well it's not the same but both damian and his older brother died at some point and then came back so, like, if you ever want to talk about it wth them--" and jay is like "what the FUCK are you talking about"

it's enough to snap him out of being sad for a solid minute

the next time jay sees damian he's like "hey i didn't know you were a zombie" and damian just sighs and goes "i'm going to turn jon into one if he keeps telling people that"

[ladychandraofthemoone]

Finally after a month of putting this off lmao this was meant for Traintober prompts but life and art block happens, based it off of a Trainz screenshot so have Stanley in peace.

[accirax]

if you don't understand the options, Odd Nation Cartoons just released auditions for Disventure Camp Season 4, with an original cast! while the names may be fake, the character profiles and lines are theoretically real. bios below the cut.

i think i need a line of text here to get the cut to work. hello.

[writer-haley-e]

I haven’t talked much about it on here, but I was participating in NaNoWriMo this month! I was expecting to not complete it, because I’ve heard of so many people not able to in their first year, but I realized I can actually write pretty fast if I try to, and I finished!

My current word count is 50,537!!

I haven’t written this much for any one story before, so I’m so proud of myself for getting this much done in such a short time, and I’m hoping to finish the rest of the first draft by the end of January at the very latest.

Also I’ve been keeping track of how much time I’ve spent just writing this month, and it’s added up to 32 hours and 36 minutes, which seems fast to me at least, idk how fast other people did it.

Anyways, my first year trying nanowrimo and I did it! Yay!

[nonoqy]

same same like the lyrics are just so specific. like meeting someone and being scared of falling in love because of bad shit in your past and then overcoming that is a pretty universal thing. could apply to anyone. but wanna put you in the spotlight turn the camera off now you're all mine could absolutely not apply to just anyone

LIKE ITS VERY SPECIFIC.....

[cuteniaarts]

POV: You’re a merchant ship captain and you’re making your crew stay in a relatively small seaside town for just a bit too long (FOR BUSINESS REASONS, DEFINITELY NOT BECAUSE you’ve met a rather attractive sea monster who has just started warming up to you) and you swear the odd girl who’s always too bundled up for the summer heat keeps staring at you whenever you walk past… and are you losing your mind or are her eyes glowing?

Or: Midori has noticed that unlike her crew, who walk around town and chat up locals, Kuvira spends all her free time running off to secluded caves and beaches and the abandoned pier, and she knows exactly what (or who) the reason behind that is since she spent all of her childhood doing the exact same thing

Some design and story notes, because I love talking about this AU~

Like in SotRl, starting from age 4 Midori grew up in Haya’s ‘care’, and while I don’t think she beat her, Midori still ended up with insane self esteem issues, mostly stemming from her being half-mermaid. Haya knew about her brother’s infatuation with the sea serpent and chose to ignore it, which she managed rather successfully right up until one of the products of said infatuation was dropped off at her door. She has no idea Suiren exists though, even as a young child Midori decided keeping her sister a secret would be safer for both of them

She’s human passing enough, but inherited plenty of things from her mother – scales along her shoulders, sides and thighs (though they’re green instead of blue), sharper teeth, ears that morph into fins at the ends, glowing eyes and fully functional gills. The siren song, however, passed her over. Haya, of course, made her hide all of it, along with making her internalise that she’s a freak, a half fish monster who will never fit in with human society, but spirits help her if she refuses to try to conform

The clothes she wears serve no purpose but to hide her differences. As a child she was much more drawn to more open and lighter clothing, shorts and tank tops and the like, but Haya didn’t care. The long skirt and sleeves conceal her scales, long enough that she can safely roll up her sleeves while she works or that gusts of wind won’t ruffle her skirt too high. The scarf goes over top of the already high collar to make extra sure no one will see her gills – she has gotten used to it over the years, but at first the pressure on her gills made her feel like she was constantly choking. Her hair is styled in a certain way that keeps her ears from view, and she was taught not to smile so her fangs wouldn’t be as visible

Mermaid eyes don’t always glow, it’s actually an evolutionary intimidation tactic that can’t really be controlled, and Midori isn’t even aware she’s doing it. With her eye colour it’s easy to write off as tricks of the light, which everyone who notices it always does… apart from Kuvira

Midori and Suiren haven’t talked in a while, both thinking it’d be better for the other this way, and Midori’s current goal is remain as integrated with humans as possible. It’s often hard for her to see the point, she’s too socially awkward to make friends and it’s not like she will ever have a husband or wife, not with her defects. The people in town like her just fine, she’s nice and hardworking, but she knows she will never truly fit in. As a child she used to beg Suiren to let her leave humans behind and take her into the ocean, but they both knew it wasn’t possible. Midori can breathe underwater just fine, but her lack of a tail will make her even more of an outcast among merpeople than she is among humans, and even though her swimming is better than the average person’s, she won’t ever be fast enough to survive the dangers of the ocean. That’s how Midori lives, born into two worlds but never being enough, never truly belonging to any of them, so she can do nothing else but go about her day doing her chores, consciously stop herself from gazing wistfully at the ocean, and keep an eye on that ship captain that seems to have taken a keen interest in her sister.

Oh, and I was messing around with the light pen so here’s a version that highlights exactly what Midori is desperately trying to hide:

[eaglefairy]

Tonight I did just a little sidequesting (because I want to use Theory and I'm severely behind on getting that whole questline started) and I finished Spirit Crucible Elpys. I have to say, now that I've learned how to use the combat system I'm enjoying it a fair amount! I just wish the game would actually let me without taking away party members randomly and constantly, changing the mechanics around in annoying ways, or both. Oh yeah, and the backstory reveals. I've thoroughly spoiled myself on this game (I never would've picked it up again otherwise), so I already knew Zeke's and Nia's deals going in. The Nia and Rex bonding was sweet, though. (Zeke's exposition just felt...misplaced, but I know the game ramps up like crazy from here so I'm guessing they just needed to cram it in before shit hits the fan.)

[blackgwenstacy]

girl how tf did u miss 😒

[mozart-the-meerkitten]

me, shaking the Wingfeather finale like:

[dykementality]

i will literally kill myself if someone i dont know even implies im abnormal but when my friends and mutuals say im insane i feel appreciated and i feel like a superstar

[heeslomll]

(pretend i didn’t just reblog w the wrong acc okay 😍😍)

Stargirl Interlude | L.HS

「pairing」 : bf!heeseung x fem!reader 「word count」 : 1.3k

「synopsis」 : it was showtime, but heeseung just had to sneak his pretty girlfriend, you, into the back so he could fuck you. you were his good luck charm, after all.

「genre」 : smut, fluff, rockstar!heeseung

「warnings」 : MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!, cussing, unprotected sex, quickie, kissing, biting/marking, creampie, petnames (doll, baby, pretty girl...), praising, slight fingering, teasing, hair pulling, slight dacryphilia, public sex, lmk if I missed anything!

“Fuck Hee, what if someone comes in?” You gasped as his lips latched onto the supple skin of your neck, teeth grazing over your jugular. His knee shoved your legs apart, pressing it right against your thinly covered core, seeing as you were wearing that cute black dress that he told you to before leaving.

“No one is coming back here; they’re all too worried about making sure everything is set up.” He groaned against your skin before pulling away to seal your lips in a heated kiss, pressing his knee right against your core to hear your pretty moans.

“Hee–”

“Shhhh, doll, don’t worry so much.” He whispered softly, hands reaching for the hem of your dress, hiking it up over your hips. “You just try to keep your pretty sounds down,”

A soft gasp fell from your lips as his fingers brushed over your covered slit, feeling your slick soak through the thin fabric. Heeseung chuckled as he latched his lips to your neck once more, biting down on the junction of your shoulder, relishing in the way your body trembled. 

He moved your panties to the side, running his fingers through your folds, feeling how wet you were. Your eyes fell closed, and your bottom lip got caught between your teeth as his fingers prodded at your slit, teasing you.

“Seungie, please.” You whined, gripping his shirt with a vice-like grip, the need coursing through your body making your brain all fuzzy; the only thought in your mind was having him buried balls deep in your soaping cunt. 

“Fucking hell, baby, you’re dripping in my hand.” His voice was low and husky as he licked his way up to your ear, taking the lobe between his teeth, making you shiver, “too bad we don’t have a lot of time, or I’d be on my knees devouring you whole.”

You whined at his words, feeling yourself growing wetter by the second, which, of course, didn’t go unnoticed by your boyfriend. With a chuckle, he shoved his middle and ring fingers into your wet heat resulting in a choked moan falling from your lips, eyes screwed shut, and fingers dug into his shoulders.

The lewd, wet sounds that were coming from where Heeseung’s fingers scissored you open were deafening. Making your ears ring as he continued to litter your pretty neck with marks, showing that you were taken.

“As much as I want you to come on my fingers, I need you on my dick.” Heeseung breathed out, pulling his fingers from your clenching wall, making you whine. He was quick to swallow all of your whines as he kissed you messily, hands making quick work of his jeans. Pushing them down just far enough for his cock to slip out, hitting his abdomen, tip red and decorated prettily with beads of precum.

He pressed your body tightly against the wall, taking your right leg with his hand before using the other to line his cock with your entrance after shoving your panties to the ground. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, teeth latching onto his skin as he pushed into you slowly.

“Shit…” He groaned as your warm walls wrapped around him snuggly, a tighter fit than normal due to the lack of preparation.

Heeseung gave you barely a moment to adjust before he pulled back out and pushed in, leaving you gasping against his skin, fingers digging into his biceps. You tried to keep your noise on the down low, but the position, the two of you were in allowed him to hit all of the right spots to make you see stars. Choked gasps and moans fell from your lips the faster his pace got, growing in pitch by the second.

“You’re so noisy, doll. Do you really want someone to catch us?” He mocked you, a smug smirk tugging on his lips as he watched you shake your head against him, biting your lip to try and muffle your noises once more. The dark-haired male trailed his hand from your hip up to your head, threading his fingers through your hair and tugging back harshly. A high-pitched whine tore from your lungs, and tears stung at the corner of your eyes as you looked up at him. His hips never faltered as he took in your already fuck-out expression, loving the tears that had started falling from your eyes, which caused some of your makeup to smudge under your eyes. You looked so pretty like this, and god, did he wish he could just say fuck the show so he could take you home and fuck you into oblivion. But alas, the band wouldn’t survive the night without his vocals.

“Hee!” You squeaked as his tip kissed your cervix, eyes screwing shut as you felt the coil in your stomach start to tighten.

Heeseung tugged on your hair once more, tilting your head up so he could kiss you once more. The kiss quickly turned wet and messy as you couldn’t focus on kissing him properly due to the instrumental amount of pleasure that racked your brain.

“Close already, doll?” He teased despite the fact that he wasn’t too far from him either, but hearing the weak mewls that left your kiss-swollen lips was too good to pass up. 

Untangling his fingers from your hair, he let your head fall back into the crook of his neck while he found your hip once more, pounding into you relentlessly. The tiny storage closet is filled with lewd, squelching noises as well as quiet, soft moans and groans from the two of you.

“Hee–” You were cut off when the coil in your stomach finally snapped, and you were coming around Heeseung’s dick, causing him to groan at the feeling of your walls fluttering. Choked gasps caught in your throat as he fucked you through your high, legs threatening to give out as they shook under your weight. Heeseung was the only thing keeping you up right, his hold far too strong to let you go anywhere.

“Such a good girl for me– fuck… letting me fuck you before my show,” He groaned, hips faltering as his high approached, “always my little good luck charm, isn’t that right doll?” Your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head as he continued to fuck into you, throwing your body into a state of overstimulation.

“Sungie…” You whined out, more tears falling from your eyes as you let your head lay back against the wall. Heeseung cooed at you, kissing away your tears and whispering praises as he spilled his seed deep in your womb.

He continued to pepper your face with soft kisses, bringing you back down from your high. Tilting your head up, you capture his lips in a gentle kiss, relishing in the warmth it brings along with it until he pulls away with a small pout.

“They’re probably looking for me,” He grumbled, pulling his soft dick out of you, watching as both your and his cum trickled out and down your thigh. You whimpered in his hold as he scooped the cum on his fingers before pushing it back into your sensitive cunt.

“Hee–”

“Shhh, pretty girl, we gotta keep your stuff full until we get back home.” He pressed a kiss on the corner of your parted lips before letting your leg fall and reaching down to grab your discarded panties, hiking them up and over your hips. You let out a breathy sigh when he fixed your dress, then encased your body in his arms and peppered your exposed neck and shoulder with wet kisses.

“Heeseung, man, where are you?” Your body tensed up at the sound of Jake’s voice, one of Heeseung’s bandmates.

Heeseung chuckled softly before pulling away from you, cupping your cheek in his hand. “I’ll see you after the show, my pretty girl.” Then, with one last lingering kiss, he slipped out of the room, leaving you there to collect your bearings before walking out to watch your boyfriend perform.

@alvojake | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part Ten

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 5.4k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Masturbation, dirty (self) talk, brief daddy kink. This fic contains mature themes. Domestic violence. Grooming. Feelings of fear and anxiety. Nurse!reader. Kissing. Lots of dialogue. Bun considers making a friend. Penny is cute. Flirting. Touching. Comfort. Bun refers to herself as "heavy". Simon is Simon. POV switch. Dinner date.

“I’m Philip.”

The handsome brunette smiles, grabbing onto your hand. You blink, trying to understand, trying to make it make sense, when he prompts you with a teasing grin. “This is the part where you tell me your name, sweet thing.” 

Oh. You stumble over it, tongue tied into a million knots, sweat from the Texas sun beating down your back, sweat slicking your shirt to your skin. 

He’s still holding your hand, and you’re standing there with wide, doe eyes, shell shocked. 

He’s… so handsome. And older. Older, and handsome. Polished type, with good teeth and good hair. He looks like he just stepped off the golf course. 

Why is he talking to you? 

He glances down at your drink. 

“You even old enough to be drinkin’ that?” 

“I-“ You’re terrible at lying, and like he can read it on your face, he chuckles. 

“You live around here?” 

“I go to Rice.” 

“A bit young for college, aren’t you?” 

“I just turned eighteen!” You’ve heard it a million times. You’re too young to understand something, or know something, or do something. You don’t get the way the world works yet. You’re not an adult. 

He holds his hands up. “I’m sorry. I bet you’re one of the really smart girls that make all us men look like Neanderthals.” Your face heats. 

“N-no. I just… I graduated early. I’m not a know it all.” You defend yourself, desperate to create distance from the usual stereotype, the way most people see you. The way boys see you. 

Too smart. Face buried in a book. Awkward and stiff. Uncool. 

He traces you from head to toe, appreciative gaze grazing over the swell of your hips, the generous curve of your ass. “I didn’t think you were. Too mature for that, I bet.” He croons, and your knees go weak. 

“Y-yeah. A lot of people say I’m really mature.” 

Two things compete for your attention when you open your eyes.

One: there is a soft, lovely song playing downstairs, something spring-like and sweet, vibrant without being too loud.

Two: the house smells like pancakes.

You check your phone, shocked to see you’ve slept for yet another 12 hours. There’s a text from Nia, and a text from your boss.

>You have a lot of time accrued. Take as much as you need. 

That settles that, you guess.

There are also text messages in the group chat, one from Simon, and one from Johnny, coming in only a few minutes ago.

Simon: >Penny gets pancakes on Saturday mornings. They’ll be plenty, come down and eat when you’re ready. 

Johnny: >I’m missing all the good stuff. 

You stretch, cautiously, wiggling fingers and toes, spreading your limbs as far as you can without pushing it too much. You’re sore, uncomfortably so, and still exhausted, but if you stay in bed any longer, you’ll rot.

In the kitchen, Simon holds Penny and a mixing bowl, alternating hands to get a whisk through the batter while humming to his daughter on her hip.

You stop dead in your tracks.

He’s… he’s not wearing the mask. 

You stare at his face, his whole, naked face for the first time, taking in the broad jaw, every shiny white scar, and his (twice, if you had to guess) healed broken nose. He’s handsome, differently from Johnny but no less striking, and you can’t look away, stunned by his raw, depthless and rugged beauty. Penny’s leg has kicked up the hem of his shirt, exposing his midsection, and the flash of skin there feels like a scandal, something you shouldn’t be seeing but cannot get enough of. He looks nothing like you expected and yet… everything you hoped for.

“Morning.” Pen tucks her face into his chest shyly, peeking out from the corner of her eye, curious and cute. “Can you say good morning to bunny?” He bounces her a little, and she giggles.

"Bunny." She says quietly, and Simon laughs.

“That’s right. Good job.” After a second of silence, you try to ask him about the missing mask, but the question gets confused on your tongue, and what comes out instead is clumsy and stunted.

“Your mask.” You cringe, immediately. It’s the first thing that slips loose, insensitive, and uncouth. “I uh, I’m sorry, I’m just… surprised?” you falter, and makes it worse. You think about trying to run back upstairs, hightailing it for the hills when he smiles, and points to the empty stool at the kitchen counter with a batter covered whisk.

“Sit.” There’s already a stack piled high, plain, and ones with big, juicy blueberries. Your favorite. 

“So, pancakes every Saturday?”

“Mhmm.” He settles Penny in her highchair to your left, and pulls an already cooled pancake from the stack, cutting it up into little, tiny pieces with a child’s knife and fork. “Pen and her Da,” he pads some butter across the top of his handiwork, grabbing her sippy cup and filling it with milk. “Have pancakes every Saturday when he’s home. It’s their favorite. Right?” He points at her, “your favorite?” and taps his middle finger to his chin, others outward, straight up. “Your favorite?” Signing?

“Are you teaching her sign?”

“Trying to. Pen’s birth mum is deaf. It’s important to us, that she’s able to connect with her when the time comes. Plus, my hearing is shot. So is Johnny’s. It’s a great way for her to communicate with us.” He strokes some fingers through her curls, and she doesn’t even look up, too busy shoveling as much pancake into her mouth as she can. You have a million questions now, curiosities bubbling to the surface, about Pen’s mum, about her life, about how she came to be their child. All too rude, and too invasive to ask. “Or, to use when she’s feeling sassy and can’t find the words. That happens, too.”

“She’s what…sixteen months?” You watch her intently, unable to not smile when she cheeses at her dad with a mouthful of food, even though your tender skin stings with the movement.

“Yeah. Top percentiles in a lot of things for her age. Said her first word before she was one.” He’s rich with pride, a deep well of love shining in his eyes, and you force your own down to the plate, stifling the ache bleeding from your heart.

“Of course she is.” Penny holds pieces of sticky, syrupy pancake with both hands, attacking them with vigor, smearing her cheeks purple with the squished blueberries.

You need to eat something, but your brain is buzzing, unnatural discomfort stretching long in the back of your mind.

What’re you doing? Sitting here eating pancakes like everything is normal? Like everything’s okay? 

Everything is not okay. 

You drift, back to your apartment, back the venom of Phillip, the hands around your neck, the twist of your shoulder, back slamming into the wall. You can still feel him, still hear him, these memories like all the others, your body beaten on the floor, mind nearly broken. Trying to shift away from the hot end of a cigarette, screaming for help, running through a-

A hand covers yours.

He coaxes the fork from your fingers, metal vibrating within flesh.

“I think… I think I should go back to bed.” You whisper.

“Are you tired?”

“No… yeah. I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to run away, you know.” He flips a pancake onto your plate from the stack. “Just because you were somewhere else for a little bit.” Your cheeks burn. “We’ve got a pretty nice couch in the living room though, if you want some time alone and don’t feel too keen on the stairs.” Saturday morning pancakes and curling up on the couch? It sounds so nice, so normal, and must show on your face, because he chuckles. “Help yourself. You might have to share the TV though, in a bit. We watch baby Einstein on Saturdays, and she’ll need some entertaining for a minute while I get ready.” Your lips twist, an entire hearth lighting up in the bottom of your heart.

“Alright.”

Baby Einstein is as enthralling as you thought it would be, though Penny disagrees. She stares at the screen, wide eyed, open mouthed, sippy cup long forgotten, and even Simon struggles to get her attention after returning from getting dressed.

You force your eyes away from the strain of his thighs in blue jeans.

“We’re goin’ down to the hospital.” He tells you, pulling her upward over the back of the couch and rubbing his nose through her curls. It’s still… weird, to see his whole face. To clearly watch his expressions, sublime bliss pushing his mouth upward whenever he looks at his daughter. “Want to come?”

“I can’t, not if I’m taking time off. It… looks bad to admin. I can probably go in at night but, during the day is just a recipe for disaster.”

“Of course.” He looks around, for what you don’t know, shoulders tensing, then relaxing. “Well, you’ve got the remote. And my number. Are you… going to be, okay? Alone?”

Say yes. 

You can’t. All you can do… is nod.

“Okay well if you’re not. Just call.” You nod again, getting to your feet. Once you’re standing, you’re out of place, flailing in their living room, about to be here alone, with your memories, your poisoned mind.

What’re you doing? You’ve ruined everything. Broken all your rules. 

“We can stay.” Simon steps close, hand grazing the middle of your back, and you shake your head.

“No, no- I… I’m sorry.”

“You don’t-“

“Yes, I do.” Your voice shakes, and you slam your eyes shut. You can’t do this. “I shouldn’t be here. I’m putting you in danger, and I… I’m putting myself in danger and I’m being so- so stupid, Simon.” His gaze is heavy, serious, and he steps around you, sliding Penny into her bounce seat, turning it to face baby Einstein.

“Listen to me.”  As he returns, he reaches, carefully pulling you close, close enough you’re nearly in his chest, timing the rise and fall of his diaphragm. “We are safe, you are safe, sweetheart. ‘m not going to let anything happen to you, or Penny, or any of us. Alright?”

“You don’t understand.”

“Tell me.” You almost laugh, but something comes over you instead, something delirious and desperate. You lean into him, letting him hold you, hand smoothing over the back of your head. “You can tell me. You can trust us. We’ll take care of you.”

God, you want to. You want to so bad it aches, burns a ravenous fire in your heart. You want tell him, let them in. Tell them everything.

“Bun.” He murmurs, bringing you back, a finger under your chin.

“I can’t. I’m sorry, I can’t. It’s… it’s too much.”

“It’s alright.” He soothes, but doesn’t pull away, and you’re drawn in like a magnet, rising to the balls of your feet, stuck in a trance, luring you closer.

He meets your halfway.

And then-

He’s kissing you, plush lips on yours, pancakes and fresh laundry and stained-glass windows of sanctuary on his tongue.

You’re standing in the sun, in the trance of another spell.

It’s a mouthful of butterscotch and maple. Sweet, delicious breakfast in bed, lazy Saturday mornings and whispered, tender words. It’s life unlike your own, a home, the promise of a love not fractioned, chipped away, or strangled… but multiplied, magnified. His touch is painfully gentle, slow and easy, encouraging you to follow his lead, carefully constructing a tiny universe to disappear to, where shadow cannot touch. A fantasy, cocoon of stars, ambrosial and sacrosanct, an escape from the hell nipping at your heels, the hell chasing you through your dreaming and waking hours. 

The anxious hum radiating through every cell in your body flatlines.

The girl in the mirror weeps.

Everything goes silent. Your breathing slows. Your hands fall to the side, listless and stunned.

Penny grunts. The moment shatters.

You can only stare with wide, terrified eyes.

“Johnny.” It’s the first word out of your mouth, the only thing you can conjure. “I’m sorry, I don’t know… I’m sorry.” Johnny. Johnny’s not here. How can he kiss you when his partner isn’t here? His heart will be broken, you’re destroying their family, you’re-

“I kissed you, bunny. Nothin’ to be sorry about.” Simon hums, still holding your face. “Johnny’s okay. He’ll be a bit jealous he didn’t get one too, but he won’t be upset.”

“How?” the question squeaks, and he takes your hand, tugging you towards the couch, settling you back into the cushions, easily guiding you with deft hands. He's so careful, so gentle, the touch of a man who raises a daughter, who loves his partner, adroit and nimble, anticipating movement before it happens. 

“After Penny goes down tonight, let’s have a drink. Or some late dinner. We can talk, and I’ll answer as many of your questions as I can. How’s that sound?” He strokes a thumb across the apple of your cheek. Talking can’t hurt, can it?

“O-okay. Yeah.” You try to shrug, pain lancing through your shoulder, and you try to smother your wince. He frowns.

“I want you to get some rest today.” A small grin creeps across your face.

“You always tell people what to do?” He nods, solemn.

“It’s my job. Takin’ care of you lot is an added bonus.” He breezes by the grouping of you with his family, like it’s a normal thing, rubbing circles in your palm. “Let’s get you comfortable.”

“I can-“

“I’m here. Let me help.” You don’t say anything at first. Can’t say anything, can’t formulate a response that encompasses everything you’re thinking and feeling, stuck on the mile high wall that is your fear and denial, afraid to jump. Afraid to fall.

He doesn’t push. Doesn’t ask you to respond, He just… settles you, cautiously arranging the pillows to support your injuries, lets you sit there atop the wall, staring down at the ground where they wait. Patiently. He rubs your back and your good shoulder until you’re drifting away in heady, hazy dream world, unable to stir when he slips free, tucking the blankets in around you, and pressing another long, lingering kiss to your brow.

You wake in a panic to the doorbell ringing. Your heart races, and you’re up off the couch, tucked around a corner of the hall, hiding, in a blink, even though your shoulder and neck scream at the sudden change of position.

Breathe. You’re losing it. Philip wouldn’t ring a doorbell. 

The door clicks open.

“Hello?” A woman’s voice echoes to where you’re still curled around the hallway, back pressed flat, eyes closed. “Hello? Anyone home?” Who is that? 

You peek, like a child. Peering around to see a familiar woman with grocery bags in her hands, depositing them on the kitchen counter.

She spots you immediately.

“Hi!” She’s grinning, pretty and bright, pulling a carton of milk from a brown paper bag and putting it in the fridge. “I’m Lou. Sorry, did I scare you? I tried to ‘announce’ myself.” She makes bunny ears with her fingers before and after the word announce, with half of an eye roll. “John’s always telling me I have to when I come over. Can’t be giving anyone surprises, and I knew you were here. Just wasn’t sure if you’d be up for visitors. Sorry if I gave you a fright.”

“No, I…” you trail off, readjusting, giving her your name. She nods and smiles again. “I remember you. In front of the elevator that day.”

“Yeah, that was me.” She’s earnest in her focus, beaming at you, almost like she’s excited.

“You look a little different out of your cute scrubs.” That gives you a small laugh, and you smile honestly at her, flattered.

“Thanks.”

“Sorry if I’m disturbing you.”

“Oh no, you’re not. I was just… I’m fine.” She pulls a flat of eggs free and stacks them next to a colorful pile of produce.

“I do the store runs for Simon right now. It’s too much, with Johnny in hospital and taking care of Pen. We’ve been trying to lighten his load.” Guilt twists. And here you are, adding onto it. 

“That’s very nice of you.” She waves it off.

“They’ve kept my husband alive a million times over. It’s the least I can do.”

“Right… they… work together?”

“Simon is semi-retired but yeah. They’re in a global task force. It’s the four of them. Have you met Kyle yet?”

“Oh, yeah. At the hospital one day.”

“Best guy, really.” Her clothes swish, warm and sweet aura practically glowing.

“Yeah, he was really nice.” She rests her hands on her hips and looks you over.

“You okay?” This woman is direct. She's got a no nonsense approach, and through intense, there's true ardor in her, passion and care. 

“Yeah, I’m just… still recovering.” You don’t know what she knows, not sure what they’ve told her or John, so you’re not sure how much, or what even, to say.

“Simon told us, about you being mugged. I’m so sorry, it’s just awful.” She’s sincere in her sympathy, big brown eyes sad and considerate.

“It’s okay, thank you. I’m okay.”

“If you need anything, I’m always around. Or if you want to talk to another girl that isn’t a toddler.” It’s an olive branch of friendship, you realize, or the beginnings of, and you’re startled, considering it, wondering if it would be so bad… to have a friend.

“Thank you.” She gives you her number, and you tap it in, shooting her a text with your name.

“You should sit.”

“I can help with these.”

“No, no. No offense, but you look half asleep. I’ve got it.” You laugh even though it hurts, awkward half shrug with good shoulder, and agree.

“Yeah, I’m still recovering. It’s been slow.”

“I’m sure.” You sit at the counter, watching her organize the fridge with scary efficiency. “I’ll be out of your hair in a minute. Just had to drop these off.”

“Oh, you’re fine.” It’s nice. You’re nice. She feels safe, the proximity to Simon and Johnny naturally leading you to feel comfortable, knowing she’s welcomed by them, she’s a part of their life. It makes you feel more at ease, and you try to convey it without getting tangled up in awkward words.

You don’t know how. Not really sure how to make genuine friends anymore, so you just sit there and watch, listening to her talk, enjoying how she rambles a little bit, laughing at herself.

When she says goodbye at the door, she promises to text you the next time she’s coming by, so you’re not surprised, and you linger there, watching her go, wondering if it’s real, surprisingly mourning the loss of companionship already.

“Johnny misses you.” The ice in Simon’s rocks glass clinks together as he sips his bourbon, corner of his mouth lifting in a partial smirk. “Not too fond of his new nurse, I’m afraid. Think he’s spoiled now.”

“How is he?” You’re on the edge of your seat for an update, but not wanting to pry too much. It’s a delicate line, one where you don’t know on which side to stand.

“Good. Wrist fracture is nearly healed, so he’ll be able to start on crutches soon. Once he does, he’ll be doing physical therapy for most of his day, and ready to come home. Should be soon.” He really smiles now, and you mirror it, unable to deny the infectious bloom of happiness spreading from him to you.

“And his liver?”

“No complications. Grafts for his burn are in great shape. Hip is the trickiest part.”

“Yeah, they take a lot longer to heal, but I’m sure he’ll do a great job of it, just like everything else.”

“Thanks to you.” You sip your wine, citrusy peach and passionfruit coating your tongue. It’s a nice bottle, and you were surprised when Simon brought it home, bag of takeaway in one arm, Penny in the other.

“No.”  Your cheeks heat. “I was just there. You guys did the hard work.”

“Wouldn’t have made it without you though. Think I would’ve lost it. Him too.”

“You would’ve been fine.” You brush it off, and he shakes his head.  

“You’re too modest.” He drains his pour, uncapping the bottle on the coffee table between you and refilling it halfway. Glass on glass chimes, and you sink deeper into the couch, relaxing, tucking your knees up until you’re half curled into a ball, wine glass cradled between your palms.

“So…”

“I told you; you can ask me whatever you like.” You knew this was the case, but hesitance is still brimming in your heart, uneasy feelings festering beneath your skin, burning question shoving to the surface.

“Did you tell Johnny we kissed?”

“I did.”

“Was he upset?”

“Only because he feels like he’s missing out. I told him we’d make it up to him.” Fire enflames your skin. We?

“And by we you mean… us. Together. Like… the three of us.”

“I do.” The girl in the mirror screams. She doesn’t understand, why you continue to act against her better judgement. Why you’re entertaining something so, so dangerous, something so stupid.

“Simon, I… I can’t.”

“You keep saying that but look where you are, bun.” He motions to the table, takeaway cartons scattered across the top, half empty bottle of wine, his bourbon, and a baby monitor. It looks like a nice night in, a simple, sweet life, not even close to being your own.

Still, the girl in mirror combats. Still.

“This isn’t… this isn’t a thing it’s just… we’re hanging out. I’m not going to be here forever, I’m looking for a place and I-“ His face changes, flicker of shadow fading across his brow before being chased away by the sunlight in his eyes. You thought he'd be easier to read, without the mask, imagined you'd be able to place his expressions but you're just as confused and lost as ever. 

“Slow down. There’s no need to look for a place to live.”

“W-what?” The wine has made you a little slow, a little sleepy, and you blink through the stupor.

“You’re still healing, sweetheart, and I know you're scared. I’ve known since the first day you stepped into Johnny’s room.”

“No.” You shake your head. Pain fizzles, numbed by alcohol, and your head swims.

“I know you weren’t mugged.” How? “I know you’re running from someone.” Oh god. The urge to get to your feet and bolt washes over you like a wave.

“I- I’m not.” The lie is bare-boned, pathetically unconvincing, and you know it. He knows it too; you can tell by the look on his face.

“You’re not ready to tell me, that’s fine. I’m patient. But you won’t be going anywhere if I don’t know you’re safe. And right now, to me, it doesn’t seem like you’re safe.” The pale yellow of your wine shines in the low lights of the living room, and you get lost in it, swirling around in his words, trying to put them together and pick them apart, desperate to understand what he means.

“Are you… are you saying you won’t let me leave?” You gulp. It’s a ridiculous conclusion, but the first one you jump to.

And in that, you know you’re giving too much away.

His face softens, and he reaches, pulling your free hand into his own, petting some sort of sequence into your skin. 

“Of course not, sweetheart. I’d never, ever force you to do something you didn’t want to do. But I do want you to stay, here with us. Where we can keep you safe, take care of you.”

“I don’t need-“

“I know you don’t. I know you take care of yourself just fine.” The indignant roar in the back of your mind settles. “But I’d love an opportunity to do it instead.”

“Simon…”

“Did you know the cells in our body hold onto trauma? They carry imprints of traumatic events. It can change your biology, the way you function.” He squeezes your hand. “It’s hard to realize… that it’s not normal, the way you might be, the way you think, or do things, when you’re carrying the physical memory of terrible things.” He’s not talking about you. There’s a fleeting flash of sadness in his eyes, ghosts circling the drain around his irises, and your heart aches. “We can help you. I don’t know who you’re hiding from, but I can guess what they’ve done- look at me.” You force your eyes back to him, and he cups your cheek. “You do not have to be afraid here. You are safe with me, with us. I know you don’t believe it, and I’ll tell you as many times you need, but it will never not be true. We can help you.”

“You don’t know… you don’t know what you’re saying.” Your denial is steadfast. They cannot possibly understand. 

A small seed of light blooms under darkness. It’s the sun, struggling to break free, trying to drag you into its warm, golden rays. It tugs and tugs, clawing towards you, illuminating the path forward.

The words come out before the girl in the mirror can stop them.

“You don’t know him. He’s sick and… powerful. He’s a monster but he’s smart, has connections, has ways of doing things that… I don’t even know. He’d kill you.” You clap your hand over your mouth in shock, surprised at yourself. It’s the most you’ve said about Philip in years.

You expect pushback. Expect Simon to flinch, or cower, or have good sense… a rational reaction to being told someone might try to hurt him.

He smiles instead, settling back on his side of the couch.

“I’d just have to get to him first, then.” Is he… is he? Simon watches you, reaches into your brains to peer inside, rooting around in your head. The way he looks at you, like he knows everything you’re feeling, can see what you're thinking, makes you shiver, makes you feel like you’re a tiny mouse in the shadow of a mountain. He sighs. “Give us a chance.”

“A chance?”

“A chance, to know you. Let us in, let us try. Stay here, with us, spend time with me and Johnny and Pen. No strings attached. If you decide it’s not for you… we’ll understand.”  

No strings attached. 

You could pick up and leave if you wanted. If you had to. 

What’re you doing? 

“How does it work? Would we all…” you trail off, confused.

“Date?” Simon finishes gently. “Yes.”

“So, you guys are… bi?” He chuckles.

“Yes, sweetheart. We’re bi.”

“Is this… a thing? Something you guys do?”

“We’ve never taken another partner before, no.” Your eyes widen. “You’re our first.” You don’t know why, but knowing is exhilarating and terrifying, all at the same time. You’re their first. 

He’s talking about it like it’s already happened. 

Fatigue settles in around you, thick fog of it draping over your shoulders and clouding your head.

“I… I don’t know.” You stifle a yawn. “I need to think.” He abandons his perch for one next to you, pulling your wine glass free and setting it on the table.

“Tired?” His fingers sweep over your cheek, skin warming under his touch.

“Mhmm.” You mumble, sleepily. Your head is very heavy, suddenly, hard to hold up.

“Alright.” He stands, bending to slide an arm under your knees, the other supporting your back in one fluid movement.

“What are you doing?” You squeak, grabbing onto him as he rises, lifting you into his chest at full height. Panic floods your nervous system, fevered tone pitching into a plea. “Put me down! I’m too heavy. Please, I’m too heavy, you can’t-“

“I’ve lifted a car off a teammate before.” He tells you, the thick of his body beneath your ear vibrating. “And I’ve dug Johnny out of a collapsed concrete wall. I’m made to pick things up, bunny. Heavy or not.” He holds you right there, all the way up the stairs, down the hall to the guest room, before settling you back on your feet, big hands around your waist for balance. Your back is to his chest now, and his nose drifts across the top of your head, slow path of his fingers stroking down your hip. “Alright?” He asks, and you nod, throat too dry to speak.

He squeezes. You stifle a gasp, resist the urge to press your thighs together.

It’s been so long since you’ve been touched, since anyone has handled you with reverence, with affection. You almost don’t recognize it.

His hand drifts, slipping between your thigh and cheek. “This okay?” He murmurs, and you manage a rough yes, word sticky and thick in your throat. Yes. Yes, don’t stop. A fingertip strokes along the crease there, back and forth, before trailing upward. He takes as much of your flesh in his palm as he can, squeezing again, caressing, mouth skimming along your neck.  

“Oh.” you breathe. The room is warm, barely lit by the bedside lamp, and you burn in the dark, sensations sparking alive that have long laid dormant.

The girl in the mirror curses you.

“Need help getting to bed?”

“N-no.” Yes! “I’m… fine.” His lips touch your cheek, then your ear, breath blowing over you, firm, solid warm mass at your back exhaling shakily.

“Get some sleep.” He steps away, but not before he swings, slowly, softly, into the pillow plush of your ass. It’s a gentle tap, but the fire between your legs roars. “Goodnight, bun.”

“G-goodnight.”

Simon's got his sweatpants and boxers off before he's even fully in the bathroom, running right into the shower, hand wrapped around his throbbing cock as the water flicks on. It's not hot enough, but he doesn't even notice, cock heavy in his grip, tip already smeared wet with pre-come. 

"Fuck, bunny." He grits, trying to stay quiet but unable to hold his tongue.

He's awful, for this. Awful for doing this after you've had such an emotional night. Awful for touching you when you're still healing, awful for grabbing a handful of your ass and imagining sliding his dick through the space between those cheeks. He can't stop, strokes himself long, squeezing the base and pulling up and back as he imagines you on all fours, perfect globe perked up in the air for him, his cock sinking into your soaking wet pussy as you moan. He knows you would make the prettiest sounds for them, sweet gasps and cries, bouncing on Johnny's cock in his lap. 

"Hop like a bunny." He'd coo, and you'd whine, riding Johnny as Simon coached you until you were so close, almost there on the edge. "Show daddy how bad you want to come, little bunny." 

He jerks himself harder, eyes closed, imagining the ripple of your flesh, the way you'd bounce so perfectly, how Johnny would be gripping your hips with his head tipped back, throat exposed for Simon to nip and suck a mark into.

His bunny. His boy. 

His toes curl. Water streams down his back, slicking his skin, forearm burning with each stroke, imagination running wild as he gets closer and closer, thinking about you and Johnny and him together, finally, your legs spread wide in front of their faces, perfect pussy on display. He can almost hear the way you'd whisper their names, and it blinds him, fills his head with white light. He knows you're beautiful when you come, as beautiful as you are when you let your guard down and give him a real smile, as beautiful as you are everyday, so pretty and perfect, kind, even as a ghost. He imagines it, pictures it, the sight of his and Johnny's come leaking out of your hole, fingers shoving it back inside, marking you as theirs. 

He comes with your name on his lips, a strangled whisper, painting the tile with himself. 

He falls asleep with a new addition in their bed, on top of Johny's t shirt and the baby monitor... there's now a long sleeved tee, plucked from your dirty laundry this morning as he was getting ready to leave. It smells like you, something he wishes he could bottle, and he holds it close, tied in tandem with Johnny's, curled in his arms on top of the pillow. 

[nonoqy]

girl who is not dropping them, even fucking bbh unfollowed dream. and to act like people will ever let someone, especially these people they hate with a passion, change and be back. no matter how much they show their improvement (but like how can you even show it?) people will always label them as misogynistic SAers

he didnt unfollow dream that was misinfo and abt showing the improvement i think your actions go a long way. if they decide on a hiatus and then come back after some time i expect george in particular to be more self-aware and just overall more in tune with his emotions. i think even reactions to random stuff or the things he says on stream could show his improvement. like i dont know how to put it but i just expect him to act differently in some situations than he would right now I GENUINELY CANT THINK OF A GOOD EXAMPLE but honestly even if he cuts out your mom jokes that would already be something to me

[specialagentartemis]

godddddd i have disliked becky chambers' work since long way to a small angry planet and I agree that that fish scene is SO much of what is wrong with contemporary SFF especially queer SFF. refreshing take, great review, thank you. would love to hear what authors or works you think of as the antidote to that sensibility.

The thing is, I enjoyed The Long Way to a Small Angry Planet when I first read it - it was a fun, light adventure, clearly a debut novel but I was excited to see where Chambers would go from there. And I actually really do think the sequel, A Closed and Common Orbit, was good! It did interesting things with AI personhood and identity.

... and then Chambers just kinda. Did not get better. She settled into a groove and has a set number of ideas that I feel like she hasn't broken out of, creatively. And they I M O kind of rest on an assumption that "human nature" = "how people act in suburban California."

As an antidote to that sensibility, I'd say... books where people have a real interrelationship with the land they inhabit, a sense of being present, and reciprocal obligations to that land; books that recognize that some things can never be taken back once done; books with well-drawn characters, where people have strong opinions deeply informed by their circumstances, that can't always be easily reconciled with others, and won't be brushed aside; books where these character choices matter, they impact each other, they cannot be easily gotten over, because people have obligations to each other and not-acting is a choice too.

And it's only fair that after all day of being a Hater I should rec some books I really did like.

Piranesi by Susanna Clarke - A man lives alone in an infinite House, over an equally infinite ocean. Captures the feeling that I think Monk & Robot was aiming for. Breathtaking beauty, wonder at the world, philosophy of truth, all that good stuff, and actually sticks the landing. The main character's love, attention, and care to his fantasy environment shows through in every page. (Fantasy, short novel)

Imperial Radch by Ann Leckie - An AI, the one fragment remaining of a destroyed imperial spaceship, is on a quest for revenge. Leckie gets cultural differences and multiculturalism, and conversely, what the imposition of a homogeneous culture in the name of unity means. (Space sci-fi, novel trilogy)

Machineries of Empire by Yoon Ha Lee - An army captain's insubordination is punished by giving her a near-impossible mission: to take down a rebelling, heretical sect holing up in a space fortress and defying imperial power. She gets a long dead brain-ghost of a notorious criminal downloaded into her head to help. Very, very good at making you feel like every doomed soldier was a person with a past, with a family, with feelings, with hopes and dreams and frustrations and favorites and preferences and reasons to live, right before they brutally die in a space war. Also very much about the imposition of homogeneity of culture as a force of imperialism. (Space sci-fi, novel trilogy)

The Fortunate Fall by Cameron Reed - Maya Andreyevna is a VR journalist in high-tech dystopian future Russia, and she decides to investigate the truth that the government doesn't want her to. She might die trying. It's fine. Also has digital brain-sharing, this time in a gay way. It's bleak. It's sad. It feels real. Not making a choice is a choice. Backing out is a choice. And choices have consequences. Choices reverberate through history. About responsibility. (Cyberpunk, novel)

The Vanished Birds by Simon Jimenez - Nia Imani is a spaceship captain, a woman out of time, a woman running from her past, and accidentally adopts a boy who has a strange power that could change the galaxy. Spaceship crew-as-found-family in the most heartbreaking of ways. Also about choices, how the choices you make and refuse to make shape you and shape the world around you. How the world is always changing around you, how the world does not stay still when you're gone, and when you come back you're the same but the world has moved on around you. About how relationships aren't always forever, and that doesn't mean they weren't important. About responsibility to others. It's a slow, sad book and does not let anyone rest on their laurels, ever. There is no end of history here. Everything is always changing, on large scales and small, and leaving you behind. (Space sci-fi, novel)

Dungeon Meshi / Delicious in Dungeon by Ryoko Kui - A D&D style fantasy dungeon crawl that stops to think deeply about why there are so many dungeons full of monsters and treasure just hanging around. Here because it's an example of an author thinking through her worldbuilding a lot, and it mattering. Also because of the characters' respect for the animals they are are killing and eating, their lives and their place in the ecosystem, and the ways that humans both fuck up ecosystems with extraction and tourism, but also the ways that you can have reciprocal relationships of responsibility and care with the ecosystem you live in, even if it's considered a dangerous one. (Fantasy, manga series)

Stories of Your Life and Others by Ted Chiang and How Long 'Til Black Future Month by N. K. Jemisin and Everyone on the Moon is Essential Personnel by Julian K. Jarboe - Short story anthologies that were SO good and SO weird and rewired the way I think. If you want the kind of stuff that is like, the opposite of easy-to-digest feel-good pap, these short stories will get into your brain and make you consider stuff and look at the world from new angles. Most of them aren't particularly upbeat, but there's a lot of variety in the moods.

"Homecoming is Just Another Word for the Sublimation of the Self," "Calf Cleaving in the Benthic Black," and "Termination Stories for the Cyberpunk Dystopia Protagonist" by Isabel J. Kim - Short stories, sci-fi mostly, that twist around in my head and make me think. Kim is very good at that. Also about choices and not-making-choices, about going and staying, about taking the easy route or the hard one, about controlling the narrative.

The Murderbot Diaries by Martha Wells - Security robot with guns in its arms hacks itself free from its oppressive company, mostly wants to half-ass its job but gets sucked into drama, intrigue, and caring against its better judgement. This is on here because 1) I love it 2) I feel like it does for me what cozy sff so frequently fails to do - it makes me feel seen and comforted. It's hopeful and compassionate and about personal growth and finding community and finding one's place in the world, without brushing aside all problems or acting like "everybody effortlessly just gets along" is a meaningful proposal. also 3) because it is one of the few times I have yet seen characters from a hippie, pacifistic, eco-friendly, welcoming, utopian society actually act like people. The humans from Preservation are friendly, helpful, and motivated by truth and justice and compassion, because they come from a friendly, just, compassionate society, and they still actually act like real human beings with different personalities and conflicting opinions and poor reactions to stress and anger and frustration and fear and the whole range of human emotions rather than bland niceness. Also 4) I love it (space sci-fi, novella series mostly)