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This is actually the hardest Motherâs Day yet; Iâm trying so hard to be nice to her, but itâs probably not a good sign if I burst out laughing reading the Motherâs Day cards at the store because âunconditional loveâ is certainly not what sheâs showing me right now. Ugh!
Heated Rivalry is doing some hilarious shit to my life. My boyfriend who rarely reads this kind of queer romance is listening to the audiobooks and is amusingly delighted at how porny they are despite the fact that we watched the whole show together and it turned him on. Now Iâm getting some pretty excellent gay sexting every evening as he goes to bed.
My sister on the other hand has left her usual realm of gay kpop rpf to start watching Ron Hextall fight compilations on YouTube and wants to talk to me about goalie PIM in the NHL.
pulling you closer by our red string of fate so i can bite you and bite you and bite you and bite you and bite you and bite you and bi
I donât want anything. I am decidedly in control of this rebellious body and it needs no coddling. I can lay myself down in bed and stare resentfully at the ceiling until dawn and then soldier on through my day until it is time to drown this aching bones in a bath. I do not need anyone elseâs interference in this carefully choreographed piece.
This is of course a lie. I want to be anticipated, doted on, ever so tenderly indulged. I want to drink small sips of tea while Iâm managing to hold down my stomach and have my back rubbed until I cannot feel the pain like a heartbeat. I want someone to read my mind and feed me small bites of simple food so my nausea will stop carrying my body over imaginary seas, rocking and swaying so violently.
This is not reasonable, this dream of some kind of telepathy. And so I do not want this. My dreams will be only what is sensible and achievable, lest I lose control there so thoroughly as I have lost control of this traitorous body that demands more than I can give it.

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giving someone either an under-the-collar or above-the-shorts-hem dark tender hickey that nobody else will see but that you know the precise location of well enough to periodically press on and make them shudder and fold in on themself for the next couple days really a fundamental reason not to kill yourself
Funniest bit Iâve ever done: my boyfriend was appalled that I had never been to a Super Bowl party and did not know when the Super Bowl was, despite being American. He tried to explain how they bet on the game and at my blank look, pivoted to explaining the scoring system for football.
I raised my hand in the middle and asked what a field goal was and he couldnât stop laughing đ
Watching him slowly realize that he was basically trying to describe an alien planet to me was the funniest thing.
"this too shall pass" well can it fucking get on with it
Wallet I made for my gf for Xmas , thatâs my teeth
I bit into a piece of clay then scanned it and traced it in illustrator, then laser cut thick leather and wet molded lamb skin over it
Yes the stitching is fucked up; my machine was tweaking; imperfect so as not to offend god
I guess it doesnât matter how old I get. My primary way of making friends will always be baked goods.

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I just think itâs important to understand that âyouâre always going to be mentally illâ isnât the same thing as âyouâre always going to be unhappyâ
When I was a kid, I lived on a farm, and once a year the adults would go duck hunting and bring home a few ducks. One year, it was me and my brother's job to pluck those ducks. We were, like, maybe eight or nine? Plenty old enough to pluck a duck, but with zero experience.
And that zero experience turned out to be a problem, because we hadn't had much to do with birds and the thing about a bird's feathers, right, is that you've got a feather that sits in a little sheath thing that's rooted in the body. So what you want to do is pull the feather and sheath both out. But if you're a little kid who's never done this before, all too often, the feather comes out and leaves the sheath in the body. So we'd be doing our best but the ducks would come out maybe a quarter plucked properly and otherwise still full of these feather sheaths, and then it's a matter of going back and pulling all these little sheaths out.
I remember quite clearly, my mother and aunt helping us with this part, because it's fiddly and we were taking forever. They'd take the plucked ducks and re-pluck them properly. And I remember my mum making a remark to my aunt (not maliciously, she didn't know I could hear and was just making conversation), "You know, it would've been easier for us to just do it from the start and not have to deal with all these fiddly little bits." And she was absolutely right -- my brother and I were involved for our benefit in the same way you get a young kid to "help" wash the dishes, we were learning a life skill. But even though we'd done most of the work, we'd removed most of the unwanted mass from the duck's skin, we'd actually made things harder. We'd removed all the feathers and a quarter of the sheaths, but the sheaths are much easier to remove with the feathers attached, so working on a "mostly plucked" duck was a lot more work for the adults than just doing the whole duck from scratch would have been.
Anyway, I vividly remember this incident every time someone suggests saving time by writing with AI and then just editing it into something good.
Let me tell you what AI is good at doing: Initial proofreading for spelling, grammar, and consistency. Stuff an editor could do but in a fraction of the time that a human could do it. Let me tell you what AI is bad at doing: Thinking things through. Creating new material. Feeling anything at all about the art right in front of it.
Y'know... the art part of art.
I absolutely would not recommend AI for proofreading. It's so so bad at it. If you want a bot proofreader, find a non-AI one. There was a period not long ago when a bunch of proofreaders previously considered reliable, like Grammerly, suddenly went to absolute shit. The writers I know who use such tools were confused as fuck; any proofreader is going to be a little glitchy (there's simply too many unusual cases in English and it's impossible for a mass market bot to distinguish between error and stylistic choice) but they used to be good for finding typos and accidental missing or misspelled words, and suddenly they were complete garbage, recommending nonsense. More than one person experiencing an accidental 'approve all changes' moment (which happens) had their editor read their manuscripts and go "this doesn't... sound like you, is everything okay?" and found that their manuscripts had been turned to fragmentary nonsense by an electronic proofreader that just couldn't do its job. They started abandoning these products in droves, looking for ones that still fucking worked.
This massive drop in quality happened when these proofreaders stopped relying on human programming and started incorporating AI.
AI is not good at proofreading, even for simple things like spelling and grammar. We had tools that were good at that and incorporating AI into them made them almost useless. If you want to use an electronic checker, I'd recommend hunting down one that does not use AI, not necessarily for ideological reasons but just because incorporating AI flushes their reliability down the toilet.
Spellcheck used to compare to a dictionary. Now it compares to how everyone else is spelling things. And buddy- they ain't getting it right.
Some spellcheck still compares to a dictionary, for example many OSS programs use hunspell. On Linux almost everything does as the main system spellchecker is usually hunspell. Even on Windows or Mac though, things like Firefox and LibreOffice use hunspell. But yes Windows and Android spellcheckers seem to be AI now, and MS Office is. Not sure about Mac stuff.
â ď¸ ! your body has kept the score.
â ď¸ ! hospital â ď¸ !
I agreed to let my bf dress me in his goth punk clothes for Halloween and I was deeply unprepared for how I would feel about him buckling cuffs, a collar, and a belt with hanging chains onto me. Iâm beginning to understand the need for a fainting couchâŚ
Oh in case anyone cared about the update on that: he brought me roses for our anniversary and spent the whole evening at the Halloween party toying with the belt and tugging on the chains. Despite getting home around midnight, we did not go to sleep until two amâŚ
God Iâm glad he was on board with us matching because we looked so fucking good! He cracks me up because he started with like a hesitant âI donât want to match every yearâ and then after I made him chainmail heâs already suggesting couplesâ costumes for next year lmao

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gonna show people my authentic self soon. just as soon as I get it perfect. soon. any day now I'll be good enough to open up to others
Itâs hard to both understand why my boyfriend and I donât live together rn and also deal with the annoyance of the very minor 20 minute commute between us.