Just enough time for an update before I wander out into the rain-glow that makes me love this city. Labubu is less thrilled. He’s sulking because Rick insists he be “secured” in public, allegedly to protect him from Labubu snatchers. Which is funny, because I was under the impression Rick didn’t even like him…
Day 37
The fact that my Labubu doesn’t speak is less and less of a problem. He’s finding ways to make himself clear—gestures, stares, deliberate arrangements of small objects. Subtle, but effective. He’s taken to sleeping in the skull at night, and I dare not wake him. Whatever happens after I go to bed leaves him restless, but quiet by morning.
Day 38
He met Auntie Tam today—visiting from a faraway land to celebrate her 50th birthday. It was her birthday, but she gave him a gift: a charming little snake. He accepted it without hesitation, coiled it protectively, and pledged his devotion forever. I’ve never seen him so still.
Day 39
We took Tam to the garden. He rode along, surveying moss and ferns with something between suspicion and reverence. At one point, I found him hanging in a low branch, waiting. He was either scouting for danger or daydreaming. Possibly both.
Day 40
His sleep schedule is shifting. I can’t prove he sleeps when I do, but the disturbances have been minimal. No more midnight clattering or dawn raids on my desk. I suspect the snake is serving as a companion or a sentry.
Day 41
I had to go to the doctor today for rounds of testing. He stowed away in my bag without a word. In the waiting room, he peeked out with wide eyes, still clutching the snake. Quiet. Watchful. I don’t know if it was comfort or camouflage, but for the first time in days, he didn’t try to leave my side.
Day 42
Upside down under the table. No reason given. The snake was watching from a nearby chair.
Day 43
He’s been decorating my phone case with charms, fidgets, and glittering bits of goodness—shiny things scavenged from who knows where. It’s starting to feel like high school all over again, when I’d obsess over getting the perfect layered keychain look… except he’s better at it than I ever was. Every trinket is placed with unnerving precision, as if he’s not just accessorizing but weaving a protection field—some charm-bound spell only he understands. The result is part talisman, part trap, part art installation, and I think I’m the one it’s meant to protect.
The Labubu is basically what you’d get if a Monchhichi and a troll doll rolled themselves up in a limited-edition Beanie Baby—and somehow made it chic. As if that weren’t enough, he’s bringing back trinkets. If you could resurrect one thing from the 90s—fashion, toys, weird cultural obsessions—what would it be?
CamiKaos 