#except this one is a lot better in a lot of ways

[ms-demeanor]

I'm not the most security savvy but two-factor authentication makes me deeply suspicious. Is it actually more secure or is it just annoying? Especially the ones that send a code to your phone that pops up in your notifications.

It is genuinely, massively, TREMENDOUSLY more secure to use 2FA/MFA than to not use it.

One of our clients is currently under attack by a group that appears to be using credential stuffing; they are making educated guesses about the accounts they're trying to lot into based on common factors showing up in the credentials in years of pastes and breaches and leaks. Like, let's say it's a professional arborist's guild and their domain is arborist.tree and they've had three hundred members who have had their credentials compromised in the last ten years and the people looking at all the passwords associated with arborist.tree noticed that the words "arboreal" and "conifer" and "leaf" and "branch" show up over and over and over again in the passwords for the members of the professional arborist's guild.

So they can make an educated guess for how to log in to accounts belonging to the tree-loving tree lover's club, combine that with the list of legitimate emails, and go to town.

And they are in fact going to town. We're getting between 1000 and 4000 login attempts per hour. It's been happening for a couple weeks.

And every single one of those attempts is failing - in spite of some pretty poor password practices that believe me, I have been doing some talking about - as a result of having MFA enforced for the entire group. They all use an app that is synced to their individual accounts with a mobile device, except that sometimes you have trouble getting a code when you're up in a tree so some of them have physical MFA tokens.

People try to sign into my tumblr sometimes. To those people I say: lol, good luck, I couldn't guess my own password with a gun to my head. But if I *did* have some password that was, like "tiny-bastard-is#1" they would also need access to my email address because I've got MFA set up on tumblr. And to THAT I say: lol, good luck, it's complex passwords and MFA all the way down.

Of the types of MFA that most people will run across, the most secure to least secure hierarchy goes physical token>app based one-time-passwords>tie between email and SMS. Email and SMS are less preferred because email is relatively easy to capture and open in transit and cellphone SIMs can be cloned to capture your text messages. But if you are using email or SMS for your authentication you are still miles and miles and miles ahead of people who are not using any kind of authentication.

MFA is, in fact, so effective that I only advise people to turn it on if they are 100% sure that they will be able to access the account if they lose access to the device that had the authenticator on it. You usually can do this by saving a collection of recovery codes someplace safe (I recommend doing this in the secure notes section of your password manager on the entry for the site in question - if this is not a feature that your password manager has, I recommend that you get a better password manager, and the password manager I recommend is bitwarden).

A couple weeks ago I needed to get into a work account that I had created in 2019. In 2022, my boss had completely taken me off of managing that service and had his own account, so I deleted it from my authenticator. Then in 2024 my boss sold the business but didn't provide MFA for a ton of the accounts we've got. I was able to get back into my account because five years earlier I had taken a photo of the ten security codes from the company and saved them in a folder on my desktop called "work recovery codes." If you are going to use MFA, it is VITALLY IMPORTANT that you save recovery codes for the accounts you're authenticating someplace that you'll be able to find them, because MFA is so secure that the biggest problem with it is locking people out of their accounts.

In any kind of business context, I think MFA should be mandatory. No question.

For personal accounts, I think you should be pointed and cautious where you apply it, and always leave yourself another way in. There are SO MANY stories about people having their phones wiped or stolen or destroyed and losing MFA with the device because they didn't have a backup of the app or hadn't properly transferred it to a new device.

But it's also important to note that MFA is not a "fix all security forever" thing - I've talked about session hijacking here and the way you most often see MFA defeated is by tricking someone into logging in to a portal that gives them access to your cookies. This is usually done by phishing and sending someone a link to a fake portal.

That is YET ANOTHER reason that you should be using a good password manager that allows you to set the base domain for the password you're using so that you can be sure you're not logging in to a faked portal. If your password manager doesn't have that feature (setting the domain where you can log in to the base domain) then I recommend that you get a better password manager (get bitwarden.)

In 2020 my terrible boss wanted me to write him a book about tech that he could have run off at a vanity press and could give to prospect customers as a business card. That was a terrible idea, but I worked on the book anyway and started writing it as a book about security for nontechnical people. I started out with a very simple statement:

If every one of our customers did what we recommend in the first four chapters of this book (make good backups, use a password manager and complex unique passwords, enable MFA, and learn how to avoid phishing), we would go out of business, because supporting problems that come from those four things is about 90-95% of our work.

So yes, absolutely, please use MFA. BUT! Save your recovery codes.

[book-lore]

Library goblin rant incoming and yes, I'm about to ruin your dream. I also work there, so I am going to try to assist you in realizing why you need to access the bigger, better dream.

Okay, so I have seen this stupid post swirl around a few times now and it has had time to marinate and really turn into something I genuinely hate. The idea here isn't really a bad one, mind you. Having libraries open late enough that you can just enjoy reading and have a nice community oriented place to go is not bad at all. The thing is, this post very clearly has but one type of community in mind and it isn't going to be the one that shows up, most likely. This post also seems to have a weird idea of what it is that happens in a library, though to be fair, this isn't surprising for people who don't spend much time there. Let me explain.

For one: libraries are the last community centre that you have access to. It is free and welcoming of everyone and that includes a lot of people you probably aren't planning on inviting to your Saturday Night book club. Our homeless patrons are going to be a big part of who shows up to these late night hours and while most of them are wonderful patrons who are kind and respectful of the space, that doesn't mean that some of them aren't going through major mental health crises, drug withdrawals, conflicts among each other and various other parts that make up life without a home to go to. These are going to be a part of your library at night experience and yes, sometimes that means it's going to be scary there. Scary in a way that isn't necessarily going to be true at a coffee shop or a bar, where people who are deemed a problem are kept out on purpose. The library is for everyone and while I can't stress enough that our homeless patrons are most often among our best behaved, that doesn't always hold true for everyone.

Speaking of which, there are going to be other people attending these evening hours too and some of them aren't going to be people you want to get to know at night. People screaming and swearing and crying is going to be a part of the background of that time of day and those of you who aren't in the library during the day when it happens are probably going to find it pretty alarming. Likewise, when someone decides to go on a massive racist tirade, or just decides that they are going to try to hit on everyone who is feminine presenting, or someone decides to get into your face because they were forced to hear the word pronouns today, that is also something that happens on the regular, but will be a part of your evening experience. Drug use is also going to be happening in the bathrooms and you can expect that this may lead to people overdosing within the building. For the record, again, all this happens during the day, but if you only ever come to the library to pick up your holds before close, you probably didn't know this.

All of this probably has led you to believe that I don't think that there should be funding for later hours in the library, but the truth is a little more thorny. Having later hours wouldn't be a bad thing at all, except that people who are advocating for this fantasy are directly leaving out some crucial issues. For one, as the last community centre available to the wider public, that means that not only is this a shared space among the whole community, it is a space that has to take up the cause for everything the rest of the community doesn't provide. That means everything from people who are looking for shelter when the established ones that remain have no room, to places to safely inject, to places that they can find resources that they desperately need, to spaces where children can go to play in safety, to places where you can print off resumes, to places where someone can try to learn to start speaking English. All of this means that what you might imagine "well funded" looks like is a lot different. This isn't just about having adequate staffing, but also security and access to resources, including professionals who can take the burden off the front line staff who are going to deal with the bulk of it all. Those extra hours are within reach but convincing the people who hold the purse strings to shell out for any of this is going to be the bigger issue. More importantly, should the library really be this kind of resource?

This brings me to the two aspects of this dream that I hate the most: the lack of interest and advocacy that it reveals. As a library goblin, I am happy to help my community and I would love to offer more, but I can't pretend that this dream isn't entirely frustrating to me because nowhere in it does this take into account how it would play out for us or the community. If you want better options for after work and Saturday nights, you should be advocating for better community resources and spaces. There are means to get there. There are people you can elect and put pressure on to built that infrastructure. The library shouldn't be the only game in town where people can take care of their needs but we carry it all right now and we are seeing even more closures of community welfare sites. This means you need to be a part of that community and voice your concerns. This means you need to demand better from people. This means you need to show up and find or build those resources in your own community and help by being active. Community resources don't just appear, they are part of an effort that you have to be a part of.

The second aspect of this dream that I hate more than the first is the fact that if you want this dream to come true, you have to make sure that you are showing up for your libraries and your librarians, especially right now. Libraries have their funding under attack always, but right now a lot of them are facing reductions in their funding if they aren't being threatened with full closures. If you are in America, this is the time when you need to show up for this and demand access to your library. Demand that your money go towards keeping this resource alive. Get angry and make sure that you show up for community meetings about spending. Is it boring? Yes. That is so you won't bother and they can take away more hours from this resource. And if you do care about getting together in your local library to discuss books, you better also be hitting back hard against these book banning groups that have made it their mission to keep certain topics from anyone's eyes. Most book bans happen from the concerted efforts of very few people and if you believe that the library should be a place for you to gather and enjoy after work or on Saturday nights, you need to be a lot more openly hostile to those people who are actively trying to take it away from you. You want that funding? Demand it. You want those extra hours? Get out there and tell those people who are deciding the budget that this is what your community wants. You want those books on your shelf, show up and drown out those puritan assholes who are trying to ban them.

Libraries are for everyone and they have consistently taken on so much of the needs of the communities who rely on them. If you dream of a space that you can live out your dark academia fantasies and ignore the real issues that define the way we in the library operate, you are likely to be sorely disappointed. You are also likely to see the death of that dream if you aren't active about keeping your libraries alive. There's nothing wrong with dreaming, but I would ask you to dream bigger. Include other people in that dream. Make it so that even if the end result doesn't look like this, it also won't end in shuttered buildings and the end of your last community resources.

This is the DREAM.

[takes1]

Hi. Could you do a Kuroo x reader? She’s Nekoma’s manager and she collapsed during practice and has to have emergency surgery? Kuroo has had a crush on her for a while and Kenma is tired of him dancing around it?

prayyyying you like this one. because this felt incredibly niche, but i know u a real one so that's why it got done. also: i've got some experience with dehydration, and found it an easier plot device, so i just went with that. i feel like i hit all the beats regardless?

warnings. injury/blood/hospitals, minors DNI

details. fem!reader / very angsty, then fluff / hurt-comfort fic / manager!reader / pining!kuroo / kuroo crushing on you / reader gets hurt trope / kuroo has to deal with big feelings / kenma is a great friend and wingman / nervous!kuroo / confession fic / flirty!kuroo but it's not the focus / 2.8k words

links. my masterlist. my ao3. more haikyuu. my imagines. requests open.

The heat was getting to you.

You were slower, quieter, and had to pause often to catch your breath after standing up.

After carrying a case of water across the gym, your vision was getting splotchy again, and you placed a heavy hand on the wall. It was a nice, quiet, empty corner of the crowded gymnasium.

Kuroo had been watching your heavy-footed shuffle to the door ever since you dropped it off to Nekoma's distracted, tired players.

You had been less vocal, less silly, the way he liked to talk to you.

He called to you, thanking you, but you didn't hear him.

Your breathing was horribly loud in your own ears. Real ragged and difficult to just inhale. Your heartbeat was pounding against the sides of your head, adding to your near-permanent headache. The grip on the wall slipped, thanks to your sweaty palm, and you doubled forward.

The room started to spin as you did so.

"(Y/n)!"

"Woah-woahwoah!!"

Kuroo didn't wait to just standby, to watch you collapse. He was already moving when you didn't answer him. He just had too much distance to cover before your limp body smacked the hardwood floor.

He was first to get you by a mile-- he rolled you over and flinched at the sight of blood from where your head hit the floor.

"Coach!! Hospital!!"

It started an echo, and a lot of quieter questions. Coach Naoi was sprinting over as Kuroo, scared but steady with adrenaline, pulled off his jersey to put pressure on the gash.

"Ice!" He swallowed the wobble in his throat, "I need some fucking ice- somebody get ice!"

The matches on the far side of the gym were not effected, but one closest had to be paused because of so much confusion.

About five guys, some from Nekoma, some from Karasuno, were ready with ice in 20 seconds. Your eyes were a little bit open, you were breathing, but were otherwise unresponsive. Not even a gasp at the cold.

There was only so much room in the car. The whole team wanted to come with, but only Coach Naoi, Kuroo, and Kenma were able to.

"Back up- Back up!" Kuroo barked at the growing crowd around you as he took you in his arms to carry you outside.

Coach Naoi had the car as close as he could get it; Kenma sat in the front seat, giving him directions, while Kuroo kept your head supported in the backseat, careful to keep pressure on you. Kenma passed him the extra ice bags he managed to stuff in his bag last-minute.

Having to sit in the waiting room was much worse than holding you.

At least, back at the training camp, or in the backseat of the car, he knew he could have an active role in getting you better, if he could see you, touch you.

Their trio sat in limbo, waiting for any news.

Naoi glanced down at the incessant tapping sound. His sigh was short and bothered.

"She'll be okay."

Kuroo made no indication that he heard him, nor that he cared. His heel kept thudding and his knuckles stayed white, gripped to the sides of his arms.

"Kuroo- I'm sure she'll be okay. I've seen worse. They'll get her up, they'll get her hydrated."

It was quiet, except for the sound. Kenma scrolled through the digital schedule they had all received of the training camp, trying to answer his own questions: How had it spiraled to this level? They didn't see you as often as each other, and somewhere along the line, they lost accountability of your health.

"'S'been 40 minutes," Kuroo immediately regretted saying anything, because now he felt nauseous.

Naoi cleared his throat.

"She's probably got rhabdo. When you get that dehydrated for that long, your veins are harder to stick an IV in. It's got something to do with that, I'm sure."

Their assistant coach seemed like he understood what was going on. Kuroo looked down at his own forearms, and for a moment, his foot stopped tapping. Naoi's face lightened with a longer, softer sigh.

His veins looked as plump as ever. He squeezed his cold, shaky fingers and watched how it changed the muscle under the skin.

The door opened and his head shot right up.

He was first to stand, first to go through the doors, trailing a little too close behind the aggravatingly slow nurse.

As they navigated the winding, twisting hallways, he was living in the past, wishing, he had said something about his feelings sooner.

He saw you every day. Multiple times a day. He could name 300 instances where he could have told you he liked you, and still didn't. He thought he would have all the time in the world to. But you were on the ground in seconds, and it was suddenly ripped away, an option he might never have again.

Why would he ever assume it was just something he'd always be able to? That you'd always be around?

They pulled up two chairs next to the hospital bed, sitting as close as possible without getting in the mess of wires on the floor. Some were connected to you, some not. Kuroo paid close mind to the IV in your arm, the clear bag hanging- he glanced to your vitals on the monitor many times.

You looked not great, but way, way better. He took what felt like his first breath in two hours. He prayed Kenma and Coach Naoi would never mention -better yet, forget- his intense, and ugly panic attack in the car.

You were looking at the needle in your arm, too. Sleepy, and slow.

"How are you feeling?" Kenma asked, just before he could.

There was no rush to his words. It was for the best. If Kuroo had asked, it would have sounded interrogative.

You smiled, a precious sight for him, "Uh... really gross."

They laughed, but it was more at the opportunity, in relief, that you were speaking and aware, again.

Coach Naoi's voice could be heard just outside. You turned your head to see him carrying a clipboard with some paperwork to fill out. He thanked the nurse at the doorway and entered, wagging his finger at you.

"You're a lot of trouble, you know that?"

Your frown wasn't the reaction he was after. He patted your ankle, good-natured, with his signature smile that made everyone feel a little better.

"I'm jokin', kid," He chuckled, taking the pen to scribble some information down.

"They'll have you out of here after you get through two of those. If you look good to go, that is."

'Those' must've been referring to the bags of fluid getting pumped into you.

"No stitches, either," He drawled, halfway distracted by his writing, with just a small glance to the tape and bandaging on your forehead, "That's good, that's goood,"

He furrowed his brows, squinting at the third, then fifth page. A silly moment of quiet.

"Alright, uhh, I'm gonna go finish this b.s. out there. Keep her awake, fellas."

"Will do."

"Thanks, Coach."

Your headache kept you feeling fuzzy. You assumed you hit your head at some point, thanks to the bandages and how Naoi alluded to it, but you still weren't sure how, or when.

Kenma filled the momentary quiet.

"So, what happened?"

Again, it felt like you were guessing, trying to piece odd fractions of an incomplete puzzle together. The last three days of the training camp were beyond busy on the admin side. You had your own training to keep up with. Things had gotten away from you.

It was a struggle to get your words out. You looked mostly at Kenma, because he looked like he actually wanted to know- Kuroo looked like he was waiting to interject.

"I guess-... um, I haven't eaten, in a while--"

Kuroo looked completely beside himself. His anger was out of place over his usually calm, collected features.

"Why-wh-what-?! Why not? Why would you not eat when you--?"

"Kuro," Kenma pushed on his forearm.

One look told him to back off- he was being way too loud, way too much, way too emotional. Your passive, ghostly voice was only scaring him more.

His nostrils flared. A big, shaky sigh- he had to stand up, pace around in a circle, and rub his neck.

The fear screwing up his brow, tightening his jaw, glossing over in his eyes, was brand new. You didn't know that he was capable of a volume, like that. It made you feel horribly guilty for what was an honest, albeit stupid, mistake.

Kenma watched him walk out, angrily wiping his eyes.

It was quiet again for a few minutes.

"He cares," Kenma lightened your dark spiral with just a couple of words.

All you felt was frustration. It hurt to speak, and more-so to think hard enough to explain yourself. His demands were out of your range of abilities at the moment, and he was somehow dissatisfied? After all the work you had been putting in for the team, you halfway felt like you didn't owe them anything at all.

"I wish he wouldn't sound so angry about it," You muttered.

A light shiver at the cool sensation pooling in your forearm, and you were meeting Kenma's downcast eyes again, with a feeling that you, somehow, said something wrong.

"He carried you out."

Shock hit you in big wave of nausea. You swallowed, dry. You didn't remember that at all, and could only speculate how scared everyone must've been.

What could you even say to that? This was all a big, stupid, accident that too many people were concerning themselves with. The guilt was so thick that you were wishing he would walk back in, so you could apologize.

A lighter, shakier tone this time, "I'll- make sure to tell him thanks."

Kenma looked like he had more to say, something on his mind, but only gave you a hesitant sigh to work with. His company was enough. Thanks to the IV and the medication, you were feeling better, so you tried to lay back, close your eyes, and enjoy it in silence.

He let you rest for 10 minutes, squeezing your shoulder every once in a while for a reaction, to make sure you were awake.

Kuroo was generally very sweet to you, and you thought you had a good rapport, but nothing tangible enough to get him this upset. You chalked it up to whatever happened while you were out of it.

When he returned, you were on your last bag of fluids. Kenma had his Switch with him, so you were watching him play, giggly, and in better spirits.

It must've been a cosmic-like trade, because he looked like a wreck duct-taped back together. You tried not to stare.

"Kuro, take my seat--,"

He threw him a look. Kenma explained as he stood up, "Dude I gotta pee, I'll be right back."

They linked arms. You couldn't hear what was said, but you did watch, as Kuroo leaned down to listen to Kenma, telling him something quietly, in his ear. You desperately hoped it wasn't about you, but knew deep down that it was wishful thinking.

In his friend's absence, he sat, unsure, of what to say, or what to do. His eyes were dry from his second, thankfully less intense, episode in the bathroom down the hall.

Part of him didn't realize the extent of how much he cared about you, until there was a reason to.

Kuroo tried to hand you the Switch. It was halfway an attempt at conversation, halfway an apology. It begged something to be done, or said, at least.

You shook your head and made your best effort to be kind about it, "No, thanks."

It was impossible to look him in the face, "I'm not as good as Kenma. Wouldn't be very fun."

He chuckled, but it sounded sad, and only existed on the basis of filling empty space.

Odd, unnatural, mutual silence. You glanced at each other. Neither able to address it or ignore it enough to talk about anything else.

He was biting the inside of his cheek, looking around the room, every exhale sounding like a soft sigh.

"Kenma told me that-," You cleared your throat, "Uh- you, carried me."

When he looked at you, it was filled with an attachment you had not been conscious for. You faltered under the sudden pressure, tired heart picking back up again.

"Thank you. I'm sure it was hard."

His brow furrowed as he, first, took you literally- after he realized you meant it as a concept, or maybe emotionally, he smirked. He tilted his head a little, like he always did before he teased you.

"Well, you know I work out, right?"

A genuine laugh left your lips. His goofy, disarming humor so ill-timed, but so desperately needed.

He smiled at you, soft, and comfortable again.

"You know what I mean," Was a familiar groan that he loved generating.

"Yeah- yeah, I know," He moved to place the Switch in the empty chair next to him, and was reminded that he only had a short time alone with you. His hand lingered in the space above it, just for a second, enough for him to make up his mind.

You jumped a little at the warmth and weight of his palm in yours.

"It was."

Kuroo didn't look you all-over like you did to him; you were trying to find the joke, or the punchline, in his body language, but he kept his sincerity incredibly clear and unwavering.

His thumb rubbed, light, against your skin.

You looked down at your joined hands, panicked, chills all over your body, "Kuroo-?"

"I know this isn't a great time, but I realized-- I-I shouldn't keep waiting around, for nothing, like I was. We could die tomorrow, so like- what's the point? You know?"

You adjusted to sit up straight, getting warmer, a little dizzy, at his words.

"I-h," He looked at you one last time, taking in the shock on your brow, the slack in your jaw, and knew he shouldn't stop talking, because he'd never be able to start it up again if he did.

"I really like you. I tried to wait for it to go away. Then, I just... didn't want it to."

This smooth-talking, silly, composed guy was falling apart, piece by piece. You didn't realize his super-nice demeanor had anything to do with a crush, but hindsight as it is, found your obliviousness a little embarrassing, now.

Your voice failed you, "You've had a cr-ush on me?"

He snorted at your voice crack, but looked no less infatuated. His other hand was pushing back some hair from your face.

"For a long time."

DING DING, DING DING, DING DING--

You yelped at how loud the alarm was, right next to your head, and how serious it sounded.

A very high, constant ring came from something electronic that you were hooked up to. The source was ambiguous and reason to be very concerned.

Kuroo had a better view of the screen. As you craned, shaky and weak, to see, he squeezed your hand.

His laugh helped to calm you down, "It's just your heart rate."

"One-fifty," He trailed, his pretty, proud grin audible, "Nice."

A nurse rushed in, followed immediately by your coach, then Kenma- you were quick to try and demonstrate that you were fine, but there were not many methods at your disposal, other than waving your free hand.

"I'm okay! I'm- I'm just nervous."

You shared a glance with Kuroo.

It was impossible to keep either of your laughs down once he started giggling.

The nurse could tell what was up immediately-- she muted the machine with a half-concealed smile, then left when she saw you still had some more to go with the IV.

Naoi was a little more clueless, but saw your hands, and made it his business to not know what was going on by taking his own leave. One tiny look told Kuroo everything as he turned- the good, old, 'keep it professional' look.

Kenma stayed, waiting with arms crossed, until it was just you three again, and spoke over your nonstop giggling.

"I told you so."

☆VIP☆

@integers @paradoxicalwritings @yuchacco

my masterlist. more haikyuu. (new) my imagines. requests open.

[4mrplumi]

ZERO : SCAVENGERY . (ms/next)

-> plot synopsis - you don't think you're as odd and horrifying as the news makes you out to be. but you have never much cared for the validation of others, and certainly not theirs.

-> batfamily x serial killer reader. playlist (wip) ask 2b added to taglist

-> tw; gn reader, guns, referenced assault, violence, toxic relationships, eventual fem love interest, bug taxidermy, unhealthy coping mechanisms, murder, sociopathic tendencies, full on master list.

-> a/n; horribly in love with the idea of a self-sufficient classy mean judge. reblogs and interactions appreciated!! a lot (●'◡'●)

in fact, you are grateful for their ignorance. you do not need their recognition, their thanks.

you won’t say you’re not petty, not childish, not absurd and not disgusting for what you’re doing, but you’ve heard it innumerable times before, and don’t mind it now. in a matter of days, the limits you’ve placed on yourself have become the bane of your existence.

bright, technicoloured posters with you favourite bands and characters hang on the walls, music playing merrily on a small portable speaker you’d bought with your self-earned pocket money. it all provided the perfect image of a regular teenager, to the extent that you weren’t really creating a civilian identity like your family, but living through it. normally.

it makes you giddy, and you know it shouldn’t, to be so unsuspecting. your grades are mediocre, but your teachers praise your work, you’re not popular enough to go be invited to every party, but enough to be friends with three quarters of the grade, not dedicated enough to a franchise to know it super well, but still enjoy it through multiple perspectives. normal, exceptional, and normal.

that’s what makes it all the more rewarding to do what you do. since being adopted at eleven, you’ve pieced together the caped identities of the monolith you call your family with lovely colour-coded pin boards and pictures. you know they escape into the night to fight not criminals, but fight crime, beating and getting beat in the process.

you think it’s tedious, but you never comment. there’s not much you remember prior to coming into the manor, except the raw experiences from fleeing cheerfully down unkempt, spray painted, molding stairway chambers with your friends away from an angry neighbour, laughing the whole way down. sharing fries for one among six to seven people, since money was hard to get by and harder to go around and listening to the one person who could afford school talk about it. pushing your friends on the swings and them tying your laces in return, since the swings were too far from the ground to push yourself, and scratchy velcro was for “sissies”.

you could say your childhood was rugged, but fairly kind for a gothamite. you weren’t given the life of a gilded richman’s son like tim, or the hard street crime life of jason. you weren’t raised by assassins or masters like damian and cassandra, not clever and determined like duke, not gifted with athleticism like dick. normal, incredibly. lucky, even.

you cannot think of anyone when you think of family. you considered your group of friends (acquaintances does your relationship better justice, but at ten, everyone was a friend if they didn’t wear a badge and a cap) family, but you knew that’s not what the word meant. they’d go back home to fighting parents, single mothers, thieving fathers, earning siblings or aging aunts and uncles. you would go home to a quiet one-room apartment and a poor quality mattress.

it’s not fair to say you weren’t cared for. the neighbourhood considered you their darling child, your friends’ parents sending you food, aunties reading you stories and elderly residents providing comfort when you wanted the rare support of an adult. but you had no family because by your accord, you would have to return home to them for someone to be family.

it’s the opposite now. you return home from school to bruce wayne and his entourage of misplaced children, but your interactions are stiff as stone. you go out to diners and have the most soulless conversations, stay in the house and refuse to partake in their exchanges.

because you are different. their morals are aligned to your guardian’s, of justice and strength and so on, so on. your morals are aligned with your survival, no one else's, selfish, scavenging. you cannot get along on a base value, because you don’t belong to their nest of canaries. you are, as a silly buzzfeed quiz at five in the morning said, a shrike.

yet still, you seeked the warmth of family. the resurgence of that feeling you once had in your old life. you could never return, having now experienced the fruits of luxury, having lived too far from “home” for far too long, with the added weight of a bruce wayne shaped shadow that followed you. the immense danger it would bring to yourself and those around you would be preposterous, unimaginable, but no more horrifying than the awkwardness you'd receive from you old not-family. scrutinising stares, untrusting glances, forced waves. no, no, it wouldn’t do. you don’t want to feel miserable. 

it’s enough that your presumed family already gives you those looks. sneers from damian, concerned glances from cassandra, brief unease from dick, ignorance from tim, you could go on and on and on. and you’re not stupid. you only have yourself to blame.

your vanity, as the buzzfeed quiz had said, in curling cursive font that sometimes turned to boxes on the ui, presented itself as a horrifying ignorance. unlike a peacock’s gushing beauty, your pretty-factor extended only as far into first impressions. when someone gets closer, enough to see the white of your eyes, they shrink away.

crude comments, satirical dismissal, and sharp judgement are things that have, in air quotes, made you unlikable. when watching a documentary about bug-taxidermy on one of the tvs, damian had walked in and commented on the generous “inhumanity” of it. instead of justifying the practice with explanations of how ethical it was, you’d scoffed and called him dramatic. he antagonised you, and you couldn't care less.

mean things left your mouth without hesitation, “who cares” and “you’re doing too much” at the simplest things. but you didn’t do it on purpose. growing up, kindness was reserved only for people in your circle, barterers of goods and generosity. you were polite to the old ladies who brought you food, nice to the new kid who looked at you for guidance, and offered support to people who’d offered that to you too.

you had no obligation to be kind to the wayne household. they had done nothing for you, other than pulling you out of a blood stained alley and providing you a home you didn’t ask for. you weren’t let in on their family bonds and not given the chance to create mutual trust with them, and were not keen on it after their whitewashed kidnapping either. 

perhaps you had the frayed edges of low-class living from gotham’s alleys, but you also had firmly set, stich, stern and strict guidelines about your behaviour. you would not make the first move, and you would not do more than fulfill debts. one favour for another, never more.

that’s what makes your secretive secret side job exhilarating. you have no need to do what you do, except for a sense of duty. the term itself, obligation, is unfamiliar, exciting. like many, but not the majority, the batman and his menagerie’s morals seem too high standing for the crevices of gotham’s underworld. only the red hood can relate, and even he is too far from the truth in your eyes.

death was a permanent solution to the wrongs of people. but you could not simply just wipe out a criminal from the street and call it a day. the only striking similarity between you and bruce wayne, was that the two of you didn’t fight criminals, but fought crime. you snuffed it out as it started hinting at the surface, not waiting for a track record or a ticket list on a license. nothing was forgiven, because you were not obliged to forgive.

you did not forgive, but did excuse. the theft of food, the death of someone too touchy, the fractured ribs of a parent too cruel, were excused. because like you, the suspect, the criminal, was also simply bartering. a favour for a favour, a wicked death for a wicked life. they would be let off from your radar, until someone else got to them. you were not obliged to save them. you are duty-bound only to rid. 

out of habit really, you resorted to violence. seeing a lady bothered by a fellow too close a few months back, you did what came naturally without the supervision of domineering adults and officers and shot him point blank. for a second, the woman stilled, painted in blood from the spray that arced to her, before screaming in horror and fleeing, without so much as a glance in your direction. 

you were unperturbed by the lack of thanks, with a hint of humour at the thought, since it meant you were not indebted to her and she was not to you. 

but it’s the realisation that comes shortly after, that a fine or a scolding would not similarly scare away the man, and he was now well taken care of. and you think of the other scummy people hiding gotham’s crowded basements, and think of their freedom. it makes you angry, it always has, truly it does. death was not an uncommon occurrence in gotham, the murders and abductions, cruelty and pain all as abundant as the trash, poverty and crime within the city. why was it only an offense when it came to the people who perpetuated it?

comfort does little to save victims. a bag of cash and a pat on the back will not rid them of their memories, sadness, or their losses. you are neither sympathetic nor can you relate, but you are angry. have been angry. on their behalf. the world is a rotten and sick place, and this city is especially so. and while batman is a poor janitor, the red hood one too late, and the monolith of your family too distant, you are decided. you’ll wash this place clean like a broken truck, knowing it’ll never work again, but look pretty as it remains.

and you, a good-for-nothing, always scorning, useless kid, are unsuspecting. you are grateful for their ignorance. you do not need their recognition or their thanks.

-> a/n i think this is a solid part one for a prologue bit. the crow choir series is getting a bit neglected because i want to think over its intricacies a bit better. in contrast, this is a very kick and throw kind of plot line, more fun to write for.

i've been super nervous to post on tumblr but am enjoying it. hopefully will upload the next bits soon, interactions so very very appreciated! esp ideas in comments or asks, because it makes me feel like i'm not wiling away the time i should use for other things (T_T) overall just feels nice too.

thank you for reading!!

[y0ur-lovrr]

aaa i love your fics. you don’t have to do this but what about reader who blushes every single time she locks eyes w/ chishiya? and he knows she likes him like the lil shitty goober he is…i just wanna see what you’d think he do in this situation :)

—watchful eyes

A/n; TYYY for the suggestion!!! I don’t know if this is good or not so if it’s bad i apologize lol <3

Pairing; Chishiya Shuntaro x reader <3

—you can’t help it, the way your eyes land on him when he isn’t looking, making sure to look at him when he isn’t looking at you so that he doesn’t know. (He knows.)

And right now is another one of those occasions, your eyes landing on him despite your spot at the edge of the pool, him leaning against one of the walls with kuina.

He isn’t looking at you-or atleast you don’t think he is-so it gives you the chance to look at him, your stare almost longing. In your eyes he is just perfect, looks and personality wise-except for the fact that he was a cunning bastard, it has its moments where it’s infuriating.

You don’t even realize how obvious your staring is, or that chishiya is starting to smirk to himself, obviously aware of your looking.

But then he turns to look at you, subtly raising an eyebrow at you, letting out a small hum of amusement as your eyes immediately widen as you look away, your face already starting to feel hot as your cheeks burn up. And in that moment, you know he knows.

Your mind is already starting to run a thousand miles per hour, and in that moment all you can do is just stare at the pool water as he gets off of the wall and makes his way towards you-his hands casually shoved into the pockets of his white jacket, his signature smirk on his face.

“You know…you stare a lot.” He huffs out with a teasing tone, taking it upon himself to sit next to you, and you feel your heart speed up at the fact he’s sitting so close to you, and the fact he’s also talking to you.

“No I don’t, I don’t…I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You mumble with a shake of your head, trying to deny it-even though you know it’s true. It’s not your fault he always attracts your gaze.

“You say that,” he muses, pausing for a second to let the words simmer before he tacks on, “but everytime I look at you, you’re always looking at me. But when we meet eyes you look away, it’s almost disappointing.”

At his words he turns his head to look at you, his head tilting the side, his eyes digging into the side of your head, silently daring you to meet his gaze.

“It’s amusing really, that you can’t even meet eyes with me.” He teased in his usual casual tone, letting out a huff when you don’t say anything else, as if you had given up on denying it.

He reaches out and suddenly puts two fingers under your chin, gently tapping as a silent request for you to look at him.

“C’mon, look at me..I wanna see those eyes of yours.” He hums, his tone carrying undeniable amusement, hearing the way your breath softly hitches, but then you turn your head slightly to look at him, your cheeks immediately starting to redden as you guys lock eyes again. You have to put so much effort into not looking away, not that you want to, with the way his eyes are basically drawing you in.

“There you go…not so bad looking at me is it?” He questions, and you know better than to not know that he was teasing you like the little bastard he was, knowing he had the upper hand in this situation.

“It’s not so bad.” You huff out, finding yourself almost leaning into his touch. It’s then you realize the secret is out of the bag now.

“Who would’ve figured that you would like someone like me, hm? Im almost impress—“ you don’t let him finish because of the scoff you let out.

“How could I not? Do you not realize how great you are?” You huff out, your eyebrows slightly furrowing at him, gaining some of your confidence back. He lets out a low whistle at your sudden feistiness.

“And what is so great about me?” He asks as he raises an eyebrow at you, smirking as he waits for an answer, watching as you roll your eyes at his ignorance, turning your gaze back to the pool.

“I swear to god I am so close to shoving you in this pool.”

“Oh really?” He hums out in an amused tone, leaning closer to you, knowing you wouldn’t do that to him..or atleast he hopes you wouldn’t.

“One more word, chishiya, and I will—“

[erikahammerschmidt]

This is a very hard thing for many people to grasp, because... it challenges so many of the things that, for them, make life worth living.

the idea that there's an inherent justice to the world, and those who consistently do right will eventually see some good results from it, something that makes it all worthwhile.

the idea that you are safe.

the idea that you deserve whatever good things you have. (and that you don't have any reason to give up your own happiness to feel bad for others who lack those things, or give up your own good fortune to share with them)

and that lacking good things happens for comprehensible reasons-- so if you do the right things, you don't have to fear ever being one of those who lack. (And that you actually have any real way of knowing what "the right things" even are.)

the idea that we, individually, have any power over what happens to us.

the idea that free will is actually meaningful, and that the few meager things about our lives that we can (somewhat) control are actually capable of making a difference against the vast enormity of what we can't control.

...

...the fact that none of these comforting thoughts are true, feels awfully bleak and hopeless.

To the point that, if your own life hasn't yet forced you to give up those beliefs, you might find yourself unable to let go of them, because the alternative is too terrifying

As someone with mental and (increasingly) physical disabilities, my own mental health fights a battle against this hopelessness every. single. day

...

and, like.

I believe there IS actually some hope for something better...

if enough people can come to the agreement that a lot of people's good fortune (including good health) IS really just luck... and that the bad things in their lives (often even including bad behaviors!) can get at least somewhat better with help from others...

if enough of us could someday let go of the concept of deserving and not-deserving... this focus on blame and punitive justice, and this obsession on bad circumstances being deserved punishments

and if enough of the more fortunate people could contribute from their own lucky circumstances to help others... with no thought of who deserves what, and no other goal except making a world that will, in general, overall, be better for pretty much everyone

then...

Well, I'm not saying this will make everyone's life live up to the current unrealistic ideal of perfect health.

(It won't! there will still be people with severe problems, both mental and physical! And if people's current expectations don't change a whole lot to go along with it, there are gonna be a lot of people who think this whole societal improvement was a failure, even if it does succeed!)

But. if humanity can find itself capable of this big, big shift in worldview? then... there is hope. For something better. Not great, not perfect, but... better.

And it's hard enough to believe this is possible sometimes. Because, again-- even if I do all of what I think are the "right" things, in order to work toward this better world? That doesn't necessarily mean anything will come from all my hard work.

Like everything else, it'll depend on luck. And on the combined actions of lots and lots and LOTS of other people, none of whom I can control at all.

But it's all the hope we've got, so... I still try.

Some rando: You should think about stopping your prescription

Me: My pills make me not want to die tho

They: You shouldn’t want to die, that’s not normal

Me: Yeah that’s why I’m taking my pills

[kiyo-cant-write]

Hey Pookie!! Hru?

I was wondering if you could do a father like Crowley with a reader who grew up pretending to be a boy but is biologically female and prefers being more feminine, Crowley takes her in after Book one and like spoils her and calls her his daughter and his little dove!

Maybe also with the reader having a big crush on Riddle and Crowley doesn’t know wether to be accepting of it or protective

Tysm Pooks!🩷🎀

adopted by crowdad!reader crushing on riddle ✧･ﾟ

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Hey Muffin! How are you?? This was such a cute idea I tried to write it even though I had so much wild homework xD Hope you like it!! I like writing Crowley and Riddle c:

I am also sorry this took so long my life took a drastic turn 😂 Fun Fact: Riddle was a character I was drawn to when the game was first coming out even though Azul was my OG bias.

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Summary: [Name] is the adoptive daughter of Dire Crowley after the incidents of Riddle Roseheart's overblot. But why does looking at Riddle make her face flush? Maybe Crowdad can help!

TW/CW: Tagged Crowley/Reader but it's PLATONIC/FAMILIAL

Notes: the reader is Yuu/Ramshackle Prefect, she/her pronouns for the reader, implied AFAB/female reader, pre-relationship/Riddle, a couple of throw-away comments that imply Crewel/Crowley

Guest Stars: Divus Crewel, Deuce Spade (mentioned), Ace Trappola (mentioned), Trey Clover (mentioned)

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Dire Crowley (Familial)

Crowley didn't expect to feel so protective over [Name] but some kind of fatherly instincts were awakened during the overblot.

He insists that he is the kindest father to his new daughter.

Crowley becomes a girl-dad.

He may or may not have tried to make her take his last name.

A new side of his personality does not like the idea of any of his male students making moves on his daughter.

He gaslights other students that he has raised [Name] since childhood and [Name] goes along with it, because no one can stop the headmaster once he wants to do something.

Crowley thinks Riddle is an exceptional student.

He is still protective of her around Riddle, though.

"She is much too young to be snogging boys at school."

That line had Housewarden Rosehearts sputtering.

It is much better if his daughter is in love with Riddle than with one of his more troublesome and scary housewardens.

He insists that his daughter is more feminine when he sees that she likes to present that way more than being masculine.

Crowley goes out of his way to say DAUGHTER and SHE with a flourish (to the point that he annoys other students with it).

Crowley is annoying but he means well. Surely.

Crewel becomes her weird uncle somewhere in this process because he thinks Crowley is a little too lax.

Crewel also gives better romantic advice than Crowley does x10

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Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle is intimidated that [Name] is Crowley's daughter now.

Crowley is a lot to deal with and Riddle shies away from her.

However, [Name] is always sweet to him, and goes out of her way to talk to him, and because of this, he begins to talk to her more.

He thinks she is a nice person but is oblivious to his own feelings.

He doesn't know what to do and up asking Trey for help.

Trey has to be a Mom and a Dad to Riddle with his first real love.

[Name] might end up with Mom-Dad Trey Clover as well xD

Ace and Deuce pray for her, they are worried she will end up collared and try to look out for her while also being (terrible) wingmen in the whole situation. Trey-senpai has a migraine.

"[Name]," Crewel said, studying her expression as she sat in the empty classroom and worked on her homework, "Are you worried about something?"

"No..." she said, fidgeting with the pencil she was using to write her homework answers, "I just... Do you think my dad will be upset if I try to ask out a housewarden?"

Crewel thought about this for a moment before his expression relaxed into something softer than his usual smirk. He didn't see a reason to be so hard on the only female student in the school, especially not after hearing a few facts about her previous life from her self-ascribed father, that strange bird of a headmaster.

"I don't think he would be cross with you," Crewel told her gently, "Though depending on who it is both of us may worry."

She seemed surprised. They would worry about her? It felt like a foreign concept for her in a way. She was still getting used to the staff taking care of her like this, especially Crewel and Crowley.

"Ah?" [Name] managed to say, looked at him.

Who in the world did Crewel think... Who would worry them if she were to confess she had a crush? Surely not Riddle, right? He was a good student and a housewarden at that... Overblot aside.

"I'm not sure I trust Kingscholar. Though he doesn't seem your type."

"I mean... No, it's not Kingscholar-senpai..."

Crewel seemed relieved to hear those words from her.

"Then? Who—"

Crewel was cut off by a flurry of black feathers as her father appeared in between the two of them.

"[NAME]!" Crowley cheered as he rushed toward her to embrace her, even if it was complicated by the desk at which she sat.

"Hey... Dad!" [Name] managed, still growing used to calling him that.

Crowley smiled at her.

"How are you, my darling daughter?" he greeted her, speaking louder than may have been appropriate for the interaction.

Could he help it? He was so excited! And he wanted to know what Crewel and his daughter were speaking about. Their daughter? No. He couldn't think about that right now.

Something for later, maybe?

He returned his focus to his daughter.

"[Name]?" he asked again, pulling her from her thoughts.

"Huh? Oh! Right..." she said composing herself, "I'm doing alright. I was just talking to Professor Crewel about something I was worri—"

She did not get to finish her sentence before Crowley gasped oh-so dramatically. Worried? His daughter was worried? Why? Had he not done enough as a father? Was something wrong? Was she okay?

Too wrapped up in his emotions, neither Crowley nor his daughter (who was giving a more worried look at her father's outburst) noticed the deep sigh that escaped the black-and-white-haired professor's lips as he watched the two. They sure did get into... whatever word was best to describe such antics.

"Are you okay, [Name]?" Crowley asked her, studying her as if trying o see whether or not she was injured, "Did something happen?"

[Name] wasn't planning to tell him like this.

"No... Nothing is wrong. I just... I wanted to ask... I mean..."

She wasn't sure how to word it. This was awkward. She hadn't even been able to tell her crush how she felt yet. And now she had to confide in her overly dramatic father who might try to help her? Deuce and Ace were bad enough wingmen as it was. But, her DAD?

That was too crazy. Nope, nope, not happening.

Crowley waited for her to word her sentence this time.

"I like someone."

There, she said it! She did it! Sort of? [Name] wasn't sure if this answer was a "good enough" answer or was opening room for another secondary discussion about her love life. She had planned to maybe tell Crewel today, not their dad... not yet.

She didn't want him to worry.

"One of the students here?" Crowley asked her.

"Uhm... Yes..." she told him, wanting to be honest.

"A boy?"

He sounded worried now. He was kind of overprotective since that incident at Heartslabyul... Was this really going to be okay?

"I. Yes?" she told him, unsure if there were any female students besides herself at NRC.

She supposed there was always room for someone to be transgender that she didn't know about but to her own limited knowledge, everyone was a guy. And Riddle too was a boy.

"Hmm... Interesting. Very interesting, we had best—"

Someone cut Crowley off this time. A taste of his own medicine for that bird is what Crewel thought of the unforeseen event.

"Sorry to interrupt, I did knock" came a voice that she recognized.

Wait... [Name] knew that voice too well.

RIDDLE???

Her eyes widened at the sight of the red-haired boy in his dorm attire.

"Ah, am I intruding?" Riddle asked her.

She shook her head, face burning from embarrassment. He could have heard her. He could have heard how she felt about him. It had only been a short while since the incident and it wasn't time to be confessing her love. She still needed to get Deuce and Ace to calm down their (good-intentioned) attempts to "help" and ask Trey for his opinion. Trey was, after all, one of the people best at pacifying Riddle in his moods, and they had known each other for a while, right?

She sighed. Things weren't supposed to result in this!

"Rosehearts-kun!" Crowley greeted, switching gears instantly.

"Headmage."

Crowley smiled slightly though it was hard to tell if it was genuine.

"What did you need?" he asked the boy.

"I came to give you the notes from the last meeting."

Riddle had taken notes for the housewardens at their last meeting.

"Ah, thank you!" Crowley replied, taking the hard copy of the notes from Riddle as he handed them over.

Riddle nodded.

"That is all I needed," the Heartlsabyul Housewarden said a moment later, "My apologies for the interruption."

He turned to leave the room, saying a farewell as he did so.

"Good day, Headmage, [Name]-san."

"Goodbye, Rosehearts-kun!"

"Uhm! Bye, Riddle-senpai!"

The alchemy professor, the headmaster, and their the headmaster's daughter existed in a slightly awkward silence for a minute or two before it was Crewel who broke it with an observation.

"He's the one you like, isn't he?" he said.

[Name]'s reddened face grew two shades deeper. She was sputtering, unable to word herself properly. What did she say? How did he know? Was she obvious? Did Riddle know??!

"You like Rosehearts-kun?" Crowley asked, looking at his daughter.

She nodded.

"Despite recent events," Crowley said, "He is a fine choice from my current group of housewardens. Much better than some of the other boys in terms of safety. He will surely be as kind to my lovely daughter as I am."

Crowley smiled at her and she sighed.

At least he (and Crewel) seemed open to the idea. Now she just had to tell Riddle... But how would she do that? And wouldn't Deuce and Ace just complicate things? This would be an ordeal, wouldn't it?

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Imagine the rest yourself~

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Thank you for reading! Likes and reblogs are appreciated! Do NOT repost my writing/headcanons as your own >:c Check the top of my blog for the inbox status and read the rules before requesting. This is not a twst-only blog! ^^

[wcnderlnds]

love dust | kwon ji-yong (g dragon)

・❥・summary: jiyong has been your closest friend for many years but what he doesn't know is you like him a lot more than that. ・❥・word count: 1.4k ・❥・warnings: none! ・❥・authors note: first time writing for gd so go easy on me <3

“You should let me borrow this one when you’re finished with it.” Your delicate fingers played around with the rings decorating Jiyong’s hands. His accessory game was always on point — you were always asking if you could borrow the things he wore and he would always very happily oblige. Something about seeing you in the things he wore made him feel things he hadn’t felt in a very long time.

His arm was wrapped around your shoulders as the two of you laid out on the couch in his dressing room, legs stretched out. Jiyong's other hand lay on his stomach where you were playing around with his fingers. It was soothing, putting him in a calm frame of mind before he had to go out and perform later in the day. Nobody could calm him better than you. He gently rested his head on top of yours, squeezing his eyes shut as he laughed softly.

“I should start charging you for the amount of things you take from me,” he joked.

“You’d double your fortune at this rate,” you grinned over at him, tilting your head. “Not my fault you always have the best stuff. Stop being such a style icon and I wouldn’t have to.”

A comfortable silence settled between the two of you. Jiyong’s fingers playing with a strand of your hair, soaking in the quiet. It had always been like this with you. Jiyong was your closest friend — you’d known him before he’d even debuted. Every step of the way you had been by his side. Nobody knew him better than you and vice versa. He had been there at your lowest, you had been there at his. There wasn’t anything you hadn’t experienced together. It was easy to say that without each other, neither of you would be the person you were. It wasn’t often in life people found someone they connected with so easily, so deeply which is why Jiyong could never know how you really felt about him.

Over the last couple of years, your feelings for him had shifted. At first you’d brushed it off as just a crush, a silly little thing that would pass as time went on. Except it didn’t pass. It only got stronger. Every single day it was like a weight on your chest knowing that you could never tell him. Not only would it be humiliating but he definitely wouldn’t feel the same and that would be it. The friendship would be over and he’d be out of your life.

A sigh escaped your lips before you could even realise. Immediately, it caught Jiyong’s attention. His eyes that had been closed now opening to look at you with concern. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about me,” you assured him. He looked at you as if he was examining you, trying to figure out if you were lying to him but as he opened his mouth to speak, the door to the room opened.

Daesung and Youngbae walked in, laughing at something. Their eyes caught the position the two of you were in, mischievous grins slowly creeping onto their faces. Oh no. You know what was coming next. It had been like this for years now. They’d catch you and Jiyong cuddling or being close to each other and never let either of you live it down.

“Did we interrupt something?” Daesung raised a brow. Jiyong rolled his eyes, sitting up with you and giving his friend the middle finger.

“I think we did. You know, next time put a sock on the door or something so we know you’re busy,” Youngbae teased. Your cheeks flushed red as you hid your face in your hands. This only caused the two men to laugh.

Jiyong got to his feet, holding his hand out to help you to yours. “You two are a pain in my ass.” He turned to you, his hand lingering on yours for a beat longer than normal. “I need to go get ready but I’ll see you after the show? We can go get food or something.”

You simply nodded your head, waving goodbye as he and Youngbae left the room. Daesung remained behind, looking at you with a soft smile. “You should tell him, you know.”

“Huh?”

“You should tell Jiyong how you feel.”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” you said, trying to hide the blush on your cheeks. How had Daesung even figured it out? He really was more attentive than you gave him credit for.

“Sure but I’m just saying, I think you’d be pleasantly surprised if you told him,” Daesung shot a wink your way, running out of the room to meet up with his friends.

Now, what the hell did that mean?

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The show had gone amazing. It was like Jiyong had never been gone. Each show he performed he got more and more confident, G Dragon coming out in full force. Honestly, seeing him on stage and fully embracing his G Dragon person was hot as hell. Nobody did it like him. He was the king of K Pop for a reason.

You had slid away to the dressing room as the show ended, giving the three boys time to thank the crew. It was Taeyang’s tour but you knew how much all of them appreciated the people who helped them. It was one of the most endearing qualities — it’s what made them some of the most loved boys in the industry.

The door to the room opened and in came Jiyong. He hand a towel in his hand, dabbing at the sweat on his face. The second he laid eyes on you, he smiled. His heartbeat speeding up everytime he looked at you. He had it bad. So damn bad.

“You did so good out there!” You beamed, throwing your arms around him in a hug. Without hesitation, he dropped the towel, wrapping his arms around you. If he could keep you this close to him forever, he would. Hopefully you couldn’t feel how hard his heart was beating right now. The best feeling in the world was you waiting for him after a show. It felt like he was on cloud nine knowing that he had the most supportive, loyal and kind person by his side.

He pulled back, only slightly, his hot breath fanning across your face. You couldn’t place the look in his eyes but it cause a shiver to run down your spine. When he spoke, his voice was soft. “Couldn’t do any of it without you.”

Time seemed to stand still as you locked eyes with each other. Was this it? Was this the right moment to tell him how you felt? 

“Jiyong, I….” You started but he cut you off.

“I’m sorry for cutting you off, I need to say something to you and if I don’t do it now, I never will,” he cupped your cheek, taking a deep breath as he found the words that had been on the tip of his tongue for so long now. “I’m crazy about you. I have been for a very long time but you are so important to me that I didn’t want to ruin the friendship. I can’t lie to myself or you anymore. I understand if you don’t feel the same way but I owed it to myself to at least tell you.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you listened to his soft, rushed words. You could tell how nervous he was, how much he wanted to probably run out of the door and pretend he never said anything but he didn’t. He was stood here being brave so you had to be too. “Jiyong, I’m crazy about you, too. You drive me insane. It’s kind of terrifying how much I like you as more than a friend. I just… didn’t think you’d feel the same so I never said anything.”

“What? Are you crazy? Why wouldn’t I feel the same? You’re the most incredible person I’ve ever met.”

“You’re biased.”

“Yeah, well,” he grinned one of those signature Jiyong grins. His eyes flickered down to your lips then back to your eyes as if asking for permission. You nodded your head and that was all he needed. He leaned forward, closing the distance to meet your lips. The kiss was gentle, a declaration of his feelings for you without actually giving them words.

It was short and sweet. It was perfect. 

Pulling back, he smiled at you. Seeing you stood there with your flushed cheeks and nervous smile, he felt like he could burst from joy. He was so head over heels for you. “Come on,” he said, linking his fingers with yours. “I believe I promised you some food.”

But before he could pull you off, you wrapped your hand around the back of his neck and pulled him back down to meet your lips. Food could wait for now.

taglist (ask to be added): @ldydeath

[chenlezip]

jeno, tangled ♡

⤷ summary : y/n, an innocent, young girl, is locked up by her overly protective mother. her wish to escape into the world outside finally comes true when she meets the good-hearted thief, jeno.

annas note : the third of the series! i had originally paired this with jaemin but then i had an even better idea for him so here you go jeno - you can have tangled! please enjoy!

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jeno had agreed to take you to see the lanterns - on one term, you agreed to give his satchel with a crown from the palace in it back to him. he couldn't pass up on it.. not when he needed it. so here he is with you as you're investigating everything outside and panicking over what your mum is going to think.. then you're happy and promising yourself you are never going back!!

oh, no, you're slumped against a tree sobbing into your arms. he ushers you up, passing you back your weapon (a frying pan) and pascal who he claims is a frog (actually a chameleon but yeah!). "here's your pan, here's your frog." he says before you shake your head, "no. i'm seeing those lanterns." you're quite stern with him. uhh.. he doesn’t have a choice, does he?

"oh come on! what's it gonna take to get my satchel back?!" he groaned out in response. he regrets agreeing. "are you hungry?" he asked. apparently, he knew a place and it's called the snuggly duckling except when you walk in.. all you see is buff men who look a lot like what your mum warned you about - ruffians. you're a bit intimidated and scared nonetheless, what the hell is he thinking bringing you here!?

you soon find out they're actually really nice and as the royal guards burst through the door, asking where jeno is, one of the thugs opens a secret latch door that's hidden under the bar for you. you smile, he speaks up.. a rough voice, "go live your dream." "i will." jeno responds.

"your dream stinks. i was talking to her." he scoffed as jeno crawled down into the tunnel. you smile, "thanks for everything," you say softly as you give the thug a soft kiss on the cheek before following behind jeno.

"where are you from, blondie?" you raise a brow, "what about you?"

"i don't do backstory."

after a crazy chase with a damn horse and the royal guards, escaping a near death experience trapped under water.. you finally made it to the palace, sitting in a boat with jeno by your side. you can't lie, you both have grown quite fond of each other. you're thankful you're able to enjoy this beautiful moment on your birthday, with.. jeno, of course but it's been your dream since you were little and you're finally here.

you were awestruck, looking at all the lanterns in the sky that were floating around you. the stars in the sky helped make everything look so much prettier and your heart felt so full.. it was such a pretty sight to behold.

you almost forgot about jeno who was sitting behind you so you turn around, ready to ask if he was alright but you see him holding two lanterns in his hands. one for you, one for him. you couldn't help the smile that plastered its way onto your lips as you took it gently from him. you hand his satchel back to him and he.. just takes it and places it behind him, not really caring about it at the moment. he watches as you lift the lantern and give it a soft push into the air, watching as it ascends. he did the same but he just couldn't keep his eyes off of you.

you looked so happy and in your element, pointing out how pretty they looked against the river you were floating on.. your eyes shining and your lips as they let out a soft gasp, helping push a lantern back into the air before it could hit the water.

jeno reached out and took one of your hands in his, a small smile playing at his lips as you turn to face him. your heart was racing. he was a sight to behold like this.. a soft golden glow on his face despite how dark it was where you two were, how perfect his features are to you like: his nose, his lips, his hair as it just about covers his eyes, his brown eyes that look at you with such a gentle and loving gaze.

you both lean in, noses pressed up before jeno tilts his head, a free hand taking your cheek in a considerate grip. he pressed his lips against yours.. the feeling of your lips sent a shiver down his back, his hand gripping onto your hand just a little tighter. you melt into it and move a hand to the back of his nape.

tags : @injvns @polarisjisung @mejaemin @ayukas @hyckvr @yizhrt @blondemrk 

[firelxdykatara]

Broadly I agree with this, and honestly my only real issue is that the game didn't justify the choice having as much weight as it ended up having. Because it triggers after you pick up your fifth companion, and the game is very textually explicit about sending the companions you don't take with you to one city to save the other, and there's no in universe justification (that the characters are privy to or that the player will notice and I do think it's something that should have come up, if only to retroactively justify and drive home Rook's own guilt about it) for why three members of the Veilguard are enough to save whichever city Rook goes to, but they aren't enough to save the other, or even hold off devastation long enough for Rook to get there and tip the balance.

It wouldn't have been terribly difficult to get there, either--have Rook make either Lucanis or Neve go to their city alone because the threat is just too big to split the team evenly, and then have the fallout from that when Rook&co show up too late to save the other city. But the game tries to have its cake and eat it too--Rook is completely justified in whatever decision they make because they send an equal number of people to each city (and in two potential origins are given the choice between their own home and a city that is not their home) and yet can't point this out because the game acts as if that's not the case, so I can understand some of the frustration, especially as this seems to be a bit of a recurring theme.

I feel similarly about the Harding/Davrin choice in the endgame, because it is such an emotionally pivotal moment, and I wanted it to have the weight that the Virmire decision did, but they don't actually frame it as a life or death decision. It's not a potential suicide mission, it's not which one Rook chooses to save. It's not even weighted the way the suicide mission is in ME2, where you can pick anyone to go but there are clear wrong choices and if you pick them someone will die. Which, to be clear, it didn't have to be. I just wish it was more clearly a crucial decision that justified its own weight, and I think overall I felt that way about all the major decisions.

But Minrathous vs Treviso is the one where I really felt it. Like I get why Neve/Lucanis would be angry but a) I wish they could be angrier, and b) I wish that anger were a lot more justified by the game than it is (with the exception of them being far more understandably pissed off at a Shadow Dragon/Crow rook for not choosing to save their home). Especially for such an early turning point in the game. The choice has real consequences, make at least some of it well and truly Rook's fault! (Which would then lead in much better to the longer term arc of leadership and Rook being a foil for Solas and ultimately succeeding where he failed despite their own missteps and hard choices along the way, but that's a whole other discussion.)

sorry but being mad that characters were upset with you about which city got destroyed in dragon age the veilguard is the most unbelievable, incomprehensible complaint in the world

[ultimategenshintournament]

Ultimate Besties Tournament: Finals

Propaganda below cut

Ragbros (submitted 2 times):

From a storytelling perspective, in a game where the premise is reuniting with your lost sibling, these two are excellent foils as siblings who are technically separated but always within reach of each other. I bet that drives the traveler batty, that these two could technically reconcile at any time but Don’t. If you guys aren’t using your free ‘reconcile with your sibling’ card, then give it to them. And one’s even got connections to Khaenri’ah and the Abyss Order! Are these two good siblings to each other? Well. No not really. But the way they were best friends when they were kids and are now bitterly awkward after Diluc’s fratricide attempt (I know he was in a terrible headspace but cmon man. Should’ve at least apologized afterwards.) yet still hang out even in the beginning of the game (see: hanging out in Venti’s story quest and family vacation in GAA 1) is very entertaining. The mask is off now, Diluc. Do you still care about your brother? Kaeya’s internal conflict is very tasty too, still considering Diluc family even if he doesn’t really count himself a Ragnvindr anymore (if he ever did…), and it’s a wonderful narrative metaphor for his conflict of whether he considers himself a Mondstadter despite loving his second home. Kaeya’s a character with a lot of depth from his origins alone, but his personal relationships with the other Mondstadt characters really elevate that and his internal struggles, and none are as important as the family that welcomed him into Mond in the first place. With the exception of the travelers (and Paimon!), I think this is the most important platonic relationship in the game.

Ragbros angst and love makes the world go ‘round

Redemption Arc (submitted 4 times):

My dickhead son and his plant based alternative mom

She saw that he had good in him despite being a villain; knocked him down to his absolute lowest and then helped him pick up the pieces; The level of unspoken communication between them is so sweet. Ex. Nahida sends Wanderer to various events under the guise of "making sure nothing goes wrong" but actually she's getting him participating in things to get him out of his shell; Conversely I think observing him helps Nahida understand the world/relationships between humans; They're just so cute I love the soft spot Wanderer has for his adoptive mother.; headcanon that he rants about her "annoying" him but 100% would turn around and beat someone up for talking smack about her

Two people who just escaped The Horrors choosing each other as family……… yes please

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

that post you reblogged about pressuring people to cum reminded me of something that bothers me. how do you know if you've cum? does it really feel that noticeably different? i get a thing where it feels slightly more good than before but like in a fraction kinda way. like 1/10 better than before. and then i feel so tired i can't stay awake. is that cumming? if it is then what the hell it sucks and i hate it

So like. Yes and no.

Oooh this is such a good question anon. You have no idea, let me see if I can break this down into something coherent.

Orgasm is an intensification/culmination of sensory and psychological pleasure that combine to basically flood the brain with various fundamental hormones. These hormones tend to leave people feeling really physically relaxed (or even sleepy!) But that doesn't always correlate to actual sensation based pleasure.

So for a REALLY long time, I "couldn't cum". And it felt a lot like you describe. I would start getting close, and this sort of scrambled frantic feeling would happen, and there would be a little uptick in the sensations, and then it would wash away feeling super muffled or even entirely gone and leaving me feeling frustrated and exhausted. And eventually I started having BETTER orgasms and realized that yeah. Those were orgasms. In the kink world, they are sometimes called "ruins" because they are "colloquially" a "ruined orgasm" that is stopped just on the edge of reaching it. It tends to feel....upsetting and intense if it's not the sort of thing you're into in that moment. If I'm not in the right headspace I can literally just burst into tears and get really fucked up emotionally for hours after.

But no, not ALL orgasms are like that. There are resonances, like the gradual swell of pleasure, the risk of it slipping away if your head isn't in the right place for what you're doing (esp if you have any anxieties specifically around sex or intimac, and the way it may leave you overly exhausted after. But orgasms are as much psychological as they are physical. Part of the point of the post you mentioned is that pressure to reach orgasm as an inherent or necessary part of sex tends to REALLY fuck with the psychological factors of orgasm.

Case in point, one of the best orgasms I've ever had had absolutely zero touch from my partner except an "anchor" (their hands in my hair). My partner just kept talking to me through the whole experience and the relaxation, anticipation, and intimacy ended with an orgasm strong enough to briefly black me out.

Conversely, I've had REALLY GOOD SEX where the orgasm just couldn't come no matter what because of the headspace I was in, and as much as I was enjoying myself, the more the orgasm escaped me, the more frustrated I got until eventually we had to stop or I was going to have a tantrum. It didn't matter that we were doing things I liked or that felt great, it could have been the literal best sex in the world, and if I tried to force an orgasm, or got overwhelmed by the lack of one, I'd still fully ruin it for myself.

I have a MUCH easier time with orgasm now that I literally don't care if it happens. And that isn't the point, a guarantee for others, or why people should stop treating orgasm like the pinnacle of sex, but it's still relevant.

Pleasure is a sensation, an emotion, and a state of mind. Give yourself the space to learn how all three best align for you! You might like where you end up.

[plotthotrobin]

@medicallyfascinating Absolutely, I’d love to elaborate! ☺️ But I will take it over here to a new post since that one is very Hilda-centric and because this will be a long ramble.

Hilda is very out of place as Claude’s “retainer” as a whole. She doesn’t swear herself to him out of loyalty, she isn’t even really shown to have a bond with him that is any more notable than the rest of the GD. Hell, she’s the one ‘retainer’ character that can be recruited at all. She’s kind of just… there. The only argument that can really be made here is that she is a Goneril, and that house is the one that defends Fódlan’s Throat - and personally, I don’t think that requires her to be in the ‘retainer’ position to touch on.

Most people who play FE3H can tell that some routes got more time and attention in the writing room than others, and I think VW and CF are the biggest victims of this. VW is messy, awful in terms of pacing, and infamously a clone of SS (But, in my incredibly biased opinion, better because of Claude). If I had it my way, the story would focus heavily around relations between Fódlan and Almyra, the Leicester Roundtable, Claude’s background as an Almyran prince, etc etc etc. The biggest crime this route commits is having nothing to do with its lord - especially given how interesting the tidbits he drops really are. With that setup, Cyril may have actually made an interesting ‘retainer’ character considering the fresh perspective on these topics that he could bring to the table. Such as the ones expressed in his really interesting supports with Claude. (I know Cyril isn’t GD, but he’s an honorary one in my mind.)

Assuming we’re sticking to the current VW story as closely as possible, however, there’s one particular issue about VW that stands out: A lot of the TWSITD/Nabatean elements are out of place and completely irrelevant to the Golden Deer and Claude especially.

…With the exception of one character: Lysithea.

Lysithea already pops into the actual story sections post-timeskip to provide information on TWSITD… and then is just brushed aside again. Bringing her more into the spotlight as an unofficial ‘retainer’ for Claude could have made a lot of the unfolding events feel a little less out of place.

Imagine with me that, instead of TWSITD coming up at the last second story-wise, it instead came up during the ongoing fight against Adrestia and Edelgard. In this scenario, Lysithea slowly starts to put two and two together: Edelgard has white hair, purple eyes, has clear connections to terrifyingly familiar mages, and is rushing to accomplish her goal swiftly at the cost of many lives. She hesitantly approaches Claude and Byleth in private and explains not only what happened to her, but that she suspects that the same thing happened to Edelgard. Maybe Lysithea brings up the possibility of her being under the direct control of TWSITD.

Claude is, reasonably, riled up and horrified at finding out all of this and realizes that Fódlan’s issues run much deeper than he initially thought. He now sees:

- The Church of Serios and Rhea, who he knows has been hiding deep secrets that he has been trying to get to the bottom of. He’s been reluctantly working with Seteth and the knights because he needs the support, but doesn’t trust them and still has the understanding that they’re hiding shit.

- Emperor Edelgard of Adrestia and TWSITD, who could potentially be coercing her into fighting the Church of Serios for some unknown reason - or, alternatively, are simply helping Edelgard for an equally unknown reason. He doesn’t trust any of them either, pretty obviously.

Claude now knows that, in order to even potentially achieve his dream of equality and peace, he has to get to the root of the clusterfuck that is Fódlan - because Sothis knows it’s not happening in this state of affairs.

On a more personal level, I’m sure he looks at Lysithea and tries to imagine an even younger version of her being strapped down and experimented on - and frankly, he just can’t bring himself to. It wouldn’t surprise me if, as a secondary goal, he also gently promises to do his best to help her find a cure. In turn, a stunned Lysithea devotes herself fully to him as a leader and his cause.

Now, a lot of this is just a lot of speculation and hypotheticals, and a lot of it is opinionated, but I personally believe there is just inherently more overall story potential this way than with the current setup. ☺️

[insipid-drivel]

I think this is a great point, but there are certain circumstances where, in my own personal experience, clearly indicating, "Hello. I have this condition that This Character is portrayed with," is both valuable and a means of pulling in readers that either share that same condition, or have a sincere interest in it. My explanation for why is under the cut:

For me, it's Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID or "multiple personalities" - please do not use the last term, as it is very harmful and dismissive of a wider array of symptoms that we experience along with our alters). I am a person that has DID in a unique presentation called DDNOS-1B, and something I've learned in striking out since my diagnosis is that there are some communities, such as many members of the DID community, that will not engage with any authors or content that aren't clearly indicated that they were written by someone that has that condition, or has close personal experience with it through a loved one or friend that advised on the work.

I myself have lived openly with DID since I was diagnosed in my late 20s by my longtime psychiatrist. I've sought communities of other people with DID, but to be blunt, they don't really exist that much, or are overflowing with malingering kids and "Therian systems" that very much do not understand the damage they cause by entering our very, very limited spaces and communities. Most people with DID are often alone, or live entirely closeted except with a very, very precious handful of people they feel they can trust. There are larger communities and support groups (and more therapists, too) that support and positively represent schizophrenia than there are that do the same for DID. My best friend of over a decade is schizophrenic, and has discussed with me on multiple occasions how they've found more media like fanfiction that represents schizophrenia in a decent way more than he's ever found anything that tries to touch DID at all.

Most people with DID, that know they have DID, and that I have known that have DID, are completely and totally functionally exhausted and traumatized by the media and attempts to find community as soon as I get the chance to meet them. Most of them are, to a greater or lesser degree, traumatized by the harshness most writers/producers portray DID as being when, in fact, DID is not the uber-dangerous, spooky thing that Netflix's bullshit movie "Split" makes it out to be. Nevertheless, a large number of people with it live closeted because, like other stigmatized mental conditions, you're basically inviting pain into your life trying to pursue media that represents you in a world where nobody really gives a shit, because the DID is a plot element and A Problem This Brave Brave Character Is Overcoming and nothing more.

DID especially is villainized, and often co-opted by malingerers that think it's cool to feign the condition in the most stereotypical and harmful ways possible. There's a long history of serial killers that malinger as DID sufferers because "it's an easy excuse to get an insanity defense" in court. My own psychiatrist of over 10 years was formerly a court-appointed psychiatrist that assessed the validity of claims of disorders like DID and schizophrenia in violent felons that tried to get lighter sentences for themselves (Ted Bundy did this, as well as a host of other infamous serial killers).

Can you imagine what it's like to live with a diagnosis that the general public has only heard about in literal horror movies and true crime documentaries, and is always portrayed in the most villainous and infantilizing ways by popular media?

After a while, a lot of people like me give up and embrace the concept of, "No representation is better than this representation." There are more cries in spaces like tumblr for ending the flagrant overuse of the word "Narcissist" than there have ever been cries for showing basic human decency to people with DID. I've never seen a viral post about mental health in any space or platform that's been about DID/OSDD and its need for kinder and more honest representation. I've been in hospitals where I have asked lifelong health professionals, "Have you even heard of DID?" reply with a blithe, "Nope! What's that?"

Most fellow Systems I've met through indicating in some of my published writing that A Character has DID (right now, it's my Merlin character in an Odyssey/Celtic Mythology fic I've been publishing since last December) and that I myself am representing the condition because I have it too is one of the few ways to actually make contact with people that understand me, or get their engagement in my writing at all, because most people with DID inherently distrust anything that claims to "represent" us that isn't written or vetted by someone that has it, or someone that has legitimate personal or professional experience with it.

I've spoken with students that are studying psychology or just have an armchair fascination with the concept of DID, but don't even think to ask questions about things that I live with on a regular basis. I've never once had anyone ask me as simple a question as, "How do romantic relationships work for you in real life when you have multiple people in your brain?" (Answer: They don't. I gave up on the possibility of being loved a long time ago)

To be completely honest, I'm the only person that chooses to live openly with DID that I've ever encountered so far, and a lot of it is because so many of us out there live in absolute, pant-shitting terror of being identified and persecuted. I myself have lost friends and family members who learned of my DID and began to stipulate how my alters and I were and were not allowed to behave (based upon stereotypes they'd seen in the media/been taught by their religion and nothing to do with how I'd actually treated them before), which is an unreasonable and unfair demand to make of a System. I have lost partnerships with a person I loved for more than 20 years because he could not understand that insisting, "I'm dating you, not your alters," is not only a misguided and patently false statement, but one that also makes demands of me I can't maintain and whittles me down to a very 2-dimensional version of myself. I've had religious family members and friends give me ultimatums that I had to "get rid of" my alters that present as demonic, and not-so-subtly suggested I commit suicide to send my demonic alters "back to hell where they belong."

So, yeah. I myself will not read or watch works that are supposed to represent DID through a character or multiple characters unless I already know that an expert or someone with it has vetted the work first. I am not the only System that does it, either.

No, it's not fair to put that kind of a gate up around embracing potential forms of positive representation, but I've been traumatized too many times by taking things on faith and being burned for it. My alters have been traumatized by it, too.

No, not every content creator and author should have to advertise, "It's okay that [Character] has [Condition] because I do," but there are some conditions that, by their very nature, cause the people with them to fear and mistrust media that tries to represent them and wind up avoiding it completely rather than even giving the work a peek. Most of the time, it's done in a harmful way that perpetuates extremely negative stereotypes, or false facts that are made up and popularized by "influencers" on platforms like TikTok that are really just malingering and spreading false information that leads to more harmful interactions for people like us.

For some communities, sometimes the only way to get people to talk to you or engage with your creations is to signal that you're part of the community in some way. Because most of the content creators in this world have already done us so dirty that it's the only way to trust that some representation of us will actually be kind.

One trend on ao3 that I feel uneasy about is the increased use of “author is trans” “author is disabled” “author is ace” etc tags.

On the one hand I can understand how it can feel like a reassuring sign for readers who are trans/disabled/ace etc that their lives are less likely to be misrepresented in that fic because the writer has lived experience.

But at the same time, when we’re writing fanfiction—about kids who can manipulate the force of the waves, about necromancy, about flying on dragons—I think the suggestion that you need to have lived experience to write sensitively about something is so limiting.

Like if we aren’t exercising the full force of our imaginations and empathy in fanfiction, where exactly are we doing it?

It also makes me sad because sometimes you can tell from the nervousness of the author’s note that the writer felt they had to justify their writing with their lived experience. And I don’t think you should feel ethically obligated to gesture toward personal and often painful aspects of your identity to justify writing you do in your spare time that makes you happy.

Some of the best fics I’ve read about disability have been written by authors that didn’t have experience with that exact condition and did heartfelt research and really let themselves inhabit it. And I think that’s a bravura display of empathy and the very best that fiction can offer: caring about a character enough, and caring about your readers enough, that you want to understand what it’s like.

Sometimes friends have asked me about my visual disability to better understand Zuko for their stories, and I’ve always found it really moving. It means they care so much about the fictional world that they want to get the real world right too. It means they’re learning and growing so they can make stories about disability.

It means they love the show, and it means they love me.

[gogobluedynamite]

I wanna do a short character study of sorts about Kinger and his insanity/lucidity and...I guess his overall behavior and psychology...so this may not be short at all (spoiler alert: its not)

A small conversation I had with @lazuli-starlight made me realize that Kinger isn't as bonkers as I thought he was. Yes, he is very much loony, there is no doubt about that. But...his insanity seems a lot more subdued than I figured.

First off, he's strikingly chill during times he could've been in great distress. Like during the bandit chase, he didn't seem too concerned over the knives stuck to his head. Then comes Ep3 with the gaping maw that is the Really Scary Door that Kinger didn't bat an eye to jump into to get Gangle's mask.

This is, of course, him being very used to the adventures at this point. He knows in some way that he isn't in danger.

The way I think it is that his thought process is a bit more...linear.

Insane Kinger doesn't seem to have second thoughts and he solely focuses on one thing at a time.

Also, I feel the only time he seems very erratic is when his fight or flight response goes up. (The one moment in the fansong Happy Place came to mind. He was with Ragatha in a setting that reminded me of Lethal Company)

In Ep2, I like to imagine Kinger's thought process when he was trying to save Pomni. He first sees the life preserver and thought 'Oh! This can help her!' and throws it at her. In the next scene, he was back to seating calmly while Jax was blackmailing Gangle. Next, he was shown throwing a flippin' anchor at Pomni! It was like there was a moment before where Kinger was like 'Oh! Pomni's still stuck on the bandit's truck! I see an anchor! I'll use that to help her!'

His scattered brain doesn't let him realize that a life preserver and an anchor wasn't going to help, at least not in the conventional sense. Lucid Kinger would've probably given himself a moment to think of a better strategy... and question why a syrup tanker had a life preserver and an anchor on board.

Then in Ep3, when his first focus was on helping Pomni get her eyes back in her head, it instantly changed to getting Gangle's mask when he noticed how upset Gangle was.

Both times, he's helping someone. His 'fight' response. (actually not correct in this case, as the fight or flight response involves self preservation. In this case, it's more like tend-and-befriend.)

As for his flight response (or whatever equivalent like tend-and-befriend):

Ep1 (Pilot), he only started to panic in the presence of Abstracted Kaufmo before learning about the escalator.

Ep3, he starts panicking when he realizes that the dumbwaiter was going down. I think what happened here was him realizing to some level that the Angel head had an effect on him and saw it as something dangerous and needed to get away from it. Before, he wasn't concerned once he saw the head and the initial surprise of its appearance went away.

He...definitely seems like he's running on instinct and just coasts along with whatever train of thought is present.

To me, how he acted throughout Ep3 is how he usually acts. Even when he was exposed to little light...with some exceptions.

You know, I'm starting to think. I thiiink--

This is the sign that he is transitioning from insanity to lucidity. His brain is finally given time to properly process information, though he is still very loony up until the cellar.

You know, I've been thinking about--

Now, that isn't to say that Kinger doesn't process information.

Such as his advice to Pomni at the beginning of Ep3.

Try not thinking about it!

Which is used again later in the Hall of the Damned.

Well, how about we try not thinking about it?

At first, Pomni and the others (and us) thought Kinger was giving useless advice. Come later in Hell, it was more genuine than what Pomni (and we) realized.

I guess a way to look at it is that Insane Kinger processes the information at the moment and says whatever comes to mind while Lucid Kinger gives himself time to think it through.

Thanks to @galactic-knightmare, I do think that if there is something truly significant that Kinger would give a lot of focus on, he can appear lucid in the light. I feel a good example of this is the brief moment before Kaufmo's funeral.

It's the least we could do to honor their memory.

He was weirdly lucid here and I'm not sure if he had enough time in the dark (either by his fort or just closing his eyes) for this to happen.

I...have no idea if any of this made sense lol. It was just something I was thinking about and wanted to write it out.

Clearly, I have a huge love for Kinger and psychology was one of my favorite subjects (even had it as a minor for college), so this was fun to write.

Tell me what you guys think about Kinger's thought process.

[mortish-writes]

I'm considering adding another route following the first seven nights. I've gotten various requests over the past few weeks and this encompasses most of the types of story lines that have been requested. Each of these routes would come with a unique prologue and MC. I'll explain each one below.

M/F/M - Storyline where Valdricht and Serax aren't in a relationship. You can choose to be with both of them in an MFM relationship or split off with one. I think the trickiest aspect of this one is the MF options. Valdricht/MC would be a piece of cake, but if it's just you and Serax, it'll be really difficult to get him to engage with the epic gods and monsters story line. He'd rather laze about a brothel and tell stories of slaying dragons than actually slaying them. It might be kind of fun to write all the ways he attempts to avoid doing anything that will advance the plot. It might also turn into a brothel simulator.

Priest - You'd play as a male MC raised within the Elodari faith with a backstory that's pretty intense. Your overall story line would be similar to that of the Heretic route, except with the added struggle of adapting to the female body given to you by The Weaver.

Female Serax - Why does this need its own route? Can't we just click a button and make Serax a lady? Girl, please. It needs an entirely different backstory for Serax, Valdricht, and the MC. Tbh I've given this one the least amount of thought, probably because I know it would be the most fun and I don't want to distract myself. And by least amount of thought, I mean that I have a 20k word outline.

Cultist - Oh boy. Here's some BoS lore for you. This was supposed to be the original story route alongside the Heretic route. I'd planned to do a Light vs Darkness MC route where you could be raised in the Elodari faith as a vestal or raised by fanatical Duskweaver cultists. I realized that it would mean a lot more writing and I'd be significantly delaying the demo launch, so I scrapped it. But it's all still outlined and it's quite different. Rather than being a Cinderella-esque story, you're a venerated child and you're raised in a hidden place with the knowledge that you'll be the mother of a god. To sum it up, you'd play as a sheltered shadow princess.

Anyway, I'll run this poll again later. I think that your opinions might change as you get to know the characters better.

Night IV is coming along well. The intimate scene took some turns I didn't expect and came out even better than I'd hoped. I'm still playing with the Zealot route to see if there's any possibility for that on Night IV, but I don't think there's any scenario in which it feels like intimacy is something she genuinely wants, rather than feels obligated to engage in because of The Weaver. Having grown up on my grandma's stash of 70's bodice rippers about women getting abducted by hot pirates and highland lairds, I could easily write that sort of scene, but I think it would offend modern sensibilities. I'll give it some more thought once I wrap up the main route.

-Mortish